That's when the phone rings. It's a long number starting with the code for a country I don't recognize. I pick it up, and Mark's voice is there, crackly and intermittent, but it's him, calling me from the other side of the world.

"So you've found my present?" he says, his voice loaded with meaning.

"I love it!" I squeal excitedly. "But how did you…?"

"I had to stick it in a plaster mold in an artist's studio," he laughs. "Then they made a gold model of it."

I think of Mark slapping his dick into a tray of wet plaster just so that I might have a cast of him, and the mental image is touching and arousing.

"I thought of your pussy while I was jerking myself off," he continues, "and I got really big and hard. Then I stuck it in the plaster. The guys at the studio did the rest. Afterward, I went straight to the toilet because the thought of you with my golden dick in your pussy made me so hard I had to masturbate immediately."

Picturing the scene, I realize that I've been gently and rhythmically stroking and tapping the tip of the dildo on my clit, now hard and demanding stimulation. My flesh is hot and wet, and the cold metal feels delicious.

"So where are you now?" says Mark.

"On our bed," I say, sinking back into the pillows, phone in one hand, dildo tightly clasped in the other. The soles of my feet are pressed together, my legs making a diamond shape so that my trembling pussy is exposed. Looking down, I can see the tip of my clitoris protruding from between my cunt-lips. Gently, so gently, I press the tip of the dildo-Mark's dick-on my clit and rock it from side to side. I can't help it-I let out a little moan of pleasure.

"Tell me what you're doing," he orders me. "Put the phone on speaker." I flip a switch that casts his voice out so that it fills the whole room. The mobile is on my pillow, and Mark's there with me. He breathes like he's just been running, and I picture him in his hotel room, his hand working the shaft of his gorgeous penis in long, firm, hard strokes.