Name: Route137
Title: Encounter At Midnight.
Summary: A man has telephone sex while his wife sleeps beside him.
Keywords: MF, Telephone sex




The alarm clock beside the bed read 11:57. Three minutes. He had time to 
check one last time, just to make sure, just to try to calm the anticipation
racing through his body. His cock was already hard, throbbing beneath the 
sheet to the heavy beat of his heart.

He looked to his right. His wife was turned away from him, her breathing 
soft in the steady rhythm of sleep. Check.

His phone was in silent mode, the earphone cable stretching up to his head. 
Hands-free; she said it must be hands-free. It lay by his side, its cold 
plastic occasionally touching his buttock. Check.

He was naked. Check.

He turned and carefully switched off the bedside light, his fingers 
desperate not to make a noise. Apart from the dim light of the moon, he was 
in darkness. Check.

His arms lay stiffly at his sides, desperately resisting the urge hold his 
cock, to fold around the shaft, to milk its firmness. He rested his left 
hand on the phone, his finger poised, ready. Check.

He waited.

Surely three minutes had passed? She had said midnight. She had said that 
she wanted this as much as he did; that emails were not enough anymore; that 
they should try something new, something more dangerous. It had been her 
idea for him to be in his own bed, next to his wife. She had said that it 
would turn her on so much. But now, what if --

The phone vibrated against his thigh. 

His whole body tensed, and he had to fight his shaking muscles for control. 
He swallowed. His finger shook. He pressed the answer button.


     Hello, James. I hope that you are naked. I hope that you 
     are in darkness. I hope that your wife is asleep next to 
     you. If all these things are true, tap your phone, just once.


Her voice! He suddenly realised that it was the first time he had heard it.
It was everything that he had dreamed: slow, sensual, a purr, like liquid 
sex; and lying just behind it, a hint of anxiety, anticipation. What had she
said? Christ! Oh yes, tap the phone. His body trembled now, and he had to 
force his finger to respond as he wanted. He tapped his phone, just once.


     That is wonderful, James. Let me tell you where I am. I am 
     lying on my bed. I have left my light on. I want you to 
     know that if you were here with me, you would be able to 
     see everything. I am wearing a red, silk nightdress. 

     I am looking down at my body, at the rise and fall of my 
     breasts, at my nipples pushing up against the silk, at 
     the flat of my stomach and the tiny dip of my navel, at 
     the smooth mound at the top of my thighs. 

     Can you see, James? My legs are together, but the silk 
     dips down between them, pointing upwards, like an arrow. 

     Are you touching your cock, James? If you are, tap the 
     phone, just once.


He was as if hypnotized, so wrapped in the vision of her body, that he had 
almost forgotten that his body was there too. Like an inattentive school boy 
caught out, he took his cock in his hand, felt the wetness of the pre-cum 
dripping from its tip. Smooth, like olive oil, like the velvet of her voice.
He tapped his phone, just once.


     That’s good, baby, but you’re not to cum, not until I do.
     I’m going put my finger in my mouth, as if it was your 
     cock. I’m going to suck it, twirl my tongue around its 
     head. Can you feel me fuck my mouth with your cock?


There was a moment’s silence, and then liquid sounds, the soft squishing 
sound of wetness. Using his thumb, he gathered his pre-cum and rubbed it 
slowly over the soft stretched skin of his cockhead, feeling as if it were 
her tongue caressing him, teasing him. 

And suddenly he realised how close he was. He felt the tightening in his 
balls and that deep building sensation which he longed to give in to. It 
would only take a moment; the tight grip of his shaft, the urgent pumping of
his hand up and down across sensitive skin of his hood; and then the 
squirting release of orgasm.

He stopped, squeezed the base of his penis hard, felt the urgency subside.


     You came in my mouth, baby. I can taste you, salty, 
     bitter, unique. I am spreading your cum on my lips, 
     around my mouth. I want it to dry there, to smell you 
     in the morning, to taste you when I lick my lips.


Oh God! The agony of pleasure. He never dreamed it would be like this. He 
longed to speak, but that was too dangerous.


     I’m going to touch myself now, James. My hands are 
     running down my neck and along the rise of my breasts. 
     I’m feathering my fingers over the soft silk. Little 
     sparks of electricity prick my skin. I love to run my 
     fingers under the roundness of my breasts and up the 
     valley in between. Can you feel them? Can you feel my 
     firm breasts, my tits?

     My nipples are on fire. I am gently brushing the silk 
     across their tips, feeling the pleasure wash over me. 
     Would you take them in your mouth, baby? Would you lick 
     them, suck them, bite them?


A new sound had entered into her voice, beneath its softness; a rasping 
sound of breath held back and released. He softened his grip and felt 
control return.


     I’m running my hands down over my stomach, down over 
     my mound. It feels so smooth against the silk. I have 
     parted my thighs just enough to allow one hand to 
     slide between them, to squeeze upwards, to cup my 
     sex. I am pressing my finger against my lips, feeling 
     them open beneath the silk, feeling my finger sinking 
     between them.

     Oh God...  I am so wet, James. My cunt is so wet. I 
     know what that word does to you. My cunt. Oh baby, 
     tonight my cunt is going to be my gift to you. I want 
     to give it to you, but not yet. We mustn’t cum yet.


Oh please, God!


     Would you like me to undress now? Would you like to so 
     see me naked, my thighs spread wide, the soft light 
     glistening on my pussy lips? If you would, tap the phone, 
     just once.


Drowning in her words, he began to stroke himself, softly, playing just two 
fingers and a thumb over the swollen head of his penis, teasing his foreskin 
backwards and forwards. Like a violinist, practised in his art, he used his 
fingers to control the waves of sensation, his hand hardly moving. He 
tapped, just once.

There was a pause, and then a faint rustling, and then breathing. 


     My legs are open wide now. I want to be a slut. I want 
     to show you everything. I have two fingers either side 
     of my slit and I am squeezing my lips against each other. 
     I can feel my pussy juice bubbling between my fingers. 
     My finger joints are squeezing against my clit, rolling 
     it softly between them. I am thinking of your hard cock, 
     James, of your tongue. ...Oh fuck!...  Lick me, baby, 
     tease me with your tongue, taste me, smell me, smear 
     your face with my wetness --


Suddenly, he felt movement next to him. 

He froze. 

His wife was moving, turning in the bed, facing him. The passion he felt 
changed to horror; fear gripped his stomach. Was she awake? Could she have 
heard the voice in his earphones across the moonlit quiet of the bedroom?

He lay as if stone, frightened to move, frightened to turn his head 
towards hers and meet the all too familiar contempt in her eyes. He had 
sudden visions of worlds collapsing around him. He became aware of the 
sweat on his body.

Why had he agreed to this? He should finish it now, turn off the phone. 

And yet...


     I’m teasing my clit, rubbing my finger in small, soft 
     circles around it. James, it feels so good.


That siren voice. 


     I’ve never been this hot, baby, I’ve never wanted 
     anything so much. I’m holding myself open for you. 
     Can you imagine me? My fingers stretching my pussy 
     lips open? The deep, red wetness of my cunt?


He turned his head slowly. He could just make out her eyes. They were shut.


     I am touching my asshole. It is slick with my wetness. 
     I am circling the tiny hole with my finger, pushing 
     against it. Push your finger into me, I need to feel 
     your finger in my asshole... Oh, God!


The rhythm of her breathing slowed. She slept.


     I need to cum. I need to come very soon. I need you to 
     fuck me. Are you ready?


The voice was urgent. He could hear her fight to control her words.

He hesitated, and then tapped, just once.


     My fingers are inside me now, two fingers sliding in and 
     out. Listen.


The sound of fumbling, and then, wetness. The rhythmic squish and click of 
liquid echoing from somewhere deep, growing faster, louder.

As if it had never gone, his arousal returned, strengthened. He tensed his 
body. His fingers, which had never left his cock, began to play again.


     This is my gift to you. Give me your cock. Fuck me, 
     James, fuck me.


Her voice was erratic now. He felt the crescendo rising from his fingers, 
matching the rising pitch of her voice.


     Cum with me... Fuck my cunt... Fuck my...  Fuck...


As he came, he heard her scream. He felt his balls tighten and the exquisite 
sensation of his cum rising up through his cock and out in long throbbing 
streams, again and again and again. He felt the warm wetness of his sperm 
on his chest, his stomach, his fingers. He fought to control his movement, 
his breathing, biting his lip to force back his own cry.

And he listened to her breathing, hard at first, then slowing gradually 
into the small sighs of pleasure. He ran his fingers through his sperm, 
stretching it into long, elastic strands. He waited for her voice.


     Oh, James, that was wonderful. I have never cum so hard. 
     Was it just as good for you?


Tap, just once.


     Good night, baby. Sleep well.


He brought the phone up to his mouth. “Goodnight,” he said; and then there 
was silence.

His wife stirred. “What did you say?” Her voice was slurred with sleep.

“I said ‘Goodnight’,” he said.

She paused. “But it’s the middle of the night!” she said at last.

“I know,” he said.

"I was fast asleep!"

“I know,” he said.

Her tired voice sounded annoyed. “What on earth is wrong with you these 
days? It’s the middle of the night, I’m asleep, and you say ‘goodnight’. 
You’ve never done that before. Just shut up and go to sleep.” She turned her
back on him, her head sinking into the pillow.

“Just once,” he said softly.



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