It’s always 2 AM when he calls. No small talk. Just his voice in my ear and the kind of release that leaves me shaking in the dark.
There's something about those 2 AM calls that hits different. My hookup knows the drill, we don't even bother with small talk anymore. He just starts talking, voice low and rough, telling me what he'd do if he were here. And I get comfortable, phone on speaker, lube already dripping on my fingers.
I usually start by just stroking slow, getting my cock hard while he describes shit, how he'd pin me down, how he'd use his mouth. But the real thing starts when I reach for my toy. It's just a curved silicone plug, nothing fancy, but it knows exactly where to press. I work it in gradual, feeling that stretch and burn in my ass that makes me groan out loud. He hears it, laughs a little, tells me I'm being greedy.
The dual stimulation is what actually gets me, my fist moving steady on my cock, wrist twisting at the sensitive head, while I'm pushing that toy deeper, angling it hard against my prostate. It's a lot to coordinate, which is exactly the point. My brain stops overthinking and just feels the sensations. The phone becomes background noise. Sometimes I drop it on the pillow and just let him listen to my heavy breathing, the wet sounds of lube and skin slapping, the raw whimper that escapes when I nail the right spot.
I start fucking myself harder when I'm close. It builds messy and intense, that pressure starting deep in my ass and radiating outward until my whole body locks up tight. When I come, it's usually with the toy buried all the way in my hole, my hand tight around the base of my cock, shooting thick and hot over my stomach while I curse into the room.
After, when I'm catching my breath with the toy still inside me, I check the time.
2:37 AM.
He’ll probably call again tomorrow. And I’ll answer.
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