wish you were here · and slower
Edging Phone Sex In The Red Dress
the one with the cherries, not the black one
Edging Phone Sex · Pin Up Phone Sex · Tease & Denial Phone Sex · Confession · Dominant · Mommy Phone Sex · Sensual Mommy · Roleplaying · Cock Control · Findom · No Limits
I put the red one on because the kitchen was warm and I didn’t feel like real clothes. Polka dots. Cherries, if you squint. The kind of dress that looks sweet until I sit wrong on purpose. He called while I was still barefoot. I let it ring twice. Pin Up Phone Sex is the picture he wanted. I gave him the picture, then I took the ending away.
He started polite. Hi Sugar. You sound pretty. I told him pretty was free and the rest wasn’t. That’s not me being cruel. That’s me knowing how this goes if I let him set the pace. He gets eager. He gets loud. He finishes in four minutes and then he wants to talk like we went on a date. I don’t do that. Edging Phone Sex is me keeping my voice even while his gets stupid.
I described the dress from the hem up. Knee. Thigh. The little bow I never actually tie. He asked if I had anything under it. I said that was a second-call question. Tease & Denial Phone Sex isn’t a script I read. It’s me hearing him speed up and saying stop like I’m telling a dog to sit. He stopped. I smiled at the empty kitchen. Confession: I like that part more than the finish. The finish is easy. The stop is where he remembers who he’s talking to.
Dominant doesn’t have to mean I yell. I don’t yell. I pour a glass of something cold and I tell him where his hand goes. Left. Slower. Not that. He tried to bargain. Five more seconds. I said no and I meant it. Mommy Phone Sex is what he called it when his voice cracked. I let him have the word. Sensual Mommy if he needs the soft version so he doesn’t feel embarrassed about taking orders from a woman in a cherry dress. I can be both. Soft voice. Hard no.
Roleplaying showed up when he asked me to pretend we were at a diner and I was the waitress who liked him. I said the diner was closed and I was already home. I’m not doing a costume on top of a costume. The dress is enough. Cock Control is the actual game. He doesn’t stroke unless I count. He doesn’t count unless I say the number. He missed three and I made him start over. He laughed like it was funny. It wasn’t funny by the second restart.
Findom slid in when he offered to send something if I let him finish. I told him the send didn’t buy the finish. It bought another ten minutes of me deciding. He sent it anyway. Good. No Limits on my line means I can talk filthy about what I’d do if he were in the chair across from me. It does not mean he gets to sprint. I described sitting on the table edge, dress rucked, one foot on the chair, and him not allowed to touch until I tapped his wrist. He made a noise I saved in my head for later.
Halfway through I got bored of the counting and switched to questions. What did he have for dinner. Did he lock the door. Was he still wearing the shirt from work. Ordinary stuff, while his hand stayed where I left it. That’s the mean trick. Edging Phone Sex works better when the talk goes dull for a minute. He can’t hide in the dirty words. He has to stay hard while I ask about the mail. He stayed. I was impressed and I did not say so.
I stood up. The dress stuck to the back of my leg. I told him that. I told him the kitchen tile was cold and I didn’t care. I opened the fridge so he’d hear it. Asked if he was still being good. He said yes too fast. I said show me by stopping again. He did. I let the quiet sit. Ice in the glass. His breathing. My foot on the cabinet. If you want a woman who rushes you to the good part, call someone else. I like the part where you hate me a little and stay anyway.
He asked what I looked like right then. Hair half up. Lipstick from earlier, mostly gone. Nails cherry red, almond, a chip on the thumb from the can opener. I don’t do a full face to answer the phone. He said he could picture it. I said picture the dress riding up when I lean on the counter, and picture your hand not moving. He groaned. I told him that noise was allowed. The stroke wasn’t.
We did that for a while. Permission. Takeaway. Permission again, shorter. I could hear him getting close to the edge of actually disobeying. That’s the line I watch. I don’t want a man who folds so easy he isn’t any fun, and I don’t want one who ignores me. He stayed on the right side of it. When I finally let him go, I made him thank me before, not after. After doesn’t count. They’ll say anything after.
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He finished messy and grateful and a little mad. I stayed on while he caught his breath. Told him to drink water. Told him the dress was going back on the chair, not in the wash, because I might wear it again tomorrow if he called at the same time. He asked if that was a promise. I said it was a maybe. Edging Phone Sex with me is a maybe until you hear yes. Yes is short. The rest of the call is me enjoying the wait.
If you call, don’t open with how long you can last. I don’t believe you, and I’ll check. Tell me you’re home. Tell me the door’s locked. Wear something you don’t mind ruining. I’ll be in the red one if the kitchen’s warm. I might be in the black one if I’m in a worse mood. Either way you don’t get the ending when you want it. You get it when I’m done playing with my drink.
The glass is empty now. The dress is on the chair. He already texted goodnight like a gentleman, which is cute and useless. Tomorrow he can try again. I’ll let it ring twice. That’s Edging Phone Sex when it’s actually me. Sweet picture. Slow hands. I hang up first.
ring twice · then be good
Be sweet. Be slow. I decide the rest.
— Sugar