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Telephone

By: Scott_Harper



Trish lounged on the bed, wearing nothing more than her loose-fitting tank top and her matching fluorescent pink G-string. As she adjusted the hands-free telephone headset, she glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror that hung on her bedroom wall several feet away. Her tight, petite body was partially hidden from view by the little bit of clothing she wore. But her smooth, slightly tanned, long, slender, willowy legs were uncovered and on display for her viewing pleasure. She pulled her white-blond hair out of her face to allow herself an unobstructed view of the image and a smile curved the edges of her full lips.

"Damn, Felix," she whispered to her absent husband as she waited for his call. "I wish you were here with me. Phone sex is okay, but I can masturbate anytime. I want to feel your massive hunk of man-meat in my tight snatch!"

Forcing herself to remain calm and not start before her husband called, Trish forced her gaze from the mirror to the bed-side nightstand and its array of sex toys. Depending upon what mood she was in and what Felix, bless his sex-addicted perverse soul, wanted her to do for him on the phone, she had a variety of playthings from which to chose. Everything from huge dildos to anal beads to clitoris stimulators to slim vibrators destined for her tight asshole. There was even a mammoth fake cock that had been molded from the gargantuan dick of a porn star that had a suction cup at its base that she could place just about anywhere to ride to orgasm.

She looked at the digital clock. It read 11: 33 PM.

"Felix, come on, damn it! You're three minutes late!"

As if on cue, the telephone rang. Trish answered it on the first ring, switching the call to her hands-free headset. "Felix?"

"Who else would be calling you at this time of night?"

Trying to suppress a smile, she teased, "You never know, baby. You keep leaving me alone to go on these business trips. A girl can only go without feeling her man's cock thrusting into her for so long before she starts to seek out a substitute."

Felix's warm, rumbling laugh answered. Then he whispered, "Honey, I promise you the longest, hardest fuck of your life the moment I walk in the door in a couple of days. In the meantime, we'll have to be content with this for a couple of more nights. Okay?"

Trish made sure to put a vocal pout into her words as she said, "I suppose so."

"How many other husbands call their wives for phone sex each and every night they're away from home?"

Still teasing him with her pouting voice, she answered, "None that I know of."

"You know I love you, Trish. And you know I hate being away from you."

"I know. On both accounts."

"Good. And you also know how desperately I miss you when we're apart."

"I know."

"And you know badly I want for it to be me inside of your hot, wet pussy instead of forcing you to reply on toys."

Trish smiled, knowing that the fun was starting. "I know, babe."

"Are you naked?"

"No."

"No?" His voice was heavy with surprise. "You say you're usually naked by the time I call."

"Usually, yes. Tonight, no. Tonight you have to work a bit harder."

There was a slight pause, then Felix asked, "You're really hot tonight, aren't you?"

"I am, yes."

"I wish I were there with you."

"Me, too."

"Right now."

"Mmm-hmm."

"And that we were both naked."

"Yes."

"And that my cock was buried as deeply inside your dripping snatch as it will go."

Trish rubbed her pert breasts through the fabric of her tank top, feeling her hard nipples. She shuddered, her breath already quickening. "Yes," she replied. "And that we were face-to-face as you fucked me so hard. And I had my legs wrapped around you, drawing you even deeper into my body, pulling you against me tighter and tighter."

"Honey, just thinking about it is enough to make me want to cum."

"So... Are you naked yet?"

"Yes."

Trish grinned, imagining Felix's toned, tan body stretched out on the bed of his hotel room, his seven-inch dick hard as a steel rod, pulsing in perfect rhythm with his heartbeat, a bit of clear pre-cum oozing from its swollen purple tip, his nipples hard and taut as her own were, begging to be licked and suckled and massaged.

"What are you wearing?" he asked her.

"Not much. My pink tank and G-string."

Felix's breath hitched. "I'm missing the G-string?"

"I'm afraid so, baby."

"Fuck, honey! I love you in the G-string!"

"I know. That's why I wore it."

"But I can't see you in it."

"I know," she purred.

"Tease," he accused.

"Aren't I, though?" She continued rubbing her breasts through her shirt. "So, how long is it going to take you to get me undressed?"

Felix's voice was thick when he said, "Not long, I hope. I've been stroking myself since you answered the phone and I'm already wanting to cum."

"Not without me you don't," Trish whispered into the microphone.

"Then you'd better get started."

"Who says I haven't?"

His warm, rich laughter rumbled in her ear again for a moment. Then he said, "Are you lying down?"

"Yes."

"Sit up on the edge of the bed, babe."

She did so and told him that she had.

"Peel your tank off."

Trish grabbed the hem of her shirt and lifted it slowly, relishing the feel of the soft fabric as it caressed her hot flesh and drug oh, so slowly over her erect nipples. She tossed the tank aside. "Okay," she purred. "Now the only thing I'm wearing is the G-string."

Felix grunted. "Baby... Sweet darling... Love of my life... I can't believe you're wearing the G-string when I'm not there! Oh, fuck! I'm going to cum soon! Take the G-string off!"

Lying down, feeling the soft downiness of the comforter against her bare back, she asked, "If you were here, how would you take it off of me?"

Groaning softly, Felix said, "I'd gently pull you to the edge of the bed, then spread your legs and kneel between them. I'd slowly draw it down over your perfect, silky thighs and pull it off."

"Then what would you do, lover?"

"Oh, fuck! Trish, honey... If you want to cum with me, you need to hurry!"

"No, sweetie. You need to slow down. I told you. I'm very hot tonight. And since you're tormenting me by being away, I get to torment you by making you go ever so slowly."

"Baby, I can't. Not now. Not knowing you're wearing the G-string!"

"You can and you will, sweetheart. Cum now, and I'll tease you till you pass out on me in anticipation when you get home. Remember last time?"

"Yes."

"Uh-huh. You came first during phone sex and the instant you walked in the door a week later I led you up here to our room, stripped us both naked, put you on the bed and knelt on your hands so you couldn't touch either of us. Then what did I do?"

His breathing was coming faster and faster. "You started to touch me, but you were barely touching me. You kept caressing my nipples and stomach and hips and thighs and stroking my cock until I was so hard my dick ached. And you kept it up for hours. You wouldn't let me up for anything."

"That's right."

"Finally, when I thought was going to die from need for you, you finally mounted me."

Trish giggled. "And you spurted your hot load in my pussy after I only bounced on your cock twice."

"And you came an instant later."

Trish pinched her left nipple between long fingernails as she said, "And that was your first offense. Just imagine what I'd do to you this time."

His only reply was a long, drawn out moan.

Trish purred, "Did I just hear my honey climaxing?"

"No. I'm so fucking close, though..."

"Hold it in, babe. You haven't even gotten me out of all my clothes yet. Remember... I'm still wearing your beloved G-string!"

"Fuck! Trish... I can't wait much longer!"

"You'll have to, I'm afraid. So, if you were with me now, after you knelt and took my G-string off, what would you do?"

Felix only moaned softly.

Trish licked her full lips, wetting them, then whispered, "Would you lick me?"

"Yes!"

"Would you suck my hard clit?"

"Yes!"

"Would you fuck me with your tongue?"

"Yes!"

"Would you... lap up all of my musky, dewy juice?"

"Fuck, yes!"

"Good," Trish said softly, hooking her thumbs into the sides of the garment and slowly drawing it down. She lifted her hips to allow space to slide it free, then tossed it aside. "You've got me out of the G-string, Felix. And my pussy is so fucking wet! I'm dripping all over our bed. I wish you were here to see it and smell it and taste it!"

"So do I," he said. His voice was even more strained.

"Poor baby," Trish said. "You really are about to cum, aren't you?"

"Yes..."

"Know what, lover?"

"What?"

"I'm not that close. So you're going to have to hold on longer or face the consequences when you get home to me."

"I... I can't wait, Trish! I can't!"

"Well, then, I'll have a bit of time to think up a suitable punishment for you before you come home. Won't I?" She worked her pert breasts with one hand and diddled her stiff clit with the fingers of her other hand. "Let's see... What should I do to you for a second offense? Maybe, since you like seeing me in the G-string so much, I should put it on and wear only that around the house for a full day or so while all you can do it sit in a chair, naked, with your hands cuffed behind your back. I think that'll work! And, maybe, if you're a very good boy, I'll step over to you and stroke your cock from time to time. Or maybe suck your nipples a little bit."

"No! Trish... Please... I couldn't -"

"Then you'd better not cum without me tonight, baby. Or else that kind of torture is just what you'll be coming home to."

"Trish... Please..."

"Felix, honey?"

"Yes?"

"Take your hand off your dick."

"But it feels so fucking good..."

"I know. But quit stroking it. Just let your cock stand there and drool."

He groaned again, then said, "Okay. I'm not touching it."

"But you're rubbing your nipples for me, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"But you won't cum from just that?"

"No."

"Okay. Leave your cock alone until I tell you it's okay."

"Alright."

"I mean it."

"Alright."

Trish smiled at her reflection in the mirror, seeing her nude body flushed with excitement, her pussy running nonstop, drooling her musky-scented silken honey onto the bed, her nipples hard and erect, her long, white-blond hair fanned out around her head. "Felix, baby?"

"Yes?" His breath was considerably more steady now.

"Which toy do you want to be tonight?"

"None of them. I want to be there in person."

"Mmmm..." she purred. "Good answer, lover. But since you're not here, which fuck-toy do you want to take your place tonight?"

"Do you have the double-ended one?"

"They're all here, babe. Our whole collection is laid out on the nightstand, ready and waiting."

"Use the double one. Slide one end into your pussy, then pull it out and slip it into your tight asshole for me."

Trish laughed, saying, "You're trying to make me cum quickly."

"Yes."

"It won't work. I masturbated seven times earlier today so that I could go a long, long time tonight."

"Oh, fuck..." Felix groaned.

Trish giggled, saying, "I thought you'd like that." Then, telling him step by step what she was doing, she rolled over and retrieved the requested toy. The bulging, soft rubber cock head slid easily into her soaked snatch. Moaning with pleasure as it filled her tunnel, she shoved it deep inside, fucking herself with it for a full minute before slipping it out. Holding it up, she said, "You should see it, Felix, dear. It's all wet and glistening with my pussy juice." She inhaled, adding, "And it smells just like me, too. All sweet and musky."

"Trish..." Felix groaned.

"You're not jerking your dick again yet, are you?"

"No."

"Good boy. Are you still rubbing your nipples?"

He hesitated, then said, "Yes."

Trish grinned. "And you're doing something else, too. Aren't you?"

He hesitated again, then said, "Yes."

"What else are you doing?"

"Finger-fucking my ass."

Trish moaned softly, then told him, "Damn! I love watching you do that!"

"I know."

"I wish I could lick your asshole, then finger-fuck it myself."

"Me, too."

"Right now!"

"Yes!"

Trish placed the pussy-lubricated end of the double-dildo against her asshole and began to slowly push it inside of her. "I'm fucking my ass with the dildo, baby!"

Felix groaned. "I need you to slide the other end into your pussy for me."

Trish smiled and eased the other end of the toy into her pussy, replacing the end that was now ensconced snuggly up her ass. "Okay, lover. Both my holes are filled with cock! Now what do you want me to do for you?"

"Pump your pussy and asshole as fast as you can! Fuck both holes hard and fast!"

Trish began doing so, moaning and writhing on the bed as the two ends of the fuck-toy filled her, sliding in and out, in and out, in and out. Her breathing became ragged. "Fuck, Felix! I'm going to cum soon, darling! Jerk your cock with me, baby! Cum with me! Please, cum with me!"

As she fucked her ass and pussy with the double-ended toy, moaning in ecstasy, she heard Felix's breathing grow ragged again. Abruptly, a jolt of pure pleasure blasted through her lithe body, causing her to shudder violently.

"I'm cumming, Felix! I'm cumming! I'm fucking cumming for you, lover!"

Felix groaned, then bellowed, shouting, "And I'm cumming for you, too, honey! Oh, fuck! Two shots of cum! Three! Four! Damn! I nearly hit myself in the face with the first one!"

Trish continued to writhe on the bed, explosions of electric sparks detonating in her brain, her back arched, both hands still working furiously, fucking her pussy and tight ass with the toy. She shrieked in pure pleasure once more before finally going limp and gasping for breath.

"That was incredible, Felix," she panted. "Damn, that was good!"

"It was wonderful on this end, too, honey. But that was nothing compared to what I'm going to make you feel when I get home to you in a couple of days. Brace yourself, because I promise you you're going to cum so hard you're going to pass out."

Trish smiled and purred, "I'll hold you to that promise, lover."

"No need, honey. It's not a promise I plan to try and break. Damn. I've got cum all over me! I need to go shower."

"I love you, Felix."

"And I love you, Trish. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, sweetheart."

"And you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Go shower. I'll talk to you tomorrow night."

"Be hot and horny when I call."

Trish smiled and worked the double-ended fuck-toy that was still in her tight asshole and soaked pussy. "Always, baby. Always."

Telephone



"What is it you keep looking at?" Harriet's boyfriend asked as he disentangled his lips from hers.

Harriet shook her head back and forth and closed her eyes. Before she could do anything more she felt the tingle of his hand as it moved to her breast. Opening her mouth slightly she let the wet warmth of his tongue press in between her lips. Her tongue connected with his, mingled with it, tasting the sugary sweetness of the soda he'd been sipping.

She then opened her eyes, moved a bit to glance over his shoulder. As her eyes focused on the shiny black plastic on the desk, her tongue went suddenly limp as he continued his probing of her mouth. Harriet felt his hand move from her breast as he grabbed her shoulders, disconnected his tongue from her mouth and asked, "What is wrong with you?"

Without moving her eyes she asked, "Does it look like it's off the hook?"

"Off the hook? What are you talking about?"

"The phone," she replied, nodding toward her desk, "does it look like it's off the hook?"

"I don't know, it looks fine to me."

"But is hasn't rung."

"Well, maybe no one is calling."

"I mean it hasn't rung since I got it," Harriet replied, pushing him as she unhooked herself from his arms. She walked over to the phone, picked up the receiver and held it to her ear.

"Well, what do you hear?"

"A dial tone."

"So everything is okay."

"But it hasn't rung," she said, slowly hanging up the phone.

"Look," he said, reaching into his pocket, "I'll call you on my cell phone and you'll hear the phone ring, will that satisfy you?"

"No, no, don't be silly," she replied. "You don't have to do that."

Reaching into his other pocket he said, "No, no, if it will help you stay focused on what we're doing I will... well, I mean," he reached over to his coat and checked the coat pocket. "I must have left my cell phone in my car."

"That's okay," she replied.

"No, I'll go out and get it."

"No, you don't have to do that..." she continued, "besides; wouldn't you rather stay in here?" With that she grabbed her blouse and pulled it over her head. As she reached behind her and unfastened her bra she watched him work his erection out of his pants. She must have seen it a dozen times before but it still amazed her how much it could grow.

Slowly walking back to him, she moved in between his open legs, placed her hands on his thighs, teasingly avoiding his throbbing erection. Leaning forward over him, she watched as he first grabbed her breasts with his hands and then moved his mouth to them. She let him lick and suck her nipples until he moved his hands to her pants and began trying to unfasten them.

Quickly grabbing his hands and moving them away, she kneeled down between his legs and moved her hands to his cock. Letting her fingers run over it, she smiled, enjoying the soft feel of his skin there. She rested her arm on his thigh and let her head nestle against his chest as her fingers ran all up and down his long shaft. As she watched a clear pool form in the tiny hole, she could see across the room. The phone remained silent.

"Kiss it, would you kiss it please," he begged her.

Figuring she'd give him a treat today, she leaned her head down and moved her lips to the head of his cock when suddenly he moaned loudly, lifted his ass up from the couch and came, spurting a stream of warm cum onto her face. The suddenness of it shocked her and she pulled her head back, letting the subsequent spurts from his cock splash onto her breasts.

Once it was over Harriet reached for a tissue, but stopped as he grabbed her chin and pulled it up so he could look at her face. "That is so sexy," he said as she felt a drop fall from her chin down onto her breast.

She smiled and then grabbed some tissue and dabbed the cum from her face and then from her breasts. As she was about to stand up and get her bra her boyfriend complained, "You never did kiss it."

Squinting her eyes and snarling her nose she quickly leaned forward and gave the head of his, now soft, cock a quick kiss. "Now put that thing away."

It wasn't long before he headed out to catch the game with his friends. Harriet, who had only slipped on her bra by then walked him to the door, gave him a quick kiss and then closed the door behind her as he headed out to his car. Looking down at her pants, she noticed a spot of cum on them so she quickly pulled them off and tossed them in her hamper.

Wearing just her bra and panties she walked to her desk, sat down and stared at the phone. Picking up the receiver she held it to her ear and listened to the dial tone. Mumbling to herself, "I still hasn't rung," she slowly moved the receiver down and began sliding them over her bra, concentrating on the two points where her nipples stretched the material.

As she moved the phone down over her stomach she could hear the loud beeping sound the phone made when you left it off the hook too long. She moved it slowly downward, down over her panties. The smooth black plastic slid easily over the crotch until the wetness soaked through the fabric of her panties and coated the receiver.

She glanced down at the glistening wetness covering the plastic as she lifted the elastic of her panties and slid the phone inside. Just as she began parting her lips with the receiver she heard the recorded voice of the woman asking her to hang up the phone. Lifting her hips and pressing against the black plastic phone she listened to the voice repeat itself as the first waves of her orgasm rang between her legs.



Telephone Bill



It was that stupid telephone bill that was the start of everything. Really, the way my father carried on over it. I'm eighteen and I have friends. Naturally I talk on the phone. You'd think I was the only one in the house that used the phone the way dad carried on. It was totally unfair.

It was a Saturday morning. My mother had gone out shopping and my father and I were home doing nothing in particular. At least, I was doing nothing in particular. It turned out that dad was doing his monthly accounts. 

I was feeling rather bored and was happy to see Will when he turned up. We retired to my room (leaving the door ajar like a good little girl) and we were listening to music and chatting. That's all. OK. There might have been a little bit of playing around, but only a very little. That open door, remember?

After about half an hour Will had to step into the en suite for a little personal business. He'd only been gone a minute or so when my father came storming into the room, waving a bit of paper in the air.

"Five hundred dollars over the cap," he's yelling. "How the hell can you go five hundred dollars over the cap? I've told you before about this sort of thing. It's up to you to stick to the cap. Do you think I'm made of money? This sort of thing is ridiculous."

It was embarrassing. Bad enough that my father was yelling at me about a silly little bill, but Will was in the en suite and could hear everything. It made me a little snarky. What would you expect? So I was something less than diplomatic when answering my father.

Pointing out that I'm not the only one who uses the phone didn't help much. Dad promptly pointed out that my mother and he used their own phones most of the time and any charges they rang up on my phone would be minimal. (Irritating, but true.) 

Explaining that I had a lot of friends and it would be rude not to talk to them didn't go over any better. Let them ring me, was his solution. That way the cost is on their account, not mine. You can't do that with SMS messages, I told him, and he said I should lay of the SMS and just make a quick call. It would be cheaper than a hundred messages.

He was really irritating me with his complaining. It was only one bill after all. I pointed that out to him and told him to just get over it.

Maybe I should have been a bit more repentant and placating and I probably would have been if Will hadn't been in the en suite, hearing every word. At least, he wasn't adding to my embarrassment by coming out while my father was there. Anyway, I wasn't repentant and placating. You might even say that my last comment was sarcastically condescending. My dad blew his top.

He turned red and gave me a very nasty look.

"Right, young Lady," he said. "It seems you need a lesson in manners as well as finance."

With that he just plopped himself down on my bed and yanked me over his knee. I couldn't believe it. I could not fucking believe it! I was eighteen and he was going to spank me? 

He certainly was. He flicked my dress up away from my bottom and his hand came down hard. It was painful and so embarrassing. I only had on a thong and my bottom was effectively bare. And my dad had a very strong hand.

What was even worse, I could see the en suite door reflected in the dressing table mirror and it was slightly open. Will could not only see me being spanked but he had a prime view of my thong and the things it only just covered. And the larger parts that it didn't.

Now my father isn't brutal. Only strict and determined and reasonably fair. I guess I had asked for trouble with my attitude on top of the bill and I sure got it. I squealed and kicked and protested but I still got my allocated six of the best. (Ten actually. He was really pissed off.)

When he finished I was just about in tears from the pain and humiliation. He just dumped me onto the floor and glared at me some more.

"If your phone account is over the cap next month you will lose your phone one day for each dollar it's over. And I am not kidding. You had better start paying attention to what you're spending."

With that he stalked out of the room while I scrambled to my feet and slammed my bedroom door. A few moments later I heard the front door slam. Dad obviously going down to the pub for a drink while he cooled down.

"Poor little Patty," said a laughing voice behind me. 

I turned around and Will was standing at the door to the en suite, laughing quietly.

"Stuff you," I snapped. "You can just piss off and go home. I'm not talking to anything male for a week."

"Don't be like that," Will protested. "What you need is a little counter-therapy."

He sat on the bed right where my dad had been sitting and pulled me towards him. I was expecting him to sit me on his lap for a cuddle and a kiss. Boy, was I wrong. He gave my hand a sudden jerk and I stumble forward and finished up face down across his lap, back in a spanking position.

"Just relax," Will tells me. "This won't hurt at all."

With that he flicked my dress up and his hand landed on my bottom. Not with a spank, though. It came down as lightly as a feather and I could feel his fingertips just brushing against my skin, running back and forth across my smarting cheeks.

I was going to protest. After all, that was effectively my bare bottom he was fondling. But it did make a difference. Instead of my cheeks smarting I could feel a gentle touch just mildly exciting me. I decided I'd delay the protest for a little while.

The light touches continued as his hands just drifted across my bottom, barely touching me. I noticed that a couple of times his fingers seemed to snag on the strap of my thong but I didn't really worry about that. Apparently Will did.

"I keep catching on this," he said, plucking at the strap. "I'm just going to ease them down a little."

Before I could say yay, nay, or that's what you bloody think, he'd taken my thong and eased it down a little. And it was just a little. He just moved the straps lower so his fingers wouldn't get caught. He didn't try to push them down further and expose me. If he had I'd have slapped him.

Will continued with those feathery little touches just drifting around my bottom, totally distracting me from everything else. It not only felt nice it was exciting, although I would have to say enough fairly soon. I was astounded when I found those touches had somehow drifted lower and were brushing against the edge of my pussy. 

As soon as I realised that I also realised that somehow or other my thong had fallen lower. It had migrated further down my legs and Will could see everything. I started to protest but he just slipped a hand down and covered my mound and gave a slight squeeze. I just froze. How dare he do that?

Very easily it seemed, because he didn't take his hand away. He just started rubbing me, his hand pressing firmly against me, and I could feel that touch all the way inside me.

"Will!" I protested. "You can't do that."

"Why not?" he asked. "Don't you like it?"

That was irrelevant. In fact, I found I was enjoying it. It was different, exciting and arousing.

"That's beside the point," I said, and I was gasping a little as I spoke to him. "You shouldn't touch me like that."

"Why not?" he asked again.

Why not? A good question. I wasn't sure that I had a good answer. 

"Um, I don't want you to," I muttered.

He frigging laughed at me.

"If you haven't noticed," he told me, "I'm only doing half the rubbing." 

What the hell did he mean by that crack, I wondered, and then I caught on. I was twisting about under his touch, pushing myself against his hand. What the hell did I say now?

"Just what do you think you're doing," I gasped.

"I think I'm getting you aroused," came the calm reply.

"But why?"

I was finding it hard to concentrate. His hand down there was most disconcerting. I had no idea why I wasn't just pushing it away.

"Because I want to," Will told me. "Speaking of things I want, I also want you out of this dress."

With that he lifted me to my feet and simply lifted my dress up. I found myself lifting my arms and letting it go. After that he pulled me down so I was sitting on his knee and he unfastened my bra. I'm still not sure how he did that without me protesting, but the end result was I lying on my bed naked with Will's hands making free of my body.

I guess I'm rather slow at times. It was finally dawning on me that Will was trying to seduce me.

I was even slower than I thought. At some time he'd managed to undo his trousers and push them down a little. Not right down, but definitely far enough down so that when he moved my hand over where his trousers should have been my hand closed over something else. Now what was I going to do?

I know what Will wanted me to do. Touch him and stroke him. I wasn't completely ignorant. I just didn't know what I wanted to do. Nervousness said I should scream and run away. Curiosity pointed out that I was in my own bedroom, so Will should be the one to scream and run away. While I was waiting for that to happen, why shouldn't I just take a small feel?

They're deceptive, men's cocks. They'll just lay there, little shrivelled remnants of what might have been, when, without any justification or provocation, they're standing up tall and straight and pointing at the nearest female. In Will's case, I was the female it was pointing at. 

It's surprising how big and hard they can grow. I wasn't exactly looking at Will's erection, but I did have a hand on it, just trying to determine how big it was. It certainly felt big. I looked at Will's hand, stroking my breasts. He had large hands. They say that a man's hands and feet are indicative of the size of his cock, but how can you tell? I didn't have anything to compare against. 

While I was just getting a feel for Will's cock, he was getting more than just a feel for me. He was stroking my breasts, running his hands over my body, stroking my mound, kissing my nipples, for god's sake, and his fingers were actually probing inside me. I was breathing hard and squirming quite a bit under his touch.

I was excited all right. How could I not be aroused when he kept touching me down there? I could feel moisture seeping out from between my lips. For a horrible moment I thought I was going to wet myself, but it was different.

Will started pushing my legs even further apart and I knew what he intended to do.

"Ah, Will," I said hesitantly. "I'm not at all sure about this."

"Of course you're not," he said soothingly. "You're a girl."

Damn it. If he wanted to fuck me he could at least have said woman.

"What is that supposed to mean," I asked suspiciously.

"Oh, women are always doubtful when it comes to having sex," he said airily. "Why should you be any different?"

What? I'm a little girl who can't make up her mind? He was kidding, surely? I was going to make a rude comment but he hadn't finished.

"It's true you know. Women are always scared when they think a man is going to take them, especially the first time. They hear all these stories about how it will hurt and it puts them right off."

And so it might. After all, he wasn't the one who was going to have something stuck inside him. How would he feel if he was? 

"Yes, well, I've heard that the first time does hurt," I admitted. "What would you expect? Look at the size of this thing."

I held his cock between a thumb and forefinger, waving it around. I was also finally looking at it. God, it looked even larger than it felt.

"Just how big is this thing anyway?" I asked.

"I haven't measured," Will said. "It'll just be average - about six inches."

"Maybe," I muttered, "but I was asking about length, not width."

He laughed at me. OK, maybe I was exaggerating a bit, but it still looked as though it was more than average. Why can't girls be supplied with measuring guides that they can slap up against the guy? Then they'd know.

Will was showing amazing dexterity and determination. Despite my saying I wasn't sure, and my holding his cock, he had managed to move between my legs, his cock pointing straight at me.

He had one hand on my mound, fingers slightly spread, dragging my lips apart. I was a little startled seeing them, they looked swollen and puffy. 

"You're holding it," he said softly. "You put it in."

I took a deep breath and adjusted the position of his cock so it was pressing between my puffy lips. I didn't think about it or make a conscious decision. I just did it. I swear, if I'd stopped to think I'd have said no way and backed off.

Will moved his hand away and my lips just seemed to come together and close upon him, holding him in place. I just gasped. I think I was gasping for air so I could scream, but I didn't actually do it. I just stared at where Will's cock was joined to me.

Well, that hadn't hurt, I thought, nor that, I added as he seemed to give a little push, slithering in a bit further. I could feel him now, pressing against me, my lips closed firmly around him.

He gave another little push, but nothing happened. He seemed to stay right where he was, although I did feel an increase in the pressure he was applying. Will didn't seem to be pushing in any deeper but the pressure was building up. Something was going to give and I had a damn good idea what. I was about ready to panic and tell him to back off when it happened.

Something inside me (my hymen, I guess) gave way, painfully. I gave a small squeak of pain and found Will's cock had suddenly plunged several inches into me. 

"That hurt," I protested bitterly.

"Yeah, I sort of suspected it had when you yowled like an angry cat," said Will, smirking at me. "The big question is does it hurt now?"

"Of course it still hurts, you insensitive oaf," I snapped then I stopped and reconsidered. "Well, maybe not right now, but it did."

"That's because you've just passed the old-time ceremony known as the popping of the cherry," murmured Will, and then he had the gall to laugh when I thumped his arm. "Just relax and let me do the work."

I relaxed, as much as you can relax when a boy is introducing you to your first erection. It felt strange as he slowly pushed his cock inside me, but strange in a good way. I could feel myself yielding to him, my passage feeling soft and clinging compared to his hard driving presence. He kept pushing in and I just seemed to keep letting him, stretching to take him.

I finished up lying on the bed with Will on top of me and his cock all the way up inside me. I felt rather smug about that. I'm quite sure his cock is a bit bigger than average but I could handle it. It had gone in without any problems (excluding one little scream) and it felt delicious.

The question was what now? Theory might be fine but what the hell do you do when it comes to practical application? Well, as far as I was concerned, that was Will's problem. He was the one who'd started this. 

He didn't seem to find it a problem. He just lay on me for a minute, giving me a wink.

"Just letting myself settle down for a moment," he said. "Rushing things could be disastrous."

After a few moments I felt him move, his cock slowly dragging back out of me. I tensed, waiting. It was going to come back in, that much I knew. It came back in all right, moving a lot faster than the initial entry. I guess it knew where it was going now. I gasped and jerked under him, involuntarily pushing up against him. He grinned and cooed encouragement.

It felt wonderful. He'd come sliding into me and little ripples of pleasure would wash though me. He wasn't coming fast enough at first and I had to urge him on, telling him to get with the program. He told me to stop rushing, relax and enjoy.

We settled in to a sort of compromise. He decided the tempo and established a nice rhythm and I went along with it and wailed that it wasn't enough. Maybe it's not enough, Will told me, but you'll find it will build up as it goes on. You don't want it all over in one quick rush.

Yes, I did. I was greedy. I wanted it all right now, not in a little while. Wanting didn't help though. Will just kept going at the same pace while I bucked under him, squirming and wriggling as he took me. God, he was taking forever. I would have been screaming at him to go in harder, but that wouldn't have been ladylike. All I could do was gasp and groan and tell him that he should get a move on.

By the time he decided that, yes, maybe he should go in harder, I was almost in a daze. His cock was triggering all sorts of feeling deep inside me and they just kept building, piling one on top of the other. I just knew they were all going to come crashing down on me. I just didn't know how to make them.

That's when Will decided to come in hard, his cock like a striking snake. I saw a snake display once and the man giving the lecture said that he'd been bitten once. He barely saw the strike but when he checked he had three bites. That was what Will was now like. His cock was coming in so fast I couldn't tell where one thrust ended and the next started. Then I just didn't care.

I finally found out what a real orgasm was; a penis deep in your vagina orgasm. I climaxed with hardly a sound, too stunned even to scream. From the groaning and grunting that Will was doing and the way his cock seemed to be throbbing inside me, I guessed that he was climaxing, too.

When I recovered enough to be cognizant of my surroundings I found Will dressed and sitting on the bed next to me, his hand idly stroking me breast. I hastily pushed it away.

"We were discussing going down to the mall to hang out and see who else is there," Will said. "Are you coming?"

"Why not," I said, although I really was feeling too relaxed to do anything.

"OK," he said, helping me to my feet. "Um, before we head out, you might want to consider getting some clothes on. We don't want to shock the shoppers, now do we?"

Dear god. I was so unused to being naked in front of anyone that I'd nearly forgotten. I turned and ran into the en suite, wanting a shower. All of a sudden I felt sticky and I was sure I had a lot of strange juices on me. 

"You can wait in the front room," I yelled to Will. "I'll only be five minutes."



Telephone Blitz



There is no sex in this story. Sorry.

This is a repost of an older story so there will be no voting.

*

I don't usually listen in on other people's conversations and have no idea what possessed me to listen in on this one. It was Sunday afternoon and I was in the basement working on the hot water heater when I heard the phone rang. I didn't know what my wife, Janet, was doing at the time and since the basement phone was close I picked it up. Before I could say anything I heard my wife on the upstairs extension.

"Gary you shouldn't have called here. What if John had answered the phone."

"I would have just told him it was work related. Don't be such a worrywart. I just wanted to let you know that everything is set up for tomorrow. We will be at the Deska Motel in room 117. Get there about 1 PM sharp. I'll have a bottle of wine chilling and some fresh strawberries. Don't forget to wear that black silk underwear you said you had."

"Ok, Just so nobody sees us leave work or come back together."

"You sound a little nervous. Are you having second thoughts about this?"

"No, no. Everything is ok. It's just that I am a little scared. I never did anything like this before and it only natural that I should be worried. I am not going to change my mind."

"Everything will be fine, I promise."

"Ok, but if John ever found out about this I would kill myself. I got to go before he overhears something. See you tomorrow at 1 PM sharp. Bye." 

I hung up the phone just as they did and sat there for about ten minutes running the whole conversation over and over in my head. Why the hell did I have to pick up that damn phone?

Janet and I had grown up together. We were married a year after we graduated from high school. She was the only girl I ever had sex with and, I assumed, I was the only one she ever had sex with. She was still good looking and still had a nice figure. We had one son, Terry, who was a senior in high school. We didn't have many friends and our whole life was spent with each other. I thought everything was fine between us but apparently I was mistaken.

I decided I didn't need to drain the hot water heater after all. There was some beer in the basement refrigerator. That helped to ease my pain. I figured I had three options. I could confront her straight on and cause a big emotional scene. I didn't like that one. Second, I could drop a few hints or clues or make some remarks that would lead her to believe I was suspicious. That was a little more attractive to me than the first option but I figured that it would just delay things to a later date, when I might not be aware of it happening. The third option was to just let her go through with it. I liked that last one with a slight modification. I decided to let everything happen as planned but at the last minute I would give her an out. If she took it fine, if not, I would have to attack.

There were also three ways she could go. Maybe, if I were lucky, she would just change her mind and back out. I doubted that would happen. The second would be to take advantage of the last chance I would give her. That was a strong maybe. The last option she had was, to go through with it. As much as I hated to admit it, that seemed like the most likely to happen.

Ok, now that I sorted that out, I was ready to plan my attack. It was looking as if I could make a game out of it, and the more I thought about it the more excited I came. After supper I would start some serious plotting. First I had to gather information then get the game plan laid out.

I worked for a security systems firm for almost twenty years. They had been after me for the last year to take over the Huntsville, Alabama office, but Janet did not want to move. Janet worked for an Insurance company for the last ten years. She was doing well but I never liked the guy she worked with, Gary Simmons. I know now, that my suspicions were well founded. Gary was married and his wife seemed nice enough. I was upset that he wanted mine too. The move to Alabama would have been a good one for Terry because he had his heart set on going to Auburn. The resident tuition was a lot more affordable then the nonresident tuition.

While we were eating supper I decided that I was going to take the Huntsville position. It didn't matter what the outcome was the next day, I was still going to move. I would be able to file a declaration of domicile when I got there, and there would be enough time so Terry would be able to pay resident tuition when he started school. I didn't feel it was necessary to say anything to Janet at this point but decided to mention something to Terry after supper. I would give notice at work the next morning and could be on my way as soon as I got packed. Having that settled in my mind made the rest of the plans easier.

Terry and I got along fine, and when I explained that I was going to go down to Alabama ahead of the rest of the family, he thought it was a good idea. He agreed not to mention it to his mother. I did not say anything to him about his mother's plans for the next day. I still hadn't figured out exactly what I was going to do, but I was sure everything would come together before the night was over. I told Janet I had to go to Home Depot for some stuff and took off.

The first purchase was a throw-a-way cell phone with a sixty-minute calling card. I was going to be making lots of calls and some of them I didn't want traced. I stopped by my favorite watering hole to see if I could get some help from old school friends who were less than respectable. It cost me four hundred dollars to buy two big bags of crappy grass. My old school chum Benny told me I was taking a big chance buying that much because I could be charged with dealing. I told him that was exactly what I was counting on. I borrowed a car door jimmy rod before leaving. One of the guys in the bar, that I didn't really know, was Wolf Fraizer. He was a mean son of a bitch and everybody stayed away from him if they could help it. He drove a corvette and I noticed it in the parking lot as I went out. I got a screwdriver from my car and in less than a minute I had Wolfie's license plate. I knew where he worked so I could call him in the morning.

Next came a trip to the Deska Motel. I stopped in the lobby, looked over the rack of tourist attractions and restaurants and took what I needed. The clerk gave me some info about the motel, including a map and the phone numbers for housekeeping and room service. Time to go home.

Janet was watching TV when I got there. I told her I had some work to do in the office and she said she was going to shower and go to bed early because she had a big day tomorrow. While Janet was in the shower I opened her brief case and took out her planner and telephone notebook. I spent the next half hour writing down names and phones numbers. Then came the tedious part. I had to enter all the phone numbers in the speed dial on the throwaway phone and on my own phone. I had a few more numbers to look up in the telephone book before I was done. It looked like I had everything ready when I finally crashed on the couch in the office.

It was a rough night trying to sleep. I kept thinking of what Janet was going to do and wondered what I had done wrong that make her want to do it. By the time I fell asleep I had myself convinced it was my fault and that I had failed somewhere, somehow. Morning came and I had mixed emotions.

I made coffee and set the breakfast table. Janet came down and looked great.

"You look awful good today. Is it a special day at the office?"

"What do you mean? I always look good."

"I know. I was just pulling your chain a little."

We read the paper while we ate. The morning conversation was less than normal but not enough to make a comment about. I couldn't tell if she was nervous or anxious. 

"I have a lot of running around to do today. I might be a little late for supper." I said.

"That's OK, I'll make something that will hold till you get home.

Is there anything special you might want?"

"No. Whatever is handy will be fine."

It was a pathetic attempt to make small talk on our part. She knew what she was going to be doing and I knew what she was going to be doing and we were both walking on eggs.

I got to work early and made all the arrangements for my transfer to Huntsville. After signing all the proper papers and cleaning out my desk, I stopped by a divorce attorney's office. I got the forms and information I would need to file for the divorce, if my last attempt did not work. I went home and packed all my clothes and loaded them in the car, pulled the hard drive off my computer and took all the files and documents that I felt I might need. Most of our savings and investments had been shifted into valuable coins, which I also took. The banks were open by this time so I cancelled the accounts and credit cards. I realized that I was being premature on a lot of this but didn't have much faith in the possibility of a change of heart on her part. I stopped by a florist and ordered a dozen red roses to be delivered precisely at one fifteen.

All the time this was going on, I had been checking my watch. Timing was going to be important. About half past twelve I went to the motel and got a good parking spot, where I couldn't be seen but would have a clear view of the room. I carefully got everything arranged on the front car seat. Finally, Gary arrived. He got out of his car with a grocery bag that I assumed had the strawberries, bottle of wine and who knows what else. He went straight to the room and then came back out and filled the room ice bucket. As he prepared the room I started my phone calls.

First was Pizza Hut. "Hello I would like one large pepperoni pizza to be delivered to room 117 at the Deska motel. I might be taking a shower so make sure the guy knocks loud and long enough for me to hear him. Twenty minutes is fine. Thanks."

Second, was a call to Papa Johns, followed by Dominos and Godfathers Pizza.

The fifth call went to the Golden Dragon where I order egg rolls and sweet and sour pork.

I assumed that half of these would call back to verify the order, but that was all right because the effect would be the same.

Janet hadn't arrived yet so the next call went to the motel housekeeping, where I requested some additional towels and another ice bucket. I figured it would about fifteen minutes for them to deliver them. 

At last my loving wife pulled into the parking lot. She went down to the end of the building so her car would not be too conspicuous. She left the car carrying a small over night bag. When she got about twenty feet from the door, I called her on my speed dial. 

"Hi honey. It's just me."

"John is something wrong. You don't usually call me at work in the middle of the day."

"I was thinking about you and I just wanted to call and tell you that I love you."

"Oh John, that's sweet. I love you too."

"OK, I'll let you get back to work. I'll see you later. Bye."

"Goodbye John and thanks for the call."

Janet hung up the cell phone, turned around and walked into the motel room. That was her last chance and she made her decision. A tear swelled up in my eye as I resumed my telephone blitz.

Phone call number seven when to the local TV station. "Hi, is this WWCTV? There is something funny going on at the Deska Motel. If you have a truck nearby you might want to swing by and check it out. No, I don't know what it is, but the cops are on the way. Ok Thanks."

Call number eight was coming up as I walked over to Gary's car. Luckily, he had parked in a spot where I wouldn't be noticed as I replaced his license plate with the one from Wolfie's corvette. As I was walking over, I called Janet's office. She had a three o'clock appointment with somebody named Rob Kelly. "Hi, this is Rob Kelly. I had an appointment with Janet Martin for three but I have to move it up. Can you please have her call me as soon as possible at 961-4452? I tried to get her on her cell but it was busy. As soon as possible please."

The number was a recorded telephone ad for a law firm that specializes in divorces.

I threw Gary's license plate under his car after I put the new one on. Then I walked down to Janet's car and moved it to the back of the motel. While I was walking back to my car I dialed the next number. 

"Hello Mrs. Simmons, your husband ask me to give you a call. He is having car problems and needs you to pick him up right way. He is at the Deska Motel, room 117. You could give him a call on his cell phone or just call the room. The number is 961-7700, extension 117. No, I don't know why he didn't call you. It looks like he is meeting a client, a pretty one too. Bye."

Call ten went to Acme Welding where I ask Wolfie's boss to tell him a white Honda in the Deska Motel parking lot had Wolfie's license plate on it.

The next call went to the police where I reported two kids changing a license plate on a car in the parking lot. I mentioned that something didn't look right and just ask them to check it out. I gave them Wolfie's license number.

The first pizza guy came to the room. It looked like there was an argument but Gary paid him and he left.

Call twelve was to Janet's mother. "Hi Mom, It's John. I don't have a lot of time. Janet is in a motel room having sex with a man she works with. Would you please call her and ask her to reconsider what she is doing. No. I can't talk about it now. You have her cell phone number and if you can't get her there try the motel. It's 961-7700 extension 117. I know, it's a sorry thing, but I have to go. Please make the call now. Bye."

Two more pizza guys showed up at the room, the same time the maid came with more towels. There was a lot of discussion at the door again but after a few minutes they all left.

The next call was to the motel. "This is Mr. Simmons in 117. My bathroom sink is leaking at the bottom of the faucet and the water on the floor is starting to get on the rug. Can you sent someone over right away? Thank you."

A big Harley roared into the parking lot, cruising slowing down the line of cars. Wolfie stopped right behind Gary's car, but before he could do anything a black and white pulled up. The biker and the cop were having a heated discussion as I made my next phone call.

"Mr. Granger, this is John Martin. My wife Janet works for you. Yes, thank you, I am glad she is a good worker, however right now she is at the Deska Motel in room 117 with Gary Simmons, who also works for you. They are there having sex as we speak. Yes, I am sure. You have a company policy against this sort of thing, is that right? I am sure you have their cell phone numbers. Would you please call them to verify or deny this? If you can't get through, call the motel. It is 961-7700 extension 117. I don't want my wife working for your company anymore Mr. Granger and would appreciate if you would let her go. If it is a violation of policy, maybe Mr. Simmons should also be let go. No, I am sorry I had to notify you. Thank you for your time. Bye."

There was an oriental restaurant deliver man at the door to the motel. The cop was going over to the room and Wolfie was waving his arms and yelling as he walked with him. 

Call number fifteen went to Janet's sister. "Hello, Nancy. This is John. How are you? Hey, I am having a little problem right now. Janet is in a motel room having sex with a guy she works with, and I am on my way home to get my Ruger. I am going to go back and shot them both but I don't want the police or reporters to find Janet with no clothes on. Could you please call Janet and tell her to get dressed before I get back there. I really would appreciate it. She is at the Deska Motel room 117. If you can't get her on her cell, call the room. By the way I moved her car to the back of the motel. She might not be able to drive. You know, maybe you should just drive over there and pick her up. If you get there before I do, you might want to drive her home. No sorry I can't talk now. Thanks for your help. Call as soon as you can, OK?"

The action at the door of the motel was hot and heavy. The maintenance guy just showed up to fix the sink. The delivery guy was trying to get paid while Wolfie and the cop were talking to Gary. The florist was at the door trying to deliver the roses but wasn't having much luck. It was time for me to leave. My work here was done. 

I passed the TV crew as I was leaving.

I still had two bags of grass in the car that I didn't know what to do with. I was going to plant them in Gary's car but had second thoughts about it. I tossed the cell phone and the grass in the river on the way home. I stopped by the house just long enough to say goodbye to Terry. I told him I would keep in touch and not to give his mother a hard time the next couple of days. I would have given anything to know what was going on in that motel room over the last hour.

As I was leaving town I made one more call. I wasn't sure I would get through, but I tried just in case I got lucky. "Hi, Gary Simmons? This is John Martin. Just wanted to let you know, if you lay one hand on my wife, I will rip off your balls and jam them down your throat. Do you understand? " The was a weak answer at the other end. "Yes, I understand." I hung up the phone and hit the interstate.

About eight hours later my cell rang. Caller ID showed it was Janet.

"Hello."

"John, where are you?"

"I'm on I81, just outside of Knoxville. Why?"

"John. What is going on? We have to talk."

"We don't have anything to talk about, Janet."

"Please John, Talk to me."

"Janet I will ask you three questions, OK. Give me straight answers to all three, and then we can talk."

"OK"

"What did I say to you when I called you on your cell phone today?"

"You said 'I love you.'"

"What did you do after you hung up the cell phone?"

There was a short pause. "I went into the motel room."

"Why did you go in to the motel room?"

There was no answer

"Janet, answer me. For what purpose did you go into the motel room?"

There was another pause. "John, I don't want to answer that."

"Goodbye Janet."

I hung up the cell phone and turned it off. I wouldn't need it the rest of the trip.

Since the company was picking up all the expenses for moving I got myself a fairly nice motel room and had a great supper. I had to establish residency quickly so I spend the next two days looking for an apartment. It was easy to get something nice and reasonable because I wasn't too particular. New phone service and a mailing address were next. I changed the title on the car and got a new drivers license. I registered to vote and then I filled out the declaration of domicile. I mailed in all the papers to get the divorce started. Things went pretty smooth and I was soon ready to start my new job.

I called Terry and gave him my new cell number. I asked him not to give it to his mother but told him I would understand if she pressured him. He didn't think it would be a problem. He said she had lost her job and was very depressed. I ask if they needed anything and he said they were fine.

Terry was my only real contact with the old place. A few weeks later he said Janet got the divorce papers from the lawyer. She just signed them and sent them back the same day. He didn't think she even read them. She stopped wearing makeup and started to sell off a lot of her clothes and jewelry. She would have a yard sale every other week and was selling anything that wasn't nailed down. I had given the lawyer a power of attorney so that she could sell the house whenever she wanted to. I didn't want anything from the sale. She took a job at a bakery that was close to the house.

Just before Terry finished high school, Janet put the house on the market. She had priced it so low that it sold almost immediately. The sale was conditional on her and Terry staying in the house till Terry graduated. The buyers readily agreed. Janet found an apartment within walking distance of the bakery and gave Terry the car to take with him to college. It was a small second floor flat and any furniture that she didn't need she left with the house. Terry helped her move and then left for Auburn. By this time, she had gotten rid of almost everything that was in the old house. Terry said the apartment was like a monks room in a monastery. While his mother had never denied him anything she was depriving herself of everything. I could tell he was worried about her. 




Telephone Blitz



Four years passed quickly. It was a four hours drive to Auburn from my place and I didn't get to see much of my son. He was busy with school and his friends and I was spending way too much time with my work. Janet had the title company send me a check after the sale of the house. It was for the entire amount, she kept nothing. I cashed it and put it in a folder I set aside for her. I bought a small house and spent most of my time doing fix up and improvement type things. 

I didn't date or see any one socially. I just wasn't interested. I longed for companionship but was not interested in getting close to anyone. 

Graduation day came and I drove down to watch my son get his diploma. We had assigned seats for the ceremony and Janet had the one next to me. I was glad to see her, even after the way we separated.

She looked good but tired. She was a little older and the lack of make up and grooming made her seem a little sad. We smiled at each other and said hello. They were just starting to hand out the sheepskins so there wasn't any time for small talk. I don't think either one of us knew what to say anyhow. 

It was all over too soon. The awkwardness of the moment was interrupted when Terry came over to see us. He was excited about getting his degree and was talking a mile a minute. It was great watching him enjoy his moment of glory. A few of his friends came over and introduced themselves and then the whole bunch of them took off for Gulf Shores, to celebrate. Janet and I were left with each other. 

"How did you get here?" I was trying to break the ice.

"Bus. I have a round trip ticket and have to get back to the station by six. Can you give me a lift?"

"No problem. How soon do you have to be back?"

"I took a week off but I can't stay here. I guess I will go back tonight and spend the rest of the week painting my apartment."

""Sounds like fun."

"What's my alternative?" she laughed.

"You could stay a few days at my place. I could even drive you back home from there if you'd like. It's better than the bus."

"Anything is better than the bus. I don't think going to your place would be a good idea though. It would be too difficult for both of us."

"We never did talk. I was mad at the time and cut you off. I didn't give you a chance to explain anything and over the last few years I felt bad about that."

"You mean you want me to tell you about what happen now, after our lives have been destroyed."

"Is it too late?"

"I think so. What can I say to you now that will make things right? You wouldn't listen then, why would you listen now?"

"I can't answer that. Even if we don't get to talk, I think I would still enjoy your company for a few days. Are you sure you can't spare some time. I took a weeks vacation also. Do you have any luggage?"

"No, just what I am wearing. I wasn't planning on staying over night."

"We'll stop at Wal-Mart and I'll get you a couple changes of clothes and you'll be all set. It's a four hour drive and I would really like to have the company."

"I can't envision any good coming from this but I'll give it a try. If you do anything at all to upset me, I promise I will walk away without giving it a second thought."

"Fair enough. My car is over this way."

For the first few miles we didn't say anything. We got off near Birmingham and I got her some underwear, slacks and a few tops. I also talked her into a pair of sneakers but she refused to buy any make up. I didn't push it, just hinted. A little further up the road we had supper, at a Cracker Barrel. She always liked to eat there. 

We were moving along up I65 at a good clip when she opened up.

"To have sex."

I looked over at her. "What to have sex?"

"The answer to your last question was 'to have sex.' I couldn't say it when you ask me on that day. I don't know why. Either I was too embarrassed or I didn't want to hurt your feelings. I just couldn't bring myself to say it out loud. After you hung up I realized that you already knew and it was stupid of me to deny it. I tried to call you back but you turned your cell phone off. I knew then that my life had ended."

"You broke my heart."

"I know and I don't know how to make it right. I have laid awake so many nights trying to figure out how to make up for it and can't come up with a thing. After a few years I decided that there was nothing that I could do to make things better."

I couldn't think of anything to say. She seemed to doing fine on her own.

"If you knew what was going on why didn't you stop it?"

"I couldn't stop it. Only you could do that."

"You could have said something."

"No. If you had known that I knew, you would have not done it for the wrong reasons. Knowing that you were caught or might be caught was not a good reason for you to not go through with it. You had to stop it because you knew it was wrong, not because you were going to get caught. Am I making sense here?"

"Yes, you are, but I still wish you would have said something."

"I did. The last phone call."

"You mean the one where you said you loved me?"

"That's right. I felt that I gave you the opportunity to stop before you got started. I gave you the chance to make the decision."

"It was a test and I failed it. I was so stupid."

"I won't debate that."

"Did you love him?"

"Gary? Heavens no. Gary loved his wife as much as I loved you. We were just friends."

"I don't understand. Was it lust or what?"

"Gosh no. It was nothing like that at all. It was more platonic than anything else. Gary and I were just friends. We had no desires whatsoever of making our relationship any thing more than that."

"Well how the hell did the two of you end up going to a motel to have sex?"

"It's a long story."

"We still have an hour till we get to Huntsville."

"Gary and I worked together for almost a year. We talked about a lot of different things over time. One of the things that came up was sex. During our conversation it came to light that neither one of us had ever had sex with anyone other than our spouses. We weren't complaining about having sex with our spouses, because both of us were happy with things as they were but we did become curious. The more we talked about it the more comfortable we became with it. I don't know which one of us brought it up, but we finally starting discussing the probability of having sex with each other just to see what it would be like. No strings attached and it would be a one-time deal. It was more like two adults playing doctor or maybe like, 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours'. I know it sounds ridiculous but that is how it all came about."

"Did you ever think what the downside of this might be?"

"Never occurred to either of us. We had gotten to the point where doing it was going to be just about like going to the movies together. I don't know about Gary, but I didn't think you would ever find out about it, so you wouldn't be hurt. I was wrong. I am so sorry."

"How did Gary's wife take it?"

"She was going to divorce him. I went to see her and explained everything to her, just like I did to you. She didn't go through with the divorce, but I don't think their marriage was ever the same again. Gary was fired when I was, but he protested it. It went to an arbitration board. He claimed he didn't violate company policy because we never had sex. The board didn't buy it. They moved to Baltimore and I never saw them again."

I was glad when we arrived at the house. The conversation we had was long over due and it was a little stressful. Some of it was hard for me to hear. I put Janet in my bedroom and I took the guest room. After making sure that she had everything she needed, I said good night. Tomorrow there would be more conversation. I hoped it would be more pleasant that the talk we had today

The next morning she had breakfast waiting for me. The first time in a long time that I didn't have to get my own.

"So tell me about the sex with Gary."

"You son of a bitch. You know there was no sex and you also know why."

"I guess I ruined a romantic afternoon for you."

"Get real. You know the situation, and even though he brought wine and strawberries, it was not a romantic get together. Don't make it worst than it was."

"Well, did you guys do anything?"

"Oh yah. We answered a dozen telephone calls and we answered another dozen knocks on the door. Some nasty bastard had everybody and their brother either calling us or knocking on the door. The closest we got to sex was when I took my shoes off."

"You didn't have a good time?"

"It was the most miserable half hour I ever spent in my whole life. While that biker was trying to get in the room, to grab Gary, I was able to sneak out. When I saw my car was gone, I started to cry. Just then, Nancy pulled up. You called my sister, and worst than that, you called my mother. She still isn't speaking to me."

"I'm sorry if I ruined something that was so important to you. I accept full blame for what I did. It was a rotten thing to do."

"Oh no you don't. The blame is all mine and if you think you can jump in here five years later and take credit for everything that happened you are crazy. It was my doing. It was my fault. I am to blame and don't you ever try and take that away from me. I didn't wallow in misery for all these years just so you could pull it out from under me."

"I still feel partially responsible and should assume some of the blame."

"Don't do it. When I went into that motel room I lost all my self-respect. I will never be able to get that back. At least, when you made your phone calls you saved my virtue. I still have that, and I thank you for it everyday. I only wish there would have been a way for you to do something earlier but I understand now why you couldn't. It is a sad thing, John. I love you and I have always loved you. I didn't want to hurt you and for that, I am truly sorry. I won't ask your forgiveness because I don't feel that I deserve it. Losing your love and trust has hurt me more than anything else you could do to me."

"Janet, you never lost my love."

"I am glad to hear that John, but what about the trust?"

"Sorry, That's gone, and I don't know how I can ever get it back."

"I understand and that is only fair. What are we going to do for lunch?"

"How about sushi?"

"Sounds great, are my clothes ok?"

We had a good time that afternoon. After lunch we did a little more shopping to get Janet some outfits that didn't make her look like a nun. I even got her to buy a little lip-gloss, but nothing too dramatic. We had a light supper, soup and some cheese and crackers, and then we sat down with a nice glass of wine. It was nice to see Janet returning to her old self. The more time we spent talking the more comfortable she seemed.

"Are we going to have sex tonight, John?"

"I don't know. I still have some issues."

"What issues?"

"Well I am afraid that if we make love that I might be thinking about you and Gary the whole time. I am a little anxious because I don't know how it will go."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

"Well how would you know?"

"I'll tell you how I would know. About thirty years ago, when we first started going together, you told me that every time you jerked off you fantasized about Pam Kramer, the cheerleader. Do you remember that?"

"Did I really tell you that?"

"Yes, you sure did. And every time that we had sex for the next four or five years all I could think about was that you were having sex with me and thinking about Pam Kramer."

"You are kidding, right?"

"No, damn it, I am not kidding. Now the shoe is on the other foot and you can't handle it. I had to put up with it and I don't see why you can't."

"Well, whom do you think about when you masturbate?"

"That's none of your business."

"Come on, we all fantasize. Who is your dream lover?"

"OK, OK. Most of the time it is you, even after we separated."

"What do you mean most of the time? Who is it the rest of time?"

"You really want to know? You aren't going to laugh?"

"No, I promise I won't laugh."

"Mel Gibson."

"You are kidding."

" No I am not. I have always dreamt about having sex with Mel Gibson and I don't think there is anything abnormal about that. He is a very desirable guy. Which brings up another question. For the last five years, whom have you fantasized about while you were getting rid of your tensions?"

"Mostly you. I still think about you a lot."

"Same question back at you. What do you mean 'mostly'?"

"Well sometimes I think of Gary and you together."

"You sick son of a bitch. You fantasize about Gary and me having sex so you can get your jollies off. That sucks."

"Not exactly. After your tryst, I wondered why you would want to have sex with Gary. I didn't have any answers so I assumed that he was a better lover than I was. I was sure that I had failed as a partner in some way and I convinced myself that you were looking to upgrade. I used to think about how he would please you and bring to orgasm after orgasm. After awhile I found myself getting excited, not thinking about Gary having sex with you, but about you having great climaxes. I found it erotic that you were getting pleasured and blocked out the fact that it was with another man, even in my fantasies."

"Ok. We're even. Now deal with it. I am going to take a shower and after that we are going to have sex. You can think about Pam Kramer and I am going to think about Mel Gibson. It's settled. Tomorrow morning, we are going to go and get my stuff and I am going to move in with you. Can you handle it?"

"Are we going to get married?"

"No, I can't marry a man who doesn't trust me. Maybe in a couple of years we will talk about it again." 

"Oh, I see. You want to stay single just in case another guy like Gary shows up."

"Bastard. One more remark like that and I'll smack you up side the head. Now go disconnect the phones. I don't want to be interrupted."

It only took about an hour to load her stuff in the car. Terry was right. She really did get rid of almost everything. She sold the furniture that was left, to the landlord for two hundred dollars. As I finished loading the car she went over to the bakery and told them she was leaving. Shortly after that we were on the interstate, heading south.

I looked over at her and we both smiled

"I have just one more question and I won't bring it up again."

"Ok, what is it?"

"Where the hell did you get a Mel Gibson poster?"



Telephone Call



At the sound of the doorbell, I rush to answer it dressed in a light slinky dress that hugs my body, my heels clicking on the hardwood floor. The dress a soft floral matched by a pair of black thigh-high stockings. Underneath, the tiniest of thongs that barely covers my sex and wouldn't cover much but the smallest tuft of fur, if I had any fur. Its an outfit I know he likes, his comments on it the last time I wore it pointed and direct.

Opening the door, his smile matches mine. As he passes through the doorway, we embrace. Our kiss sure and open, both of us confident of where this day will lead.

Taking his hand, I lead him inside to the living room. Turning to face him, I ask if he would like anything.

Shaking his head, "No, not right now. You really look amazing in that dress."

I feel a slight blush rise on my cheeks even though I knew how much he appreciated this outfit when I decided to wear it and I give his fingers a squeeze in thanks. Fingers that return the pressure and pull me back into his arms.

We kiss now long and slow, the fingertips of my right hand caressing the nape of his neck as our lips and tongues explore each other's mouth. His arms around me hold me firmly and I feel his cock thicken and press against my belly. The thin material of my dress no challenge for my nipples as they likewise rise and jab into his chest.

There's no rush to our kisses even as our desire blossoms from the wet warmth of our mouths. His hand drifts down my back and massages the flesh of my ass, pulling me closer still. Its an action that makes my pussy melt and I issue a small moan in response.

His cock throbs against my belly, or maybe I'm just imagining it, but it calls to me in any event. To check it, I push my left hand in between us and press my palm over it until I'm certain of its size and girth. Loving that he is so erect and obviously so ready.

Our kisses becoming deep, tongues battling and chasing each other. He pushes his into my mouth and I suck on it, knowing the effect it has on him. Sucking so hard on his tongue as my hand tries to wrap around his cock even though his slacks won't allow it. Fingers tightening around the long lump and pulling on it.

The phone rings and we both ignore it, not pausing in our embrace until it has grown silent as the answering machine clicks on. That click followed by another, no message left. 

I release his tongue and cock together, both hands holding his face now. I kiss his lips and look in his eyes. "I want to fuck you."

His low deep moan sends another wave of liquid heat through my cunt, augmented as his hands lift me by my ass so he can kiss me again. A kiss born and full of the desire and lust running between the two of us.

My words filling my mind..."I want to fuck you, I want to fuck you, I want to fuck you..." Words so true, that we both know are true, that we knew were true, yet unspoken, when I invited him over. Just as we both knew we would end up in my bed, the bed that is beckoning now. Where I will give all of myself to him.

The certainty of it now clear, there will be on holding back once we cross into that territory. My mouth...my pussy...my ass...all his for the taking. And I will make it easy for him, not waiting for him to chance whether I would allow it. He will hear me whisper in his ear that I want him to cum in my mouth and I want to taste my ass on him as well.

I will leave no doubt of the extent of my desire and my willingness to please him. A freak in his bed, my bed.

The ringing of the phone again attempts to disturb us but fails. An afterthought at best, especially as the caller hangs up without so much as a word.

His fingers pulling down the zipper of my dress. I shake my body to free it and let it fall to the floor. His eyes upon me affirm by decision to forgo the barest of undies. We smile at each other as my fingers now work on the buttons of his shirt, which soon joins my dress on the floor.

I caress his chest and give him a taste of what's to come by sucking and licking and biting at one of his nipples. Pleased at the way it responds, becoming a short hard bump under the attack of my tongue. Forcing my hand into the waist of his pants, I'll let him open them for me, for now I want to touch his cock without the filter of his slacks.

My head spinning at the quantity of wetness my fingers move into as I find the head of his cock. Precum oozing and leaving no doubt as to his desire and need. He feels larger than before, my hand so small on the long shaft as I grip him, claiming him.

Another deep kiss before I gaze into his face, "I need to suck your cock. Get these pants off."

I'm moving down at the same time as his pants are lowered, coming face to face with the cock I've wanted for so long, missed for so long. I suck the head to draw the beads of precum out, with my hand pumping it for more.

My head moving forward, taking more and more of his cock. Sucking him, my tongue moving up and around the head each time I pull back. The tip of my tongue teasing his peehole with my eyes on his face, his eyes closed, hands clenched.

Sucking him in earnest now, my head bobbing with my hand pumping in sync with the advance and retreat of my lips. He grunts, "No, wait...you better stop..." but I don't. I want his cum.

With a moan that bounces off the walls, he fills my mouth. Cock spurting over and over as he releases into my welcoming mouth. I swallow it and continue to work his cock, which has remained hard and strong.

Smiling as I kiss the head, the last drones of the phone ending just as I stand and kiss him. My hand still wrapped around his cock. "Let's go to bed now."

He pulls back the covers as I push the soaked triangle of fabric from between my legs, the string between my ass cheeks coming free along with it. His cock so tall rising from his crotch, and I notice for the first time that he has shaved his balls and base around his shaft for me. Making his cock that much more inviting and erotic as it points to the sky before me.

His eyes on my bald pussy as he now goes to his knees. The backs of my legs against the mattress, my hands on the top of his head for balance, his tongue explores my wetness. His tongue so long and strong, rough as are his lips when he takes my clit into them. I'm moaning and nearing orgasm as I feel his finger at my ass.

I smile at the realization that there will be little call for me to tell him what I want. Our wants and needs already in alignment.

I explode with a suddenness that surprises me. My mouth open and moving without any sound. Shaking, his tongue not stopping, I'm pushing away from the thing that is giving too much pleasure in my now overly sensitive state.

He lifts and lays me upon the bed and I spread my legs for him as he joins me. Both of us reaching to guide his cock into me, my pussy so open and wet he needs no guidance.

His cock fills me in one long stroke. Pausing there, fully engulfed, enclosed. I place my ankles behind his calf's as we kiss without him still moving. My hands squeezing his butt as he starts to fuck me, long paced movements so we both enjoy the full length of his cock and the tightness of my pussy.

We're kissing and fucking, fucking and kissing. All else in the world lost and forgotten. Just his beautiful long hard cock in my pussy and our mouths locked together, sharing the taste of each other that remains on our lips.

He's pounding me hard and I'm moaning again, loving how his cock fits me. My hips rising and falling with him, fucking him as hard as he is fucking me.

The phone rings again. Even next to bed, we're still capable of ignoring it with the sound only a minor distraction. This time the machine clicks on and a voice is heard.

"Hey, are you there? Its me and I've been thinking about you all day." A soft giggle, "Thinking about licking that sweet pussy of yours." A short pause and, "He's out, said he'd be late as his buddies are planning a trip to the casino. I want to come over and fuck you silly...call me."

We haven't stopped fucking, if anything, the message made us move faster, flaming our lust even more. And its with the "...call me" that he shoots his cum into my pussy and I cum with him. The voice of his wife, my sister, pushing us over the edge.



Telephone Education



Hello readers

This is a sort-of continuation of a story submitted long back (around 4 months ago), where I described the starting of an infatuation between myself (married Professor in his 40s) and a student (married, pretty woman in her early 30s). That was a very short submission, mainly because of my reluctance at describing a near real-life scenario. Here, the story continues from the point when she makes a call to her Prof. 

Enjoy and please do vote and comment.

And then the phone call came. It was a Sunday, late morning. I was relaxing after some gentle love-making with my wife. The kids were away at their grandparents' place. We had the home to ourselves, and were making the most of this occasional daytime freedom!

I recognised my dear student's number on my cell. I quickly answered, wondering about the possible academic doubts she could be having in her latest assignment. 

"Hi, Sir, how are you?" her pleasant voice came across.

"Hey, Deepthi, I'm fine, thanks. How is the assignment going? Looks like you are in right earnest on a Sunday." There was a bit of urgency in my voice which was unusual in my interaction with Deepthi. But today was different. There were things to be done between me and my wife, which could not be interrupted, even for the sake of my academic student.

"Assignment is fine, Sir. I called just to chat. Was feeling bored with some dull reading. Are you busy with anything, Sir?"

"Uh, well, not particularly. Just me and my wife at home. The kids are away, so have some time to ourselves." I replied in a bland tone.

"Aw, that's so nice, Sir. You'll must be having fun." A distinct note of wistfulness in her voice. "I miss those days. Husband manages to come here just once a month."

"Well, Deepthi, these are phases in one's life. Once your course is over, things should be back to normal."

I could hear a sigh on the phone. And then this: "So, Sir, what exactly have you two been upto?"

Was I hearing right?! "Oh, come on, the usual husband-wife 'interactions'." As nonchalant as possible...

"Sir, you have been so patient and diligent with your mentoring. Please do give some details of this issue too. It can be of help for me..." voice trailing off.

I did a quick turnaround to check whether my wife was around. No, she was still in the other room. "Come on, these details are known to every married couple. Of course, reading can help. The Kama Sutra is a handy guide. You might have heard of it."

"You are the books person, Sir. Just like with my assignments, you should teach me things from this book too. And your personal experiences." There was that self-indulgent, yet petulant tone especially on the word 'should'.

I squirmed a bit. And I was not the only one. I could feel a squirming between my legs too.

"Oh, well, Deepthi, this is not the academic talk that I imagined. But you know I can never say No to anything you ask. So what exactly do you want to hear?"

"So nice of you, Sir. So what have you been up to the last 2 days?" Her best alluring, come-hither voice, which never failed to arouse me.

Here we go, I told myself. Taking a deep breath, I started. "Mostly enjoying the freedom of having the whole house to ourselves. So nothing restricted to the bedroom, if you know what I mean". Poor me, still beating round the bush...

"Not sure what you mean, Sir." I could visualize her, looking at me wide-eyed.

"Making love at night in the bedroom is the usual. Just the two of us means the action can be anytime, anywhere. No rules, no restrictions."

"Ohh, that sounds so exciting, Sir. So was it like that the last 2 days?"

"Er, yes. One of the main indulgences is the freedom from conventional clothing."

"Sir, please don't make complicated statements."

"Um, you know, we, especially my wife, are not the exhibitionist types. But now, door and windows closed, we are more or less in our birthday suits"

"Meaning, naked, Sirrr? All the time? Right now?"

"Yes. If the doorbell rings, she just puts on one of my shirts. And I have a pair of shorts at the ready. Fun to be touching and playing with each other as and when we fancy, which is pretty much all the time."

"Sounds fun, Sir. I have never done this at home."

"Hmm, suggest it your husband, when he comes home next."

"Oh, he is unlikely to pay attention." I could detect the change of tone to blandness. "You please describe more, Sir. Is she next to you now? And you are without clothes?" Back to the alluring tone. She really could tease, my dear student.

"As I said, just a bit of something around my waist. Wife is in the kitchen. What I really love is to walk in there, nude, and embrace her from behind, as she is standing at the sink. It is a groovy feel as my member slides in against her behind, and my hands move in front to fondle her breasts, and she squirms but continues her work. It is like a challenge between us to try and disturb her."

I could hear a sharp intake of breath as I described my move. "So naughty, Sir. I can just imagine your lean body against Madam's. I am sure she would press back her hips against you. She has a nice backside, I suppose." Slight wistfulness in that last statement; she probably regretted her 'shortcoming' in that area. (She has a boyish ass.)

"Oh, yes, you are right, Deepthi. My wife's ass is her best physical asset." And to myself "As for you, the face, the smile, those breasts..." "Sometimes, it ends there with fondling; sometimes it proceeds, as happened today morning. But I assume you have heard enough." My turn to switch to a slightly teasing tone.

"Nooo, Sir, please don't stop mid-way. Complete the Chapter, as you always say during our lessons." This girl was demanding action now.

"Yes, right. Always finish what you start. So this morning my dear wife proceeded to fellate me. You know fellatio, Deepthi?" Note of enquiry in my voice, knowing fully well that vocabulary was not exactly her strength.

"Please don't test my language knowledge, Sir. What was it that Ma'm did to you?"

Well, I could play games too. "Um, let me give you a clue. It's a 'procedure' done by the lady to please her man." A technical explanation...

"Oh, we do so many things to please you men."

"Right, Deepthi. Name some, that you like doing for your husband, and which he likes too!"

"You mean, like cook etc?"

"What do the etc. consist of? Remember, I was speaking of my wife doing something to me, in private." Taunting tone in my voice...

"Ohhh, Sir, you mean things in bed, right? So that word you mentioned is something in that category?"

"My student is learning fast! Not necessarily always in bed, Deepthi. My wife did it for me in our kitchen, as I was describing. So, guess what?"

"Maybe I can guess, but maybe you have to give some more clues, Sir." The coquettish tone was back.

"Ah, the burdens of a teacher," I sighed. "You know the setting -- the woman's head would necessarily have to be at a lower level than the man's."

"Ohhh, ok, I think I know, Sir. I have heard it being called blow-job in English. I was not aware of the word that you mentioned. F-whatever."

"Fellatio. Right. Describe it." Putting on my best Professorial voice.

"Come on, Sir, you are the one to describe and explain things to me. How did Ma'm go about it?"

"First, get the basic stuff sorted out. Define fellatio, Deepthi."

"Oh, Sir, when you order that way, I cannot ignore. So here goes -- it is the procedure involving sucking of the erect male organ by the female." Simply put in as plain a tone as she could.
"Can't deny that you know your fundamentals. So, yes, that's what my wife did on the kitchen floor. You know it, right? No need to go into the details, or is there something you would like to learn in this too?"

"Details please, Sir. A bit of a break from academics."

"Yeah, right! So there she was, my dear wife, gently stroking my erection and kissing me from the chest downwards. Oh, it was so thrillingly erotic, Deepthi. In the kitchen, her soft fingers on my hardening organ. And soon enough, her mouth had reached there. She looks up, as if seeking permission. I smile and gently press her head in towards my manhood. Her lips part and slide onto my wet, waiting tip. They slide back and forth, up and down, as she also holds my testicles." I stop my torrent, jolted at the fact of my description to a 'third person'.

But, that third person seemed really involved. I could hear the sharp breathing and ever so slight hint of a soft moan.

Time to tease. "So, Deepthi, you are familiar with all this, right? Maybe you could say what happens next. Where would your hands be?"

"Ohh, Sir, probably on your legs." That was faint; I had to strain to hear.

"MY legs, Deepthi? You would be doing it your man, right?" Couldn't resist a mocking tone.

"Er, yes, right. Please go on, Sir."

"Right, my wife continues running her lovely lips up and down my hard, erect cock, one hand stroking my shaft, other my balls. I gently hold her hands and shift them both to behind, to grip my ass. And then, I slowly move my hips. This is a favourite of mine. What's it called?"

...

"Hellooo, not paying attention, student?"

"Umm, yes Sir, mouth-fuck." Strained voice.

"All Ok, Deepthi? Should I stop?"

"No, no, Sir. Please go on. I got caught up imagining as you were describing. You'll were really enjoying in the kitchen."

"Yesss, rare chance that we were getting. I'm sure you must have had such experience at some time or the other, Deepthi."

"Oh, no Sir, never. My husband is not very keen for such different styles. Your wife is so lucky, Sir." Aah, the sweet wistfulness in her voice.

We could get lucky too... Oops, did that thought arise in my mind?

"Well, you must talk your hubby into this. Shouldn't miss all the variety in your sex-life." Professorial advice!

"Maybe. Anyway, go on, Sir. Tell me all. How did it end?"

"Meaning what exactly, Deepthi?"

"Did she...Did you...?"

"Yes?" Teasing tone, waiting for the 'climactic question'...

"Come on, Sir, please continue. Did she finish the job on you?"

"Could you be more specific, please?"

"Ok. How, and where, did you complete your orgasm?"

"Mmm. Good question! Any guesses, girl?"

"Oh, Sir, in her mouth?" Amazement in her voice.

"No, actually. Both of us draw the line at that. She understands when her expert blow-job gets me ready to cum. She gently slid my cock out of her mouth and continued to stroke it, aiming at her chest. And, soon enough, it erupted, shooting thick, white streams onto her breasts. She just loves that."

"Oh, Sir, how wonderfully sexy that feels"

"You can actually get the feeling there, Deepthi?" Mocking, again.

"Unh, yes, sort of, I mean... Thank you, Sir, for this break-time session in my studies."

"Welcome, sweet student. My pleasure. ("And yours too, baby", muttered my wicked mind). Now, off you go to your books. And, me to my dear wife, for some urgent work."



Telephone Tease



A Kinky Catriona story

Synopsis

Miss Catriona, an experienced phone-chat specialist, arranges a session of booked chats with the theme "Sheer Nylon". She invites a gentleman to her flat, to be used as her "plaything" during the session. A pleasurable time is enjoyed by all. A Kinky Catriona story. 

*

My name is Catriona. I'm a highly experienced provider of personal phone-chat services, based in central Scotland. I have established an impeccable reputation for quality and dependability in the services I offer.

I pride myself on creating an intimate, personal and intensely seductive atmosphere for conversation, and I offer my clients the opportunity to explore an almost limitless range of aspects of the erotic.

I take extreme care to ensure that I have fully understood each client's individual requirements, before we proceed with our booked session. I adapt my approach accordingly, depending on how subtle, or how outrageously explicit, my client wishes me to be. 

It so happens that I am also a successful independent businesswoman, and my professional life could keep me fully occupied, if I allowed it to. Because of my inordinately high sex drive, however, I choose to place strict limits on the amount of time that I spend on work and related matters.

As one element of an enormously varied range of sexual pursuits, including some of the more extreme, my phone sex services continue to flourish. I'd go so far as to say that for me they've become something of an obsession. I advertise a relatively expensive menu of options, aimed at the more discerning client, and I have built up a select and enormously loyal client base.

Some time ago, I decided to base some of my phone-chat sessions around specific themes. One reason for trying this was that I sometimes like to get into a particular sort of mood, to run a session. Now, in practice, I can "switch" easily enough between dominant and submissive roles, but on occasion I take pleasure in creating an intense mood of a particular kind, and in sustaining that mood, throughout the evening.

The theme that I've chosen for this evening's session is "Sheer Nylon". That's a favourite of mine, as I get to wear some of this delightfully erotic material, pampering myself, putting on tights of the most luxurious and outrageously provocative kind. I also have the perfect excuse to stand in front of a full-length mirror, posing, and pouting, as I gaze at myself, admiringly, dressed to excite the most committed fetishist, beyond his highest expectations.

For a phone-chat session, with no camera involved, that may strike you as illogical, but I always insist on creating the highest possible level of authenticity. That, after all, is the whole point of my "themed" sessions: I can group my calls around a single category of requirement, and that way, I can immerse myself in the details. That's fun for me, as I get very involved, and every session has its unique atmosphere. Looking at it from my clients' point of view, though, I'm sure it's no more than they would expect. They're paying premium rates, after all.

To enhance the authenticity still further, I like to invite at least one gentleman to join me in my apartment, for each of these sessions. The way this works is simple: whatever I'm talking about, with my phone client, I like to be able to act it out, or something like it, with my visitor, there and then, in my room. The lucky man I'm with becomes my "phone-chat plaything" for the duration of the session. He earns this privilege through proving his complete obedience to me, and through demonstrating an alert, active responsiveness to my sexual aura.

With a specialist requirement, such as a fetish of some kind, a companion can be even more useful. If I make my selection carefully, I can benefit from the expert guidance of a "specialist adviser", a facility which can prove invaluable. Much as I'd like to think that I'm fully conversant with all aspects of erotic gratification, there's invariably some obscure nook or cranny, of almost any fetishist pursuit, that I've yet to explore.

These nylon-themed sessions are among my favourites, for the simple reason that I get very aroused, without having to do very much. All I do, most of the time, is stand around, or sometimes just sit or lie around, while a man runs his hands over my legs, thighs and bottom. Sometimes I choose to take the lead, perhaps by sitting on him, or stroking him with my feet. It's all very intimate, in an oddly kinky kind of way, and I always find it incredibly relaxing.

This evening, my outfit is a fairly close approximation to my usual office wear, and I feel supremely self-confident. If I turned up for work like this, though, some eyebrows might be raised, or at least, gently arched. I'm wearing a neat, understated pinstripe suit in charcoal, which is marvellously comfortable. It's well tailored, and not so close-fitting that I can't let the skirt ride up, effortlessly, when the time is right for that.

Underneath the jacket is a crisp white short-sleeved blouse. My shoes are my Pigalle stilettos, by Louboutin of Paris, in gleaming jet black. For the benefit of connoisseurs of nylon tights, I'm wearing a pair especially imported from the USA, the very best that I could get my hands on.

These tights are amazing. They're so sheer and light that they seem barely visible, yet they impart an exquisite pale golden tan to my skin, and they have a subtly inviting sheen when they catch the light at certain angles. They feel exquisite, with a soft, silken texture which is so inviting to the touch that I could spend all day caressing my legs and thighs. The sensation of that taut smoothness, as I run my fingertips over my ass cheeks, is simply indescribable. On top of all that, the fabric is reassuringly strong, and would, I feel sure, withstand the coarsest of groping fingers, without coming to any harm at all.

My first phone client has requested an "office" scenario, and so, when he calls, my visitor and I will be in my dining room, where the large table will take the place of my executive desk, and where there's also a spacious armchair, close by. My phone client will wish to imagine that he is attending a formal interview, for a position with my company.

He already understands that my selection procedure is - shall we say - unconventional. My legs, and in particular, my sheer nylon tights, will be the focus of attention throughout. This gentleman has established himself as one of my most devout admirers. Because he has such a kinky imagination, I call him Mr K.

My visitor this evening has arrived in plenty of time for our appointment. Interestingly enough, since I've been offering these sessions, I've never had anyone show up late. He and I have met a number of times before, always at my "nylon" theme sessions. To describe this gentleman as a fetishist, though, would be a serious understatement. He's driven by a deep-seated compulsion to enjoy direct contact with sheer tights or stockings, stretched taut over female flesh, whenever he can. He lives to touch nylon, and would spend every waking minute doing so, if he could. In view of the hardcore nature of his obsession, I call him Mr H.

Mr H is the ideal choice for my phone-chat plaything this evening. He becomes very aroused, when in fetish mode, and his cock, which is of more-or-less average dimensions I'd say, feels reassuringly weighty and solid in my hand. Moreover, he's compliant to a fault, terrified that he'd miss out on something by failing to obey one of my instructions to the letter.

When he arrives, I follow my usual procedure, sending him to the bathroom, to undress, and then inviting him to join me in the living room. He's naked, except for a fresh white towel, which he will remove as soon as the telephone rings. I'm relaxing with a glass of wine. I pour him a glass, and indicate that he should sit at my feet.

Still following my usual sequence of events, I share some ideas with him about this evening's session. I tell him a little about my first booked phone client, Mr K, so that he'll have some idea what to expect, as the session gets under way. Then, after we've chatted like this for a while, it's time for me to install my plaything in the required position for my first booked phone chat. As we start, he must be on all fours, underneath the table.

The phone rings, and the conversation begins. Now, I invite you to imagine the scenario, just as my phone client is doing. I'm seated at my office desk, the door securely locked, my "interview in progress" notice prominently displayed on the door. My PA has left, a little while earlier, after refilling my coffee pot for me.

My phone client, Mr K, assures me that he is smartly dressed for his "interview". As the process begins, he is with me in my office. I direct him to get down on his hands and knees underneath my desk, so that he can look up my skirt. I insist that he is to stay there until instructed otherwise. I open my legs very gradually, allowing my skirt to ride up slowly, and as I do so, he becomes bolder. He reaches out to stroke my legs, moving his hands tentatively upwards, exploring my sleek inner thighs with wary, delicate fingertips. His gradual progress continues, until, at last, he's got his face buried deep in my crotch.

Mr H, meanwhile, is already under the dining-room table, engaged in the very same kind of tentative exploration, all the while paying close attention to my phone commentary. I permit him to remain there for a while, in this fully subservient position, letting him lick and sniff to his heart's content. From time to time, he runs his hands gently over my upper thighs. I find this extraordinarily pleasurable, and surprisingly relaxing.

What's more, it's quite a boost to my self-confidence - even though I don't really need one - to have this handsome, mature and highly successful professional gentleman paying homage to me, in this perverse but intensely gratifying manner. I'd feel quite content to leave him there indefinitely, while I sip my coffee, and carry on writing my reports, and make a phone call or two. Every successful female executive should have one!

Here and now, though, our time is limited, not least because my phone client is paying a premium rate for his offbeat pleasures. For the rest of our chat, I invite him out from under the desk, so that he can have more space to express his enthusiasm for what I'm offering him.

I tell him that I'm going to stand up, and I invite him to spread himself out in my padded leather executive chair. I describe how I remove my jacket, and whip off my skirt. I step out of my shoes, and then I lie across the desk, on my back, in front of him. It's a big desk, clear of all clutter, and I can lie across it comfortably, with room to spare.

As I lie down on top of the living-room table, I slip a cushion under my head. I tell Mr K that he now has full, unrestricted access to my legs, thighs and crotch, and straight away, I know his hands will be everywhere! Mr H, meanwhile, responds to this invitation as though it had been meant for him, and makes his approach accordingly.

I lie flat on the table, and close my eyes, giving myself up to the delicate strokes of Mr H's inquisitively probing fingertips. If he happened to glance across at my face, he'd see an expression of the deepest contentment. Just for the moment, though, he remains utterly engrossed in examining the gossamer membrane of sheer, pale gold nylon that separates my skin from his.

He slides a finger around the top of my tights, running his fingertip provocatively along the edge, following my waistline. Of course, he's trying to tell me that he wants to slide his hand inside, to make contact with my succulent pussy, and to feel the thrilling sensation of warm, sticky moistness on his skin. That's forbidden territory though, in this particular scenario, anyway, and how well he knows it!

My phone client knows it, too, and I admonish him firmly for his impertinence. He'll have to make do with examining the patch of wetness in my tights that's forming in between my legs, as the juices ooze out of me, and soak into the nylon. I'm very wet now, and even though he can't make contact with my skin, I let him know that he can touch, smell and taste my juices, to his heart's content.

Stretched out across my table-top like this, I could happily drift off, succumbing to the waves of exquisite bliss rolling languorously through me - but for Mr K, the clock is still ticking! I ask my visitor for another cushion - a nice large one this time - and I keep my running commentary going for my phone client. As I roll over on the table, I slip the cushion under my tummy, so that my ass is raised a little. Now, I tell Mr K that he can explore the whole of my smooth, wide ass, and the backs of my thighs and knees.

As for Mr H, he needs no prompting, before getting to work. I wriggle close to the edge of the table, to give him the easiest possible access. He needs no further guidance from me, and the touch of his fingertips seems to have become even more deft and delicate, as he traces my ample curves. Could things get any better than this? I'm tempted to offer the good Mr K some extra time on the phone, at no charge! That's not part of my business model, though, and in any case, he's a busy man, with other deadlines.

Chiding myself for such laxity, I roll over again, and sit up, indicating to Mr K that he should sit back in the chair. Meanwhile, Mr H continues to follow my instructions, compliantly taking his cues from me, all the while, and sits down as well. I sit on the edge of the table, and work my nyloned feet deftly into his groin. He runs his hands over the upper surfaces of my feet, as delicately as ever, as he writhes ecstatically in the chair.

At last I decide that the preamble has lasted long enough. I direct Mr K to show me how well his erection has developed. Once again, Mr H - correctly - takes this instruction to be meant for him, and complies forthwith, gripping his cock at the base to hold it steady for my inspection.

Simultaneously, two solid, meaty cocks are presented for my approval, both fiercely erect. Each of these fine specimens of mature manhood - one that I have to imagine, the other all too sensuously real - is immediately pressed tightly between a pair of exquisitely nyloned feet as I stroke and slide, squeeze and squash, mischievously, demonstrating thoroughly-honed footwork skills and quickly generating an encouragingly high level of arousal in response.

I have my next move clearly in mind, but quickly realise that, for Mr K, no further intervention will be necessary, after all. Taking over the directions for his scenario, he implores me to lean back and spread my legs wide. He's breathing heavily, and I can tell from his indistinct utterances that he's masturbating vigorously. I tell him that I want him to shoot his spunk for me, right now, between my legs and all over my thighs.

I hear a jubilant shout, which can only mean one thing. Imagining a generous shot of semen, I congratulate him on a quite awesome result. He murmurs a characteristically appreciative response. I follow through by telling him that I'm delighted to have taken his spunk on my tights, and that I'm not going to wash it off, or change my clothes, oh no, I'm going to re-live that moment, over and over, until late into the night, as I run my fingers over the moist, sticky nylon.

Now, my usual approach to these sessions is to try to manage the proceedings so that both my partners would reach orgasm in the same moment. It's a little game that I always love to play, aiming for what I call a "photo finish". Today, however, my phone client got a little ahead of himself, and he still has a little of his booked time left.

I make a point of commenting positively on his performance at interview. I also take a moment to ascertain that he enjoyed the experience. I'm delighted to learn that it met his expectations, and that, whether or not his application were to prove successful, he would be keen to have further conversations with me, in due course. I thank him for joining me this evening, and bid him a formal but friendly goodnight.

Meanwhile, Mr H is still engrossed in who-knows-what nylon fantasies, enjoying the spectacle as I lie with my legs spread wide, stroking myself contentedly. He doesn't know it yet, but he is in for a treat. Now that I've so clearly visualised Mr K shooting his ample load, and spattering my luxuriously sheer tights with his semen, I'm keen to experience the real thing, right here in my own living room. Mr H no doubt has exactly the same thing in mind.

The next move that I'd planned to make with Mr K had been to slide off the desk and onto his lap, for some more nylon-fetish naughtiness. For that, he'll have to wait for another time. Bringing the focus of my attention back to Mr H, I move to the edge of the table, and swing myself over onto him, while he's still in the armchair, shifting round so that I'm facing away from him, and pushing my ass into his face. I hold that position for a moment or two, smothering his face between my ample cheeks. Then I lower myself carefully down onto his lap.

Mr H is a rather small man, but fortunately, he has a strong preference for full-figured women. As I sit down, he takes my full weight, and for my part, I have the pleasure of feeling his robust erection pressing against me. In this position, I can wriggle about very easily, and I take enormous pleasure in slithering around, tantalisingly, over him. I'm bearing down heavily on that helpless cock, and then easing the pressure, so that I'm sliding over it with the lightest possible touch.

I know that the friction of my silk-smooth tights against his skin will be sending him absolutely crazy. It's the sensation that he yearns for, as soon as he wakes in the morning, and I know that there's scarcely a moment when it's not on his mind.

The briefest glimpse of a woman's legs in stockings or tights is enough to distract him from whatever else he might be attempting to think about, and so he goes through life in a perpetual state of torment. For him, this fleeting, electrifying contact with the tautly-stretched, barely-visible membrane, that's sheathing me from waist to toe, is the ultimate prize.

Perhaps it's because the experience is so intensely pleasurable for him, that he's holding out so long. That's fine by me though, because I'm having my fun, too. You might say I'm a bit of a nylon fetishist myself. I love to be able to envelop myself in it, and the frisson of excitement, as I put on a brand new pair of luxury tights - rolling them skilfully up my legs and thighs, and then feeling the waistband hugging me closely as I draw them around my hips - is a unique and very special pleasure.

As soon as I've got the tights on, I have to slip my feet into a pair of elegant stilettos, and gaze at myself in a full-length mirror. I love the way the immaculate smoothness of the nylon flatters my curves. The subtle warm glow of the pale tan shade does wonders for my skin tone, and for my self-assurance.

It seems such a shame to cover up even a part of this awe-inspiring picture. That's why, when I've invested in the highest quality nylon that I can buy, I always wear the shortest skirts, and the highest heels, that I can get away with. When my legs look this good, I've no choice, I've got to flaunt them!

I'm just as thrilled by the magical friction between nylon and skin, when I make contact with a man's naked body, while wearing stockings or tights. Perhaps it really is simply a matter of static electricity, and there are thousands of tiny shocks tickling those nerve-endings, whenever the fetish-fabric brushes across them. Perhaps that's why I imagine a barely audible rustling as I slide my nylon-sheathed backside across Mr H's solid erection. In pitch darkness, we'd see sparks, I'm certain of that.




Telephone Tease



With a little time left before my next booked call, I'm able to give my plaything my full attention. I lift myself off his lap, and swivel round, to face him. This is a good position, as I can work his cock into my crotch, and bring some serious pressure to bear. His cock is unbelievably rigid now. I put my hands around his neck, to tilt his head towards me, and close my mouth over his, pushing my tongue in, as I kiss him, long and deep.

He won't have been expecting any of this! There's nothing he can do about it, though, as I've pinned him into the armchair, overpowering him with my full weight, and I want to keep him there, helpless, underneath me.

I start to work on his cock with forceful downward strokes of my pelvis, rubbing myself vigorously against him. This way, there's sheer nylon rubbing hard against one of the most sensitive parts of his body, the underside of his shaft, all the way from his balls to that fabulously sensitive little spot at the very base of the tip.

This has to be the tipping point for Mr H. He lets out a sudden, animal-like moan, and as I look down, I see at least half a dozen bold, generous spurts of thick white creamy fluid splash onto my belly. That's exactly the result that I was waiting to see, after Mr K had described his climax, a few minutes earlier. A look of enormous relief flashes across Mr H's face, as the agonising tension that had racked his body finally subsides.

I'm forgetting something, though. Mr H will want to lick his semen off the nylon, and swallow it all down, if I allow him to, before he goes home. I shift myself back onto the table, and so that he can run his tongue between my thighs, slurping up every drop of the sticky fluid that he can find. I find the sensation truly delightful, and I wait patiently until he's finished. The good Mr H has proved a most agreeable plaything, and has done everything necessary to earn himself another invitation.

In a few minutes, I've got another booked call, with another regular client, Mr C. I call him Mr C because he is insatiably curious. He's going to want to hear all about what my other kinky fetish-folk have been up to, while I've been flaunting myself in front of them, wearing my superior-quality nylon hose, high heels, and very little else. I shall have plenty to talk about!

Written by Miss Catriona

Submitted August 2012

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