My first phone sex call

The glow from my phone screen was the only light in my cramped apartment, painting my grey fur a cool blue. My long ears twitched, not from sound, but from the static anticipation buzzing through me. I’d been scrolling through some forums for an hour, my heart doing a nervous little thump against my ribs, before her message popped up.

Vixenia92: Saw your post about wanting to talk to someone. Your voice sounds… interesting. Care to test the connection?

A fox. Of course it was a fox. Sleek, clever, and always a step ahead. I, a rabbit who jumped at his own shadow, had no business answering. But my paw did the tapping anyway.

Now, here I was, the phone pressed to the side of my head as the sound was pulled through my ear, the silence so deep I could hear the rustle of my own fur against the cotton of my sweats.

“H-hello?” My voice came out softer than I intended.

“There he is.” Her voice was a warm, smoky purr that immediately sent a shiver down my spine, all the way to the tip of my cottony tail. It was low, laced with a smile I could practically vision. “Warren, right? I was starting to think you’d gone to ground.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, shifting on my bed. The sheets whispered under me. “Just… getting comfortable.”

“Mmm. Me too.” I heard a soft, deliberate sound, the creak of leather, maybe a couch, followed by the faint slide of fabric. My mind, treacherous thing, painted the picture: a luxurious red pelt settling back, a bushy red tail curling lazily. “So. You said you liked a guided imagination. What’s on your mind, little rabbit?”

Little rabbit. The nickname shouldn’t have made heat pool in my belly. but It did

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my free paw tracing the edge of my phone case. “You called me.”

Her laugh was a soft, huffing sound. “Fair. Okay. Let’s start simple. Close your eyes.”

I did. The dark behind my lids felt deeper, more intimate when they were closed.

“Good. Now… tell me what you’re wearing.”

“Just… shorts. Old ones.” The words felt clumsy in my mouth, hearing them out loud now felt a bit funny.

“Take them off.”

It wasn’t a question, it felt more like hearing a command. A jolt went through me, sharp and electric. I fumbled with the drawstring, the soft shush of the fabric sliding down my thighs to my legs absurdly loud in the quiet room. The cool air kissed my fur and my now freed cock, making every strand feel hyper sensitive.

“Done?” she asked, her voice dropping another confidential octave.

“Yeah.”

“How does the air feel?”

“Cool. On my… everywhere.”

“Imagine it’s not the air,” she murmured. I could hear her own breathing now, a slow, steady rhythm in my ear. “Imagine it’s a breath. Right there on the inside of your thigh. Warm. A little damp.”

A low, involuntary sound escaped my throat, a choked off whimper. My body responded instantly, a flush of heat following the phantom path her words traced .

“You have such soft fur there, I bet,” she continued, her words a slow, sensual crawl. “So dense. I’d nuzzle it first. Just a gentle press of my muzzle, inhaling your scent. Wild clover and sun warmed earth.”

My breath hitched. My paw wasn’t tracing the phone case anymore. It was resting on my stomach, feeling the rapid rise and fall with an increased heartbeat

“Then my tongue,” she whispered, and the word was a live wire. “One slow, rough stripe from that tender junction up to your navel. You’d jump, wouldn’t you? Your whole body would jolt.”

“Y-yes,” I gasped. My own paw moved lower, mirroring her description, the touch of my own pads a poor substitute for the image she was weaving for me.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” she soothed, but her voice was thick with its own want. I heard a shift, a rustle of her own clothing, a soft, wet sound that made my ears strain. She was touching herself, too like how my paw was starting to stroke my own cock. The realization was a bolt of lightning. This wasn’t a performance. It was a shared space. “Tell me what you’re doing, Warren.”

“Touching,” I breathed out, the confession melting into the static between us. “Where you said.”

“Good rabbit.” The praise scorched me. “Now, press a little harder. Imagine it’s my paw. My fingers are clever, aren’t they? Tipping your chin up, making you look at me…”

Her guidance became more explicit, a detailed map of touch and sensation. She described the friction of our fur mingling, the contrasting textures, my plush softness against her sleek, guarded sleek fur. She described the sounds: the shaky rasp of my breathing mingling with her moans, the low, possessive growl she’d make in the back of her throat, the muffled, desperate sounds I’d make against her shoulder, the sounds of my dick sliding in and out of her pussy

My world narrowed to the vortex of sensation in my core and the velvet of her voice in my ear, coaxing, commanding, unraveling me. My hips began a shallow and buck, helpless rhythm against my own touch as I was coming close to my own climax with the heat pooling in my gut, the bedsprings letting out tiny, rhythmic squeaks I was powerless to stop.

“You’re close,” she stated, her own words coming in sharper bursts now, punctuated by soft, panting breaths. “I can hear it. Don’t hold back. Let me hear you fall apart.”

It was the permission I didn’t know I needed. Her next words, a raw, graphic image of her claiming my mouth, her tail wrapping possessively around my thigh, tipped me over the edge. A broken cry tore from my throat, my body arching as pleasure, the pooled heat in my gut had slowly started to release and hot cum dripping out of the tip and down my dick, I shuddered at the feeling ripping through me. The phone almost slipped from my sweat damp paw.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of our ragged breathing syncopating over the line. The phantom world she’d built dissolved, leaving me boneless and buzzing in my dark room.

A soft, satisfied sigh came from her end. “There. See? Not so scary.”

I managed a breathless, dazed laugh. “You’re… terrifying.”

“I know.” She sounded smug, happy. “Get some water, Warren. Sweet dreams.”

The line went dead.

I lay there for a long time, the smell of my own arousal and the echo of her voice clinging to the now quite of my apartment . My heart was still hammering, a frantic drum against my ribs. In the silence, a giddy, disbelieving thought took shape.