Day Eight: 4/12/18
Era: Dirty Mind
She kicks the blanket off with the feeling that something is about to happen, she can feel it within her slumber. As expected, the phone begins to ring. She had recently moved it from the front room to the hallway, now to her bedroom. It sits beside her head. She reaches out to grab it, still half-sleep.
"Prince?"
Prince smiles from his end of the country. "I hoped you would pickup but by the third ring, I got a lil' nervous there. You almost had me." He laughs, allowing his fingers to play with a loose string of fabric on his jacket. "I really miss you, Cheyenne."
"I miss you too," she croaks into the phone. "Where are you? Is that bitch Jill still giving you a hard time? I can take a week off and come show what the hell is really up in Minneapolis if she wants me to."
He assures her, "Everything is okay. I'm in Seattle, Washington. It's really rainy, kind of like the rainforest, y'know?"
"Sounds nice."
"It really is," confirms Prince. "It only bites a little that you aren't here. It's cold... and it's late... and I really miss you."
Understanding exactly what direction Prince is going down, Cheyenne gets comfortable in her bedding. "You do?" She knows he does. She simply enjoys hearing the man repeat any verbal affection that he speaks of her.
"I do." He lies in his bed, nude, with his girlfriend running through his mind. It's no secret why he called her. It's easier to imitate the feeling of her touch when he can hear her voice. "I think you miss me too, do you?" He's initiating the intimacy.
"I do miss you, Prince."
His head shakes, "No, don't tell me like that..." Taking himself into his own grasp, he exhales sharply. "I've been thinking about you all day. I got in the shower before bed and... I had to do thing because it was just too much." One stroke. Cheyenne's finger pads press against her sensitive flesh with anxiousness. "Do I ever make you have to take care of yourself?" Two strokes.
"You do," She breathes. One pump.
Three strokes. "Oh, baby, I'm sorry. If I ever make you feel the way you make me feel." Two pumps. Four strokes. "I know it's torture." Four hard pumps. Five slow strokes. "But absence makes the heart grow fonder and I know that we'll be reunited soon. I promise the moment I get back, I'll make love to you all night long. I'll never stop."
She cries, "Ever?"
Six fast pumps, six fast strokes. One soft cry, two heaving chest.
"Ever."
Breathlessly breathing into the phone, the couple can only try to imitate the other's touch. It'll never feel the same no matte what they do. Though they're perfectly in sync, they'll never get the same high of touching the other. "I– I'm cumming!" Cheyenne manages to vocalize her euphoria for the last time as her back arches upward, she belts out an airy cry. "Princeeeeee!"
His top row of teeth breaks the skin of his lip. He's biting down hard. His limbs burning at the strength being use to seek satisfaction. Prince drops the phone upon his release with a shutter to keep up with his bone-chilling orgasm.
Her juices cover her hand, thighs, and sheets. His seed covers his hand, thighs, and sheets.
Cheyenne whimpers. "Oh my god." Thinking she'd be relieved, she only wants more. She wants to hear him talk to her. She wants to know the things Prince would do to her. She has been lasting in one piece. Tonight, he has gotten the best of her. "I need you..." Cheyenne sighs. Never has she ever yearned for him so much in such a way.
"Baby, are you okay?"
The feminine vocalization catches Cheyenne off-guard. Her eyes pop open, chest still heaving as she recovers from her explosion. Cheyenne questions, "Prince, who is that?"
The phone line dies.
