Written by sexslaves
21 Oct 2012
The Phone Call
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9 minute read
It all began innocently enough…
I received an e-mail from a young lady who wanted to compliment me on my stories and my writing style. It seems she found the eroticism particularly appealing to her tastes. Of course, I wrote her back and thanked her for her kind words, and thus began an exchange of e-mails that turned into a pen pal relationship.
She told me that she had recently ended a long term relationship with her fiance`, and was “exploring” her own thoughts, and stumbled onto the story site. At one point, I asked her in an exchange if she was aroused by my stories, and if so, which ones. A short time later, her response arrived and she revealed that yes, she was indeed aroused by the stories. She had read every one, and found them all appealing, if for nothing more than the style and eroticism she read. I was flattered.
I finally got up the nerve to ask her if she had masturbated to any of the stories, and there was a delay before I got a response. I asked this, because after all, isn’t that the reaction a writer of these stories is hoping for? That the reader becomes so involved with the characters and the plot that they “project” themselves into the story, and receive pleasure from them? For a while, I thought I had frightened her off; but then I got her answer. She had rarely masturbated before, she told me, though she was in her twenties. But while reading my stories, she had pleasured herself, again and again; even cumming three times one evening before passing out and waking in a soaked bedsheet with one of the stories.
She sent me her picture; in fact, she sent me several pictures; of her alone and some with her and some friends. She was an absolute knockout! She had already told me how she was very petite, and had an olive complexion, dark hair and eyes and was a dancer. The pictures verified that description, and then some. During one of our more intimate exchanges, she told me she was “waxed bare” below the waist. I could only imagine the sight. I asked if she might be willing to send me some very private photos to prove it; ones that would be shared with no one else, and she said she would think about it. Later, I received a set of such photos that did, indeed, reveal a completely bald little pussy, with a hint of the clit peeking out, and small, upturned breasts that were nicely pointed and perfectly proportioned to her body.
Before long, we not only exchanged e-mails, but began instant messages back and forth at odd and irregular times; often just before bedtime. These exchanges, though innocent on the surface, were erotic for me and I am certain they were for her, as well. After one such exchange, I asked her if she would like to speak with me on the phone; I have an unlimited nationwide calling service and can call without charge anywhere in the country. She told me that would “be nice”; she’d love to hear my voice. So, she gave me her phone number, and one evening, I called.
“Hello” she answered.
“Hi, it’s me. Whatcha doing?” I asked, with a grin she couldn’t see, but I’m sure she heard it.
“Just waiting for you to call” she giggled. She had a lovely, melodic voice.
We chatted for a bit, the sexual tension building as we talked. She described her new condo and told me how it was decorated. She described her bedroom, where she was while we were talking. It sounded to be a “girly” bedroom, with lots of frills and tons of pillows on the bed. Finally I asked about the most important decoration in the room.
“What about you? What are you wearing?” I asked her, with a chuckle.
“I’m wearing a tank top and boyshorts” she laughed.
“Boyshorts?” I asked.
“You know; underwear like boys’ briefs, but for girls. No opening in the front” she giggled.
“Oh, you mean like Hanes for Girls” I asked, stupidly. She laughed, and agreed that would be the type, but corrected me on the brand.
She said “You have a very sexy voice on the phone”. This is something I’ve been told a number of times, though I don’t understand why some women think so.
“Thank you. I love your voice, too. You sound very happy and carefree” I told her, and she did.
Finally, I asked a question I had been wondering since the start of the call. “Are you wet?” There was a pause for a moment. I knew I was certainly aroused; my cock was twitching in my shorts. Finally, a very quiet “Yes” was her answer. I asked if she would like me to “play” with her. She asked “What do you mean?”, and I told her I wanted to give her directions and asked if she would follow them. I assured her that at any time she became uncomfortable with what we were doing, we would stop, or she could simply hang up. She agreed to “try it”.
I began by having her remove her clothes, and place herself with her feet toward the headboard. She had described a full sized bed with a short bookcase headboard, and lots of pillows. I instructed her to put her feet up on the headboard, as though she was in the stirrups at the doctor’s office and to place a pillow or two under her buttocks, and then lay back and relax. When she was in position, I began.
“With your right hand, I want you to slowly and gently begin to move your fingertips over your stomach, circling your belly button…so lightly, it almost tickles. Slowly widen the circle, but not any lower than your panty line and not up to your breasts, yet.”
I let her do this for a minute, encouraging her with my soft, quiet voice.
“Now, let your hand move higher and just as slowly and softly, I want you to begin to circle your left breast, but don’t touch the nipple…just the base and sides of the mound….
“Now, move to your right breast and do the same thing…just the sides and the mound…not the nipple” I urged her, quietly.
“Take your hand, and cup it over your left breast, with the nipple in your palm, and slowly draw your fingertips up the sides until they touch your nipple….slowly, now. Squeeze your nipple with your fingertips” I heard a small gasp as I told her to do this.
“Now, move to your right breast, and do it again…slowly up the sides…to the nipple…now, squeeze…” I heard another small gasp, and detected an increase in her breathing rate. In my mind’s eye, I was picturing her small body, tensing from the pleasure and the anticipation and mesmerized by the quiet sound of my voice. My own erection was being ignored. I was totally focused on my little audience on the other end of the phone.
“Let your fingertips move down your chest…your abdomen…your belly…just to your pubic line above your slit” I coaxed her; mentally picturing the progress.
“Don’t touch your slit, yet, but with one finger, gently reach all the way below your slit…touch the spot between your lips and your anus…and slowly draw your fingernail up your slit…not too far in…and stop halfway. Tell me when you’ve reached that spot” I instructed her.
“I…I’m there” she stammered, hoarsely. “Ok, put your fingertip in to the middle knuckle…no deeper. Are you nice and wet there?” I asked her. She gasped that she was soaking.
“Good…get your finger nice and wet, then draw it out, and continue with just your nail, slowly up your slit until you reach your clit” I continued. I didn’t have to ask when she reached it; her gasp and her increased breathing rate told me her progress.
“With just the tip of your nail, I want you to begin tickling the tip of you clitoris…gently…gently. Now, slowly start to stroke your clit with one finger…slowly…make it last…”
I could see in my mental picture exactly what she was doing; the effect it was having on her. Her breathing and occasional soft moan told me the pleasure she was receiving. I kept softly encouraging her in her ear. The mind is the most erogenous zone on any woman, and it can be played like a violin to give them maximum pleasure.
“Lift your hips off the pillow…keep them up in the air” I told her. This position tightens the stomach muscles and will maximize the power of her climax, when it comes.
“Stroke a little harder…a little faster, now. Don’t cum until I tell you to” I instructed her. My perceived control over her orgasm will make her want it all the more.
Her breathing was heavy into the phone. I heard an occasional “Unnnhh…unnnhh” from her; she was beginning to reach for it. “Not yet, my love…not until I tell you…just a little longer…” my own cock was seeping pre-cum, but I could only ignore it. I was totally miles away…in that room with her…helping her to achieve maximum pleasure.
“P…please” she whispered, hoarsely.
“Are you ready, my love? Are you ready to cum?” I asked her very softly.
“Oh, God, y…yes…” she answered.
“Alright…give me your cum…NOW!” I told her, and was rewarded with a groan and the sound of “unnnhhh…unnnhhh” as she grunted and spasmed to her release…I counted one…two…three…four powerful contractions, as she strained to let the full climax cum.
“More” I whispered…”more…one more time” as she reached for the last vestiges of the powerful orgasm that had just overwhelmed her. I could hear her gasping for air; I was sweating and my crotch was soaked.
“That’s a good girl…that’s a good girl” I whispered quietly, as she slowly started to recover, and to return to consciousness from that blissful state she had surrendered to.
“Oh…my God…whew…I’ve never…” she started and stopped, her thoughts jumbled up.
“Was that good for you?” I asked, softly, with a smile on my face
. “Oh, that was incredible! I’ve NEVER cum that hard before…I thought I was going to die…oh, my God”.
“Good…I've wanted to pleasure you like that for a long time. I hope you liked it.” I told her.
“I loved it…that was the most…” and then she started to giggle; a nervous release of energy.
“But what about you…?” she asked.
“I’m fine. This was about you, tonight. I wanted to give you the maximum pleasure I could, even though I’m not there with you” I told her, and I meant it.
“Oh, you did…you definitely did” she responded. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course…anything” I answered.
“Will you call, again…?”
“Of course…anytime you like” I said with a smile.