The next three days felt like the longest of his life.
Each night, he would start talking to Juliet on the phone at 7 PM. By the time 8 PM rolled around, he would be naked on his bed, edging his cock. His voice was weak and hers was strong. It seemed like she was taking great joy in keeping him at the edge of sexual relief for hours each night. As their nightly conversation ended, she would tell him to stop. He would do so, albeit reluctantly, and she would order him to not orgasm.
“Not yet,” She whispered through the speaker in his ear. “Soon, though. Go clean yourself up and I’ll talk to you tomorrow night.” With that, she would hang up.
The water of his building just wasn’t cold enough to suppress his desire for release. Every time he reached for his aching member to finish himself off, he hesitated. He didn’t have her permission to do that yet. So, he would soak himself in the cold water and go to bed naked, still hard as a rock. It began to affect him during the day. He found himself daydreaming about her voice and when he might meet her again. On the fourth day since she began to edge him, his balls most certainly blue and his member almost always hard, he received a text from her number. It was an address and an apartment number, followed by a single sentence.