("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
`6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`)
(_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-'
_..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
(((' (((-((('' ((((
K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
_________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
_________________________________________
Scroll down to view text
--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2007. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your
consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------
Not So Anonymous: A Phone Sex Story
by Simon Rundell (simonrundell@easynet.co.uk)
***
A really, really good jerkoff. (M-solo, F-cyber, mast)
***
It was another one of those lonely nights; she was away
for the night; 'staying over with a friend' was the
phrase which usually implied she'd be out until 3 in
the morning and end up with someone else's cock down
her throat whilst her best friend was licking her
pussy.
No. Put it out of your mind, he thought, because
although he's not the jealous type, the thought of it
was more than likely to give him a huge stiffy and on a
lonely night like this, that was not what he wanted.
Put it out of your mind, he told himself, as he
wandered out of the kitchen and back into the lounge,
put it out of... the vision in his minds eye of his
angel-faced girlfriend receiving a gallon of jism right
in the face and down over her huge tits, as she
climaxed on the end of an equally gorgeous brunette;
both buck naked, the anonymous guy's prick spurting, at
least 9 inches, sweat, spunk, groan, spunk, ah....
Oh no, not now, not in the middle of Wildlife on One.
He put his drink down and passed his hand over his
cock: he was stiff again. No, not merely stiff, but
achingly stiff, straining against the zip of his jeans,
threatening a public embarrassment, a rip of denim and
his rigid prick on display to the general public.
Except, he reminded himself, that he wasn't in public.
A wank? Why Not? He hadn't had an orgasm since that
afternoon, when his girlfriend had voraciously gone
down on him on the stairs outside their flat: a parting
gift, pushing him back onto the rough carpet, pulling
out his cock and bringing him off like a steam-train.
He'd just wanted to flip her over there and then, face
into the stairs, pull up her mini-dress, guide his
purple knob past those tiny lace panties and into her
tight, wet little snatch; but she wouldn't let him 'Not
Yet, Later', so he had to be content with being
hoovered up. She'd suck him dry, and as she stood up,
she'd licked a small drop of cum from the corner of her
lip.
'It didn't even smudge her lipstick', he thought at the
time, and by now the remembrance of that afternoon,
coupled with the vision of his girlfriend behaving like
a complete slut wiggling her fanny for the benefit of
some anonymous... No, not merely an anonymous, but an
anonymous, lucky stranger, just made him harder.
No, this deserved to be more than the average wank, a
good wank, a real wank. Not some solitary, sad furtive
wank. He had visions of climbing up onto the roof for a
second, coming over the passers-by on Shepherd's Bush
Road. 'Is that Rain?' - 'No, it must be cum then' The
thought made him smile: this required a top notch wank.
He went, with a little difficulty as his erection was
not in danger of diminishing at this point, having been
fuelled by such sexy thoughts, to the bedroom; into the
drawer on her side of the bed. Condoms, foreign coins,
a modest-sized vibrator, KY Jelly, a nail file, Massage
Oil; sifting through the mundane and the sexual caused
his knob to jerk inside his pants, the stimulation that
caused forcing him to clench his buttocks to prevent
anything major happening there and then.
'God,' he thought, 'I really am getting off on this.'
Then he found the magazine he was looking for and
skipped right through to the back pages; ignoring the
beaver-shot pictures, the well-painted tarts and stiff
pricks in the editorial section and straight to the
small ads. He scanned down them. Bondage, Discipline,
Humiliation, Nanny? No thank you. Then it stood out and
he smiled to himself as he knew that this would be the
solution to the aching balls and hypersensitive prick
currently torturing him in the downstairs department.
CALL FOR PLEASURE 0171 ... ....
ALL CREDIT CARDS
Not terribly explicit, but discrete. He knew the number
would guarantee his solution; he had used them many
times before, many, many times and each time he had
grown more confident, more in control. This was his
fantasy, and as he was paying for it, it would be a
great wank.
He dialled the number, breathless now at the delicious
expectation, the sheer naughtiness of paying money to
talk dirty with someone, of jacking off with the help
of someone real. He gave his telephone number and they
looked up his records... yes, the usual credit card
number, yes, the usual, nothing kinky, just straight...
any preferences?
Well, Louise, please. Always Louise. No variety, no
variation. It was almost like this was a long-running
affair, as when he had the need to spill, it was always
Louise who did the business; that sultry voice, that
dirty vocabulary, that perfect understanding of what
would bring him off in a most beautiful, sticky orgasm.
He put down the phone, and went to the bedroom. The
same routine: move the telephone to by the bed, get out
the hand cream, take off your clothes. By now the
shivering expectation of it all was becoming too much;
it couldn't be the cold, it must be the excitement of
it all; he brushed his erection, which responded with a
bob of such great magnitude that it slapped his belly
on the rebound. It would be a superb wank.
He did as he always did, and tried the length of the
telephone cord, by picking it up and lying down. Just
right. He replaced the receiver, and almost immediately
it rang again.
'Simon?' A deep, sexy voice said at the end of the
line. 'Yes' he replied; Simon was the pseudonym he had
used since he started this affair with Louise. If
Louise wasn't her real name, what the hell, that just
made it naughtier; a completely anonymous relationship
based on one thing.
'On your own again? That girlfriend of yours must
really be neglecting you, silly cow...' The vision of
that hypersexual girlfriend of his on the end of his
prick, stark naked against the window, on the kitchen
table, under the kitchen table, on her knees from
behind whist she licked out her best friend, the best
friend, both of them licking his cock and balls, sat on
his face, sat on some strangers face, and in a brief
second, the cycle of images came round to remind him
why he was on his own tonight, and he was able to focus
his lust.
'...And how's your boyfriend?' He started. This was
always a good cue for Louise to start on some really,
really rude sexual exploit. Either Louise had a really
good, filthy imagination or her boyfriend was the
luckiest bastard alive. He gripped his knob, a
lathering of hand cream to ease the passage, and the
faint smell of dewberry oil, now inexplicably
associated by him with sex, rising from his huge,
straining cock. Cool cream, hot prick; a small dribble
of pre-cum rising out of the purple end. This was going
to be a brilliant wank.
'Oh, he just got what he deserved this afternoon. I'd
been neglecting him you see, hadn't allowed him to come
for at least 12 hours, and when he thought he'd be
going without it for a whole evening, I just pushed him
back on the stairs and sucked the life out of his huge,
juicy, fat cock.'
'Amazing' he thought 'So lifelike' he thought about
that painful bit on his arse which he reckoned must be
a carpet burn, from the stairs. '..and what are you
wearing now, Louise...' he started with the slow
strokes, the edge of his hands catching the lip of his
glans, a delicious slow burn started building at the
base of his arse.
'I've got on a little black lycra mini-dress...' Black,
Lycra, very, very short. His girlfriend wore those he
thought; and in his mind's eye Louise, his paid-for
tart, the whore he never saw and his girlfriend became
one. '..Stockings...' Mmmmmm.
'Suspenders, and the smallest of knickers you can
imagine'. Mmmm. I can imagine very small, he thought.
'I can imagine very small' he said to her, starting to
pant, the fire in his loins responding to the exquisite
friction of his right hand.
'I know he wanted to take me from behind...' Mmm. 'But
I wouldn't let him...'Not Yet' I told him. Oh, this was
blending fantasy and reality. His memory and his
voyeurism into Louise's most intimate sexual exploits
was merging. 'In fact, I really wanted him to put me on
those stairs and put it straight up my arse, he's never
done it to me like that and I really want it.'
Ohh no, please not the anal fantasy again, his hand
went faster, this really got his rocks off, he really
wanted to try that on his girlfriend but even given her
high level of sexuality, he feared her refusal, and
even now, he was too shy to suggest it. They'd done
everything else, and as Louise continued to tell him
how she really loved sucking his huge cock off, and
swallowing it all, and proceeding to predict what she'd
do to him when she got back tomorrow morning, his
fantasies about the brilliant, superlative sex with
Louise and her boyfriend continued to match that
superb, exhausting, exhilarating sex he had with his
girlfriend.
'This is really nice' he panted, a bit of a euphemism,
he would often reflect long after. 'This is really
nice' he repeated. This was the start of the mantra
that moved him onto the home straight of his orgasm.
Louise responded perfectly, the words became more base,
she suggested grabbing his tits. Mmm. His hand was by
now a blur of flesh and hand cream, the smell of sex
rising from his groin, his breathing becoming much more
rapid, and laboured, she was now panting with him. This
was more than good.
'Oh, yes, oh yes, I'm about to, please, please...
Ahhhh.' She beat him to it by a fraction 'I'm coming
too, please, please' he retorted and they both went
silent except for some heavily breathing. In the few
refractory seconds he had time to think about either a)
how good a faker of an orgasm she was, and how she knew
how to pitch it so right that it was almost a
simultaneous orgasm or b) what a slut she really was,
having a genuine wank whilst he was also, a free wank
no less. And then she blew the gaffe entirely.
In her recovery from ecstasy , she called him by their
personal name for each other, that name which no-one
else know, the name which was unique and at once he
realised why she had she was such a good telephone
fuck.
'Lou? Lorraine?' Recognition had dawned. No wonder she
knew exactly which buttons to press, exactly what would
turn him on, exactly how to get him off in the most
spectacular way.
'.....' there was a moment of silence, and then a click
of a receiver as she put the phone down without
responding.
His mind was churning over, but even as he replaced the
receiver, his prick was growing again, God, this was
better than fantasy, this was real, this was more than
a pretend fuck.
He smiled as he gripped his knob again for another
round, when she returned in the morning, he had
something special for her...
END
If you enjoyed this, please let me know.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 49