“No what?” he retorts.
I close my eyes. “No, King Henry.”
“Good, you remembered.”
“Yes, King.”
“Where are you? Are you with someone? At their place?” he asks me and I close my eyes.
“Yes, King, I’m at someone else’s place. On their bed,” I answer. My heart is beating at what he’ll say.
“What are you wearing?” he asks.
“I have on a pink cheeky and a lace pink bra, King,” I reply back. “I’m on his bed talking to you.”
“Does he know you’re talking to me?” my King asks.
“No, King,” I tell him. “He went out for a while.”
“Does he make you cum when you fuck him?” my King asks.
I gulp. But I’m this far in anyways. And I’m so wet. “Yes, King, he makes me cum,” I reply. And I can’t help but add, “Hard.”
“Good,” the King says. “I want you to touch yourself and tell me what you’re doing.”
“I have my fingers under my panties,” I tell him. “I’m stroking my clit.”
“Are you wet, kitten?” he asks.
I gasp. A momentary shudder goes through me. “Yes, King,” I say. “I’m very wet.”
“I want you to imagine me next to you, kitten,” he says. “I want you to imagine me pressing my fingers over your wetness, sliding one finger into your pussy.”
My heart races as I begin to stroke my clit to his words.
“I want you to think of my hands stroking your clit, faster, and harder, and faster still,” he says and my fingers time themselves to stroke with every cadence of his speech. I let out a moan.
“Are you enjoying this, kitten?” he asks.
“Yes, King,” I reply. “Please don’t stop.”
“Beg me to not stop,” he orders. “Beg me to keep going. To tell you how my tongue traces the contours of your pussy and flicks itself against your nub.”
Oh my God. I’m panting as my fingers continue.
“Tell me,” he commands.
“Please don’t stop, King,” I moan as he breaths deeply. “Please don’t stop licking my pussy.”
“I want to slide another finger inside of you kitten, do that for me now,” he commands and I do as he says.
“I want to hook it inside of you and massage your walls while my tongue flicks your clit,” he continues.
The way he says the word clit sends shivers up my spine and it times perfectly with my fingers as they do their work.
“Are your nipples hard?” he asks me. I can feel that they are and it takes me a moment to clear my throat. “Yes, King, my nipples are hard for you.”
“I want to twist them. Do that for me,” he orders and I pull my bra down, place the phone on the bed putting it on speakerphone and begin to flick and twist my nipple.