Let Me Count The Ways

by P. G. Forte

  “Mmm, your hands are so warm and...”

  “No,” I corrected quickly. “They’re cold.”

  “What?” I could hear the surprise in her voice. It made me smile. “Why cold?”

  “I was interrupted by your call, remember? The water in the sink grew cold while we were talking.”

  She laughed softly. “Oh, so it’s my fault you’re cold?”

  “Yes. It’s all your fault. Now my hands are like ice. And as I fondle your breasts, you start to shiver.”

  “Do I?”

  “You beg me to help you. You ask me to please get you out of your wet clothes and warm you up.”

  “And will you?”

  “Of course. I’ve already started. I’ve stripped you to the waist and now I’m gently blowing on your nipples to warm them.”

  “Mmm, that’s nice. I love to feel your mouth on me. But why did you stop?”

  “I didn’t. Now I’m circling your nipples with my tongue, first one, then the other. They’re growing even harder now. They look little cherries so ripe and sweet, I can’t resist taking one into my mouth.”

  “No, I mean, why didn’t you finish undressing me?”

  “Oh.” I had to pause for a moment and decide how far I wanted to go with this. How much of my true feelings should I reveal? “I like seeing you this way,” I admitted. “With your clothes in disarray and your hair tumbling in your face. It’s like you... well, it’s like you’d let me have you any way I wanted. Like you’re so hot for me, you just can’t wait, not even until you’re all the way naked.”

  “Ahh. Slutty. I see.”

  “No,” I snapped, much more sharply than I’d intended. “That’s not what I’m saying.” She’d touched a nerve with her teasing. What I’d just described was so similar to the first time we’d made love; both of us too hot, too hurried to undress. The fact that she could be that passionate for me still seemed miraculous. To have that mocked...

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled contritely, reminding me that the silence had become uncomfortably long.

  “It’s all right.” In an effort to restore the teasing tone we’d lost, I added. “But if you use language like that again, I might have to spank you.”

  “You what?” She sounded scandalized, amused... curious. “Michael! Stop it. You would not.”

  I felt myself smiling. At the shock. At the curiosity. At the hint of interest, the hint of challenge in her tone. At all of it, really. “Don’t tempt me like that, Claire.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because I just might have to do it.”

  “You would? You’d actually...”

  “Yes. Under the right circumstances, I most definitely would. With pleasure.”

  “I see. Exactly what circumstances would those be?”

  “If it was what you wanted me to do to you.”

  “What I wanted?”

  “Of course.”

  “Hmph. And, for some reason, you think I would... would ever--?”

  “I don’t know. Would you?”

  Claire was silent for way too long. I could almost feel her hesitation and I held my breath as I waited to learn how she would answer.

  Finally, she cleared her throat. “You know, Michael, I do believe there might be several other ways in which I might... atone... for my bad behavior.”

  “That’s entirely possible. What did you have in mind?”

  “Well... I could kiss you, for starters. All over your body.”

  “All over? Would I be naked?”

  “Entirely,” she purred, sending chills racing over my skin.

  “Okay. Where would you start?”

  “Wherever you wanted me to.”

  “How about my mouth?”

  “A classic choice. Is that where you’d like me to start?”

  “Kiss me like you did the other night, when I brought you home,” I told her, freeing my cock from my shorts and leaning back against the counter.

  “Ahh.” A soft laugh escaped her. “Liked that, did you?”

  “Yes,” I admitted, taking myself in hand and beginning to stroke slowly up and down my shaft. “Very much.”

  “Well, I’m going to kiss you just like that and then I’m going to nibble on your lips, very lightly, just because I can. Because I know you won’t do a thing to stop me and because I can’t resist. You taste so good, Mike, I just want to eat you all up.”

  I think I groaned aloud because she laughed again even more softly.

  “Do you want to know what I think you’ll be doing while I take your mouth like that?” she asked, not waiting for an answer. “I think you’ll be clenching your hands at your sides, struggling not to grab hold of my head and kiss me back.”

  My hand faltered. I was surprised at how well she seemed to know me. “Probably.”

  “Have I mentioned how much I like that? The way you frame my face with your hands and kiss me like you can’t ever get enough?”

  “I can’t,” I told her, then asked. “What will you do next?”

  “Next I’ll kiss your throat. Then your shoulders. You have such broad shoulders that it will take a very long time.”

  “Keep going,” I muttered, stroking harder.

  “I’ll trace the pulse at the base of your neck with my tongue and then start on your chest. Your hair tickles my nose and scrapes against my cheek as I move lower.”

  I swallowed hard. “Sorry about that.”

  “No, I like it. It makes my skin feel alive.”

  Good to know, I thought, sending up a silent prayer of gratitude and wonder. How had I gotten so lucky?

  Claire’s voice was husky, barely above a whisper as she continued, “I’m going to take a long time teasing your nipples because I like to hear you moan, so low and deep. The sound of it makes me wet. It makes me tremble inside. Eventually, I’ll let them go--maybe I’ll wait until you beg me to keep going. And then I’ll slide slowly, slowly, slowly down the length of your stomach until I reach your cock.”

  I did moan then, low in my throat, just as she’d described. I couldn’t help it. Just remembering the way she’d teased me in her office the other day was enough to make me sweat. As Claire went on to describe how she’d give me head, taking me into the heat of her mouth, swallowing me inch by inch, my heart was pounding. Any louder, and she probably would have heard it through the phone. By the time she’d gotten to the point in her narration where she had my dick wedged between her breasts and was rubbing herself, up and down, around me, I had reached my limit. If she were here, if this were real, I’d no doubt be giving her the pearl necklace she seemed to desire. Instead, I pressed the phone against my chest to muffle the groans I could no longer contain as I shot my cum into the empty sink.

  I listened to the rest of Claire’s recital in silence, waiting for my heart rate to return to normal, stopping her as she was working her way down my legs. “Tell me more about this gown you’re wearing.”

  “The what?”

  “Your gown,” I repeated. “Enough about me, I want to hear more about you now.”

  “You mean the gown I’m only half-wearing,” she corrected after a protracted pause. “Don’t you?”

  “Mm-hmm. The very same.”

  “Well, it’s long, like I said, but it has a slit going up the side.”

  “How high?” I asked, adjusting my clothing and once again closing my eyes to imagine it.

  “Alllll the way to the top of my thigh.”

  I smiled. “Good girl. I like that.”

  “I thought you might,” she murmured sweetly. “In fact, it’s cut so high that, from the right angles, or if I move a certain way, you can see the curve of my ass without even trying.”

  Maybe it was the mention of her ass that did it. I’d been hoping for a way to regain control of the conversation, now I thought I had it.

  “And are you wearing anything underneath it?” I asked, mentally crossing my fingers that she’d give me the answer I needed.

  “Mm-
hm. Just the teensiest lace thong you’ve ever seen.”

  Bingo. I clucked my tongue. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. You must have known that wouldn’t make me happy.”

  “What?”

  “I want your pussy bare. You should have removed any... impediments... before we started.”

  Shocked silence met my remark. “Did I mention it was very tiny?” Claire asked at last, sounding not at all pleased. “And lace, Mike. Incredibly flimsy lace, almost like fishnet, actually. Even more sheer than the gown.”

  Fishnet, huh? “Doesn’t matter,” I replied, quietly searching through drawers and cabinets until I’d located the tools I needed to carry out my mission. “I want to be able to see and feel all of you, all the time, whenever I want. I love how your pussy is so clean-shaven, it’s so amazingly sexy that way.”

  “Waxed, actually,” she corrected dryly. “If you really want to know.”

  “It’s so soft,” I murmured, aligning a sheet of paper along the edge of the counter. “So smooth, so perfectly exposed. I like to pretend you keep it that way just for me.”

  “Well, of course I do it for you, Michael,” she drawled sweetly. “You know there’s no one else.”

  I winced at the arch, seductive tone of her voice. What I knew--or at least strongly suspected--was that she hadn’t just started shaving, or waxing, her mound in the past two weeks. She was not doing it just for me. And that left the rest of her statement in doubt as well. “Well, I’d better be the only one right now. Otherwise one of us had better start wearing a condom.”

  More silence. “Michael? What is this? What’s going on here?”

  “Nothing,” I said as I reined in my anger. It was out of place, completely uncalled for. We hadn’t discussed whether or not she was seeing anyone else. I’d never really thought about it, until now, and I certainly hadn’t asked. Stupid? Without a doubt. But it was my mistake, not hers, and now was not the time to correct it. “It’s time to get rid of that thong.”

  “All right,” she replied, her tone poisonously sweet. “Shall I remove it?”

  “Allow me,” I said as I loudly ripped the paper in half.

  “Wh--what was that?” Claire was startled into asking.

  “That was the sound of your panties being ripped from your body.”

  “Oh.” A gurgle of laughter escaped her. “Okay, very good. Nice job on the sound effects.”

  “I’m glad you liked it. I’d hoped it would please you.”

  “Oh, it did. It was extremely... umm... masterful. I’m all a-tingle.”

  Masterful. Good. She’d just given me another piece of what I needed. “Now, it’s time for your punishment.”

  “Excuse me?” she asked, sounding startled again. “Punishment? What are you talking about?”

  “Just what we discussed earlier. I’m going to spank you.”

  “Mike, that’s just. just...” her voice trailed off.

  “What? Kinky? Provocative? Exciting?”

  “Pointless! We’re not even in the same room. I mean, what are you...”

  “It’s just a game, Claire,” I reminded her, intrigued by the discomfort in her voice. “Are you saying you want to stop playing now?”

  She ignored my question to ask a couple of her own. “Besides, I thought you said you’d only do something like that if I wanted you to? Have you changed your mind all of a sudden?”

  “No, not at all. I just figure that’s why you keep misbehaving. You’re asking for it.”

  “I’m what? Oh, really. Am I?”

  “I think you must be.”

  She sighed. “That’s rather presumptuous, don’t you think? At the very least.”

  I smiled triumphantly. “Possibly. So why don’t you clear things up for me? Tell me.”

  “Tell you... what?” she asked hesitantly.

  I lowered my voice, speaking slowly and clearly. “Tell me you want to be spanked.”

  Silence greeted me. I waited. Her breath sounded shaky, as though she wanted desperately to say something. But she didn’t . She didn’t say yes, didn’t say no, she simply sighed.

  “You do, don’t you? The exposure, the stinging heat, the uncertainty--not knowing when or if the next stroke is coming--I bet you’re wet just thinking of it.”

  “Michael...” Claire’s voice was soft, uncertain, a plea for... something.

  “If I’m wrong, just say so. Tell me no and we’ll never discuss it again.”

  More silence. More waiting.

  “Are you imagining it?” I asked at last. “Is that why you’re so quiet? Are you thinking about how you’d lower yourself to lie face down across my legs? How I’d wrap an arm around your middle, trapping you there, holding you fast. My hand is splayed across your abdomen and I can feel how fast you’re breathing. Are you nervous? Or excited?”

  “Probably both,” she answered, breaking her long silence with a breathy little laugh.

  “With my other hand, I rub slow circles on your bottom to relax you. To calm you.”

  “To lull me into complacency, I think you mean.” She sounded tense and what I was about to say was calculated to increase the tension even more.

  “To prepare you for what’s yet to come. To help focus your attention right there, right where my hand’s going to strike you. Is it working?”

  “Ohhh, you bet.”

  “Are you thinking about it? Now? Can you feel your skin tingle as it warms to my touch?”

  “Umph.”

  I smiled. “Good.” Her response, just barely a grunt, showed me how deeply she’d sunk into the fantasy. “Now it’s time to get this gown out of the way, so I slide my hand down the back of your thigh, as far down your leg as I can reach. And then, slowly, very slowly I raise your gown inch by inch.”

  I paused. The only sound to be heard was Claire’s labored breathing. I figured either she was mesmerized by the images I was conjuring, or she’d fallen fast asleep.

  “Can you feel the silk trailing up your legs now, Claire?”

  “Yes.”

  “It tickles your calves, doesn’t it? Then the backs of your knees, the backs of your thighs. Cool air strikes your exposed skin as I drag it higher, up your legs, over your ass, all the way to your waist. And now...”

  I paused, letting her wait, letting her think about it. I knew she was hanging onto each and every word. Just as I was hanging onto every sigh.

  “Now I have you,” I continued, even more softly than before. “I have you right where I want you. When I rub my hand over your bare bottom, your body trembles. Your back arches to meet my touch and that’s when I know. You’re right where you want to be, as well.”

  Another shuddery sigh escaped her. “Mike...” The passion throbbing in her voice when she spoke my name was almost my undoing. My dick, which had been stirring back to life for some time, was demanding attention. I had to struggle to keep my focus where it belonged: on the faint sounds coming to me through the phone.

  “The scent that rises from your hot flesh makes my heart race, Claire, and I can’t resist tracing it back to its source. So I slide my hand lower until I can fondle your pussy. And what do you think I find there?”

  “I don’t know.” Her voice was husky and thick. “Wh--what?”

  “You tell me. I want you to reach between your legs, right now, and touch yourself. Tell me what you feel. Tell me if you’re really as wet and ready as I think you are.”

  The heavy silence was broken by a deep sigh. “I, I--Yes.”

  “Tell me. Tell me how slick and swollen you feel, tell me your pussy is dripping for me, throbbing for me.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s imagining what’s going to happen next that’s making you so hot, isn’t it?”

  Silence.

  “It’s thinking about what it would be like if I were really there with you, if this were really happening. Now. Tonight.”

  More silence.

  “You want it. Don’t you?”

  “Mike, please.”

&n
bsp; “Answer me, Claire. You want it. Say you do.”

  Another sigh and then, finally, finally, she answered, “Yes.”

  Smack! My hand made contact with the phone book I’d placed on the tile counter. Glasses rattled in the cabinets overhead. On the other end of the phone, Claire gasped.

  “Are you still touching yourself?” I asked.

  She hesitated for a moment and, in the silence, I slammed my hand down once again: smack.

  “Well? Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Don’t stop. I want you to keep fingering yourself while I give you what you’ve been asking for. You can’t see me, you can’t see my hand, so you won’t know when the next blow is coming. But, know this: I’m not going to stop--neither of us is going to stop--until you come.”

  The night had closed in while we spoke and I hadn’t turned on any lights. Now, I stood in the dark and whispered hot words into the phone, punctuated now and again with sudden slaps. Claire’s breathing grew progressively more ragged and I closed my eyes and imagined right along with her.

  “Your breasts were pressed against my thigh when we started.” Smack. “And your arms were hanging loose. But you’ve been pushed forward by my blows...” Smack. “Now, your breasts are exposed and your hands are clutched so tightly around my leg that your nails dig into my skin.” Smack. “I lean down to whisper in your ear, ’Don’t move,’ but I know you’re not going anywhere. Are you?”

  She groaned in reply. “No.”

  Smack.

  “I remove my hand from around your waist and use it to brush lightly back and forth across the front of your breasts, across the tips of your hard, hard nipples. You like it when I do that, don’t you?”

  She groaned again, louder this time. I smiled.

  “Now I’m pinching them, lightly at first, but harder each time. One... then the other. One... then the other. You like that too, don’t you?”

  “God, yes,” she panted. “Like that, Michael, please. Don’t stop.”

  Stop? Never. “Ah, Claire, you have such gorgeous breasts. I’ve waited years to get my hand on them. Years.” Smack. “I’ll never stop, my darling.” Smack. “Nev...”

  “Ahhh!”

  Her shattered cry of release took me by surprise. I slumped against the counter, suddenly aware of how hard my heart was pounding, of the sheen of sweat that had gathered on my forehead.