Midnight Pillow Perfume

The scent of lavender and lemon polish hung heavy in the air of her parents’ guest room, a bizarre juxtaposition to the feverish heat now radiating from her own body. Just a month ago, the thought of a simple phone call after bed felt absurd, almost silly. Now, as the receiver pressed against her ear, the reality of the situation – a shared intimacy forged through the thin wires of technology – was both exhilarating and slightly surreal. Her husband, David, his voice a low rumble through the speaker, had laid the groundwork perfectly, the suggestion of a shared perfume, the whispered fantasies of a long drive home, all carefully constructed to ignite the flames of desire.

“Hey, Baby! Are you in bed?” he’d asked, his voice laced with anticipation. The shiver that had run through her wasn’t just from the cool night air; it was a primal response to the intimacy he was offering, even across the distance.

“Yes, and I’m VERY lonely. I really miss having you next to me,” she’d confessed, letting her longing spill into the line. His response, the image of a spritz of her favorite perfume on her pillow, had only amplified her yearning. It was a tiny, calculated gesture, designed to keep her mind occupied with the memory of his touch, his scent, his presence.

“I miss you, too. I sprayed a couple of squirts of your perfume on your pillow so I’d think of you as I drift off to sleep every night.” He’d said, and she’d felt a surge of heat that had nothing to do with the room temperature. The anticipation, the knowledge that he was experiencing her presence even in his dreams, had become an obsession.

“That’s sweet. I can’t wait to make love to you. It will be hard to keep my clothes on when we’re driving home from the airport.” She’d replied, letting the thought of their upcoming trip fuel her desire. The image of them speeding down the highway, the scent of his cologne mingling with the fresh air, had already begun to consume her thoughts.

“Don’t put those thoughts in my head–we have a week to go,” he’d chuckled, a playful warning. But she couldn’t help but indulge in the fantasies, letting her mind wander to the feel of his hands on her skin, the taste of his kisses, the heat of their bodies pressed together.

“I’ll wear a skirt home with nothing under it–what do you say? Do you think you’ll be able to keep your hands on the wheel?” she’d challenged, pushing the boundaries of their virtual connection. The thought of their mutual exposure, the shared vulnerability, had sent a jolt of electricity through her system.

“Will you want me to?” he’d asked, his voice dropping even lower, a hint of possessiveness creeping in. “Yes, definitely.”

“My red silk pajamas,” she’d said, describing her attire, a deliberate choice to further enhance the sensuality of the situation. The luxurious fabric, the vibrant color, all contributed to the feeling of forbidden pleasure she was experiencing.

“Sexy,” he’d confirmed, a simple yet potent compliment that sent shivers down her spine. “I am at my parents’ house, remember.” She’d reminded him, grounding them in reality, while simultaneously reinforcing the intimacy of their connection.

“Is the top buttoned?” he’d inquired, his voice a low murmur. “Yes,” she’d replied, pulling it open just a fraction, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her skin.

“Unbutton a few buttons and slip your hand inside,” he’d instructed, his voice laced with a desire that mirrored her own. The anticipation was almost unbearable, the urge to surrender to the pleasure overwhelming.

As she complied, her fingers tracing the buttery soft skin of her bosom, she couldn’t help but imagine his hands finding their way there, his thumbs caressing her nipples, his fingertips exploring every curve and contour. The thought alone sent a delicious shiver through her body.

“Does that feel good?” he’d asked, his voice filled with genuine curiosity. “Mmmm…yeah. But it feels so much nicer when you do it,” she’d admitted, unable to resist the pleasure of self-stimulation.

“I’m doing it in my mind,” he’d acknowledged, a playful challenge. “You naughty boy!” she’d giggled, intensifying her efforts, cupping her breast in her palm and brushing the tip with her thumb.

“Is your nipple getting erect?” he’d inquired, his voice filled with a strange blend of amusement and desire. “Yeah–both of them are,” she’d confessed, her body responding to his words with a growing heat. She changed hands, caressing the other breast and switching the phone to her other ear.

“Put the phone down for a second and use both hands, like I do,” she’d said, surrendering to the moment, kneading her breasts with growing excitement. Then she picked up the phone again.

“Ohh, that’s so nice. I must say, I do have nice boobs. They’re all firm already, and my nipples are getting SO hard.” She’d exclaimed, letting her voice betray her pleasure.

“I can just picture your hands on them. I love to watch you touch yourself,” he’d replied, his voice filled with admiration. “I know you do. And I love to feel you touch myself,” she’d said wistfully, longing for the real thing.

“Pull the drawstring on your pajama pants,” he’d instructed, his voice taking on a more urgent tone. “Are we having phone sex?” she’d questioned, a little hesitant. “I guess we are. Aren’t cells great?” he’d responded, a touch of disbelief in his voice.

“Yes–I never thought of using them this way, though. Leave it to you to come up with this idea,” she’d said, acknowledging his ingenuity. “‘Come up’ being the operative phrase here.”

“Whoa there, big fella,” he’d chuckled, a hint of teasing in his voice. “Are your pants open?” she’d confirmed, pulling them down slowly, the silky fabric sliding down her hips.

“Yes, and I’m pulling them off. It’s kinda hard with one hand. Give me a sec.” She’d paused, her body tensing with anticipation, before wriggling out of her pajama pants, then unbuttoning her top the whole way and laying it open to bare her breasts.

“Are you naked?” he’d asked, his voice filled with a mixture of anticipation and shock. “Almost,” she’d replied, feeling a surge of excitement as she reached for her bra. “Are you?”

“Yes. I’ve been sleeping naked every night and imagining your body against mine.” He’d said, his voice filled with longing. “Are you getting any sleep at all?” she’d questioned, feeling a little self-conscious.

“It’s hard,” she’d admitted, her body responding to his words with a rising heat. “Do you mean it’s hard to get any sleep or do you mean, ‘it’s hard’?” he’d clarified, a playful challenge in his voice. “Roger that, Houston. I’m torturing myself with the smell of your perfume on the pillow and our favorite Diana Krall CDs.”

“I wish I could kiss you right now,” she’d sighed, letting her longing fill the line. “And I wish I could kiss you,” he’d responded, his voice a soft murmur. “Where would you kiss me?” she’d asked, her body trembling with anticipation.

“On your earlobes and your throat, on the small of your back and behind your knees, on your belly–and on your mouth, of course,” he’d replied, painting a vivid picture with his words. “Would you kiss me between my legs?” she’d challenged, pushing the boundaries of their virtual connection.

“Yeah, sure I would,” he’d confirmed, his voice filled with excitement. “They’re silky smooth tonight, and right now they’re wide open.” She’d replied, feeling her body respond to his words.

“I wish my face were right there between them. Where do you have your hands?” he’d asked, his voice filled with desire. “I’m caressing the insides of my thighs with my fingertips–Mmmm, that’s nice,” she’d said, surrendering to the pleasure of his touch.

“You’re making me crazy,” he’d chuckled, a playful warning. “Now I’m running my fingers through my bush. Can you hear it?” She’d put the phone between her splayed thighs and he heard the scratching sound as she ran her fingernails through the wiry hair.

“I could eat you alive,” he’d whispered, his voice filled with a strange mix of lust and vulnerability. “I’m getting wet. I want you so bad!” she’d exclaimed, her body responding to his words with a growing heat. Her breasts were painfully taut, and her thighs were becoming slippery with her growing passion. The inner lips of her throbbing vagina had burst out like the petals of an exotic flower.

“What are you doing now?” he’d asked, his voice filled with anticipation. She’d responded with a gasp, unable to contain her pleasure as she continued to explore her own body. The heat was building, the anticipation reaching a fever pitch.

“I’m touching myself very gently. I’m just brushing the edges of my lips with my fingertip. Ohh, Baby–please come to me. I’m so swollen. I want you here. I want you inside me.” She’d confessed, her voice a breathless whisper.

“Put your fingers inside,” he’d urged, his voice filled with a primal desire. “They’re in, believe me. Ahh–that’s incredible. I’m dripping wet. I’m touching my g-spot, I think. Oh, yeah–that’s it. I’m in really deep. Oh, here it comes I can’t hold it anymore I want you I want you I’m coming I think I’m gonna scream please come love me and hold me I want you in me I have to have you please please oh yes please…Aaaaaah!”

Her body writhed as she climaxed, and he felt the hot wetness on his stomach as his own body reacted to his mental picture of what was happening in that bed so many miles away. The shared intimacy, the shared pleasure, had created a bond that transcended the limitations of distance and technology. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss, a testament to the power of desire in the digital age.

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Midnight Pillow Perfume

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