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You hadn’t seen him since he pushed the boundaries. Once again, you’d ended up praying for forgiveness – the action almost becoming routine and a taunt. The touch of his hands on your skin lingering in your mind longer than you’d like to admit. Images of him flushed on the edge of your bed, in his car, and his pool trouble you alongside his remnant touch.
The last you had heard was that his family had gone out of state – that was a week ago. Since then, you’d heard nothing else except brief comments your mother made after conversing with others at church. You wouldn’t acknowledge it, at least not yet, but you were growing disappointed with the lack of excitement and secrecy he brought. It was wrong to want this, you’d remind yourself, but the desire persisted.
Time passed anyway and with exams coming up for college you’d had no time to dwell on these thoughts. You’d sat at your desk late into the night and early morning, nose buried into a textbook. That was until your phone started vibrating, the telltale ringtone breaking the silence in your room. As you look at the caller ID your breath falters for a moment.
Why was he ringing you? Especially, at this time of night.
You answer it anyway, pressing the phone to your ear nervously, trying to listen to the other end before speaking.
Upon hearing nothing you speak quietly, “Hello?”
You hear some sort of rustling or what you think may be movement before you hear his voice, “Hi Princess.” The charismatic charm oozing through the phone. Yet you notice he sounds strained.
“Is everything okay?” You ask concerned trying to listen carefully.
He lets out a breathy laugh before responding, “I can picture the face you’re pulling, furrowed brows and your bottom lip between your teeth.” He sounds almost breathless as he speaks. You flush at the accuracy of his description trying to hide the flush creeping up your face as if he could see you.
“Stop it…” You retaliate weakly. “Seriously is everything okay? You sound out of breath.”
It’s impossible to camoflauge the worry in your voice, it comes out meek and innocent. You hear him curse and you wince at his vulgar words. You say his name after getting no response. That’s when you hear it – the consistent wet sounds coming from the background of his call.
You say his name again in the same timid voice. “Are you...?” You trail off too embarrassed to say it out loud.
He groans and you hear the noises quicken and become slightly louder. “Sorry Princess. Just had to hear your voice. Fuck- you’ll help me out, won’t you?” You flush at his words, the way his voice sounds, the obscene noises you shouldn’t be hearing, and the picture you’re involuntarily constructing in your head of him pleasing himself.
“H-how? This is bad… shouldn’t be doing this.” You murmur guilt beginning to eat up at you again but your body’s betraying you as arousal begins to settle at your core.
“Not bad sweetheart- not bad,” he tries to convince you breathily, “Just talk to me, yeah? Wish I was with you. Need you.”
You let out a shaky breath at his words before you awkwardly reply trying to do what he wants you to do, “Wish I was there too…” Suddenly trying to be bolder as you eagerly listen to his noises, “Could be my hand next time? Teach me maybe…”
He’s panting into the phone now, your awkward attempt at dirty talk clearly doing something for him. “Fuck- You mean it? You’d let me teach you? Want to make me feel good?”
You’re nodding at his questions despite his inability to see you, your thighs clenching together at his words. “Want to make you feel good. Just you.” You murmur dazed at the friction you’re trying to create for yourself.
Next thing you hear is a grunt followed by rustling. “Just me?” He asks before turning austere in his voice “Say it again.”
“Only you.” You whisper unquestioningly.
All you hear is a groan of your name followed by rustling and the wet noises eventually coming to a halt. He must’ve came, you think to yourself and at this realisation you stiffen up feeling the guilt wash over you – now unable to bring yourself to finish. You wonder whether he’d try to return the favour, but he doesn’t make any moves to.
A cough reverberates through your phone speakers, “So… how have you been? Holding up okay?”
Your brain short-circuits at the sudden disregard for what just happened – his shift to small talk being the equivalent to showering you in cold water. “Yeah, I’m good, just studying for my exams. What about you?” You ask politely trying to mask the unease in your voice.
“Yeah, I’m all good. Hope I haven’t disturbed your studying too much. I forgot you had exams.” He admits truthfully.
“No, don’t worry. I was just finishing up anyway.” You lie not wanting to make this anymore drawn out.
“We come back home in a few days. It will be nice to see you again.” He answers his voice back to the smooth magnetic tone you’re familiar with.
“A few days?” You repeat tense. “…Well see you back at church then probably. I need to go to sleep, goodnight.”
He notices your shift in tone but doesn’t comment on it. “Goodnight sweetheart,” he manages to get out before you abruptly end the call and throw your phone across the room onto your bed.
You rest your head in your hands silently cursing yourself for giving into his dirty needs. You shouldn’t play into his palm like this, except all you can think about is the way he must’ve looked touching himself to the sound and thought of you; all needy and flushed with his eyes screwed shut, curls brushing his forehead. Looking like an angel but acting like a devil in disguise.
A notification from your phone snaps you out of your sinful thoughts and you’re quick to offer a prayer of forgiveness before bed. The usual ritual. Now you’re just hoping that he doesn’t remember your earlier offer.