Chris Simon: A real hot number

"You have the right number."

"Good. Then you're the man I want to talk to."

"To get together?" I asked.

"Not on your ass, brother!" she said. "I do all my fucking over the telephone. It's safer and cleaner."

"I don't under…"

"I want you to talk to me, baby. Talk dirty to me."

"Just talk?"

"Sure, and while you talk, I'm doing it to myself."

"You mean you're masturbating?"

"You bet your ass, I am. Right now I'm shoving a seven-inch rubber cock in and out of my pussy."

"Is this some sort of joke?" I asked again. I couldn't believe my ears. I was receiving an obscene telephone call from a woman! "I told you no already. Now let's get down to business. I'm hot and my cunt is flowing."

"Look, lady. I don't service women over the telephone!"

"Why not. Isn't it better than jerking off by yourself? Look. This way we both cum, nobody gets pregnant, I'm not really cheating on my old man, and you never have to leave your house."

"But that's crazy…"

"Why?" she asked.

I couldn't think of a why. But I knew it must be crazy. It was too crazy to be anything else.

"Look," she said. "All you have to do is take your meat in your hand and start pulling it. Say whatever you like. How it feels, tell me about the last time you got laid, anything."

My cock was as hard as a rock. Her words, combined with this morning's telephone calls had left me almost panting for release. I followed her instructions and touched myself. After all, why not! I was going to masturbate; this certainly was better than imagining sex.

"Let me get you started," she said.

I began to pump my hand up and down my organ.

"Imagine me nude," she began. "Because I am. I'm laid out on my bed, absolutely naked. I've got my legs open and up, and I'm pushing a dildo in and out of my upturned pussy… Right now I'm sliding it in… Jesus!… that feels good."

I saw her in my mind and I increased my stroking movement. Each time my fist banged against my stomach, I felt my balls smack into my parted thighs.

"What color hair do you have on your cunt?" I asked.

"That's it! That's it!… Black… heavy… black… pussy… hair… and a fat cunt with a rubber cock in it!"

I could feel my stomach tightening. My balls seemed to rise up against my legs with the building pressure. My hand was moving rapidly now.

"And my tits… I've got big, sloppy tits. They nearly hang to my stomach… hear! Listen to this… I'm picking up one and I'm putting the nipple in my mouth… I'm sucking on it… on my own tit!"

I heard a slurping noise.

"Jesus, I'm going to cum…" she said.

"Me, too," I confessed. I could feel my orgasm building steadily, with an ever increasing tempo.

"Tell me about it… about your cock…"

"I'm jerking off," I said, surprised at the excited quality of my own voice. "My hand's running up and down my cock… the head is swelling… getting red and big…"

"More! More you motherfucker…"

"Seven inches of cock that's going to cum… shoot out its hot cum…"

"How big is it?"

"Big… big! Very big… Seven inches…"

"Oh, shit! Shove it in me!"

"I am… it's in you now… do you feel it?"

"Yes… it's going in and out… like a piston… push it in hard… let me feel you in my cunt… to the hilt!"

"CHRIST!" I screamed. "I'm cuming…"

I began to spew my hot, white cum out all over the bed. I must have looked strange standing there naked, jerking off with one hand, and cradling the telephone under my ear with the other. I pumped my fist, and began to shake my cock as though it were alive. Cum splashed against my hand and my leg. It was burning hot against my flesh. I watched it sail across the room, through the air, plopping silently against my pillow and spilling like a river onto the rug. I couldn't stop cuming.

"Meee tooooo!" she screamed into the receiver. I heard a moan and then a wet, moving sound and I realized what it was. She had moved the receiver from her mouth and had placed it down near her cunt. The sound I was hearing was the noise of the dildo as it pushed in and out of her cunt!

I was listening to her fuck herself!

I began to cum again. My balls ached but I kept emptying them in dribbling puddles across my bedroom rug. Finally my hand fell away from the organ, and my knees went weak. I stumbled over to the bed with the telephone still in my hand. I fell back on the bed, exhausted.

After a moment, the wet sound stopped, and I heard her breathing heavily. Then I heard a loud, sucking noise, like water going down a drain. It was the dildo, being pulled from her wet cunt.

"That was all right!" she said. Her voice cracked and was dry. "You're a good fuck."

"Thanks," I said.

"I'll call again," she promised. "Then I'll really have something in store for you." I couldn't imagine what.

I heard her chuckle obscenely and then hang up the phone. My end went dead.

I tried to get up to hang up the receiver, but I was too exhausted. I lay back on the bed, in the puddle of my own sperm, and listened to the running water of my shower.

About three minutes later, I was sound asleep.

"Come in," Gail Bowman said.

I smiled at her. She was pretty, and I told her so. She had long, light brown hair, and her hazel eyes were more green than hazel. She was wearing a pink, quilted bathrobe, with frilly lace at the collar and sleeve ends, and she wore a matching pair of pink slippers. She was wearing her make-up – green eye shadow, pale pink lipstick, and just the faintest blush of redness on her cheek. The make-up made her appearance seem warmly attractive balanced against her casual dress. She reminded me of a newlywed, awakening on her honeymoon morning to greet her new husband.

I stepped into the apartment, and she closed the door behind me. As she brushed past me I could smell the clean sweetness of powder or perfume.

"How do you feel this morning?" I asked.

"Don't ask," she said. Her voice seemed strained, but she was smiling at me. I guessed that she was nervous.

"Relax," I told her.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll be all right."

"I'm sure you will be," I said slowly, carefully allowing her to understand my second meaning.

She laughed nervously, but smiled. "Would you like some coffee? Or a drink?"

"No. Nothing. I've already had my breakfast."

"You don't mind if I have some coffee, do you?"

"No, go ahead…" I told her. By now we had walked into the living room. It was rather small, furnished with inexpensive contemporary furniture. I sat in a small arm chair that faced a television.

"I'll be right back," she said once I had seated myself. "I'm just going to get my cup."

I watched her walk out of the room. Her body moved lightly, carefully, almost gracefully. Her hair bounced, and I could hear the swish of her bathrobe as it scraped across her body. The sound was exciting. "You're sure you don't want a cup?" she asked from the kitchen.

I told her no again. I looked about the room. On top of the television there was a picture of her husband. I studied his face for a moment, but I couldn't tell anything from the photo. He was young-looking, thin-lipped and blue-eyed.

Gail swished back into the living room. She held a cup and a saucer in her hand, and she was sipping from the cup as she walked. Her lips were wet, and they seemed to glisten in a very attractive way. She tilted her head and swung her long brown hair away from her face. She sat across from me on a long green couch.

"Wow!" she said softly, as she placed the cup and saucer down on a coffee table. "This is crazy."

"Is it?"

"I guess so. It feels so strange. I feel strange."

"How do you feel?" I asked. "Nervous, I guess."