Happy Birthday

Rating: NC-17 (language and sexual content)

Pairing: “You” and “I”

The text makes you blink a couple of times and whisper to yourself, “What?” You read it again, “Answer the phone when I call you.” You send back, “Why?”

“Just do it,” I send back.

Nervously, you wait for me to call and when the phone goes off, you click “answer” and breathe softly, “Hello?”

“Mmmm,” I breathe, “I want to kiss you hard. Bite your lip and then lick my way down to your neck, and bite you right where your pulse pounds at the base of your throat.”

“Baby, stop it.” Your voice goes to a pitch you didn’t know you had in you, “I’m sitting at my desk and g–“

“I know you are. I want to crawl under your desk and grab your knees, pull your chair as close as I can and kiss the insides of your fucking amazing thighs until you’re ready to cum before I even put my mouth on your pussy.”

“Jesus, Babe!” You hiss, running a hand through your hair and glancing around desperately as if everyone can hear what I’m saying.

“I want my tongue in your pussy,” I continue in a husky voice.

Your throat feels like sandpaper when you swallow hard, your face burning bright red as you stare at the top of your desk now, your breathing picking up as you begin to picture the scene I’m playing out with words. “You do, do you,” you manage to ask in a somewhat normal voice, just a bit rough around the edges.

I sigh now, knowing you don’t want me to stop, “Oh yeah, I do,” I answer with a sultry purr. “I want my tongue in your pussy. I want to suck your clit so hard, baby…”

You tense, your stomach clenching at the words and the tone of my voice, and your mouth drops open as you notice how wet you are.

I can hear your heavy breathing and that just make me wetter. Knowing I’m turning you on is more than I could ever have asked for, “What do you want me to do with my fingers?”

You close your eyes and shake your head sadly, “I can’t say,” you whisper and bite your lip.

“Do you want them in your hair?”

“Yes.”

“On your breasts, scratching lightly over your nipples?”

“Yes.”

“Are they hard?”

Your breath hitches and you push past it, forcing the air out of your lungs, “What?” They are hard. Painfully hard. Trying to poke out through your three layers of clothing. “Yes,” you finally admit in a low voice.

“Baby…” I begin, my heart starting to race, “are you wet?”

You almost whimper, holding back at the last second. “I- yes,” you exhale.

“Really wet?” I ask, breathing in and out heavily.

Squirming uncomfortably in your seat, opening your eyes to glance around, and then closing them again as you answer, “Yes.”

“How wet?” I press, sitting on the edge of my couch, back straight, straining to hear the answer.

You have to figure out how to answer without blatantly announcing what we’re talking about, “To an uncomfortable degree,” you finally reply.

“So it’d be easy to get my fingers inside you if I were under your desk, then?”

“God…” you groan quietly. “Yes, it would.”

“How many?”

“What?” you squeak.

“How many fingers could I fit inside without hurting you, if I were there right now with my hand in your pants?”

You’re starting to lose it. Your eyelashes flutter and you grip the phone until your knuckles turn white, “Three.”

“Then imagine I’ve got three fingers buried in you, baby. Imagine how my fingers would feel, pushing in and out, painting and stroking inside you, inside your pussy. Can you feel them?”

“Yes,” you groan, dropping your head forward and clenching your thighs together tightly.

“Do you want them? Do you want them to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you gasp desperately, breathing raggedly, your pants wet through your underwear, clit throbbing and pulsing with need.

“Good. Now listen.” I begin my story, “I’d drag those shorts down over your hips, thighs, knees, and off. Mmmm, I bet I could tell how wet you are just by looking at you. I’d trail a fingertip lightly over the dampness and I bet you’d squirm a little, wouldn’t you, baby?”

It’s hard to speak, but you do it, “Yes.”

Smiling a satisfied smile, I continue, “I’d place a hand on the inside of each knee and spread those long, beautiful legs of yours. Then I’d drop my lips to one bare thigh and place a series of soft kisses along them. I’d switch to the other quivering thigh and put my hands to work getting rid of those little panties you’re wearing. Now that you’re naked from the waist down, I know I’d smell you and how hot you are.”

Behind your closed eyelids, the scene is playing perfectly in your head. Without trying too hard, you can imagine my hair across your knee and you can almost feel my lips kissing and teasing your thighs.

“I’d swirl my tongue in circles up one of your thighs and back down the other, until you whimper and buck towards me. And that would be the last straw for me, baby.” I sigh long, biting my lip, “Your wet, open pussy so close, waiting for my mouth… I’d be crazy if I didn’t take a taste.”

Imagining my pink tongue sliding out of my mouth and onto your pussy makes you grind your teeth hard, the noise echoing in the air around your ears, sounding magnified, pulsing electrically. You gasp, “Oh fuck.”

“Oh baby, I’d start slow. Licking with the softest, sweetest, most tender strokes, just the tip of that tongue teasing through your folds.” I groan loudly and you know I’m touching myself. There’s no way a sound like that happens without any action at all. And that just makes you 100 times hotter.

You imagine reaching down to grab fistfuls of my hair. You know it’d feel good…… slow, sensual, lazy. “Please,” you find herself breathing on an exhale, the word coming out airy and light, but no less filled with need than if you’d screamed it.

The word slams against my senses as if it had been burned into my skin with a soldering iron, and I moan my own arousal, “You wouldn’t have to beg, baby. I’d push my tongue into your tight little pussy, feeling the muscles squeeze around it. God damn, I bet you’d taste so fucking good.”

You groan, long and low, throwing your head back. You see your own legs, spread wide and your hips rocking firmly forward, thighs clenching around my head as you feel my tongue move into you. Outside your mind, sitting in the office of your house, you’re so fucking wet it’s almost a shame. And you want to touch yourself so bad it almost hurts. You take a chance and slide your hand under the waistband of your shorts. “Shit,” you whisper, “baby, I’m so fucking hot.” You move slowly but impatiently, working your body up and praying you don’t scream when you cum.

I grunt, “Mmm. Good. God I’m wet, too.” I close my eyes and continue, “I’d reach up under your tank top, find a nipple and squeeze it. Roll it around in my fingers until it’s hard and aching. I bet that’d make you fuck my face even harder.” My body tightens and I groan, “I’m going to cum so hard. I am so fucking close.” I arch my back, feeling my muscles tighten and my thighs shiver, “I’m gonna cu–fuck, fuck. Oh baby.” I gasp and roll my hips, my toes curled and my eyes clamped closed. Breathing hard, I strain to hear you when you let out a desperate grunt.

Your vision begins to get hazy, “Fuck. Oh my god.” The pressure had been building and then your release claims you… torturously slow and sweet, starting in your groin and spreading from there. Wave after wave of pleasure rolls through your body, peaking in the middle and then cresting downward. You breathe hard and bite your lip harder. When your body begins to relax, you sigh, “Shit, baby.”

I smile, just a little shy now, and softly laugh, “Happy Birthday, Baby.”

Savi

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