Her voice

I set the recorder on a shut box and showed Peter the red light was still off. Cardigan open, the stacks after close again. I told him I wanted to record my own voice asking for what I wanted, not his, mine, so I could hear later that I had said it. He asked who would hear it. I said us, and then I erase it. He said yes only if either of us can stop the tape and stop the scene. I agreed. I hit the button myself.

I sat on the low stool and made myself speak. I want your mouth on my cunt. I want you to tease me and not let me finish until I say the sentence again without whispering. Peter stayed standing so the mic would not catch his breath more than mine. He knelt when I finished the line. He pushed my skirt up. He kissed the inside of my knee and waited, because the game was my voice, not his guessing.

I kept talking, messy, true. His tongue found my cunt and I lost a sentence in the middle. He stopped. The sudden absence was worse than the tease. He looked up and touched the recorder, a question. I shook my head. I said stay, I am not done, I want your fingers and your mouth and I want to come when I say now. He gave me his mouth again, two fingers fucking my cunt, pace tied to the words I managed. I described it, clumsy and filthy, how full my cunt felt, how close, how I needed him to fuck me harder for the last bit. The red light stayed on because I wanted to hear myself later. I did not use our stop. I said now.

I came on the stool with my hand in his hair and my voice breaking into something the recorder will not make pretty. He kept fucking me through it with his fingers and then reached up, when I nodded, and stopped the tape. He kissed my knee, buttoned what I had missed, and put the recorder in my bag. At home I listened once, heard myself ask without apologizing, and erased it with him sitting beside me. I had already heard it.