Long Distance Satisfaction

I say good night to Bud, swiftly ducking into my hotel room. I flick on the lights, a bright yellow illuminating the bland room, and shut the door behind me. Dropping my briefcase to the floor and the key on the table, I let out a sigh. It's nearly midnight, I'm exhausted, and more importantly, more aroused than I have been in a long time.

The day had started out perfectly. The Admiral had ordered Mac and I to attend some high school event at which we would speak about our careers. It was career week, and why not kill two birds with one stone with military and law?

So we spoke in front of about 300 teens, which didn't turn out to be as much of a drag as we had expected it to be. The kids seemed interested enough in the JAG corps, but were more so interested in our travel details. One pimply-faced kid was impressed to know that we had gotten shot down in Russia, while a group of girls were over-exuberant as we named more exotic places including Australia.

The assembly didn't last long, maybe an hour at most. Mac and I left the school and had gone straight to an extended lunch—which translates to a rushed sandwich at my apartment and a quickie on the living room floor. However, said quickie was interrupted by a call from the Admiral, who was quick and to the point.

"Commander, I was under the impression that you were to be in the office directly after your meeting?" he had said, his voice crisp.

"I took an early lunch, sir, and stopped home to grab a file I'd forgotten this morning."

"Well, grab your lunch, your file, and get your six back in the office ASAP."

"Aye, sir."

"And will you please tell the Colonel that I need the Jameson file by 1500 hours?" This was said with a smile, undoubtedly, and I was left with wide eyes as the ring tone buzzed in my ear.

I had recounted the conversation to Mac, who laughed at my shock. The Admiral knows about our relationship, but sometimes his ability to know when we're together and intimate is downright creepy.

So our session was cut short and we were back in the office twenty minutes later. The moment I stepped off the elevator, Tiner was on my six like a lost puppy informing me that I was to be in the Admiral's office in five. So, I saw him and then left with a new case in Nebraska with Bud. No Mac. By then, my sexual frustration was teeming, and when I went to deliver the bad news to my partner, the fullness of her lower lip as she pouted was nearly too much to bear. I kissed her cheek (behind closed shades), promised to call that night, and left to pack.

Spending multiple hours on a plane with Bud is not my idea of a good time. I went over the case file about three times as Bud droned on about what new and adorable thing AJ had done, all the while thinking of Mac. She had been so ready on that floor, and the evidence of my readiness had been painfully difficult to control. However, after landing and meeting with the CO, here I am.

I sit on the bed and quickly tug off my shoes and socks as I check the bounce-icity of the bed. Not bad. . .although the bed of a certain Marine Colonel would be much more comfortable. My thoughts quickly emerge into those of Mac lying sprawled across that big, beautiful bed, clothed in a sheer slip. And it is with these thoughts that my uniform becomes uncomfortable tight, and soon it's lying in a heap on the floor and I'm clad only in my white boxer briefs. Until recently I've been a boxer man; however, when Mac confessed her extreme fondness of boxer briefs, I quickly made the transition for her benefit. And, as I soon found, my own as well. Very comfortable.

However, in this instance, I'm wishing for my boxers as the fabric creates a slightly unbearable prison over my ever-present erection.


Absentmindedly, I lean back on the lumpy pillows and reach for the phone on the nightstand. Dialing the number I know so well, I wait three rings (while hoping that I haven't woken her up—I don't want a pissed off Marine on my hands…..although I wouldn't object to *in* my hands…). My thoughts are broken as her breathy voice answers "hello?".

"Hey yourself," I say, smiling. I feel my dick throb as she giggles and replies.

"I was wondering where you were; I thought you might have stood me up."

"I would never!" I exclaim in mock horror. "Besides, I'm having a bit of trouble standing up right now anyway. . ."

She snorts, but doesn't take the bait. "So how was your flight?"

"Long. And don't even get me started on what happened at the base. . . "

"That bad?" she asks, her voice soothing.

"Yes, that bad. I'd take handling those teens any day."

He could hear her smile into the phone, and the thought brought a smile to his own face. "I could see that a coupla girls wouldn't have minded handling you, flyboy."

I laugh. That didn't go unnoticed, and under normal pretenses I would have been flattered had I not been completely consumed by my partner. "Yes, well, I can tell you right now that you'll be the object of many a-wet dream tonight."

She laughs. "Yours included?"

"Not if this conversation turns out the way I want it to."

I can hear a slight movement and a squeak, and I have the perfect image of her lying on her bed or couch, shifting her thighs.

"Mac?"

"Hmm?"

"Where are you right now?"

"In my bed."

"In what position?"

"On my stomach, facing the foot of the bed. I was reading when you called."

"And what are you wearing?"

I can hear her smile again as she answers. "The perfume you got me last Christmas. Oh, and a pair of your socks."

"My socks?"

"My feet are cold."

"And what about the rest of you?"

"Becoming increasingly warmer."

I groan. "God, Sarah, I've got the most incredible visual image of you right now."

"Oh yea? Tell me a little about yourself so I'll have an accurate, updated image of you."

"Accurate?"

"My mind is filled with images of you in tight leather pants. . ."

I shift my hips, unable to bear the thought of myself in leather at the moment. Even a mental image is confining. "Remind me to pick up a few smut novels at the airport; they're good for your imagination."

She giggles again and says, "Well, sailor?"

"I'm lying on my back in the center of the bed in my hotel room, one arm cradling the back of my head, the other holding the phone to my ear. My legs are crossed at the ankles."

"And your current attire?"

"Boxer-briefs."

She practically purrs. "Mmm, *very* nice visual image, stickboy." She draws out the very, allowing the word to linger on her lips as I reclaim the one I have of her.

"I hafta tell you, Mac, that I had some very naughty visual images of you during the assembly today."

"Tell me about them."

"After everyone departed for lunch and we were left alone to pack up our things, you dropped a leaflet on the ground. When you bent down to pick it up. . .I noticed you weren't wearing any underwear."

"How could you tell?" she asks, shifting again. I imagine her turning onto her back, her knees slightly apart.

"I'd been watching you throughout the presentation. You had no panty lines."

"Ooo. . .a point for paying attention to detail. Go on."

"I imagined coming up behind you as you reached for the paper, grasping your hips with my hands as I gave you a demonstration of how the thought of you going commando under your uniform affected me. You have no idea how hard I was just thinking about you."

"I have a pretty good idea," she says, and I imagine her brushing the patch of soft curls between her legs.

"What are you doing now, Sarah?" I ask, my voice deeper as I allow my head to rest on the pillow as I remove my arm from under me. I rest my hand on my stomach, itching to move it further south, but waiting patiently for the next image.

"Tracing circles around my belly button. Waiting for you. What happens next, Harm?"

"You tell me. What would you have done?"

"I would have straightened, leaving my backside in contact with your hardness. I can almost feel the tightened grip of your fingers at my hips as I grind slightly against you before quickly moving away. I look around, seeing a classroom door leading off the back of the auditorium and I head toward it. I don't stop until I reach the door handle, where I turn towards you and smile invitingly before disappearing inside."

I notice her change of tense and let out a slow groan. We're within the fantasy now, the delicious thoughts plaguing our minds. My fingers are tracing the elastic of my underwear and as they dip slightly underneath, I speak.

"I drop the papers I'm carrying, not caring as they scatter about the floor. I follow in pursuit, like a tiger going after its prey. I open the door to see you sitting behind the teacher's desk, your fingers toying with the buttons on your shirt. You've gotten a head start; you're nearly done. I walk towards you, weaving around the desks, unbuttoning my own shirt."

"You finally reach the desk and as I reach the last button, parting the fabric slightly so that you can see the bare skin underneath. Your earlier prediction was correct: no underwear. I watch as your own shirt hits the floor and I shift my thighs together, trapping the heat you cause between my damp legs."

I lick my lips and continue. "I come behind the desk, turning the chair sideways as I lean on the arms, my face coming close to yours. I can feel your warm breath against my heated flesh and it's all I can do not to take you right there in that chair." My eyes clench tightly shut. I can almost feel the sensations I speak of, can nearly feel her breath prickling against my neck.

"I wish you would. . . I want you so bad, Harm. I'm so wet. . ."

"I lean my face in, claiming your mouth in a soft kiss, as if testing your lips. You respond hungrily, greedily, nipping at my bottom lip as I separate them and invade your mouth with my tongue. You taste so good, Sarah . . so good."

"I respond with blind passion as my arms encircle your neck, and you pull me up out of the chair, pressing me to the closest surface you can find: the white erase board. The marker shelf digs into my backside but I don't care, all I can feel is your mouth devouring mine."

These images burn into my brain, and I can feel my engorged dick throbbing harder. I let out a soft cry, aching to get out of these damn constraints and bring myself to a quick release, but I hold off, desperate to prolong this as much as possible.

"I tear my lips away from yours, tracing your cheekbone as I search for that delightfully sensitive spot behind your ear, and I hear you moan as I find it and stroke the spot with my tongue." Mac does let out a moan, a sound that shoots straight through to my tightening groin. "I reach to your chest, pushing apart the edges of your shirt so my hands can claim your breasts. You have such incredible breasts, Sarah. I weigh them in my hands before rolling them upwards and together, gently squeezing. My palms grind against your hardened nipples, and I abandon the huge swells to concentrate on the rosy peaks. I pinch and tug and twist slightly and you say—"

"Yes! Oh God, just like that, Harm . . "

I can see her head cocked to the side, cradling the telephone between her shoulder and ear as her hands reenact my words. I can perfectly picture her fingernails scratching the edges of the aureole before zoning in on the firm buds. I groan again as my cock twitches.

"Off," she breathes. "Take off your briefs."

The phone hits the mattress as my hips thrust into the air, allowing me space to hook my thumbs into the elastic and draw the underwear quickly down my legs. I reposition the phone and grab the base of my shaft, holding it within my firm grasp. "I move my lips down the length of your exquisite neck, licking your collarbone as I reach the valley between your breasts. I taste the skin, pausing a moment as you brush your fingers through my hair. I shift my attentions now to one breast, my lips latching to one nipple. The flat of my tongue strokes over the sensitive flesh and you call out my name"—"Harm!"—"and it urges me to move faster, harder."

I slowly begin stroking my rigid shaft, stopping as I reach the tip. My index finger grazes the slit and I hold my breath in anticipation of Mac's next comment.

"Where are you now, Sarah?"

"Harm I'm. . .I'm so close. . . I need you to take me. . .Fuck me, Harm."

"Bring us there."

I hear her lick her lips as she begins. "As you lavish my breasts with attention, I reach down and fumble with the buckle of your belt. It takes me several tries, but I finally get it open and I head straight for my target. As I unzip your pants, I caress your erection. I give your pants a tug, and they fall to your ankles, leaving a considerable bulge within your underwear. My hand is instantly underneath the fabric, my fingers curling around your shaft, and I feel you halt your ministrations."

I suck in my breath as she describes how she handles me, and I can nearly feel her petite hand replacing mine. I begin steady stroking now, knowing that she will be taking over from here.

"You straighten in front of me, looking into my eyes and reading the same emotion mirrored in your eyes: need. I need you inside me, Harm. . . I need you hard and fast."

I pump harder, biting my lip as I feel a drop of pre-come glaze my fingers. I can hear her ragged breathing on the other end of the line, and I want so bad to see her as she climaxes.

"Tell me what you're doing, Sarah. Explain to me."

"I'm. . . oh. . .touching my clitoris. . .rotating my fingers around it. . . pinching lightly. . .coating it with my juices. . .I leave it to. . .mmm. . .add a finger inside me and pull out to insert one more. . .I imagine it's you, pounding into me—"

"Yes, think of me there with you, fucking you against the schoolboard. You grasp the marker tray for support as I lift your skirt up around your waist and thrust inside you. You wrap your legs around my . . .ugh. . .waist, allowing me deeper access. . ."

"Oh God, Harm, I'm going to come. . ."

"That's it, baby, let it come. . ."

". . .With Me. . .OH!"

"Yes!"

The erratic pace of my hand and the images of Mac masturbating finally become too much to bear, and I groan her name as I climax, my warm seed spilling out onto my chest. And somewhere amidst my groans of pleasure are Mac's, rivaling mine in volume.

As we both come down from our post-orgasmic high, I hear her sigh into the telephone. "I miss you," she says, and I can see the frown on her face.

"I miss you too, Sarah." I stand (on wobbly legs) and reach into the bathroom, miraculously grabbing a towel. I wipe my chest clean and then sit back down. "But I'll be home in a few days, and we won't need long distance communication to satisfy ourselves."

She laughs slightly at the thought of the fun we'll have together, and I lay back, relaxed and satiated and satisfied. Things should go fairly smoothly for the remainder of my stay, thanks to the release of all of that. . . tension.

We say our good-nights and good-byes and I'll-call-you-tomorrows, and as I'm about to hang up, she stops me.

"Harm? One more thing."

"Yes, lover?"

"Next time, when you're here. . .instead of talking me through it. . ."

"Yes?"

"Will you watch me?" And then the dial tone.

Harmon Rabb the Third is now standing at complete attention once again and, open-mouthed, I wonder how I'll ever get any sleep around Sarah Mackenzie.