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Wrong Number

By: markyoni



I was wandering aimlessly around Pike Street Market in Seattle at about 3:30 on Saturday afternoon when my cellphone rang.

"Hi, this is Mark...what's up?"

A female voice, sounding a little flustered and confused, responded, "oh, ummm, hi, ahh, Mark. This is Danielle. I'm trying to reach Allison. But, unless you're her new lover or have stolen her cellphone, I think I must have the wrong number."

We spent a few seconds trying to sort out the confusion and eventually determined that she had dialed 9887 instead of 9778 and she apologized and started to hang up. 

But she hesitated for a second and I said, "is anything wrong, Danielle?"

"No..." she said quietly, sounding slightly embarrassed. And then she just suddenly added, "it's just that, well, you have the most incredibly romantic and sensual voice. I've always loved men with deep voices."

I laughed and, right out of the blue, decided it would be fun to tease her so I dropped my voice a few octives lower and crooned, "thanks, Danielle. What's your most intimate and secret sexual desire and how can I make it come true?"

I expected her to gasp and hang up. 

Which, of course, she immediately did as I chuckled to myself quietly and resumed my unguided tour through the fish market. 

But about an hour later my cellphone rang again. 

I answered it and this vaguely familiar female voice simply blurted out, "I've always wanted to have a man I didn't know give me a massage while I was completely naked and blindfolded." 

And then she quickly hung up. 

I walked around the streets of Seattle aimlessly for about the next twenty-two minutes with an erection that could trip a horse, muttering to myself, staring at the stupid cellphone and cursing the damn US West call-blocking feature. 

About five o'clock in the evening the cellphone rang again. 

A much more rational Danielle took a deep breath, apologized for what she had said earlier to me about her quirky massage fantasy, explained that she didn't know what had come over her and was highly embarrassed and asked me to forgive her since she didn't know me from Adam and she didn't want me to think that she was an incredibly rude person or a sex-crazed maniac. 

I assumed that she had simply gone home and masturbated until she wasn't feeling as aroused as she was when she blurted out her fantasy to me and that now she was trying to make amends for her earlier indescretion. So I told her that I certainly understood, forgave her completely and then, when she was sufficiently off balance, changed stride suddenly on her by casually adding, "of course, I'd still be happy to make your secret little fantasy come true whenever you want."

Her reaction was simple. 

She gasped "what!!??" 

As dispassionately as it's possible to sound when you're about to explode, I explained that I'd always had the same fantasy. I'd always thought it would be fun to give a woman a massage under those exact circumstances, blindfolded, no conversation between us, everything she'd specified. Of course I was lying through my teeth to her because I'd never even thought of doing something like that but it did sound fun and, besides, the chances of it actually happening in this case were about five hundred gazillion to one so what the hell did I have to lose. I knew she'd never call my bluff even though, by now, we were clearly engaged in a game of Sexual Chicken that threatened to get gradually more serious. 

But I'd misjudged her. 

She raised my opening bet by giggling nervously and then taking a deep breath and asking coyly, "okay, Mister Smartypants, how would you go about it?"

I figured she was getting this brave because she knew she was still anonymous, so I said, "well, that depends on whether you live in a house or an apartment."

"A house. On Mercer Island."

"Well, then all you'd have to do," I whispered as seductively as possible, "is unlock your front door and put something yellow on it. That way, when I get there, I'll know that I'm at the right place. Then take off all your clothes, lay down on your bed and put on a blindfold. I'll walk in the door, lock it behind me, find the bedroom and without saying a thing give you a massage. It's just that simple."

There was sort of a stunned silence at her end for a few seconds. 

Then I heard a few gasps and a very soft moan and she suddenly blurted out, "ohmygod, Mark, I'm so aroused that I'm actually thinking of doing this with you. There can't be any sex. No intercourse, no matter how wound up either one of us gets, okay? Oh, oh, ummm, that feels good. Unnn, unnnn. Umm, do you promise? No sex. And neither one of us can talk during the massage and you have to leave right after and we can never ever see each other ever again and that should be pretty easy for me since I'll have a blindfold on and never know what you look like anyway and, and, ummmm, but you have to promise...oh, oh, oh...ummm, no sex, okay? Absolutely no sex. Unnnnnn..." 

I heard a few more gasps and then her voice just trailed off. 

All negotiation, especially in sales, is a series of hurdles. One person sets up a hurdle ("it's too expensive") and the other person jumps over it ("but it will save you a lot of money in the long run"). 

Hurdle, jump, hurdle, jump. 

This no sex thing was obviously her way of setting up a hurdle that was so great it would keep her from doing something she knew was a complete mistake and insanely dangerous. Because she'd read all the stories on Literotica she knew that the one immutable law of sex is that no man can give a naked woman a massage and not end up having intercourse with her. Especially if they're strangers. And, to complicate things even more, if the massage ever happened it would clearly be virtually impossible to muttle your way through it without talking, or at least screaming "oh, baby, oh, baby, oh, baby" or something like that five or six times. And, if that didn't completely shut the door on the whole idea, the final requirement about not seeing each other again certainly would. Of course they would see each other again. Or at least get married. 

But, alas, now it was my turn to play.

"No problem. I do it all the time, Danielle, I touch naked women that I don't know all the time," I said with as much conviction and sincerity as I could muster. "That's what I do for a living, I'm a masseur. And if I ever accidentally run into one of those women on the street, I pretend not to know them. Besides, I'm good looking. I'm six six and handsome and I'm in perfect shape. I spend all day kayaking and mountain climbing and running through the forest with rabid dogs chasing at my heels. And I'm single. In fact, I'm so attractive and rugged and handsome that most of my female clients get so aroused when I'm giving them a massage that I have to leave the room while they masturbate. Almost all of them beg me to have intercourse with them. But I won't do it. I absolutely won't do it. And if you tried to turn a simple massage into intercourse, I'd leave your house immediately, too. So don't even think about it. I'm serious. If this is all a ruse so you can get me into bed, you're barking up the wrong tree." 

Oh-oh. 

I think that stunned her. 

I know it sure stunned the hell out of me. Anyway, bye-bye hurdle. Of course, I just barely managed to get most of that diatribe out without choking on my tongue but this was definitely turning into an interesting conversation. 

Obviously I wasn't going to go as quietly into that good night as she thought. 

But, if anything, she was intense. After she recovered enough of her composure to talk again a machine gun volley of questions start flying from her. 

"What's your real name?" 

"Mark." 

"You're really single?" 

"Yes." 

"Are you really six six and good looking and is your body absolutely perfect?"

"Yes, yes and yes. I look like one of those guys in the exercise machine videos." 

"Oh, God, I can't believe I'm having this conversation. Are you, ummm, okay, well then, how big are your, you know, feet?" 

"Huge. Size 14. But it doesn't matter because we're never going to make love anyway. I'll leave if you try anything fishy. And nothing you can do, screaming, shouting, gasping, moaning, begging, threatening to faint, even flopping around completely out of control on the bed from your six hundredth orgasm will convince me to have sex with you. Oh, and I can make it vibrate?" 

"Make what vibrate?" 

"My feet." 

Suddenly there was a lot of uncontrollable giggling at the other end of the phone followed by, "six hundred orgasms, huh? Well, I've already had two while I've been talking to you, Mark, so...that means I have five hundred and ninety-eight left to go...okay, where are you right now, somewhere in Texas I hope...please, please be somewhere in Texas...please, please, please..."

"Nope, I'm on Mercer Island. In fact, I'm only a few blocks away from your house." 

That sound you just heard in the distance was another hurdle falling. Of course, there were a couple slight complications. For one thing, Pike Street Market is nowhere near Mercer Island and I was in Pike Street Market. And, secondly, she hasn't told me exactly where on Mercer Island her house is yet, so how the hell could I be a couple blocks away? 

But, by now, she was apparently so sexually intoxicated with the whole idea that none of that had dawned on her. Or she was ignoring it. All I can hear was some very deep breathing at the other end of the phone and a few low moans. 

Finally she gasps, "five hundred and ninety-seven to go...unnnm, Mark, you've got me so aroused I can't think. Look, my name's Danielle but I think I already told you that. Anyway I live on Mercer Island Way. The street's only a block long. Now I'm going to hang up and, ummm, you know, masturbate or something. If I'm stupid enough to call you back in the next twenty or thirty minutes the only thing I'll be able to do is blurt out my street address. Otherwise, it's been fun talking to you." 

Click. 

Oh shit. I've got a half hour to get there and I know it's impossible. I hail a cab and almost scream "Mercer Island Way" at the driver as I jump in. 

One minute, two minutes, three minutes.

"Run over the damn pedestrians," I shout. "I'll give you a hundred dollar tip if you make it there in less than thirty minutes."

The guy driving the cab spins his head around and looks at me. He knows where we are. He knows where we're going. He knows it's impossible. I might as well told him to start driving to the moon. But, what the hell, he decides that a hundred dollars off the books smells pretty good to him and he floors it. 

Exactly twenty-eight minutes later we're sitting on Mercer Island Way and he says casually, "what house is she in, buddy? I figure it has to be a woman..."

"Damned if I know..." I mutter as I step out of the cab and hand him two hundred dollar bills. "Keep the change. You can probably use some of the money to get the blood off your fenders. Nice driving."

Okay. Now what?

I'm standing in the street in black Spandex bicycle shorts and a white T-shirt. This is a seriously upscale neighborhood. Guard dogs are barking and wealthy socialites and thier maids from Guatemala are staring out their windows trying to figure out if I look like a burglar. Or a rapist. Or just some idiot who's been foolish enough to think with his dick and now doesn't know what to do next.

The cellphone isn't ringing.

Another minute goes by. Nothing. Whew. Relief. I wasn't sure I had the guts to go through with this anyway so I start to leave. 

Then suddenly the cellphone rings.

"4856. 4856. The brown house. I must be out of my mind...what am I doing...remember, no sex..." 

Click. 

Oh-oh. She just threw all her money into the pot and it's time to look at the cards. I've been bluffing with a pair of sevens. I figure she's got at least three of a kind or a straight. I look behind me and see the house. Am I really going to walk over there, open the door and give a massage to a naked, blindfolded woman that I don't know from Eve. She could weight five hundred pounds. She could have a wart the size of Texas on her butt or no teeth or a big boyfriend hiding in the closet ready to stomp me into the ground. 

Besides, there's one other little problem: I'M NOT A MASSEUR!!! 

I lied. I don't know hot oil from broiled fish. As far as I'm concerned, a Swedish massage is something you get in Stockholm. I'm so stupid about this stuff that I think a deep tissue massage somehow involves Kleenex. 

"What the hell am I doing?", I scream quietly to myself. 

Now it's my turn to take a deep breath. 

I walk through the front gate and quickly move up to the porch. 

"Oh shit, a yellow scarf's sticking out of the door," I mutter to myself as I panic and freeze. "What am I going to say if I don't go in and she calls my cellphone again? Sorry, I chickened out because I was afraid you were ugly. I'm not that cruel. I could pretend that I was color blind and couldn't tell which house was brown but she'd see right through that because she gave me the address. And then she'd be just as hurt. And I don't want to hurt her. Well, I guess I'm stuck. Me and my big mouth. Okay, here goes."

I smile and wave at the eight private security guards who are now staring at me from their beat-up 1975 Ford Escort as I open the front door and walk inside. 

Great place. 

Big. 

She has to be a professional to live here, doctor, lawyer or a Microsoftie. 

The whole house smells wonderful. 

Like a woman. 

I lock the deadbolt on the front door and move in the direction that seems most logical for bedrooms, trying to remember as much karate as I can in case her husband, her boyfriend or a big dog suddenly ambushes me. I can hear soft music playing upstairs. 

"Hey, that's probably a clue," I think to myself as I quickly realize I'm totally clueless and begin walking up the stairs. When I'm at the top I turn right and glide through the first open door into a bedroom.

"OH MY GOD!!!"

The most incredibly beautiful, completely naked woman with a blindfold on that I have ever seen is laying very quietly in the middle of a massive round bed. 

Well, okay, she's not totally naked. 

And she is a little stiff. 

In fact, she's trembling and there's a blue towel about the size of a postage stamp floating above her butt. Apparently she panicked somewhere between the last time she called me and now and realized that laying completely naked in front of a total stranger that you'd just invited into your house probably wasn't very smart. Of course, laying on your stomach with a blindfold on under an incredibly small towel somehow made everything better. 

I think ostriches have already perfected that technique. 

Anyway, I take a deep breath and, as I walk quietly across the carpet towards the bed, resist the temptation to stutter out, "hi, what's new, Danielle, and, oh, by the way, I'm scared, really, really scared because I've never done anything this overtly sexual before, especially with someone as gorgeous as you are and, besides, I really don't know what the hell I'm doing since I lied to you about being a masseur..." 

But after all, rules are rules so I don't say a thing. 

However, now that I think of it, once when I was 12 or 24, I forget which, I remember my Mom telling me something like, "okay, son, here's the only thing you'll ever need to know about sex. If a woman you don't know calls you up on your cellphone and asks you to give her a massage while she's naked and blindfolded, you probably shouldn't do it."

That was it. That was absolutely everything my parents ever told me about sex. And, at the time, it made absolutely no sense. In fact, I remember squirming around in my chair at the kitchen table after it was all over and muttering, "yeah, right, Mom. Like that's ever gonna happen. Can I go out and play now?"

The room has a few candles flickering and some sort of strange looking bottle is sitting on the nightstand by the bed. I figure it's a bomb. 

She knows I'm here now. 

And I know she knows I'm here now because I can hear her breathing change just before she tries to muffle the series of soft little screams she's now making by hiding her head completely under a pillow. 

Too stupid to realize that she might be trying to send me a very subtle signal with her panicked shrieks, I pick up the plastic bottle, decide that it's not a bomb since I can't hear it ticking and quietly move a chair to the end of the bed by her feet. 


And immediately discover that trying to sit down with an erection when you're wearing Spandex bicycle shorts is no simple task. It's like trying to fold up an umbrella in the dark with one hand. 

But I finally manage to do it and suddenly realize that I'm just sitting there, shaking my head back and forth in amazement and staring at her body. She's about 5'8", 125 lbs, with tanned, athletic legs that are at least five hundred miles long. Her skin is flawless, her elbows are pressed against the side of her body, discretely hiding her breasts as she holds the pillow over her head with her hands. And her blonde hair is swept to one side, languishing across her bare shoulders. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and her butt is so perfect that I want to just bend over and start biting it softly. 

I notice her trembling slightly. I'm sure she's trying to control it but I'm positive she wants to jump up and scream and run out of the house as much as I want to jump up and scream and run out of there. 

But it's too late for both of us now. 

Besides, I have the advantage of being able to see her. I already know she's beautiful. As far as she knows, I could be the Hunchback of Notre Dame and have a twelve inch dagger in my hands. I want to start talking to her, telling her it's okay, telling her she can take off her blindfold, telling her how nervous I am, but the rules are the rules, no talking, no sex, just a massage and then goodbye. 

I stare down at her and start to panic. Does a masseur pour the lotion in his hands first or does he pour it directly on the patient, err, victim, err whateverthehell this woman in front of me is? And do professional masseurs' hands always tremble like this? And sweat? 

"Okay, try to settle down and just pretend she's your old girlfriend Kate," I think to myself. "Ooops, can't do that. Way too much baggage there. Okay, just pretend she's your Mom. Yikes! Sister? Ain't got none. Oh shit. I'm runnin' out of women. Ann Kelly. Yeah, that's it. Pretend she's Ann Kelly, the most beautiful woman in high school. Of course, that was more than ten years ago but...ummm, we just won the game, I threw four touchdown passes and Ann Kelly sprained all the muscles in her back yelling and desperately needs a backrub. So she took off her cheerleading outfit and plopped down on the bed. Okay, ummm, why the blindfold? Why would Ann Kelly be wearing the blindfold. Ummm, she's shy. Yeah, that's the ticket. She's shy."

Author's Note: Of course, why a shy 16 year old girl would be laying on a bed completely naked is another issue but you try and think with a hard-on sometime while you're writing. Nothing makes sense! Now back to the story...

I pour a little bit of whatever mysterious concoction is in the bottle onto her right calf and she stops shrieking and moans softly. I just about explode it's so erotic but I bite my lip and put both my hands on the back of her calf and start rubbing gently. She immediately moans again and moves her left foot about six miles away from her right foot. 

OHMYGOD!!! 

Suddenly my eyes are not watching my hands. In fact, I forget that I have hands. In fact, I forget where I am, what time of day it is and whether or not up is down and down is up. All the blood in my body that isn't already in my penis starts rushing to my head. I feel faint. My heart suddenly bursts out of my chest and I can see it stuck to the outside of my T-shirt going thump, thump, thump. I stop rubbing her leg and just stare for a few seconds. 


Wrong Number



She's obviously already aroused. 

Very, very aroused. 

Or else the lips of her vagina just swell up when she's frightened. Either way, I start rubbing again, aimlessly sliding my hands up and down the back of her calf as I watch her totally exposed lips slowly turn a light crimson red.

"Now what were the rules again?" I gasp to myself. "Settle down, Markl Think. Think. Think, damn you, think!! Okay, more warm walrus oil or whatever's in the bottle. Yeah, pour that on her other calf and then start sliding your hands up and down her legs from her calves to her thighs, Mark. Damn, am I glad she dialed the wrong number."

Another low moan. 

I think it came from her that time but I'm not sure. At any rate, if it was her, this one sounds like she's a lioness in the jungle and she's getting ready to bite something. 

But now I'm getting into this. Guess what? I'm a musician and she's a violin and I just discovered I can make wonderful sounds come out of her if I do everything right. Time to get serious. Really serious. A series of long, slow, strokes up the back of her legs from her ankles all the way up to the top of her thigh. Right hand on the right leg, left hand on the left leg. Caressing, teasing, first soft then a little harder then soft again. Producing a symphony of sexual melodies from the now suddenly expert manipulation of the muscles and skin on her legs. 

Until I accidentally brush my thumbs against her vagina. 

Just once. 

I hear a small, very deep grunt, followed by a long gasp slip out from under the pillow. This time I'm sure it's her because my mouth is so dry I couldn't squeak if the roof of the house suddenly fell in. Another long stoke down her legs and back up and another accidentally intentional brush of my thumbs against the incredibly swollen lips of her vagina. The same sounds flow from her lips but she pushes the pillow off her head and I notice that her breathing is changing. Short, quick inhale. Longer exhale. Her fingers are moving slowly, expanding and contracting like a cat as I touch her. Five or ten more repetitions of this same thing and she suddenly folds her arms up under her head, arches her butt up slightly and spreads her legs as far apart on the bed as possible. 

Wow, this is fun. 

This is really fun. I can feel the power flowing through my hands. 

"Hey, you guys. Look!!" I breath quietly to myself as I turn my head around to face the memory of the other ten players on our high school football team. "Look what I can do to Ann Kelly, you guys. Watch. Down the leg and then up and a gentle nudge here and a soft caress there and Ann Kelly starts to go nuts. Hmmm, this could get addictive. Let's take the towel completely off and try the butt. Wow, more soft little sexual sounds that I didn't know women could make. Now her back. Oh well, I guess everything can't be perfect. Oh-oh, she's moving."

I was about to learn Blindfolded Massage Lesson One: aroused women are not predictable creatures. 

Suddenly this timid and heretofore completely placid woman just flips over on the bed. Flat on her back with her legs spread apart and smiles in my general direction. 

"Okaaaaaaaayyyyy. Well, that makes sense. I guess I'd expect the world's most perfect breasts to be attached to her. Now for some fun," I mutter under my breath as I lean forward, reach down and put my hands behind her calves and pull her slowly across the bed towards me until the back of her calves are resting on my outstretched thighs. "Now lean forward a little more, Mark, reach out and massage just the very tip of her nipples and see what happens. Hey, funny sounds and an arched back. Wow!"

A few more minutes go by as she writhes gently under my touch. Caress and pull softly, caress and pull softly. Squeeze gently. And start all over again. By now her hips are moving slowly up and down almost in unison with my fingers. Pressing down with her calves on my thighs as the muscles in her stomach contract rhythmically and I witness the most beautiful sight in the world...a woman undulating slowly. Especially if she's doing it because you're the man touching her.

Less than four minutes later she bites down on her lip and groans. Suddenly a series of small electrical impulses rush from the right side of my brain to the left side and back again and, miraculously, a whole new world is in front of me and I can instantly read every subtle little signal her body is sending me. 

I slide the tips of my fingers quietly off her nipples and put the palms of my hands on the inside of her thighs. Sliding them delicately up and down from her knees to her vagina. Teasing her as she squirms sensually beneath me. Pushing her thighs just slightly further apart each time until she gives in completely and takes her calves off my thighs, brings up her feet and flops her knees out and down so that the soles of her feet are almost together in front of me on the bed. 

"Hmmm. She's not touching my legs anymore with her legs," I say to myself as I stand up and attempt to set a world's record for taking off a pair of bicycle shorts and a T-shirt. 

Less than three seconds. 

A new world's record. 

Freedom. 

Finally. 

My erection is so intense that it feels like I could use it as a battering ram to knock down doors in a raid on a drug house as I sit back down on the chair and mutter, "okay, control. Stay under control. Play by the rules. Reach around your dick and put your hands on her feet and massage them gently."

She giggles because she's ticklish. 

Somehow I knew that already. 

But her giggles turn to moans once again as I slide the palms of my hands over her calves and up the inside of her thighs. Her body spasms slightly as I begin to gently caress the outer lips of her vagina with my thumbs. Exploring her delicately. Suddenly she's breathing through her nose, deep quick flashes of air, like an animal under attack, intertwined with groans so deep they feel like they're welling up from the floor. 

"Ohhhh, don't stop..." she whispers and then instantly realizes that she's broken the rules. 

I can see it in her face. A shy smile. A seductive pursing of her lips. She knows what she's done. But she's wild and her passion is controlling her now. I resist the temptation to reply to her transgression by leaning forward. Sliding my body down over her body. 

Making love to her would be so easy now. 

Instead I respond with the tips of my fingers. Caressing her delicately. Gliding my fingers over the sweet, damp mysteries beneath them as she begins to rhythmically contract the muscles in her stomach and thighs. After a few minutes I place the palm of my left hand on her stomach and begin massaging it gently as I position my right hand above her vagina. She's anticipating my touch because she begins to moan softly a few seconds before I start to delicately circle the tip of my finger around the base of her clitoris. So lightly that I can feel it swelling in response to my caress. 

Her mouth is open now, gasping for air.

Two minutes more of this intensely wonderful stimulation and her head begins to tilt back. Another two minutes and she's begun to gently massage her own nipples as her tongue flicks rapidly out of her mouth and brushes her lips. 

Then suddenly everything stops. 

Her breathing. 

The slow undulations of her stomach. 

All movement. 

Even time. 

Until her entire body tightens up and I begin to brush the tip of my finger back and forth much quicker over the throbbing tip of her clitoris. She gasps, shutters and gasps again. And then makes a sound that I've only heard from one other woman in my life as she loses complete control of herself. Staccato like screams of arousal and relief blend into spontaneous convulsions as I continue to massage her clitoris right through her first orgasm and into what seems like a never ending crescendo of ensuing climaxes. 

Until she's exhausted. 

But smiling and completely relaxed. Even though she's still trembling slightly and blushing because I've witnessed something incredible. The power and depth of orgasms so intense that she's almost embarrassed by her reaction. 

Suddenly I realize that I'm glad she's blindfolded. 

Rules are rules. 

I slowly slip back into my T-shirt and bicycle shorts, bend down and kiss her softly on her mouth and then walk out the door. 

Ten minutes later my cellphone rings. 

Breathing. 

No words. 

Finally she whispers, "thank you. I didn't think men like you existed anymore, Mark."

Click.



Wrong Number



The note was direct, to the point.

"One in skirt, panties and blouse blindfolded hands bound before her. The other in a dress and panties. Be ready by 6:00 pm. NO playing!"

They smiled at one another.

He had called looking for Bob, a wrong number. Trying to be funny, she asked what he was wearing and the fantasy had begun.

They talked by phone and e-mail. His sexy voice causing both their pussies to drip. After his calls it always ended in the same way,their tongues fucking each other. They had often spoke about a 3-some,but had never been able to find the right 3rd. Then he had called. The conversations had been filled with innuendo, then he told of his desire to be with 2 women, he had cravings that he was unable to fulfill in his everyday life. They decided that maybe "He" was the one.

They did not know what he looked like, which was part of the fantasy.. nor what exactly would happen. He had always been evasive about what he really wanted, but they all knew it would be exciting. Some calls were filled with passionate words, others were short demands of the two women. All of which was a turn on to them.

They waited for the time to pass.. at 5:55 she placed the blindfold on and bound Jessies hands, what a sight.. just looking at Jessie made her pussy drip. Paige and Jessie had been friends for years.. both were married, and had begun a passionate sexual affair years before. They spent hours together, experimenting with each others bodies, talking, sharing fantasies. Then came the opportunity to play out their fantasy.

They heard the door open and both felt a shiver pass through them. Paige watched the doorway, hardly daring to breath. Then he entered. She smiled as she saw him. He was tall, handsome with wonderful eyes. He carried a small case, and motioned for her to come to him. As she approached, she felt her pussy tingle. His lips went to her immediately as his fingers went to feel her wetness, he grinned.. knowing she would be ready for him. He walked to Jessie, kissing her lustily, his hand going under her skirt. He felt the thin material of her panties saturated with her excitement.

He began to speak in a quiet yet demanding voice.

"Paige, you shall have the pleasure of being my student tonight. You will do exactly as I instruct you to do, if I am pleased with your performance you both shall receive a very nice reward. Shall we begin ladies?"

Both women nodded, he smiled and walked to his case. She watched with interest as he opened it. She felt her skin flush as she saw what the case contained.

He looked directly into her eyes as he spoke.

"Go and tie her to the chair, I want her bent over, unable to move her hands. Her legs are to be spread wide but not tied." 

He passed her the soft leather cord.

She fingered the material inhaling the smell of the leather. As she walked to Jess she noticed her nipples were already erect and fought the desire to reach out and finger them. She tied her as instructed and turned to look at him. He had walked up behind her as she was busy, she had not heard him. He passed her a black crop watching for her reaction. He liked what he saw in her sexy eyes.

He ran his fingers over Jessies ass through her skirt, his hands traveling down her thighs and back up under the skirt. He pushed up the material as his hands moved upward to settle on her panty clad bottom. Paige could plainly see how turned on Jess was by the soaked material covering her crotch. With a quickness, his hand landed a swift slap to her bottom. Jessie jerked in surprise, her legs quickly coming together.

"Do not close your legs to me.. ever" 

His hand landed on her ass again, this time it stayed there and rubbed as his fingers pressed between her buttocks. Her legs slowly parted as he continued to press deeper into her, causing her panties to be pulled tightly between her swollen pussy lips. Paige knew the material was rubbing against her aching clit. She began to move her hips but his other hand pressed onto the small of her back to hold her still.

"Shall I remove her panties so we can see how wet this one is?" 

His eyes were intently staring at her ass. Paige mumbled as she longed to be in Jessies place. He pulled out a small knife and quickly cut the panties from her. He then handed them to Paige.

"Are they wet?"

"Yes.. yes they are very wet" she replied breathlessly.

"Now, would you like to taste Jessies cunt Paige?"

She stood blushing, unable to take her eyes from the sweet sex had come to know as well as her own. He reached up and pulled her down to within inches of Jessies oozing pussy. Her pubic hair was matted with wetness, her lips puffy and a deep red.

"How does she smell paige, as sweet as I have been told?" "Lick her, excite her but do not bring her to climax"

Paige quickly extended her tongue to lap up the nectar which was Flowing from her friends sweet quim. She avoided her swollen clit, knowing one touch would push her over the edge. She could hear Jessies breathing, knowing how close she was to release. She felt his hands sliding her dress up, still clutching the crop tightly. His fingers touching her lightly. She felt him pinching her clit, rolling the hardened nub between his thumb and forefinger. He was driving her insane, but she fought to concentrate on licking Jessie. Her face was wet with her friends excitement when he pulled her away. He stood her up.

"I want you to apply the crop to her, you may do as you wish with the toy.. but you may only have 1 minute to play with her. You will begin when I say GO, is that understood?"

She nodded, looking at the opportunity which lay before her.

"GO"

She moved a bit closer, sliding the small leather spanker across her bottom, then between her ass cheeks and slowly to her pussy. She knew the reaction this was having on Jessie, as she strained to press herself onto the toy. She then began a slow and steady swatting on her burning pussy. The smacks were not hard, they began softly, increasing in speed and intensity until Jessie was purring in such delight, feeling the pain from the crop, but knowing it was pleasurable.

"Times up!"

She was so involved in her play, she did not hear him tell her it was over. Suddenly she felt him land a slap on her bottom. She wheeled to look at him, and felt her passion rise as he pulled her to the bed, pressing her forward. She was set off balance and landed on her tummy, legs spread. He was behind her in an instant, pulling her to her knees, pressing her head forward.

"Stay that way, do not move. I think you should get a taste of your own medicine and see how well you like to have your cunt whipped."

She shuddered at the thought of feeling the tiny piece of leather landing on her burning clit. She felt his hands spread her thighs, his fingers pressing into her hot sex. Then she felt the sting of the crop. Her body began a slow dance as he continued to land the crop on her ass, her clit, her thighs.

"Go untie Jessie and remove the blindfold, I want the two of you to entertain me."

He had left her in the same state as she had left Jessie, almost unable to breath.. being so close to release, wanting to cry out for him to continue but the thought of feeling Jessies lips wrapped around her clit pushed her to her feet. Within seconds she had her untied and had removed the blindfold. They quickly fell into a passionate embrace, hands moving from breasts to pussy frantically. Their bodies pressed against one another, breasts touching, pussy juices melding.

They felt his hands pulling them apart. He pressed them to their knees as he removed his pants. Both women began to lick his hard cock. Their lips and tongues met as they stimulated him.

He pulled Jessie to her feet, pressing her over the edge on the bed as Paige continued to suck his cock. He stopped her telling her to get between Jessies thighs and lick her clit. He moved behind Paige and began to slap her upturned bottom. Both women were so close to climax they were moaning, the slaps were something Paige had craved, but had never admitted. With each slap she received, his fingers slipped easily into her aching cunt. He let this play continue for a few moments before rearranging the women. He had Paige under Jessie licking her steadily as he began applying oil to her anus, her bottom wriggled so that Paige had a hard time licking her steamy cunt. She wrapped her arms around her slender hips, holding her tightly as he began to press his fingers into her asshole. The tightness easing as he played with her. He moved his cock to replace his fingers, slowly pressing forward, feeling her relax as his cockhead entered her tiny hole. He moved into her slowly, but easily. She began to moan.. almost purr as he began to fuck her ass. Paige sucking on her clit, licking up the juices that were almost running from her. He reached down to pull Paige up, turning her so he was able to spank and finger her simultaneously. It was not long before all were exploding, each twisting with their orgasms. They collapsed into a pile, holding one another. He soon stood, kissed them both and left.

A wrong number?



Wrong Number



I was sitting alone in my office bored out of my mind and wondering why I even got up that morning when the phone rang, answering I heard a male voice ask for Rick. When I told him I was Rick "Hi, this is Matthew" was the reply. As he asked how I was doing and was I busy my mind raced to put a face with the name. Was this a client, a supplier or a contractor? 

Not being able to place the voice but not wanting to appear as if I had forgotten him I chatted along with him. Finally I asked what it was I could do for him today. After a pause he told me his wife was away for the day and he would like to meet me again and we could do what we did the last time when we first met and this time maybe more.

Now I was instantly curious and a little excited. Was this what I though it was or was I just hoping to break my boredom? Cautiously I asked what we had done the last time. "Remember you picked me up in the Rideau Centre and we went for a drive in your car" he replied. Now I had not been in Ottawa that long that I would have forgotten picking up a man at the mall. I had never picked a man up in the mall anywhere. Not being sure what to say I decided to be honest.

"You mean we had sex" I asked? After another pause he asked "Is this Rick, you drive a red car?" 

"Yes, it's Rick and I used to drive a red Ford but I think you have the wrong number."

"Sorry, I don't want any trouble" was his reply. Quickly I told him that it was no trouble and to be honest I liked the idea if that's what happened. After another pause Matthew replied "Look I don't want any trouble over this." Again I assured him that there would be no trouble but that I would really like to talk with him for a little while. This seemed to calm him down and he agreed to talk with me.

Matthew finally told me that he was picked up in the mall one afternoon by a man and had gone for a drive with him. He had no idea why he went, it must have been fate because the other man gave him a blowjob in the car, something his wife never did and he had never really considered before that day. The man had given him his work phone number and told him that if he ever wanted another blow job or even more just call. It had been some time but it was always on his mind and today he decided to call, only to get the wrong person.

I asked at this point what he thought the even more was. After a lengthy pause I asked if he thought that meant fucking him. Maybe was all he said. Deciding that it was now or never I asked if he would like a blow job from me today and maybe more. Again the pause and another maybe.

I described myself to him and told him that I was also married, safe and sane. (As sane as any married cocksucker is.) Matthew in turned described himself and agreed to at least meet with me. When I asked where he was he told me he was back at the Rideau Centre and that was why he had thought of calling. I told him that my office was a five minute walk from there and asked if he would like to meet right away.

We meet in the plus 15 at the Bay entrance. Matthew was 48, about 5'-10", 170lb., graying hair and moustache. After shaking hands we stood and chatted, sizing each other up. Once he seemed to be relaxed I asked if he would like to go for a ride with me and that I would bring him back to get his car later. As we walked to my parked car I asked were they had gone the last time he had done this. He described a park that I recognized along Sussex Drive and I asked if he would like to go there again. Once at the park he directed me to the west end over looking the river and the back of the Prime Ministers home. Rather than turn into the parking area he asked me to park along the roadway itself telling me that this is what they did his last time here.

Reaching over and running my hand over his knee up to his cock I asked if this is where he wanted me to suck his cock. I could feel his cock harden under my touch and knew this was what he wanted from me. Looking around first I noticed a pickup truck coming down the road and pulling up close behind my car. As the driver sat there I knew that we would have an audience which excited me even more. Opening his pants and telling him of the other driver I pulled his cock from his pants. It was between 5" and 6" and of average thickness, cut and thick with veins. Taking one last look at the driver behind us I bent over and took the head of his cock in my lips and began licking the crown.

Matthew immediately thrust his hips up driving his cock into my mouth. Telling me to suck it he placed his hands on my head and pushed until his whole cock was in my mouth. With a steady rhythm he moved my lips up and down his cock from the base to the tip, all the while telling me to suck his cock. As his strokes became faster and more erratic I knew he was going to cum for me. Sealing my lips tightly around his cock and dragging my tongue along the vein I could feel the first pulses and the spasms of his cock as he began cumming in my mouth. Driving my head down as far as he could he started shooting his load into my throat before once again starting to fuck my face hard and fast.

Once Matthews cock had soften in my mouth I rose back up to find my truck driving friend standing beside the car, looking down into Matthews window and rubbing his own cock through his jeans. I thought to ask Matthew if he wanted me to suck off the trucker but he quickly shoved his cock back into his pants and said that we should get out of here. Driving out of the park I asked if he wanted me to take him back to his car. He told me that he thought we might try more if I wanted to. "You want to fuck me" I asked? He told me we could go to his place if I wanted to try anything else.

It was a very quiet trip, the only conversation being Matthew giving me directions to his house. Once there he asked if I would like a beer or anything and said he needed a little time to recover. We sat for about half an hour during which he asked about my sex with men and my wife, telling me this would get him excited faster. As we talked I again began rubbing his cock and balls until I could feel him stiffen under my hand though his pants. I told him that we would need some kind of lube and asked where he would like to do this. Telling me to stay there he disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a small jar of vaseline.

As I stood to remove my shirt he stopped me, asking me to keep my clothes on and just dropping my pants. Doing as he asked I knelt on the floor as he opened his pants and began rubbing vaseline on his hard cock. I could feel his one hand on my ass as he got up behind me and then his cock slid down between my ass checks until the head of his cock rubbed against my asshole. I was about to tell him to go slowly when he just pushed his cock up my ass with a single thrust almost knocking the wind out of me. The minute his balls hit my ass he dropped his other hand to my hip and started pulling my ass into him as he rammed his cock in and out of my ass as hard and as fast as he could. Once the initial shock was over I began moving with him, squeezing his cock with my ass hoping to get him to cum quickly. For about 15 minutes Matthew kept pounding my ass, driving his cock deep into me as roughly as he could. Picking up speed and driving with short hard strokes I knew he was about fill my ass with his cum. Driving my ass back into him hard and burying as much of his cock into my ass as I could he started screaming and blew his load. 

He kept fucking me as he came, slowing down as the minutes passed until he collapsed on top of me, his soft cock sliding from my ass. Lying there I expected at least a thank you but instead Matthew told me to get up before I get sperm on the rug. Returning from the bathroom I found him at the door already telling me to take him back for his car. We returned downtown without another word, nor did he say anything as he got out of the car. I had heard of men who seemed to be turned off by the whole thing after they came but had never met one before, and hope to not meet one again. Matthew did call a few months later, his horniness seemed to actually make him pleasant again but I did not want to meet him again.



Wrong Number



Redistribution: Only for personal, nonprofit use.

**********

Please, if you are under the age of 18, don't read this material. Just wait a few years and you'll be all good and legal for this kind of stuff. Now for the rest of you, Enjoy!

**********

(Ring ring ring)

Hello?

Yes hi, is Jessica's mom there?

This is she.

Is this THE mother of cute little Jessica?

Yes, who is this?

Oh this is one of her 'close' friends.

You don't sound familiar, I thought I knew all her best friends.

I never said I was her best friend, just one of her close friends.

Well, ok, what can I do for you?

There's really nothing that you can do per say. I was just calling to let you know a little something about your daughter that's all.

Like what?

Well for one, do you know where she is right at this moment?

She told me she was going out, to the mall I suppose.

Wrong!

Then where is she?

She's right here with me at my house, as well as several of her other 'close' friends.

Oh, well are you girls having fun?

I'll say, but I think Jessica is having the most fun of all of us.

Well I'm really glad to hear that.

I thought you would be.

Is that all you called to tell me about?

Not exactly.

Than what else is there?

Wouldn't you like to know what your daughter's wearing?

Why would I care? Last I saw her this morning she was wearing jeans and a T-shirt?

Not any more! (giggle)

I don't think I understand. Is Jessica really there? Can I talk to her?

Yes she's here, but she can't come to the phone right now.

Why not?

Well, her mouth is really busy at the moment.

I see. Well tell her to call me when she's finished doing what ever she's doing.

Oh but that might take a looooong time. She might be here all day.

But we're supposed to go visit family later today. I think I really must talk with her.

As I said, she very busy, and we really don't want her to stop what she's doing.

Not even for her own mother?

Not even for you!

This doesn't sound right. What exactly is she doing?

Oh I don't think you really want to know, you may not like it.

What is that suppose to mean?

Lets just say that you wouldn't approve of your daughter's activities at the moment.

Activities? What activities? She better not be getting her tongue pierced! I'll be very upset.

Oh you're close. It does have something to do with her tongue, but its not pierced. At least not yet, but that's a good idea.

Listen young lady, I really don't have time for games. Is my daughter there or not?

Yes she is ma'am.

Then I insist that you put her on the phone this instant!

I'll give her a try, but I don't think she'll be very communicative.

Hello???

(Mmmmppphhh....)

Hello? Jessica?

(Mmmmmphhhhh)

Hello? Hello?

You see, I told you she wouldn't be very communicative.

What's wrong with her? What is wrong with her mouth?

Nothings wrong with her mouth. In fact Cindy finds your daughter's mouth perfect.

Cindy? Who's Cindy?

Just another one of your daughters 'close' friends. Jessica is currently being veeeerrrry friendly to her.

Where are you girls? Are you really with my daughter at your house?

Yes ma'am, I swear. I'm looking at her right now. Did you know you had a very sexy daughter?

Sexy? You mean pretty?

No, if she was really pretty, she'd be with lots of boys right now, instead of with lots of girls.

What is that suppose to mean?

Don't get so defensive, she's still very sexy. I love watching the way she wiggles.

This is beginning to sound absurd.

It really isn't, you should see the way she looks right now laying on my bed.

Bed? What's she doing on your bed?

Using her friendly mouth on Cindy.

ON? On where?

Where do you think?

Are you giving each other fake hickys? Do teenagers still do that?

I promise you she isn't giving Cindy a hicky, at least not near her neck.

But that's the only place to get a hicky.

No, there are other, more pleasurable places for her mouth to be.

You've got to be kidding? This better be a big joke right?

No ma'am, this is no joke.

My daughter is giving your friend....oral sex?

I wouldn't say it like that.

How would you say it then?

It's more like she's eating Cindy's cunt.

Oh my gosh! How dare you speak of such things, you nasty girl!

Jessica is the nasty girl. You should have seen some of the stuff she's been doing.

I don't care what you say. My daughter is a good girl. I didn't raise her to be a....a....

Lesbian?

NOT MY DAUGHTER!

Yes your daughter!

Why did you call me with this prank. What kind of girls are you to be bothering a mother with this nonsense.

It was her idea.

Whose?

Your daughter's.

Jessica?

Yes. She told me to dial your number just before she went to task on Cindy.

I don't believe you.

Its true. By the way, have you ever seen your daughter's pussy?

EXCUSE ME?

Well I'm looking at it right now. It really is very pretty, especially when it gets all puffy.

That's enough. I don't want to hear about this.

It looks even better now that it's shaved. Did you know she shaves her pussy?

I...stop this.....

It makes her look like a little girl. That's what we refer to her as, our girl.

No she isn't, she's my girl. My baby girl, and she'd never, ever do that in her whole life. Only sluts shave their...their....

Go ahead, you're a big girl, you can say it.

Vagina.

Good girl, you see it wasn't so hard.

If my daughter really is there, tell her she better come home this instant or never come home at all.

Do you really want that to happen? Especially the way she feels about you?

Feels about me?

Come on, you had to know.

Know what? What does Jessica feel?

Did you know she's playing with her pussy right now?

Tell her to stop it! Only tramps do that!

Exactly. I think she's doing it because she knows I'm talking to you!

How dare she. Tell her she's never allowed in this house ever again.

I don't think she'd hear me, her ears are covered by Cindy's thighs.

Tell Cindy to get off my baby. Tell her to leave her alone.

But Jessica was the one who crawled under Cindy to begin with.

I can't hear any more of this. This is just crazy!

Isn't it!

Why are you doing this to me?

I told you, it was Jessica's idea. Oh....wow....

What? What happened?

Jessica just inserted fingers inside her. Guess how many?

I don't want to guess, just tell her mommy wants her home.

Why, so you can have her all to yourself. I don't think so.

How dare you suggest anything of the sort.

You can't tell me you don't find your daughter attractive.

I love my daughter, I'd never...

You see, you admit it. You know she feels the same way about you?

I....Uh....she does?

Yes. She talks about you all the time. She says she wish's you were here with us.

No way, I'm not a....a....

Lesbian!

Uh, such a nasty word. You dirty dirty girls.

Hey, Jessica just brought Cindy to orgasm, aren't you proud of her?

Of course not....

And you should just see her face, so shiny. To late, Mary just covered it back up again.

Mary?

Yes, she another 'close' friend of your daughter.

How many of you are there?

Including your daughter and I, five.

Oh you horrible girls. Your all going to hell.

Don't be so dramatic....Oh, wonderful, she's just added another finger. Still don't want to know how many she's got inside her?

No, please, I don't want to hear any more of this.

But I think you do.

No I don't, I'm going to hang up I swear.

Sure go ahead, I'm tired of talking to you anyways. I'd much rather use my mouth on that juicy cunt of hers. Bye bye!

No wait!!!

Yes.

Please....um....

You don't want me to hang up?

No please...continue...

Only if you guess how many fingers your daughter is shoving up her cunt?

Oh please, this is just horrible.

Bye bye.

WAIT, Two, she has two fingers in her....vagina.

Not even close.

Three?

Nope!

The whore!

She's had lots of practice I assure you. She's got 4 fingers in that shaved little puss of hers. And its all for you!

Don't say that. It's not true.

Yes it is, and if you want I can tell her to put all 5 fingers in.

No! Tell her not to.

Sorry, too late. She really is the perfect slut. And Mary is really rocking on her face, I don't think she'll last much longer.

Oh my baby girl!

Don't worry, she's still yours. We promise we'll return her in ok shape when were done using her.

You horrible things!

What's wrong? You want her now don't you?

Yes I want her now, but not in that way.

You can't fool me, I can hear it in your voice, its getting husky.

You're lying.

Am I. I bet your panties are soaked by now, aren't they?

How dare you...

Aren't they?

(Silence)

You could take them off and play with yourself you know, just like your daughter is.

Never, that is disgusting.

I know you want to. I bet you could stick a whole fist inside yourself.

You rude creature.

Jessica wants you to fist her you know?

WHAT?

Why do you think she's practicing right now, stretching herself? She always talks about how she soooo wants her mommy to seduce her and shove her fist into her.

She never said that.....did she?

Yes she did. But she doesn't think it'll ever happen.

She's right.

She thinks its because you don't find her sexy.

That's not true, she's very sexy.....wait, your trying to trick me!

So you don't find her sexy?

No...I mean yes...I mean...

Do you think she's sexy?

Yes she's sexy.

No no, do YOU think she's sexy.

Yes....yes I think she's sexy.

So do you have your panties off yet?

What? No!

But how are you going to play with yourself?

I don't want to play with myself.

Then you should at least put on a dry pair of panties.

I haven't had the chance to clean new ones yet.

HA!!!

OH MY GOSH!

I caught you. Your soaked aren't you?

(Silence)

You horny old cow, you are wet.

Please don't tell Jessica.

But she'll be so happy. It means her mommy really does have the hots for her.

I don't....

Don't be such a prude. You want you daughter so badly, I just know it. Go ahead and take off your panties, no one can see you. You can even leave your dress on.

But...but...

Hurry up, get those sticky panties down those thighs. The cool air will feel good around your wet lips.

I can't...I won't....

I bet you already did.

(Silence)

I bet they're pooled around your ankles right now. You're such a naughty mommy.

Please don't call me that, I try so hard to be a good parent.

I won't stop until you promise to fulfill your daughter's fantasy.

I couldn't!

Sure you can, she's been practicing for almost a month getting that tiny pussy of hers all stretched out for you.

I could never do that!

Oh I see, you aren't sure how to do it. Well you'll just have to practice on yourself then.

You can't suggest I do that to myself?

Of course silly. Go ahead and stick your hand under your dress for me.

I refuse.

Stop being a child, you need the practice. Now you better be working a finger up there.

Oh...but...

How does it feel?

Please lets not do this.

I asked you how does your finger feel inside you?

I hate it!

No you don't, you love it. Stick two more in.

But....they won't fit!

Sure they will hun, that loose cunt of yours should stretch no problem.

Oh Gosh!!!

Are they in?

Why am I doing this?.

Don't forget to rub that little nub of yours. Even big girls need to stimulate their little man.

Ohhhhhhh, I'm going to hell.

Feels good huh? Why don't you close your eyes and imagine your actually fingering Jessica!

Noooo....I....can't....

Gosh her pussy looks good doesn't it? Especially with your mommy fingers going in and out, in and out.

Please, stop talking about her....

I bet her pussy tastes just delicious. Why don't you take your fingers from your dripping pussy and lick them. Pretend that you're tasting your daughter.

Please don't make me. 

Yes, I insist. Tell me, do you like the taste?

No!

Come on, tell the truth.

A little.

Just what I thought, you like the taste of pussy. Very good, you can stick the rest of your fingers inside you now.

But my hand is too big, it'll hurt!

Nonsense. I bet you could put both hands inside yourself. And did I just mention Mary just came on your daughter's face? That girl is unbelievable. And her face really looks like a complete mess with all that pussy juice. A good thing Samantha is now taking her turn on your daughter's tongue.

Ohhhhhh.

What's the matter? Whish it was you lowering your pussy onto your daughter's face?

NO!!!

She has a really long tongue, I can tell you from experience that she really knows what she's doing with it.

No....more, please....don't say any more.

Tell me where your fist is?

Inside....my....vagina!

Close your eyes. Now tell me where your fist is?

Its.....its....in a pussy!

Whose pussy?

Oh gosh, NO!

Whose pussy are you fisting?

Jessica's!

Give it to her good mommy. Shove that hand up your daughter's cunt.

OHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Think again, where's your daughter's face?

It's...uhhhh...between my legs.....

And what do you want her to do down there?

I can't say it!

What do you want her to do to your mommy pussy?

LICK IT!!!!! I want her to lick my pussy!

Tell her baby, tell your daughter.

Jessica, lick my pussy. Please lick my pussy!

Now tell her where to shove her tongue.

Inside me. Please push your tongue inside me Jessica, mommy needs it sooooooo bad!!!

And does she?

YESSSS, she's a good girl, such a good girl!

Just like her mommy raised her?

Yes!

Now make her cum. Make your daughter cum with your fist!

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

(Five minutes later)

That was so good wasn't it?

(Silence)

I know you loved it. How does that pussy feel?

It....hurts...

It looks like you and your daughter have a lot to talk about tonight, now that you've admitted your feelings for her.

Yes, you are right. I had no idea she felt this way. I'll wait for my baby at home until you finish with her. Please be gentle.

(giggles) I promise we will.

And...and thank you!

My pleasure, believe me. Oh and just one more thing before we hang up.

What is that sweetie?

You know I was a bit lying earlier when I said I was Jessica's 'close' friend.

What are you then?

Actually, I'm not even a regular friend of her's.

What do you mean?

You see I actually don't like your daughter very much. Seeing her ugly face at school just plain annoys me, so I decided to call her mom and play a prank of her.

Wwwwwhat are you saying?

Jessica isn't actually here either, just me, my friends, and this tape recorder.

(Silence)

They don't like her much either. We're going to love playing it around school tomorrow. I just can't wait to see all the kids laughing at your daughter when they hear it, and I have you to thank. Thank you so very much, you were very helpful. Bye bye now....

NO WAIT!!!!!

(CLICK.....dial tone.....)

NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

Hey Mom, I'm home!

Jessica!

The End!

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All Comments are greatly appreciated, please send them to: 

Your encouragements keep me going :)

*******

This work is copyright (c) 2003 by Phoenix Arrow. You may download and keep copies for your personal use as long as the author's byline and e-mail address and this paragraph remain on the copies. Please do not post this story to any web site without permission from the author. All other rights reserved. No alteration of the contents is permitted. 



Wrong Number



My name is Yvonne. I am about a year out of high school. I thought my friends and I would be close forever. With the exception of two, we have -- Tracey and Isabel had egos that got two big for the group. The main bond that brought us together was our commitment to walking the strait and narrow. All throughout school, we were straight-edger's times four. 

We were dubbed "the Mary's" (or los Lúpes to César).

I should say *ALMOST* all through school. One-by-one, we got a little bit of dirt under our respective fingernails. Charli had several shitstorms occur in less than a year. Some family members inexplicably died in succession. Her inability to cope was made worse when she snorted her pain away. She went to jail, and our group was down to 5.

It was actually Tracey and Isabel's respectability that separated them from the group. Being the best in their drama class, they were invited to be in a traveling play about the benefits of morality. The groups of fans got so big that we had to talk to their "people" just to say hello.

Yvonne is a different story. I am five foot four inches tall. I have reddish-brown hair and dark brown skin. I have a body built for sin. My only reason for being a goody-goody was my mother. She was just the opposite. I got my height from my father, but my body I got from Jeannine. She used her body-for-sin... ...for sin. She told me horror stories about her and her friends.

I was not permitted to date until I was 16. My best friend, since I was twelve, jumped at the chance to be my first boyfriend. Although he supported and mirrored my purity efforts, it only took once to make a mistake.

So, now, it is now. We are all a year out of school; with the exception of the stars, of course. I was sitting on the couch on one of my few nights off. Frustrated with trying to find something on TV or a video I hadn't seen a thousand times. I sat reading a magazine to just the radio. That's when I got a call from Avante.

Avante didn't have your typical model body. Hers was what people crassly referred to as a ghetto booty. She asked for her boyfriend, Sean, as I was turning the radio off. From the sound of her voice, I could tell she wasn't her normal chipper self. 

I asked her what was wrong. After a number of transparent "I fine's", I finally got her to confess. She was nervous about letting Sean go all the way. Everyone knew they were deep in love -- sickeningly so. I knew Sean before Avante and knew him to be a stand up guy. If she was going to be with anyone, I was happy it was him. I could, also, understand the apprehension that we all felt when it was our first times.

"I was sure you and Luna were going to be the ones that made it all the way to marriage."

Luna said she wanted to be a nun. Abuse at the hands of family friend pushed her almost as far as Charli. The Marys were still the Marys and still the support group it had always been.

She said, "I know." "But this is something I really want to do."

I told her how I felt about her first time being with Sean.

"I'm still anxious about it, though." "Sean being Sean, I'm sure it will be magical -- as far as the planning."

"Yeah. He is nothing if not strategic." "But in a good way." I added; correcting myself.

"True."

"So what's the problem?"

"We'll have the right ambiance. We have the emotional feelings. But I'm still shaky on the physical feelings. That's why I'm glad I mis-dialed. I figure you can give me some of your experience."

"Thanks. The vast knowledge I arrived at through my *whoredom* has at last found its use."

"Not what I meant... ...and you know it." She quipped.

"Ok, ok, ok. What do you what to know? As long as you're there and naked he's going to have a good time. If anyone needs advice, it'll be Sean. And the one who needs to give it to him is you."

"What do you mean?"

"As long as YOU are having a good time, you are both good. I know a good number of guys who get off by their ability to get their girl off. But he needs you to tell him or show him what buttons to push."

"Again, what do you mean, 'SHOW him'?"

"I had a boyfriend who was just as content watching me have my way with myself. If you know what turns you on, you can let him know."

She then began to point out how much this went against the unwritten Marys handbook. The Marys included ourselves in the list of partners we were to abstain from before marriage.

"True enough. I was just looking out for Sean." "Give yourself a hand, and you'll be giving him a hand."

"Oh. Ok. Ha ha. I get it. Rimshot." In the characteristic Avante sardonic monotone.

"But seriously. If Sean is anything like Dimitry, he'll get a kick out of it. Do it right before you two get started. Put on more baby oil than you normally would and give him a lap dance. Tell him this dance is just like the club; no touching. After a song of that butt everybody loves grinding into him, tell him he still doesn't get to touch. That's when the REAL show begins. Lie on the bed across from him and go through the steps you want him to take. Tell him while you're showing him."

"I don't know what steps I want him to take." Her voice came out half irritated and half in anguish.

"Calm down. I'll tell you what I do."

Through her "Ok." I heard what sounded like her making herself more comfortable. I told her to slowly kiss her hand and slowly bring it to her neck."

'Start kissing me on my neck and work your way down.'

From then on, all I heard from her end were responsive "Uh huh's."

"Direct him to the center of your chest and tell him to make love to your nipples like that's all he was going to get. You are going to wet your fingers for the instructions."

"Uh huh."

"Once you can't stand him staying there anymore and NEED him to keep going, point him past the prize. The longer the pot simmers, the better the flavor."

"Uh huh."

"Tell him to explore you thighs for a little while. He's probably going to take this opportunity to rub and squeeze that butt you didn't let him have earlier. After a while of caressing and kissing your thighs, he's going to creep up to your pussy."

I heard nothing, but thought nothing of it.

"Once you tell him how you tell him how you want your slit licked, the rest is detail."

I, again, heard nothing. This time I asked if she was still there. I found out the answers were "Yes" and "No". She had been doing some pre-show warm-ups. I heard a number of squishes that let me know she was in her own world.

I should have left her alone with her thoughts of Sean. I couldn't seem to hang up the phone. The "Uh huh's" returned, but I knew what they meant, now. 

Completely out of Mary character, I heard her say, "Fuck me, Sean."

Images of what 'Sean' was doing to her made me want that same feeling. My ex's -- most of them, anyway -- felt good. None of them; not even I brought sounds out of me the she was making. I could see them both. A sweaty mass of passion giving a pictorial definition of 'The beast with two backs.' 

I couldn't be sure if listening made me a voyeur. I couldn't be swayed by it either. I shooed that idea away as quickly as it came. I rationalized it as moral support for one of my best friends.

I began ditching clothes and making the trek up to my bedroom. 'I should turn the radio back on. The quiet storm should be on -- that'll set the mood.' Then I realized I didn't need mood music. I could not have been more aroused than with what sights and sounds were dancing through my head. I discarded my bra and it seemed as though my hand was unable to wait for my panties to come off. I got it to cooperate and flung my panties off the edge of my bed. Somewhere on my journey to my bedroom, 'Sean' got lost. I only managed to hold on to my visuals of the one making the noise.

'But this is your friend.' I scolded myself. 'Not only are you eavesdropping on & pleasuring yourself to her and her boyfriend's sexual experience, but you're, now, getting off to the thought of another woman who sounds like she's about to cum.'

My conscience brought the mirror to my face. But it said it at the point of no return. I couldn't help but cum with her.



Wrong Number



Fun little story, with a little 'fun' sex, but nothing hard. Probably unlikely in real life, but what the hell, it's a story. I invented it. It didn't happen in real life. 

+++++++++++ 

"Damn it!" The attractive twenty-eight year old brunette muttered under her breath, as she put her I-phone back down on the bar in front of her. "All dolled up and ready for a great night out, and my damn husband has to stay on at work and finish some stupid project. Why couldn't he have rang me before I left home?"

She sat there silently fuming, the upmarket decorations of the upmarket lounge bar she was sitting in lost to her for the moment. She'd spent half the late afternoon primping and preparing herself for that evening out with her husband, carefully choosing the little black dress that he loved so much; the one that was so short and plunged so daringly, that their golden rule was that it only came out for their special evenings out together. 

"All this leg and cleavage on display," she thought to herself. "With nobody around to appreciate it."

But she was wrong!

Oh how she was wrong.

-------------------

The man, he was close enough to the standard tall dark and handsome that few but the very fussy would call you on it. Thirty-two years old, well dressed and shoes freshly polished. He's been watching the pretty young dark haired woman since she'd breezed in just five minutes before, instinctively licking his lips as he admired her long shapely, bare, tanned legs, with their dainty little high heeled shoes at one end, and the flouncy, questionable excuse for a skirt at the other.

And such a long tantalising length of leg in between them!

And so damn shapely.

The top, what there was of it, plunged daringly down between the swell of her full breasts, a worryingly fragile looking silver clasp appearing to be the only thing holding the whole thing together. 

His mind was working overtime.

You may have been there? I bet yours would as well.

He'd seen and taken note of her reaction to the phone call she'd just taken, and knew that with a girl as pretty as the one sat by the bar, dressed as she was, if he didn't make his move soon, then there'd be a queue. So, raising himself from the shadows of the alcove where he'd been observing the bar from, he stepped quickly over towards the girl, feeling confident about himself, but not sure exactly how his approach would be accepted.

"Hi there," he started, flashing her his number one special smile. "You seem to be all on your own. Can I get you another drink?"

The girl, woman maybe, looked up at him, her surprise registering on her lovely face as she took in quite how hunky her new admirer was. Without answering she glanced up and down at this new man, liking what she saw, suddenly acutely aware of just how revealing her attire was, as she sat there, the skirt of her already overly short dress having ridden even further up her silky smooth thighs, and the flimsy plunging top offering very limited cover to her otherwise bare breasts, as the handsome dark haired man stood there, looking down at them.

Staring at them. Enjoying the view, and making the most of his priveledged position.

He made no pretence that he was doing anything but admiring all the bare flesh she was displaying, and she made no immediate move to spoil his viewing pleasure.

The woman breathed in deeply to steady her rapidly pounding heart, realising too late that the effect it would have, and the increased threat to the little silver clasp, would do nothing to diffuse the situation.

This turn of events had taken her totally by surprise, and she recognised that her evening could well turn out somewhat different to how she had expected. 

But what to do now?

Put the man in front of her in his place or go along with it?

She knew that she really ought to remind the man that she was a happily married woman.

"Another drink would be fine," she verbalised her decision, throwing him a smile, wondering whether she'd made a terrible mistake.

"A gin and tonic with ice but no lemon for the lady please bartender," the man called out to the guy behind the bar. The very same bartender who'd been hovering close by, enjoying the stolen views of the sexy woman in the skimpy dress, that was about to be stolen from him by the newcomer.

The drink for her and a new one for the man in front of them, and the bartender sloped off to the other end of the bar, his interest more in the chance of a good tip, rather than hanging round to spy.

"Gordon. Gordon Mayhew," the man introduced himself offering her his hand.

"Lisa," answered the girl with yet another friendly smile, absolutely sure that his real name wasn't Gordon, any more than hers was Lisa. 

All part of the game in a bar like this, as she took his large hand in her small one, the pair of them holding on to the other's hand for much longer than good manners would normally require.

"All on your own Lisa?" The man enquired politely. "Not expecting anyone to arrive and demand what I'm doing chatting up his beautiful young girlfriend?"

"All on my own Gordon," the girl confirmed, the use of his given name seeming strange. It somehow didn't suit him. "I was expecting someone, but he's not coming."

"Your date's let you down has he?" He asked, a look of surprise on his face. "He must be mad to miss out on an evening with a wonderful young lady like you."

"He wasn't exactly a date," the girl giggled back at him. "At least not a normal sort of date."

"Business perhaps?" He queried.

"Not exactly business. More a long time arrangement."

"A financial arrangement? Is that what you mean?"

"Sort of," she chuckled, mostly to herself, amused at the play on words that avoided her admitting that it was her husband that she'd been waiting for. "He paid for this dress that I'm wearing for example."

"And the shoes?"

"Yes, them as well."

"And your panties?" The man boldly demanded next. "Did he pay for those?"

"I suppose he did," she replied, blushing at her own daring, her mind flashing back to the tiny thong that she had slipped on just a few hours earlier. The very one, that by then was beginning to get very damp indeed.

"But apparently he wasn't generous enough to buy you a bra," he continued, making a point of staring down at the curve of the inside of her breasts, clearly visible between the gap down the front of her dress.

"Apparently not," she agreed, her own eyes glancing down to where his were, the impossibility that she had a bra on that evening more than obvious. 

The pair of them looked up, holding one another's eyes for some moments in silence, both wondering where the hell this was going. Where would it end up?

"It seems that perhaps I have read you wrong then, beautiful young lady," the man took the initiative. "It would seem that you are a woman who expects her 'arrangements' to be of a financial nature. A --- eh --- professional lady should I say. But a particularly pretty and sweet one."

She gasped, trying to hide it. Oh God the evening was going so very different wasn't it. She felt herself becoming flustered, realising that her words had been taken the wrong way. Realising, with a sinking feeling that he was suggesting that she was a prostitute. 

She'd have to put him right there!

Or would she?

A real live fantasy and perhaps she'd risk playing him along for a little longer.

What to do next?

She simply smiled back up at him.

"So what would three hundred buy me?" He questioned her, grinning at how his own evening was turning out so unexpectedly.

"Not a lot," she replied calmly, having absolutely no idea what the going rate might be, but feeling that if she had been selling, then she should be worth quite a bit more than that. Not that she planned on actually going through with it, did she?

Did she?

Well, did she?

The guy --- Did he call himself Gordon ---- Whatever, he was awfully cute, and ..... Well ..... Oh God, her panties were becoming awfully damp and sticky. Made thinking clearly, very difficult.

"Well I'm a three hundred maximum sort of guy," she heard the man replying to her rejection. "I've got quite a lot to offer myself honey, and I'm not really used to paying for it. If you weren't so damn pretty and sexy ....."

He left the veiled threat of walking away from it all unspoken, but the message was clear. It was her chance. Her one clear chance. Her chance to smile sweetly at him, stand up, straighten her dress, say goodnight and walk away. Her chance to escape from the situation she'd got herself into without further embarrassment. Perhaps she'd treat the handsome devil to a peck on the cheek. Perhaps he deserved that much.

"Three hundred eh." She heard herself saying. "That's really all?"

"Three hundred," he nodded, taking out his wad of money and counting out notes, away from any prying eyes. "Take it or leave it. But it's a good offer."

"Right," she decided on the spur of the moment. "But I'm not going up to your room, or out to your car. For three hundred you get what you can get right here in this bar. Anything that doesn't cause a fuss, embarrass us or get us thrown out."

She sat there smiling confidently at him, convinced that she'd called his bluff, sure that he wouldn't go for it. What on earth could he demand in a public place like that, that would be worth his three hundred?

"Fine," he said quietly to her surprise, sliding the wad of notes down the bar to her. "Let's see those lovely breasts of yours for starters."

Oh shit!

Oh damn it. What to do now?

""Come on Lisa," he encouraged her. "Give me a show."

She peered round the bar area in some desperation, checking that nobody was overlooking them and that the barman was not close by. She felt trapped by her own stupidity but couldn't see any way out of it; not without making a fool of herself. Some fantasy eh?

It would be so easy to do as well. With the dress she had on, it would just be a matter of sliding the edge back an inch or so to expose her nipple to him. Damn it; with the dress she had on, then he'd probably already glimpsed it several times already. Certainly the barman must have done earlier when he'd been hovering around her on the other side of the bar. Taking a big breath to steady herself, she tucked her forefinger inside the side of her dress, and with her insides turning somersaults, slid the dress slowly aside, gasping lightly as she felt it catch on her rock hard nipple, then shivering involuntarily as felt the nipple break free, aware that she'd exposed it to HIS eyes. Aware that she was displaying her full breast to him.

What the hell!

Tucking her dress in behind her now fully bared breast, she reached over to the other side and did the same to the other one, her breathing speeding up as she sat there, smiling, both bare breasts thrusting out at him.

She found herself enjoying it, and one look at the man in front of her made it clear that he was to.

"Beautiful," he commented calmly, simply, truthfully. "Can I touch them?"

She closed her eyes and nodded her head in agreement, unwilling to trust her voice as excited as she was. Her body going rigid, then shaking with pent up passion as she felt his finger tips caress her naked breasts, tracing their way round the curve of them, then squeezing them gently, cupping them, kneading them firmly. Unable to conceal a muffled squeal as he took her nipples between his fingers and rolled them, squeezed them, pulled firstly gently, and then less gently at them, as she thrust her breasts forward at him, ever more eager for his touch.

"Why don't you pop into the toilets and slip your panties off for me," he whispered to her, still toying with her breasts.

"No way," she shot back at him, her mind reeling but aware of where that might and probably would lead. "We have a deal and I said not leaving the bar."

"Take them off here then," he counter offered with a grin.

"No way," she repeated, clutching her hand to her mouth to suppress the squeal that she felt coming as he mauled her burning tits harder, squeezing her sensitive nipples even more roughly. She loved it!

"If you don't take them off, then I'll make you scream out loud," he threatened.

"You want them off so badly," she replied without thinking. "You take them off."

It became another of those 'what the hell' moments.

He slid her dress slowly up the little of her thighs that it still covered to expose her tiny thong, and she lifted her bottom up off the stool to allow him to slide it off. She shivered as she felt the flimsy garment slide down, gasping as the sticky bit between her legs came loose with a jerk, and sighed deeply as she sensed more than felt him slide them down her thighs, over her knees, down her shapely calves, catching for a moment on the heel of her shoe, till they were free. 

That was it!

She was sat there in a public bar with no panties on, her dress almost to her waist, and her tits out on display, and this man standing there grinning at her, enjoying the display. 

"You can touch me down there if you want," she told him, almost begged him, all pretence at any modesty long beyond recall. Opening her thighs wide to him, inviting his touch, oblivious to anything else around her.

He reached down and slid his finger slowly up her wet slit, giving her clit a gentle flick as he pulled it away. 

She gasped.

She wanted more.

She craved more, but he stood there, teasing her, tormenting her, enjoying her desperation.

"Please!" she called out, a little louder than she meant to.

"Let's get a bit kinky, shall we?" he further taunted her.

"Anything," she cried out, grabbing his hand and trying to direct it back down to between her legs.

"What the hell are you doing?" she cried out in frustration, as she looked up and saw that he'd got his mobile phone out from his pocket, even in her state of mind, relieved to note that it was a more old fashioned ovular, flip fronted type, that probably didn't have a camera facility. "Who the hell do you think you're calling?"

"Not calling anyone," he answered with a grin.

"Well what are you doing?"

"Just wondering if my phone would fit in there," he stated baldly.

"In where?" she demanded, and then it dawned on her what he had in mind. He had mentioned the word kinky after all. "Oh my God no ---- No way."

"Oh but yes I think so my pretty little thing. Let's see if it fits."

"No way," she repeated, staring at the phone in horror as he twirled it in his fingers before her. "It would never fit."

"I think it would."

"It won't," she half sobbed, eyeing the object, her mind reeling at the thought of what it would feel like inside her. "It won't. I'd have to be really lubricated."

"I think you're quite wet enough," he chuckled, giving her wet open slit yet another cursory slide through with his finger, and as he twirled her clit, she was lost. 

She stared in fear and lust as he offered the fat bullet shaped object up to her pussy shivering all over as she felt it's cold hardness push up against her wet softness. Gritting her teeth as he slowly and carefully eased it back and forth to gain entry. Knowing from other little tricks that she'd tried out over the years in desperate moments that it would indeed fit in, but that it was going to be an awfully tight fit. That it was going to hurt a bit, but that it would be worth it.

"It's no good, it won't fit in," she cried out as she felt it slip past her pussy lips, squealing in delight as she discovered quite how wrong she was. The man cuddled her up close, burying her head into his chest, if nothing else than to keep the noise level down, she biting down hard on the lapel of his jacket for the very same reason.

It did fit in.

It was in.

Right in!

He released his firm hold on her, just steadying her by the shoulders as she squirmed her bottom on the stool, unable to believe the sensations that were sending her body into raptures.

-----------------

Eight minutes and two very quick orgasms later, along with several suspicious looks from the barman, and not a little interest from a few of the other clients, all of whom were sure that something was going on, but none of them choosing to investigate, things settled down.

She sat there her forehead bathed in sweat, her pussy still tingling from the invasive foreign object that was still lodged there inside her.

She was frightened to move, aware of what it would set off yet again.

"Please Gordon, or whatever you say your name is," she pleaded quietly. "Please take it out. I don't think I can take anymore."

"Ah," he responded seriously. "Hadn't really thought about that. Not sure how we'd go about it without making some kind of show."

"Oh my God no!" she sobbed, recognising the impossible situation she found herself in. She could hardly sit there at the bar, while he probed about inside to fish it back out.

"I don't know how," he went on, reaching across the bar and picking up her I-phone that she'd left there. "But I know a man who can."

"What the hell are you doing," she whispered at him, wanting to scream. "Who the hell are you ringing?"

"Your husband," he replied, selecting 'contacts' and scrolling down the list. "His name's Mark, isn't it?"

----------- 

TAKE NOTE, READERS

First mistake, but the game was up really. No actual mention had been made of her husband's name, or even that she was married. Yes indeed, the cat was well and truly out of the bag.

---------- 

Finding 'Mark (hubby)', he selected it and looked at her, smiling. 

"Thought I should mention --- Lisa? --- that I've turned ring off on my phone and put it on vibrate."

"She looked at him, mouth open wide in shock as she realised what was about to happen to her. 

"You bastard," she spat at him. "Mark --- You dirty rotten ...... Aaaaah! Oh my God. Turn it off for God's sake Mark. Turn it off."

Husband Mark looked at his lovely wife, enjoying the effect that his vibrating phone was having on her. Only then did he check how to turn his wife's phone off, more than aware of the effect his wife's gyrations were by then having on the rest of the patrons in the bar.

"Turn it off," she cried, grabbing the unfamiliar phone from him to do it herself.

"Have you done it?" Mark asked with concern, as Linda, his wife started to slide down against the bar. "Have you turned it off?"

"Not yet," she grunted back, still clutching the I-phone. "I will do. Just a few more minutes please."

--------------

Fortunately for Mark and Linda they were not regulars at that particular bar, and fortunately for them it was the other side of town and nobody there knew them. Because, despite Linda's rules earlier on, and not surprisingly, they did get thrown out of the bar for lewd behaviour. Fortunately Linda was beyond all caring by then, and the barman was not actually too upset with the pair of them and didn't report them. Indeed if one of the older woman clients hadn't been so insistent, then he would have happily let them stay on somewhat longer. The questionable silver clasp had indeed proved not to be up to the job it was designed for, snapped, and left the lovely Linda exposed to the world as her dress slid down to her waist. Much to the pleasure of the appreciative barman and a couple of the male clients, all of whom simply insisted on giving Mark a hand to half carry his wife out to his car, while he followed with a bemused grin on his face, carrying the dress that had admirably proved that sometimes in life, form over function could be far more exciting.

To this day you can go visit the bar, and on a night when it's not too busy the barman will be happy to recount exactly what happened. Well not exactly! Over the years the story would have added bits here and there, as stories tend to do, but in fairness, he could still produce from behind the bar, the exact same pair of panties that our Mark left behind as a tip.




Wrong Number



-----------------

Epilogue of sorts

They were half way home, still discussing how they were going to fish the slippery phone out from where it was lodged, something that they did eventually manage by the way, when Linda suddenly yelped and rounded on Mark in the driving seat.

"Mark," she cried out. "Who the hell's ringing you at this time of night?"

"I don't know," he replied. "How do you know someone's ringing me?"

"How the hell do you think I know," Linda squealed, squirming in her seat and clutching her hand down between her legs. "But don't worry. Just keep driving. Take the long way home if you want."

----------------

Linda didn't keep the three hundred that Mark had slid along the bar that evening. She gave it back to him and told him to buy himself a new I-phone.

The old one?

She kept it!

++++++++++++ 

I'm assured by a 'fundi', that it is possible for a mobile phone to receive a call from that situation, but quite how he was so sure, then he didn't care to explain. It's certainly beyond my experience, if, obviously, not beyond my imagination.