Masturbating with a stranger on the phone has always been one of my favorite filthy habits, and tonight’s caller is already breathing hard before I even finish saying hello. I can hear the soft, wet sound of his hand moving and it makes my own fingers slide straight between my legs.

I’m lying on my bed in nothing but an old t-shirt, legs spread, phone tucked against my shoulder. “Are you already touching yourself?” I ask, voice low and amused. He groans yes. I smile and push two fingers through my wetness, letting him hear the soft slick noise. “Good. Keep going. I want to hear you stroke that cock while I start masturbating with you.”

I am. My clit is swollen and sensitive under my fingertips. I circle it slowly, matching the rhythm I hear on his end. This is pure mutual masturbation—both of us touching, both of us listening, both of us getting closer with every dirty little sound. “Tell me how you’re doing it,” I whisper. “Fast? Slow? Are you squeezing the head every time you stroke up?”

He describes it in a rough voice and I reward him by pushing my fingers deeper, letting the wet sounds get louder. “I’m so slippery right now,” I tell him. “Two fingers aren’t even enough. I’m thinking about how good it would feel if you were here watching me while we kept masturbating together.” My hips start rolling against my hand. The phone sex is already turning into something messier and more desperate.

“I’m getting close,” he pants. I can hear his fist moving faster. I match him, rubbing my clit in tight, wet circles while my other hand squeezes my breast. “Don’t you dare come yet,” I tease. “I want us to do this together. Keep stroking for me. Let me hear how badly you need it.”

He curses under his breath but obeys. The line is full of heavy breathing and the soft slap of skin. I slide a third finger inside myself and moan louder than I mean to. “God, I’m so full right now and it still isn’t enough. Keep going. Harder. I want to come while I’m listening to you jack off.”

The tension builds fast. My thighs start to shake. His breathing turns into short, broken grunts. “Now,” I gasp. “Come with me. Right now. Let me hear you.” I rub myself in frantic little circles, fingers buried deep, and the orgasm hits hard—sharp and wet and loud. I cry out into the phone while I hear him groan and spill on the other end, the two of us locked in messy, perfect mutual masturbation.

For a few seconds there’s only panting. Then I laugh softly, still stroking myself through the aftershocks. “See? That’s how I like my phone sex… both of us messy, both of us listening, both of us coming at the same time.”