What We Did Over the Phone Was My First Time

Today I want to tell you about the first time I lost my mind over a simple phone call. We didn’t even plan it. It happened on an ordinary afternoon, one of those times when you have nothing to do and boredom mixes with desire.

I was twenty and had only been getting to know Adrián for a few weeks. Not long, yes, but from the very first message there was a chemistry I couldn’t explain. We talked for hours and, almost without realizing it, the conversations always ended up getting hotter. Flirting, innuendo, lines that left more questions than answers. Nothing more. Until that day.

Until then, everything between us had lived on a screen. Midnight messages, voice notes I listened to three times before going to sleep, photos I deleted soon after for fear someone might see them. I was curious, but I was careful too. I had never crossed the line of saying out loud what I thought when I was alone in my bed. That afternoon, without meaning to, that line was erased completely.

I was in my room, on the second floor. My family was downstairs in the living room with the TV on. I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling and playing with my phone when it buzzed with a message from him.

—Hi, baby. How are you? —he wrote.

—Good, and you? —I replied with a stupid smile that appeared on its own.

—Good. Thinking about you.

—Oh, yeah?

—Yeah, baby. What are you wearing?

I bit my lip before answering. I knew exactly where this was going and I did nothing to stop it.

—A black top, a short skirt, and nothing but a white thong underneath.

—Let me see you.

I settled into the bed, stretched out my arm, and sent him a photo. Lying there, my skirt lifted just enough, looking straight into the camera. I sent it before I could change my mind.

—Fuck. I want to pull that skirt up right now.

—Mmm, I love it when you get like that —I replied, and I felt my nipples starting to harden against the fabric.

—You’re getting me rock hard. I want to see you.

I knew he meant a video call. And as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t. Just imagining my dad opening the door and finding me with the camera on turned my stomach.

—I can’t. My parents are home.

—Then let me hear you.

Those three words made my heart race. I liked his voice, deep and calm, and the idea of having it in my ear won me over. I texted him to call me. Seconds later the phone rang and I answered nervously, almost in a whisper.

At first we talked about unimportant things. He told me he was in the car, on his way to a meeting fifteen minutes from his house. His voice sounded relaxed, but my body was already on fire.

—Are you still hard? —I asked, imagining it pressing against his pants while he drove.

—Hearing your voice gets me like this. You’re not helping.

I squeezed my legs together. My thong was already wet and he hadn’t even really started yet.

—I’m wet —I confessed, and my breathing gave me away.

—Pull up your top. Touch your tits for me.

I obeyed. The moment I brushed my chest I let out a low moan. I was so sensitive that the simple contact made me arch my back slightly. My nipples were hard, begging for attention.

—They’re rock hard —I murmured, still moaning, as my hips started moving on their own.

—If I were there I’d bite them slowly, one by one.

I had to bite down on my lower lip to keep from making a sound. The house was silent and any moan would have carried down the stairs.

—I need you inside me —I let out softly—. It hurts how much I want you.

—Open your legs. Pull your thong aside and put two fingers in yourself.

I did, and I nearly screamed. I was soaking wet, so much that I could hear my own fingers sliding as they went in. I hadn’t touched myself in days and I felt it immediately: how tight I was, that strange mix of discomfort and pleasure that ran through me.

—I’m so wet I’m going to end up soaking the bed —I said, breathless, pumping my fingers in and out slowly.

I knew the car had the speakerphone on, that my voice was filling that enclosed space while he drove. For some reason, that idea excited me even more.

—I want you to do it hard. Don’t stop.

His command reached me along with the sound of his breathing, getting heavier and heavier. I realized I had never done anything like this before, letting someone guide me with words, obeying a voice without seeing it. And I discovered I liked it. I liked it more than I was willing to admit.

I turned my head toward the half-open door. Through the crack came the distant murmur of the television, my family’s voices mixed with some show’s laughter. Knowing they were so close, that only a staircase separated us, made my skin prickle. It was a mixture of panic and arousal I had never felt, and far from stopping me, it pushed me to keep going.

—It feels incredible —I panted—. I’m so tight.

My legs couldn’t open any wider. My skirt bunched at the waist, my tits out, my thong pushed to one side while I rubbed my clit with the palm of my hand and kept sinking my fingers in.

—Put another one in. I want to hear you feel all of it.

I was moaning as I spoke, and I knew he was touching himself at the wheel too. For a moment I wished I was in that car, kneeling on the seat, doing to him what his voice was describing to me.

—Ah, it hurts a little —I said when I added the third finger.

It was the first time I’d gone up to three. If two already made me struggle, with the third I felt myself opening too much, that new sting I had never known before. I could hear his groans on the other end, and knowing he was listening made me even wetter. When I finally pushed it in, I stopped thinking about the pain and started moving hard. A strange, addictive mix of discomfort and pleasure.

—It’s in now —I panted—. It hurts, but I like it.

—Get on all fours and keep going.

I liked hearing him order me around. I didn’t argue. I took off my thong to be more comfortable, turned over, and pressed my face into the pillow. I wasn’t moaning anymore: I was screaming into the fabric, muffling every sound. In that position the fingers went deeper and the pleasure multiplied.

Ass in the air, back arched, completely exposed on my own bed. I knew anyone could open that door and still I didn’t stop. My thighs were wet, my whole body trembling, and I only wanted more.

—Deeper —I begged as best I could—. It feels better like this.

—Don’t stop, baby. I want you to come for me. Imagine they’re my fingers, that I’ve got you pinned to the mattress, that I’m gripping your hair while I fuck you nonstop.

His words made me speed up. I closed my eyes and pictured him on top of me, and just that made my body clench around my fingers as if it were real.

—More, yes, like that —I moaned, and he answered with increasingly rapid gasps.

I could tell he was on the edge. I was too. My legs were shaking, a current rising from my stomach, and I felt something about to explode.

—I think… I think I’m going to come. I can’t take it anymore —I said between broken moans.

—Do it. Come for me. I’m about to go too.

It was like we were connected by something more than a phone call. I felt the explosion race through my entire body and I screamed with all my strength, even though the pillow swallowed every sound. My whole body jerked several times, unable to stop.

***

I stayed there lying face down, my back beaded with sweat, breathing like I’d just run a marathon. I slowly pulled my fingers out and a shiver ran through me from how sensitive I was. I let my legs fall open and rolled onto my side, staring at the ceiling with a smile so big it barely fit on my face.

—We have to repeat these calls —I said, still breathless—, if they’re always going to end like this.

—Lick your fingers —he replied—. I don’t want you leaving a single drop.

I did. I ran my tongue over them slowly and tasted myself, sweet and a little bitter at the same time. I described how I tasted and listened to him groan just from imagining it. Then he admitted he’d finished too, right there in the middle of the car, and I felt powerful knowing I was the one causing all of that in him.

After that, it got late for his meeting and we had to say goodbye almost reluctantly.

My legs were still shaking when I sat up. I had to get myself together fast or they’d find out. I cleaned up as best I could and left my thong in a mess to the side; I went downstairs with nothing on under my skirt. No one in the whole house suspected that minutes before I’d been half-naked, on all fours, lost in a fantasy I never thought I’d dare to live out.

That afternoon I discovered something about myself I didn’t know. That I didn’t need to be touched to give myself completely. That sometimes, a voice on the other end of the phone is enough to set everything on fire. And ever since then, every time I see his name on the screen, I know any call can turn into so much more.