Chris Simon - A real hot number

He waited a moment.

"I'm fucking her," he explained, now. "It's hers…"

"Put Iris back on," I said.

I sat there for a moment, wondering about my strange telephone caller. Surely she had to be unique. I listened to the telephone change hands, followed up with a few muffled words. Then I was talking to Iris again.

"I told you," she said.

I didn't know what to say. "Why?" I asked finally. "Why are you doing it?"

"The same reason I did it with the rubber cock," she said. "It's exciting… sexually exciting."

It was; for me at least. I sat there for a moment in complete silence, imagining what was going on at the other end of the telephone. I pictured Iris in my mind: she was naked and lying on her back… Steve was between her legs and he was fucking her… slowly… And she was talking to me… telling me about it…

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"Nothing." I lied.

"I bet," she said. "I know damn well what you thinking about… me."

"All right," I said. "You're right."

"You have to be thinking about me," she explained. "That's why I called you… that's why I call anyone."

"You mean you call others?" I asked. For some strange reason, the idea was disturbing.

"Sure," she said. "Plenty of others. And every one of them different."

"Do you talk to them about sex too?"

"Of course," she said. "I tell them what I'm doing and they tell me what they're doing… like we did the first time I called you."

"And you masturbate over the telephone?"

"Sometimes," she said. "Sometimes I just talk… you know… talk dirty. I play with myself… they play with themselves… and we both have a good time. Sometimes I use the rubber cock… it all depends on how the conversation goes or how my mood is…"

"Why did you decide to change?" I asked. "To use a real man instead of the dildo?"

"It's something different," she explained. "Sex gets tiresome if you don't vary it… just like you get tired of fucking your old lady all the time, right?… you want something different… a new cunt, right?… it's the same with me…"

"But I thought fucking over the telephone had other advantages?" I asked, remembering our previous conversation. "I thought it was safer and cleaner…"

"It is," she insisted.

"Then what about Steve?" I asked.

"Forget Steve," she said. "Remember one thing… Steve doesn't count… it's you I'm fucking with, Al… in my mind I'm fucking with you…"

"Then why don't you fuck with me in real life?" I asked. "Why bother with the telephone?"

"Because in real life, Al," she said. "I might be a disappointment to you. I may be too old, or too fat, or just a plain bitch…"

"But over the telephone," she continued, "I can never disappoint you!… I'll never be too fat… too old… too bitchy… and for me, you'll be anything I want… in my imagination, you'll have a fantastic cock… ten inches long… twelve!… if I want… And you'll be the greatest lover I've ever had… only because I'll never really have to fuck you… Steve is doing that for us… It's Steve's cock, but you're my fantasy…"

"You make him sound as though he's nobody… that he has nothing to do with it…"

"He is nobody!" she answered. "He's nothing! A man I picked up… He's an extension of my dildo… a masturbatory fantasy…"

"I don't think I understand…"

"Think of it this way," she explained. "It's like when you jerk off. In your mind, the cunt you are fucking is the softest… wettest… greatest cunt you can imagine. You picture the woman in your mind any way, any position, any body you want… any woman you want!… and all you do is pull on your cock and imagine and imagine until you start to cum, and then its better… more intense… than any real fuck you've ever had… fantasy fucks are always better than real fucks. Reality is a drag when you compare it to what you can imagine."

"But that's not always true…"

"Sure it is!" she interrupted. "No man could ever fuck me the way my mind… the way my imagination… can fuck me!… sure, right now Steve is fucking me… his cock is going in and out of my cunt… But when I start to cum… I'll be thinking of you… You will be fucking me…"

I considered her words.

"Steve's fucking of me is not what's sexually exciting," she continued. "What's exciting is the fact that I'm telling you about it… That you – a total stranger – know I'm being fucked…"

I thought about it for a moment. It was true. It was exciting. I touched my cock through my undershorts. It was hard and hot. There was something perversely exciting about knowing someone was being fucked. It was almost like watching her being fucked… better than watching… for I could imagine her any way I wanted… The basic reality did not change… She was being fucked and I was listening to her describe it.

I heard her moan.

"Is it good?" I asked.

"Very good," she said, "The combination of the fuck and telling you… my cunt's all wet… when I cum, it will be good… lean tell."

I touched my cock again. I slid my hand down into my pants and began to run my fingers up and down my hard-on. There was a bubble of moisture at the tip of my cock, and I spread it out across the head with my finger.

My momentary silence must have aroused her curiosity.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Touching myself."

"Your cock?"

"Yes."

"Good… very good… ohhnh!"

"What happened?"

"Steve's sucking on my tits… playing with the fleshy part and sucking the nipple…"

"While he's fucking you?"

"Yes."

I closed my eyes and began to jerk off.

"What are you wearing?" she asked.

"Just my underwear."

"Why don't you take them off?" she suggested. "Both Steve and I are naked."

I considered this for a moment. Iris was a strange woman, and her kind of sex was unique. I could imagine a man doing what she was doing… a voyeuristic… exhibitionistic man. But a woman… a woman who would go to these lengths… the idea was novel and stimulating.

I knew I wouldn't object to participating. I had enjoyed it the first time, over the telephone. Her talk was sexy and it was arousing me. The idea of what she was doing was arousing me.

"All right," I agreed. "I'll get undressed."

I began to pull my tee-shirt off.

"Tell me about it!" Iris said. "Doing it is only one part of the enjoyment. Telling me about it is the best part. The exciting part."

"I'm taking my shirt off now," I said. I pulled it over my head, letting the receiver go for a moment while I pulled the shirt down my arm.

"I'll just lie here and be fucked," Iris said. "Don't mind if I moan… it's starting to get good."

"I'm pulling the pants down now…"

"What type are they? Shorts or briefs?"

"The brief type," I said. "They're sweaty. Sticking to my body somewhat…"

"Good."

"… I'm rolling them down my legs… stepping out of them… now I'm naked."

"Do you have a hard-on?"

"Yes."

"Touch it for me again," she said.

I did.

"Tell me…"

"It's hard… very hard," I said. "I'm squeezing it now… It's like a rock."

"Is it circumcised?"

"Yes… It's big… very big."

"What about your balls?" she asked. "When's the last time you came?"

I told her about Ellen Marshall.

"Jesus," she said. She moaned several, times during my telling her.

"Are you reacting to what I'm telling you," I asked, "Or because of what Steve is doing to you?"

"Both," she confessed. "Tell me more. Tell me about the other women. In detail."

I told her about Gail and Sandi. Then I told her about Yvonne and her husband. She found my story of Kenneth Hill exciting, and she asked me to repeat it several times, especially the part when he came in his wife's face. She was moaning now, more regularly.