ICY BED
The lights are dim and the television is playing on mute in the background just to keep the sense of aloneness at bay. You turn on your laptop and wait for the telltale ringing of a video call so that you can see your beloved’s face once more. He’s been away on business for so long already—too long. Though you were happy for him when he first got the promotion, you’ve started to wonder if it was such a good idea after all. He smiles and strokes the corners of the screen as though he could touch you through it and then asks you about your day, in spite of the lines of exhaustion etched on his face.
“They’ve got me stuck here for another week, sweetheart,” he says from the tiny screen you’re watching him through. It’s more like an apology than anything else, but it’s already been two weeks and you don’t know how long you can keep going.
“I miss sleeping next to you,” you say, fixing the straps on your tank top and looking sufficiently pouty at the web camera to make him feel guilty. It’s not his fault, but you’re sitting there in your pajamas and he’s a plane ride away in a business suit. Someone’s gotta pay, right?
“I know,” he says regretfully, kicking off his shoes so he can drag the laptop onto the bed, just like you. “Every night I’m here I go to sleep thinking of touching you. I want to kiss that pretty mouth of yours again and make love to you. Do you miss that too?”
“Of course I do,” you say as your clit gives a hopeful throb. You’re up and in the closet again, picking out the shirt he wore the last time you saw him in person. It looks exactly like the white tailored number he’s wearing right now, but it smells like him and you want it close. Right in front of the camera you pull off your tank top, exposing your breasts as you slide the button-up over your shoulders and leave it open.
There’s a sharp inhalation as his eyes watch you, mesmerized. “Take them off,” he demands, voice shaky. “The pants—take them off. I only want you to be wearing my shirt. Please.”
You comply, getting up onto your knees and pulling them down so he can briefly glimpse your freshly waxed mound. The laptop is off his lap now and the man who should be on top of you is stroking himself through his trousers.
“Open them,” you say. “Undo the zipper and take your cock out, but don’t you dare take those pants off. If you come all over yourself you’ll just have to explain it to the dry cleaners tomorrow.”
His eyes widen and he chuckles breathlessly. “As you wish.” The long smooth shaft appears and you’re nearly salivating. It’s been so long since you tasted that gorgeous head or licked at the vein that runs along the underside. His forefinger and thumb are rolling the skin idly just as your own digits move south, playing and teasing but not much more—yet.
Your right hand is on your breast, tugging at your nipples while you lift the edges of your shirt, showing him your pussy again.
“Such a shame that you can’t touch, isn’t it?” you tease him. “Where’s your ice bucket?”
“By the minibar.” He’s jerking off a little more earnestly now. “I’ll go get it if you do…”
So there’s a pause as you go to the fridge and pick out a few ice cubes, stopping by the bedroom closet again for your bag of toys. Usually you use them together, but needs must.
You hold an ice cube between your breasts and brush it across the stiff peaks of your nipples, shivering as the ice melts enough to qualify you for a wet T-shirt contest. The half-done cube travels down your tummy and between your legs, where you hold it just close enough to make you jump.
He’s moaning now, telling you how hot you are and how he can’t wait to be inside you. You tell him to stroke himself with an ice cube too, and watch little trickles of cold water run down his dick and pool in his pubic hair.
“Spread your legs for me, baby,” he pleads. There are beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead. His tie is hanging loose around his neck and his left hand has also strayed to his nipples, where you love to lick and bite. “I want to see that beautiful hole.”
And then your legs are in a V-shape on either side of the screen and you’re holding yourself open wide, imagining his tongue inside you, or his fingers. You balance the remnants of an ice cube right at your hole and then push it inside, fighting to keep your thighs from clenching together at the cold. Water’s trickling down onto the bed just as a fat drop of precome appears on the bright-red head of his dick.
“I want to fuck you so bad, sweetheart,” he says hoarsely. There’s emotion in his voice, and not just from the effort of holding back. “You’re glistening, I can see it from here.”
You smile and stick a finger inside yourself, showing him just how wet you are before you reach back into the bag and grab a tiny vibrator that slips like a cuff over the end of your finger. “Soon,” you say, “but not soon enough.”
Your hips jump against the sensation, spread as they are, but you’re not soft on yourself. You may squirm against the pleasure, but you’re going to take it and he’s going to watch. His hand has slowed and he’s tucked his shirt; watching you stroke your own clit has him open mouthed and panting.
“Don’t come yet,” he says, just as you feel your sex squeeze. It’s an effort to draw yourself back, but you’re listening, especially when that great big cock is twitching right in front of the camera.
“Can you get that pink dong out of the toy bag?” he asks. You do, and you’re just about to ask what he wants you to do with it when his phone rings. A look of panic comes over his face as he tells you it’s work, then proceeds to answer it with his junk hanging out and his wedding ring still glinting on his finger.
You set the dong—one with balls, so that it can sit upright—in the space in front of the keyboard. You get on your hands and knees and you deep-throat it, even though it’s plastic and it doesn’t taste a thing like him. You want to anyway, because he’s discussing a business deal but he’s also watching, and the force of his reaction is strong enough that he has to squeeze the base of his cock to keep from spurting.
Your finger vibrator goes back between your legs as you swallow this surrogate dick and soon you’re coming, moaning around the rim and sinking into the sheets.
“Yes, okay. See you to-tomorrow, sir,” he manages gruffly. The tie has gone missing somewhere, and he drifts out of view again. You can hear the sound of his suitcase being unzipped, rummaging—but what is he doing?
“Hurry up,” you say, just as he comes back with a pair of your best panties in his hand and a little travel-sized bottle of lube in the other.
“When did you steal those?”
“I got them out of your drawer right before I left.” He wraps the silky pink undergarment around himself and covers it liberally in lube. Watching him slide in and out of the fabric has you jealous so you set the dong upright again, holding it steady with your feet as you lower yourself down onto it.
“You’re doing the laundry when you get back,” you groan, happy to be finally filled like you haven’t been the past couple of weeks. “Oh god, I wish it was you fucking me right now. It’s so big, baby, it’s such a tight fit.”
“I’m gonna,” he promises, fisting his cock hard and fast. “When I get home you’re not going to walk for days—and we won’t leave the bedroom for days, either.”
Your fingers are back to your clit now, stroking the pink nub as your body pulls the dong in farther. You squeeze and knead your breasts for the camera, just for him to see, and you watch him jerking his cock—your cock, it belongs to you. You can smell him on his shirt and hear his voice and you’re coming so hard as you bounce up and down on the toy you two usually play with together that you’re seeing stars.
When your vision clears there’s a white ribbonlike mess over the picture that your husband is hastily wiping at with a tissue.
With a laugh, you ask, “Why did you bring a pair of my underwear with you, anyway?”
“A lot of the guys I travel with are up for getting a piece on the side wherever we go. I just choose to take my piece with me.”
“That’s very sweet,” you say with a smile, lifting yourself off of a dick that isn’t going to soften inside you anytime soon. “I think we’ve found our nightly solution for when you’re away, my love.”