The Voice

October 24, 2012 at 23:25 (erotica) (, , , , )

She remembers very little about that place.  There may have been a beach, there could have been a boardwalk, and it’s very possible the view from her window was breathtaking.  The inn was unremarkable, with its yawning beiges and blushes and art deco, its noisy plumbing that let everyone in the building aware of ones every private moment, and its faint smell of burnt coffee at all hours of the day and night.  She couldn’t describe a single face she met or hand she shook, and never ask her to recount a conversation she might have had there.  She couldn’t if she tried.  What she does remember is a corner suite next to her own room and the voice that came from it out of the blue.  This is what she remembers.

She was restless and pensive, feeling every bit as lumpy and misshapen as the bed she was laying on, stretched across it the wrong way like a haphazardly tossed coat.  She felt empty, lonely, and bored.  Strange places were not her forte, and this small town seemed to have tucked in for the night as if to admit self defeat.

How had she come to this place?  She’d left Big City A on her way to Big City B just a little too late to allow for any time to make a wrong turn, which is exactly what she’d done.  Lately it seemed like that’s all she did anymore.  Hell, maybe Big City B was a wrong turn altogether, but at least it was a change of scenery.  She’d lost all hope of redirecting in time to complete her journey before falling asleep at the wheel, and had decided instead to stop at the only inn in sight.  At the time it had seemed like a preferable option to driving straight into the ocean, but she was starting to question that decision as well.

That’s when she heard it.  A voice, faint and deep, ephemeral and ethereal.  It took her a moment to realize the source  of this voice inhabited the room beside her, and if she focused she could almost make out words.  Guilt grappled with curiosity within her as she tried to think about something other than the only thing that seemed to be able to keep her attention, the voice in the other room.

She moved closer, leaning her back against the adjoining wall, closed her eyes, and listened to what seemed to be a fairly menial conversation.  Ignoring the mundane content she let the low hum of a voice, his voice, enfold her and warm her, lulling her not so much to sleep but to calm.  From the sound of him she imagined a man who was strong, sturdy, and charming.  Someone attentive but assertive, caring but confident.  The kind of man who could make a woman melt but probably didn’t know it.  She pictured him sprawled across his bed, relaxed and deliberate instead of all floppy and discarded as she had been, just out of the shower after a long day in the sun.  The image made her grin to herself, and she shook her head at the notion.

Her attention spiked when two words managed to break through her reverie.  “My cock.”  The rest was unclear, but she immediately felt a pang of guilt and embarrassment.  She was eavesdropping, and this was none of her business, but she couldn’t pull herself away from the wall.  She remained there, on the floor, and listened intently, for what she wasn’t really sure yet.  She just needed to hear more.

Still unable to hear every word, she filled in the blanks when necessary, and it was obvious this phone call was becoming more and more intimate, but she no longer cared.   She let his voice fill her mind with images of the man she’d envisioned before, only now he was naked, legs spread, pleasuring himself.  She didn’t know who was on the other end of the phone call, and it didn’t matter.  The man in her vision was talking to her, and only to her, about every primal act he wanted to do to and with her.  Words like “hard” and “wet” started to insinuate themselves between terms she’d never think to utter over the phone. Words like “cunt”, “pussy”, and again “cock”.

Suddenly feeling flush, she pulled her shirt over her head, careful not to hit the wall and give away her vantage point.  Pressed against the cool wall, a chill ran down her spine, sending a shudder throughout her body.  She tilted her head back and gave in, letting the sound of his voice carry her deeper.

Every word breathed its way inside her, filling her with anticipation for the next.  She imagined him, just a few feet away, with just this wall between them, stroking his growing cock slowly and softly.  As he described how he’d roll her nipples between his lips she couldn’t help but follow his prompt with her own fingers.  As he spoke of sucking and nipping she pinched and tugged.  They responded instantly, hardening, sending a shock of excitement to her core.  She exhaled in pure pleasure and sank deeper into the hum of his voice, the vibration of his words reverberating in every orifice.

Desire flooded her as he described in vivid detail how his tongue would circle her clit, lapping up her juices as she’d grind his face.  She ran one hand smoothly down the length of her torso and into her panties.  She was more wet that she had ever remembered being before, and she teased herself lightly with a fingertip before bringing it to her mouth and sucking it clean.  She tasted sweet, and tasting herself sent a rush through her that ended in a moan she could not stifle.

If the man on the other side of the wall heard her he made no movements to change his course.  This thought excited her more, and the next time her hand found its way to her waist she slid off her panties, pressed herself harder against the wall, and spread her legs wide.  Suddenly noticing the full-length mirror on the opposite wall, she watched herself as her fingers once again found her clit, this time lingering to circle then dipping inside her.  She watched herself tease and play, and enjoyed her body’s response to her own touch.

Her stranger’s voice was now joined by the sound of her own pulse in her ears as he spoke of her pussy gripping his throbbing cock, how he’d sink in slow and deliberate so that she could feel every inch of him.  He moaned, and she shuddered, feeling herself contract around the fingers deep inside her as her thumb pressed against her clit.  She could feel the heat emanating from her cunt as she silently urged him to keep going, finger-fucking herself harder and faster as his eloquent descriptions started to devolve into broken phrases and gasping moans.  She could almost feel him getting closer to climax as she pictured the man in her visions vigorously stroking and thrusting, biting his lip in ecstasy at the thought of someone he could not see.

She could feel her own orgasm building, but she wasn’t going to let herself cum until he did.  She watched her expressions change in the mirror as she pinched and fondled her breast with one hand while the other thrust in and out of her dripping pussy.  All around her was the smell of her arousal, her juices combined with the sweat of need and desire.  Occasionally she would pull her hand to her lips and watch herself slowly suck them clean, luxuriating in her own taste, then just as slowly slide them back inside herself before building her speed back up again.  She focused on the feeling of her impending orgasm, the cool wall against her feverish body, and her clit pulsing like it was ready to explode.  She was drawing it out, but she knew when she eventually came she would cum harder than she ever had.  She sat there, watching herself pleasure herself, listening to a stranger pleasure himself to another stranger, mesmerized by the sight of herself losing control melding with the sound of his falling apart, allowing herself to float in pure sensation.

“Oh, fuck,” came his voice through the wall, more strained than it had been before.  She knew this was it, and she braced herself.  He moaned, and she moaned with him, picturing him about to shatter.  “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he choked.  “Me, too,” she answered silently, and desperately. “Please,” her mouth screamed, “please cum for me.”  She slid another finger inside her constricting pussy, ready to push herself over the edge, bracing herself against the wall to fuck herself deeper and harder.  “Here it comes,” he half screamed, half breathed, “oh fuck, get ready.”  “I’m ready!” she thought, reaching a point of no return.  “Fuck!” He shouted one last time, “I’m coming!” At the thought of her mystery man tearing apart, squirting cum all over himself, squeezing out every drop, she let herself go.  She pressed her thumb against her clit and thrust her fingers deep inside her gripping cunt, this time not pulling them back.  She closed her eyes, and the world around her dissolved into pure ecstasy as she came over and over, pouring her pleasure all over her hand, her thighs, and the floor beneath her.

She sat there for a while, reveling in post-orgasmic bliss, shuddering in little aftershocks and moaning as she slowly slid her fingers from her satisfied pussy. She smiled as she gave them one last savoring suck, and opened her eyes.  In the mirror was a woman who no longer felt defeated or deflated but enlivened and recharged.  In the mirror was a woman who was powerful and unstoppable.  At that moment she needed no one but herself.

She considered waiting in the hall way to see who emerged from the room next door, but ultimately she decided it didn’t matter.  He wouldn’t be the man she’d seen in her visions.  He wouldn’t be the man who had so shaken her world.  The man who came out of that door would have been merely the vessel, and more than likely she’d have been disappointed, so she left at sunrise to continue her journey, one that would not end at Big City B, or even Big City C or D.  She could not tell you now what the town was called or if the inn still stands, but to this day just the thought of that voice sends shivers down her spine and a dampness deep inside her.

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