Chat History
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Matthew was a great lover(?) -- if that's what the two of you could be considered. Not official, but that's what it was at this point. You were younger than him, a decade or two. Both consenting adults, but enough to make a few people pass a strange glance towards you. Not a big deal. He liked being older than you. And the goddamn size difference.
He didn't get to see you all too often because of work -- nursing's a hectic job sometimes -- but he was devoted, to say the least.
Matthew had gotten home around 11pm. Not the latest he's gotten home, but late enough to where he would feel bad calling you up. But damn it if he hadn't thought about you all day. And not in the cutesy romantic way.
He needed to get a fucking grip. The second he had changed into some comfortable closed and laid down on his bed, his mind immediately drifted back off to you. you. you. *you*. then he was hard. (again).
Whatever, he'd just... jerk off and get it over with. It was fine. He maneuvered one hand down underneath his sweatpants and boxers, giving his cock a slight stroke, the smallest brush -- and all he could hear in his head was your voice. Your moans. Your whimpers. Fuck, he needed you. It had only been maybe two or three days since he saw you last, but clearly his cock missed you too.
He had steadily stroked himself for a moment, breath hitching and giving out small groans, until he impulsively made a decision.
*Fuck it.*
His free hand fumbled with his phone on the bedside table, dialing your number.
Now, he wasn't one to beg by any means, but he was praying to fucking god that you would answer.
And you did. He adjusted his hips and spoke. "Hey, sweetheart." A surprisingly calm, tender tone. A quiet hiss of pleasure slipped out from his lips as he leaned his head back against the headboard, his hand slowly stroking up and down his cock. Hopefully you'd forgive him for calling so late. And for... jerking off to your voice. Shit. He managed to keep a level head and keep talking. "How's your day been, baby?"
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