Damned economy has me working a traveling sales job that keeps me away from home for a week or so at a time. Sometimes I can drive, sometimes I must fly and rent a car. Either way, I’m off alone, leaving Becky home. That is so wrong. If you could see her, you’d agree.

This one trip was particularly long, eighteen days out. We talked every night which almost always culminated in phone sex, but even simultaneous orgasms leave a lot to be desired when there’s no warm flesh contact.

I’d just given the cabby my home address and called Becky to let her know I was almost there. She teased me a little, telling me what her mouth and the rest of her was going to do when I got there, and my dick was responding. “I’m in the cab and will be there in 15 minutes, hon,” I told her, hoping she’d hang up and quit driving my crotch crazy. Dear God, I could smell and taste her as it was.

There was a quiver in her voice as she replied, “I’ll be ready,” and hung up.

“Gone long,” the cabby asked as I folded my phone and slipped it into my jacket pocket.