Pizza

She picked up the phone. The children were playing in the office. Noisy again. It was him.
'Hi. It's me'
'Oh hello' she said cautiously, that familiar rush coming to her brain and body.  There was silence for a moment.  She wondered if he could hear her heart pounding and breath quickening.  She was unused to any man affecting her this way by merely uttering hello.  She waited for him to speak.
"I hope you are in the kitchen" he said.  "You have the dough ready?"
"Yes" she whispered breathlessly.
"Touch it, knead it, pull it, spread it."
She set the phone in the crook of her neck and began to do as he asked. 
"Now imagine that it your pussy, and I am kneading it, kneading you.  Prying you apart, stretching and squeezing you."
She felt her breath catch in her throat and she uttered 'oh god' to herself, hoping he wouldn't hear, or sense her rising need. 
He spoke again.  "Are you wet?  Does your pussy like what I am doing to it?"
"Yes" she said, "Yes".
"Pinch the dough. Pinch it hard.  That is your clit between my fingers.  I'm squeezing and pinching it and rubbing it between my thumb and forefinger."
She gasped, following his instructions.  Her clit responded on it's own accord, aching and throbbing.  She was close to orgasm, close to surrendering, her belly aching, her pussy twitching. 
"Now" he said, in a low, firm voice, "Now you will come for me.  Come now."
Before he had finished his last word her orgasm took her body in waves, sending her pussy into uncontrollable twitches as she stifled the noise of her climax.  And with that, he promptly hung up, leaving her in the kitchen, weak-kneed, hands deep in pizza dough.