There! I slammed into my office, then stood in the middle of the room, fighting for control. Incompetents! I was surrounded by them. No one seemed capable of doing what they were told, nothing got done unless I personally supervised.

Frankly, I was sick of it. I wanted someone else to take over for once. Why couldn t someone take care of me? With a sigh, I walked slowly to my desk and sat down. I pulled my appointment book toward me to check my schedule. I went over what I had to do later that day, then slowly flipped back to the last page, where I d paper clipped his business card.

That s my private number call me, he said as he handed me the card. He brushed my cheek with his fingertips, then leaned forward and whispered in my ear, Let someone else take control for a change. Let me show you what it can be like to let go, Mina. I know you want to.

Continue reading →

My wife is a conscientious third grade teacher with an imagination fertile enough to hold the attention spans of eight and nine year olds. What thrills me about Wendy’s imagination is that she doesn’t confine it to her students and their story time period. She amazes me with it in vivid graphic detail, and usually when I least expect it via the telephone. And the tales I get are quite different from what she dished out to her enthralled charges at the school where she works.

It’s hard to recall what started Wendy’s phone games. I guess one daring word whispered at the close of a phone conversation or a wicked little stream of consciousness blurb gradually grew into the raunchy soliloquy that now leaves me panting with an aching erection and a searing need to hurry home to her.

I suppose a primary titillating factor in what I’ve taken to calling our phone in foreplay is the jarring contrast of my wife’s public persona and the raspy, purring siren she effortlessly becomes on the phone. Wendy is a petite blonde with ripe, vibrant breasts. Her taut ass curves in a subtle slope and her soft spoken demeanor and alert, intelligent blue eyes bespeak proper, lady like bearing. One is never surprised to learn that Wendy is a schoolteacher.

At twenty six, she exudes a girlish innocence that warms and endears. She blushes at steamy soap opera drama and off color jokes told in mixed company. But then there are those phone calls, and the contrast, the dichotomy, is an overwhelming turn on. Innocence becomes brazen sensuality. Modesty becomes salty sensationalism. Whenever I get her steamy calls, I know the passion will flame as soon as I can rush home to her.

“Hey lover, know what I want you to do to me tonight?” Her soft voice oozes the words like fresh, thick honey dripping off a cone.

“Tell me.”

“Put your dick between my breasts. I love feeling it there. So hot and hard, stroking back and forth in the valley…I’m tingling all over just imagining it!”

“What else?” My question is a hoarse whisper as my cock twitches toward erection.

“I want to squeeze my tits against your cock. I want to feel your balls rub my chest as you slowly stroke your dick between my breasts. Oh, honey, I’m getting so wet and hot just talking about it.”

The only sound coming from my end of the line is me clearing my throat. The skin on the bottom of my scrotum prickles and crawls as I squirm on my office chair. I’m squeezing the receiver so hard against my ear that my arm trembles. And I strain to hear her next hushed words.

“I want you to make it last. I want to see your dickhead swell between my tits. I love it when you’re about to come and your cock gets so hard and red and smooth. I love the way your whole body shakes. And then you shoot and it sprays out. Mmm, Tony, I love watching you come!”

“You want me to come between your tits?”

“Oh, yes! I want to try to catch it in my mouth.”

“Wendy! Oh, baby…”

“Hurry home to me, honey,” she breathes, and the line goes dead.

That particular call came last week at midday. I found out later she’d placed it during her lunch period form the teacher’s lounge. At 3:30 that same afternoon, my secretary buzzed to say my wife was again calling. Whatever I was doing was instantly abandoned, and I punched the blinking button.

“Wendy!” I gasped.

“I’ve been thinking about what we talked about earlier,” she whispered, that special raspy purr coating her words and tickling my penis through the phone. “I want you dick hot and slick before you fuck my tits. Guess what I’ve decided to do about that.”

“What?”

“You know, silly. You just want to hear me say it.”

“That’s right.” My cock surged inside my pants.

“I’ll have to kiss all over the head of your dick. Wet, sloppy kisses. Then suck the whole thing in my mouth. I’ll close my lips around the base of your cock and tickle your balls with my fingers. And while I’m doing that maybe you can kiss my pussy. Okay?”

“Oh,” I hissed. “You bet, baby. Just the way you like it. Nice and slow.”

“Ohhh, Tony! I can just feel your mouth on me down there. I can feel the way you open me up with your tongue and nibble up and down. You know how I lose myself when you suck my little clit and…oh my, Tony! Just talking about it makes me feel like it’s already happening! Is it that way for you?”

“You know it is.”

“Are you hard, honey?” The soft question came in a voice of rustling silk.

“Yes,” I gasped.

“Can you touch it, Tony? Are people around?”

“I’m touching it.”

“Oh, darling, I wish I was there to do it myself. Is it really hard? Is it big and hot like I love it?”

“Yes! Just for you, baby.”

“Can you stroke it? No! Better not, honey. Save that part for me. I might get jealous even if you do it yourself. Stroking, that’s my job, isn’t it?” I nodded yes.

“I’ll be waiting for you. Please hurry.”

I skipped a sales meeting that afternoon to get home by five. Wendy had just stepped out of the shower when I called out to her and barged into our bedroom. She smiled coquettishly and finished tucking the towel around her body. The fresh scent of soap lingered on her moist flesh as I bent to kiss the damp nape of her neck. My hand grazed her pert nipples through the towel, and I felt her shudder.

“I knew you’d be home early,” she gloated, giggling softly as her fingertips played over the hard bulge of my penis inside my pants.

“Now how’d you ever guess that?”

It was almost midnight before we got around to having a light dinner.

The next morning my proper, demure wife and I kissed politely as I dropped her off at her elementary school. I watched with pride as she strolled across the playground, cheerfully greeting the schoolchildren who swarmed around her. She stooped to tie a boy’s shoelace. Seconds later she tossed an errant ball to another cluster of kids, then straightened a girl’s pigtail ribbon. My wife, the consummate teacher and nurturer, reserved her wanton, fiery passion just for me. I drove toward the office, as I do every morning after dropping her off at school, enthralled and rejuvenated, fully enamored of her many facets.

It was two days later that we had our next erotic phone conversation, and the circumstances were totally unplanned. On Friday an unexpected snag disrupted operations in a branch office, and I was hastily booked on a flight out of state. Weekend plans were jettisoned, and I found myself spending Friday and Saturday in an impersonal hotel in a distant city. Wendy’s Friday evening call came around midnight, shortly after I’d returned to my room from a late dinner and a final round of meetings with branch managers.

“I miss you,” she purred, her whispered voice making me ache. “Will you be home tomorrow?”

“Looks like Sunday,” I sighed. “What are you doing?”

There was a slight pause. “You really want to know?”

“Tell me,” I said urgently, excitement flaring in me.

“I’m in our bedroom,” she said seductively. “I’m in bed wearing that naughty little lace nightie you brought me from your last business trip. You know the one?”

“Yes,” I panted, picturing the open front of the black lace and satin garment exposing her lush white breasts, the deep V stopping just below her navel, and the long folds of satin slit strategically to expose flashes of her creamy thighs and toasty pubic nest.

“Mmm, I love the sound of your deep voice, darling,” she cooed. “I can hear your breathing through the phone. It’s almost like you’re here next to me in bed.”

“What are you doing?” I asked, a desperate plea edging my tone.

“I’m touching my nipples,” she said softly. “They’re so hard and sensitive. It makes me shudder. Oooh, my breasts just tingle when I caress my nipples. I’m doing it just the way you do it, too. I love it so…”

I sank down on my hotel bed, clutching the receiver against my ear as if it were a lifeline. My erection throbbed inside my pants and I unzipped my fly with my free hand. With each of her sultry sighs and pants, my cock twitched.

“My pussy is so wet,” Wendy finally whispered. “Oh, darling, I’m pretending it’s your hand roaming between m legs right now. I can’t help it, Tony. I’m touching my pussy.”

“I’m…I’m touching myself, too,” I breathed.

“Good,” she purred. “I can see your hard cock and you rubbing it through my pussy hair. Oh, darling, I’m sliding my fingers along my slit, pretending my fingers are the head of your penis. Tell me, Tony! Tell me what you’d do next if you were here!”

I heard her moan, and the lusty sound came through the phone as a soft whimper. I freed my cock from my pants and began to stroke it while straining to hear her next words and sounds.

“You’d ease your dick into me,” she whispered. “Aaahhh, like that! And you’d fuck me harder and faster…and…ohh, I’m doing it to myself like you do it to me! My fingers are slamming in and out of my pussy like your cock does. Oh…ohh, Tony! Tony! I’m coming! I’m coming!”

The hot image of my wife flashed through my mind. I could see her big breasts bulging inside the wide V of black satin and lace, heaving while her fingers speared her spread pussy. I heard her breathless gasps and imagined her jerking contortions as she climaxed. And then my cock surged in my flying hands as thick wads of semen blasted out of me, a frothy fountain that puddle on the hotel room carpet. Several minutes later we whispered our goodnights.

The next day I somehow endured more endless rounds of business conferences with branch managers. Mercifully, by late afternoon, my business was finally finished, and I returned to my hotel for dinner. By eight o’clock I was in my room, return flight reservations confirmed for an early departure the next morning, eagerly awaiting another titillating call from Wendy. By nine o’clock I couldn’t wait another minute I initiated our phone in foreplay.

“I’ve been thinking all day about last night,” I said when she answered.

“Tony!” Her buoyant tone thrilled me. Then I heard a nervous giggle and her rather formal public tone and expression. “It went well? You’ll be home tomorrow?”

“Who’s there?” I asked, a sly notion to be playful needled my thoughts.

Wendy recited the names of three female teachers and told me they were playing bridge. I heard the quiver of nervous excitement in her voice when she mentioned being on the kitchen phone in full view of her three colleagues scant feet away at the game table in our den. The image of her seated at the built in kitchen desk, gazing into the den at her friends, crystallized in my mind.

“I’ll be home by noon tomorrow,” I rasped. “Want me to tell you what I’ve planned?”

“Yes. That’ll be nice, darling,” she replied, the telltale tremor lacing her voice.

“I want you naked,” I whispered. “When I come into our bedroom, I want you naked and on your knees. I want you to pull out my dick and kiss it. I want you to lick it nice and slow. All over, licking up and down my shaft like you love to do. Understand?”

“Of course,” she said clearing her throat. “That sounds wonderful.”

“It gets better,” I said. “I want you to masturbate while you suck and lick my cock.” Another of her nervous little giggles. “Oh, yes, Tony. I think I can do that.” I chuckled and began masturbating as I spoke.

I could hear the subtle change in her breathing, and I knew her arousal was soaring. I could picture her sitting in the kitchen, struggling to remain composed under the casual scrutiny of her teacher friends.

“Want to hear more?” I chided.

“Oh, please, dear,” she said. “That would be so nice.”

“Soon I’ll bend you over and make you grab the footboard of our bed. I’ll move behind you and fondle your pussy with the head of my dick until you beg me for it.”

I paused, letting that image sink in for both of us. “My cock will be aching for you, just like it is right now. You’ll be coming before I finally slide my cock into you. And as we make love, I’ll caress your breasts, tweak your nipples and massage your ass the way you love it. Can you see it?”

“Mmm…ah…I can just imagine,” she murmured.

“Me, too,” I gasped into the phone, stroking my cock as the juxtaposing images of Wendy gamely masking her feelings on the other end of our long distance call and her writhing back against my thrusting cock in our fantasized scene flashed through my mind. “I’m about to come just thinking about it.”

“You are?” she whispered. “Tell me about it. I want to hear everything.”

“I’m stroking my dick, pretending it’s ramming in and out of your cunt from behind. You’re wriggling your pretty butt, banging back on me, squealing the way you do when you love it so…oh, honey…I’m coming! It’s spewing out of me right now! It’s like your pussy is milking the semen out of my cock!”

The phone receiver almost slipped from my hand as my body went into spasms, and through my raspy moans I heard Wendy whispering, “Oh, Tony. That sounds so wonderful. I wish I could be there.”

I recuperated gradually and listened to her soft, faintly panting breaths coming through the phone. Reality slowly focused and I went limp on the hotel bed, my spent cock still in my fingers.

“I love you, Tony,” she breathed.

“See you tomorrow,” I said with a soft sigh.

“It can’t be too soon, darling,” she purred as we hung up.

I stretched on the bed, savoring the erotic phone conversation before showering and packing. I was barely asleep when the phone woke me. I glanced at my watch and saw it was just after midnight as I grabbed the receiver and mumbled, “Hello?”

“All right, buster,” Wendy’s sultry voice oozed through the phone, jolting me into instant alertness. “The girls are gone. The bridge game is over.” She snickered softly. “It’s time for you to soothe my tension and put me to sleep with a smile on my lips.”

I chuckled and my penis began to throb. I couldn’t imagine a more thrilling request as I clutched the phone receiver and began to whisper lewd questions and suggestions.

Satisfied, we said goodnight. It truly was the next best thing to being there.

Before you even read this letter, I think it is important to realize that every word is true. That’s what makes it so wild. I could probably make up a story like this, but that it actually happened is the biggest thrill of all. And next time you hear a very sexy voice on the radio, one that makes you very, very hot, perhaps you will think of me.

I am an overnight DJ, whose voice you probably recognize, for a very popular radio station. I have silver blonde hair and emerald eyes, stand five feet five inches and have what men describe as a voluptuous body. Nevertheless, my male listeners, who have never even seen me, find my deep radio voice exceedingly sexy I imagine even more so now, after the night I am about to describe to you, as bizarre as it may seem.

One night about a year ago, my then boyfriend and I were at a party with a bunch of his friends. Right before midnight, I had to leave to go to work (as an overnight DJ, I work midnight till 6 a.m.). Usually when I have to leave a good party, I am consoled by the fact that my friends will be listening and will call in and keep me company.

Well, this particular night I did not feel like leaving and being alone in the small DJ booth, so I talked Marty into going in with me. Although he had visited the station briefly, he’s never visited the booth when I was on the air.

Well, we were very buzzed and, because I knew all our friends were listening, I was quite nervous on the air. I tend at these times to put on very long songs, upwards of five minutes, so that I have plenty of time to compose myself before turning on the microphone to speak. Marty grabbed a chair and sat beside me at the control board. He was feeling very seductive. When I opened up the microphone to talk, he got up from his chair and started playing games behind me.

At first he tickled my neck with his tongue, drawing slow, quick circles working his way up to my ears, where he proceeded to blow and lick softly. I immediately pictured making love to him right then and there, while I spoke into the microphone, and my insides twitched. Then Marty got bolder. He reached around my back, found my nipples with his rough fingers and twisted them through m thin red wraparound silk dress.

I felt so erotic. I leaned back against him and could feel the tip of his hard cock against my back. His fiery breath and moist tongue on my ear and neck, combined with the electricity his fingers were sending through my distended nipples, had me panting over the air in no time. I finished my weather report in record time.

I’m not certain if the listeners could tell something was going on. I have a throaty voice as it is, and, in the heat of passion, I’m sure it is even more so. Embarrassed, I laughed, finished my patter and started another record.

I turned to Marty, who, in one quick move, untied my dress, exposing me completely. I felt the cool air hit my warm body. Marty responded by sucking and licking my sensitive breasts. I suddenly got turned on by the prospect of making love to him in such a risqu place. I turned to him, feeling his hardness with my hand, loving the way it threatened to burst his zipper. Slowly, so very slowly, I unzipped his pants until he sprang free. His cock is very big and perfectly shaped, and at this moment it was very, very hard. A tiny drop of excitement glistened at the tip.

Anyway, one thing led to another, and soon we were on the carpeted floor of the very small booth with him sprawled below me, his huge dick pointing straight up, and me about to lower myself on it. All I could think about was impaling myself, driving my boyfriend’s cock inside me until I could take no more. “Come on, Lisa,” he pleaded in his sexy, deep voice, “give it to me. God, I want your pussy.”

All of a sudden (well, it probably wasn’t really all that sudden, but I was in no condition to tell), the record ran out. Naked and frantic, I headed for the controls, set up another record on the turntable, and returned to Marty. He was stroking his shaft slowly, and his eyes were drilling holes into my body. Looking at him drove me wild. I pounced on him, licking his chest, drawing circles around his small nipples, biting and licking them and playing with his soft curly chest hair. I buried myself in his bosom, so strong, and felt the heat and excitement rising from his groin.

Soon my hand trailed downward, followed by my wet, warm mouth, and, slowly, slowly, I found his cock, large and full, waiting for me. I wrapped my warm, wet lips around him. Wetting my mouth more thoroughly, I proceeded to take long, slow licks up his shaft and then, very quickly, plunged his full length into my mouth.

Marty, obviously, was not prepared for my enthusiasm. He took me by the hips, both arms encircling them, and attempted to pull me closer, making me leave his tasty cock behind. He wanted to fuck me right then and there. His beautiful cock was pointed upward, only now it was shining at the tip with a mixture of his tasty droplets and my saliva. It looked so delicious, I was tempted to go down one more time and lick it until he exploded his hot, bubbling sperm. But I must admit I wanted to feel his huge, beautiful dick stretch my cunt to its limits as badly as he wanted to give it to me.

I pulled away slightly, and he, thinking I was running away again, pulled me down with force. I met his action head on, driving his long, thick cock to the hilt in my pussy. It slammed inside me, making me scream with pleasure. Then in one quick motion I jumped up, leaving him there. My record had again run out. I changed the record just in time and didn’t even attempt to talk over the air this time. I was too hot for Marty and his thick cock standing rigid and shiny in the air, exactly where I had left it.

When I returned, he pulled me down on top of him, thrust very solidly inside me, drew out, flipped me over so he would be on top and fucked with smooth, rhythmic strokes. I felt as if I would rip open. I knew I was about to lose control. He pummeled me as I arched up to drive him even deeper inside with each stroke. After a few minutes of this torture/pleasure, we reached our peak. Just as his cock exploded inside me, I came. The feeling of his hot, bubbling liquid filling me sent me over the edge. Though I’ve never been very verbal during lovemaking, I was so horny I was babbling away. I have no idea what I said, but I know I was urging him for more. I wanted to take every drop of him and have him collapse, fully spent, on top of me. I was on another planet, about to collide with a star.

Just as we were winding down, kissing and hugging and laughing, the phone rang, and, sated, I quickly pulled my dress together and answered it. It was one of his friends, laughing so hard he was difficult to understand. “You two are sure having fun,” he said. At first I was confused about his meaning. But he was persistent. “You two could have waited until you got home,” he choked out between bursts of laughter, “or at least turned off the microphone during your act.”

Oh my God, I thought. Slamming the phone down, I checked my mike switch. It was on! And the volume as potted up, all the way, to regular speaking volume. I nearly fainted on the spot.

I probably could have lost my job because of this incident. But I got no other phone calls that night, never heard a word about it from the station and don’t regret what happened that night. Except Marty’s friends ribbed us for ages.

But trust me, Marty, what happened that night was just between you and me you, me, maybe thirty thousand listeners, and half a million readers of Variations.

Ms. (Name and address withheld)

I work as a computer operator for a large company. The men in my office far outnumber the women and, as I’m young and pretty, I get a lot of looks and come ons. Until recently, my husband’s cock was the only one ever to penetrate my mouth, pussy and asshole, although from time to time I wondered what it would be like to be soundly screwed by a well hung, tireless stud.

Fueling these fantasies was the belief that my husband wouldn’t mind if I had an affair. He never actually came right out and suggested I fuck another guy, but reading between the lines, I came to the conclusion that he found the idea exciting.

Well, six weeks ago the one guy in the office who turned me on announced that he was leaving the company. Late in the afternoon, we stole away for a few minutes and shared a joint. Then, after work, we decided to go for a drink. I called Art, my husband, and told him I had to work late and to go ahead and eat without me.

After a few drinks and two slow dances with our bodies pressed close, Francis suggested we go to his apartment. Once there, we drank some Amaretto and shared a joint. By this time my inhibitions were all but gone and my pussy was getting warmer and wetter by the second. I went into the bathroom, stripped down to my panties and then returned to the living room. Francis had turned on his stereo and I started dancing to the music, my hips swaying and my tits jiggling all over the place.

With his eyes glued to me, Francis started removing his clothes, and soon I was staring at his beautiful big cock. “Like it?” he asked, grinning, as he stroked himself. He didn’t wait for my answer as he came over to me and kissed me hard. We danced real close for a few minutes, our hips grinding together and my tits mashed against his hard, hairy chest. When he snaked a hand between our bodies to stroke me through my panties, I almost fainted.

My legs turned to rubber and I had to hold onto his head for support when he dropped to his knees, pulled down my panties, and started tonguing my soaking pussy. When the pleasure became unbearable, I urged him onto his back on the carpeted floor and then swooped down on his cock. He tasted so good I could have sucked on him for hours, but I needed his love instrument in my pussy. So after a few minutes I straddled him and sank down onto that lovely stalk of flesh, both of us moaning as it slid all the way up inside me.

Well, that was the first of three great fucks with Francis. The second time I got it missionary style and then, to cap a delightful evening, I let Francis fuck me in the ass. I hadn’t been screwed anally in some time, and it was wonderful to feel a big cock stretching me back there again.

Returning home, I found my husband in bed, watching television. Turning off the set, he gave me a sly grin and then pulled me into bed. As soon as I was naked, his hand went right to my pussy. I had never seen him so excited, and I knew that he knew I had been with another man. He demanded that I tell him everything from beginning to end, and not leave out a single detail.

Well, it took me almost three hours to tell Art about my tryst with Francis, because he interrupted four times to fuck me dizzy. Four times he did me! He had never fucked me four times in succession, not even on our wedding night.

Now when I’m particularly horny and need more than one fuck, all I have to do to get my husband going again is start telling him about my time with Francis. Before you know it he’s on top of me and banging away at my pussy like a wild man.

Ms. V.H., South Dakota

For nearly ten years I’ve worked as a customer service representative for a clothing mail order house on the West Coast. People from all over the country call me every day to holler in my ear that the pair of pants they ordered arrived defective or the sweater they bough is too small. I spend my entire day speaking to people on the phone while sitting alone in a small office with no windows. It’s often a thankless job, but it’s my duty to satisfy every customer, so that’s what I do.

One evening, just as I was about to go home, my phone rang. Thinking it would be my wife, I answered. On the other end was a woman with a voice as smooth and sultry as silk. She said she had ordered some thermal underwear only to find that it didn’t have what she called a “booby hatch” in the rear. I looked through our catalogues but was unable to find anything with an opening in the seat.

“Well,” she said. “How am I supposed to take a cock from behind if there’s no trapdoor?”

I was shocked to hear such a candid question but quickly realized that any woman who’d so willingly reveal her sexual longing to a complete stranger had to have something on her mind. She piqued my interest.

“You know,” I suggested ironically, “you can always just take the underwear off and bend over.”

“Oh,” she purred playfully, “will you promise to do the honors?”

My mind was suddenly in the clutches of my vigorous libido.

“You sound delicious,” I commented.

“Oh, I am,” she promised. “And my pussy’s wet just thinking about your hot cock splitting me open.”

“Where do you live?” I asked, hoping it was nearby so I could call my wife and tell her I’d be late.

“Minnesota,” she said.

Damn, I thought, she’s 2,000 miles away. But that didn’t stop her.

“You don’t know how badly I need to be fucked,” she said wistfully. “I want to tongue your hairy balls and taste your musky sweat. I bet your cock’s big,” she said.

“Keep talking this way and it’ll be bigger than you ever dreamed,” I said as I locked my door before unzipping my fly, freeing my aching erection from the confines of my crotch.

“My mouth is so moist and warm,” she told me. “I’d love to wrap my lips around that throbbing cock and suck you till you squirt.”

I was mesmerized. As I sat back in my chair, listening attentively, wondering what she’d say next, I spat into my palm and began stroking my dick, imagining this succulent Northern tart ravaging my prick.

“Fuck my face,” she whispered urgently, almost pleading. “I want to take every inch of you.”

I was ecstatic, my body shaking deliriously with excitement. I was never so consumed by my fantasy, never a part of such anonymous sex. I envisioned a woman on the other end a lithe, mysterious brunette lying nude on her bed, her legs spread invitingly, the telephone receiver at her ear and her free hand playing skillfully with her sopping pink slot while she fantasized about my cock. Not just any cock. Mine.

I concocted a vivid picture of her face, her skin smooth and fair, her eyes sapphire, her lips two thick, soft pillows of fire that enveloped my organ and smothered it with the wet warmth of her saliva as her tongue circled my shaft and my cock tip brushed the back of her throat.

“I want so badly to fuck you,” I said.

“It’s what I want, too,” she whispered. “I’m sopping,” she added, and placed the telephone receiver between her thighs and, inserting several fingers inside herself, allowed me to hear the sloshing of her feminine juices. Her passion was so real to me.

Sex raged through my body like an electrical current. I was mad with lust. If my wife hadn’t expected me home to eat her meat loaf, I would have been on a flight to Minnesota.

On the other end of the line I could hear her quiet moans.

“Fuck me,” she murmured almost inaudibly. “Fuck me.”

Suddenly my sexual urges exploded. I wanted to take her, devour her flesh.

“Bend over,” I instructed, knowing full well that this was what she longed for all along.

“Yes,” she said, and I could hear her reposition her body.

“I’m going to plow my cock into your pussy. I’m gonna fuck you till you yelp,” I said as I frantically stroked my glistening shaft and watched my bulging cockhead turn purple. And I imagined the splendor of her tight pink orifice.

She, too, was wild with lust. “Yes,” she whimpered. “Harder, faster. Take me. Stick that giant cock way up my cunt. I want to feel it way up in me.”

I pictured her on all fours, the backs of her svelte thighs spread wide, her smooth, round ass in the air, her furry, glistening slot beckoning me. I envisioned myself hovering over her, ravaging her soul with hard, rhythmic thrusts.

“I’m coming,” I gasped as I wallowed in her paradise.

She moaned in anticipation, as if to tell me that she, too, was on the brink of orgasm.

“Come inside me,” she cried. “I want you inside me.”

At that, I was consumed by my erotic furor and, with images of my thick cock planted deep inside her seeping loins, I jetted into sexual oblivion, my seed bursting forth like scorching molten lava.

We basked briefly in a soothing afterglow, she on her end licking her fingertips and trying to catch her breath I on mine staring at my semen drenched fist still tightly clasped around my deflating organ and imagining that I was still inside her.

“Well,” she quipped, “this is one satisfied customer.”

“My pleasure to serve you,” I said. “Come again.”

After this, not a day went by that I didn’t think of my long distance lover. We hadn’t exchanged names or numbers, so there was no way for me to get in touch with her. I would have to wait for her to call me again at the office.

But this was not to happen. A few weeks passed and I received a package stamped “Personal and Confidential.” It was addressed simply to the Customer Service Department and it was postmarked Duluth, Minnesota.

Inside the box was a pair of ladies’ powder blue thermal underwear. Attached was a note that read: “Dear Love, I’ve worn these to bed every night since our phone affair. When you sniff the crotch, think of me. Love, A Satisfied Customer.”

Now when I jerk off using her thermal underwear to stimulate me, I often imagine I’m licking her pussy when I’ve just deposited a fresh load of my come. Of course, I still wish she would call back so we could explore the depths of our desires, but I’ve not heard since from my lovely lady from Minnesota. And although all I have left of her are the memories of her sultry voice and her soiled long johns, I’m sure it’ll always be enough to satiate my lustful urges.

Mr. J.L., California

I was home alone late one night, nothing decent was on the tube, and I was horny. I picked up a stack of pornographic magazines and began leafing through them, stroking my dick to hardness. Somehow this wasn’t satisfying to me. I needed something else, an extra kicker to get off properly.

It was then I noticed the phone sex ads. In the back of all the magazines were scads of ads promising a hot time over the wire. I decided to try it, thinking it would provide the extra dimension I was looking for. I picked an ad that featured my favorite porn actress, Stacey Donovan, as a model. The ad copy read, “I want to feel your hot cock in my hungry hole. Call me.” I dialed the number, my dick standing upright in anticipation. “Hello,” came a cheery voice on the other end. “My name is Tammy. How may I help you?”

“I’d like a hot fuck,” I said.

“Is there any particular type of girl you’d like?” she asked.

I thought for second and then asked for “a slut. I want a real cock crazy, whorish tramp.”

“Right away, sir,” the girl said, and after taking my credit card number and my home phone, she said that my girl would call right back. I hung up the phone and began stroking the rocket in my lap eagerly awaiting what I hoped would be a sexy, slutty voice to help me blast off.

About three minutes later my phone rang. I picked it up and said hello. A gravelly voice asked, “Is this Mike?” She sounded as if she gargled with razor blades, but it was a sexy voice nonetheless.

“Yeah, this is Mike,” I said. “Hi, Mike. I’m Traci. And I want to suck your cock.”

Ah, rapture! Traci told me what she looked like (she said she was a skinny redhead with a tight round ass, blue eyes, and a mouth big enough for the largest cock, just the way I like a girl to look) and asked me what I looked like. Then she asked me what I was wearing.

“Just a pair of boxer shorts that are now around my ankles,” I said.

“Mmm,” she moaned. “Yes, I can see that tremendous cock you’ve got. I love cock. I love to suck cock, I love to have it shoved up my cunt, I love it rammed up my ass. I want you to jam your fuckstick down my throat.” Then she made some sluttish slobbering noises and continued her monologue.

“God, my cunt is so wet. Can you smell it? I’ve got practically my whole hand stuck up my pussy and your huge dick in my mouth.” I was beating my cock faster and faster, as her words were music to my ears. “Can you fuck my cunt now? Will you lay that pipe in my juicy slit?”

I told her I was going to toss her on her back and fuck the living daylights out of her. She screamed, “Yes, yes. Fuck me hard. Fuck me dirty. I have to have your cock deep inside me. I want it now!”

The orgasm built inside me until I exploded, the semen flying so high that it hit me in the chin. She moaned like the most outrageous whore, telling me I was the best she ever had. I told her she was tops, and then she thanked me and told me to call back anytime and ask for her. I promised I would soon and hung up, falling asleep with a mile wide smile on my face.

Mr. M.D., Massachusetts

I met Catherine at a friend’s wedding she was the maid of honor and I was the best man. Since we were paired together for most of the affair, by the end of the day we were talking and laughing and enjoying one another’s company. It seemed so right to start seeing one another.

Cathy was twenty four, a blue eyed blonde with a voluptuous figure and a delightful personality. She was intelligent and clever and possessed all the charming qualities one looks for in a lifetime mate. She was sexy and exciting and had an innocence, a purity about her that drew me to her that much more. I was quickly falling for this beautiful young woman, and I wanted to be more intimate with her. But I knew I had to wait.

Nearly two weeks of dating passed before such an opportunity presented itself. After dinner and a play, Cathy and I headed back to her cozy little studio apartment. There we sat in a diminutive loveseat, chatting, sharing youthful memories and our feelings for one another. Gradually we fell into a tender embrace.

Our lips met and my tongue explored her mouth as my hands massaged her back before they found their way up her sweater and cupped the splendid sweet flesh of her breast. I could feel my cock thickening with passion as her hand reached down to my crotch and gently caressed my bulge. Our breathing grew heavy, and I soon became intoxicated by her elegant scent, the touch of her soft hair against my cheek. My hand lifted her skirt and causally made its way up her legs. Her flesh was smooth, so inviting, and I could feel the heat from her cunt enveloping my hand.

Closer I moved to her cherished vagina, my fingers grazing the damp crotch of her hot cotton panties. This was the moment I had waited for, I thought. Catherine and I would enjoy an evening of erotic bliss. But as I maneuvered to slide her panties over her gorgeous thighs, she stopped me.

“No,” she said, blushing.

What? What had I done? Had I unknowingly offended my little love doll? We took a breather and Catherine explained that she was a virgin and felt strongly about not sleeping with a man until she was married.

Granted, I was disappointed. But upon reflection, I knew that Catherine was the girl I would one day be spending my life with. And, with that in mind, I respected her wishes, and our intimate moments were kept to weekend bouts of deep soul kissing and heavy petting.

However, one night, just before I was about to turn in, I received a call from Cathy. She said she had been thinking about our relationship and felt terrible that she was unable to sexually satisfy me. I reassured her that there was no problem, but as we continued to talk, she revealed that she was just as hungry as I for a sexual relationship. If only we were married.

“Well,” I said, “assuming we were married, what do you picture us doing in our time together?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Well,” Cathy said, sighing. “I sometimes dream about the two of us lying naked in bed together. I’m running my fingers through your hairy chest and playing with your big brown nipples. It makes me wet just thinking about this.”

Admittedly, it sounded wonderful, and I could feel lust swelling up inside me and my cock beginning to stiffen. I told Cathy to go on.

“I often imagine what your cock looks like. I see myself resting my head on your thigh and just kind of studying your cock. I watch it and gently stroke the shaft. And then as it starts to get a little bit erect, I kiss the tip and squeeze out a dab of pre come. After a moment, I take your cock in my mouth and start sucking on it.”

I was shocked, to say the least, but I was also incredibly aroused. “Catherine,” I said. “All this talk is really turning me on. Would you mind if I got naked and jerked off while we talked?”

Again, Catherine paused a moment. “I’ll do the same,” she said.

Strangely, this was almost as good as being with her. It was as if the sexual energy we generated was some kind of hot force that hovered about us in the night, ignited by our erotic imaginations.

Lying on the bed naked, I imagined Catherine in her apartment, her legs spread apart, her gorgeous pussy hot and wet.

“Tell me more,” I said as I began to stroke my cock.

“I often dream about what it would be like to have you on top of me,” she said languorously, clearly enjoying the image. “I dream that your body is as light as a feather atop mine. Your cock slides inside my cunt and you fill me up and hold me in your arms and make my world secure.”

This was simply too much. I could feel an orgasm building up inside me. “I’m coming,” I whispered on the phone, “Catherine, I’m coming!”

I could hear the soft moans on her end as semen spewed from my erection and smeared my belly.

“Oh,” she sighed. “I wish I could be there. I want to bury my face in your thighs and feel your cock as it shoots in my mouth. I want to smear your cream on my face and taste it warm in my mouth.”

That night changed our life. We began to have a veritable erotic phone affair for the next few months. Often I would call Catherine in the middle of the night and wake her from a deep sleep to tell her what new variations I envisioned the two of us doing. She never complained about being wakened. I think she treated the calls as if they were part of a hot, erotic dream into which she could sink with sensuous delight. Often, we would masturbate ourselves to sleep and wake in the morning with the phones still off the hook and buzzing.

Inevitably, Catherine and I were married, and I must say the sex we now engage in is every bit as exciting and inventive as the sex we imagined in our younger days. In fact, we still enjoy sexy phone conversations. Every now and again during quiet moments at work, I shut my office door, pick up the phone, and call and entrance her with a sex fantasy. Sometimes, she’ll call and get me excited. We are still working at reliving those special nights when words alone could transport us to paradise.

Mr. D.W., Ohio

My husband of one year, Andy, hosts a local radio talk show five nights a week. He and an invited guest will chat for a while and then he’ll open up the phone lines so people can air their opinions, ask questions of the guest, state opposing viewpoints, and so on. Unless you live in the area, you’re not apt to find the program interesting, geared as it is toward county politics, community affairs and regional sports. But Andy, with his sense of humor and sometimes combative tone with guests, manages to make the program entertaining.

Andy got into the business because he loves to talk. His outgoing personality and beautiful speaking voice are contributing to his growing popularity, and we both think it’s just a matter of time before he gets a call from one of the big city stations. Meanwhile, he’s happy being a big fish in a small pond.

I don’t always listen to my husband’s show, preferring instead to listen to him talk when he gets home. I love his masculine voice, strong and soothing at the same time, and when I think back, it was the sound of his voice, and the mesmerizing words of love he spoke, that rendered me powerless to resist his amorous advances. What I remember most about the night he took my virginity was the way his loving voice wafted over me, caressing my very soul.

Nowadays Andy’s approach is different, and even more effective. He still talks to me in bed, but now, instead of the language of love, it’s the language of lust that turns me inside out. It was soon after we were married that my husband started talking dirty to me in bed. I remember how startled I was, shocked really, to hear him voicing his passion in such a primitive fashion. And how incredibly aroused I got listening to him talk this way.

Raised to believe that only the truly wicked ever cursed or used sexual slang words, and prohibited from associating with those who did, it wasn’t until I went away to college that I realized just how limited my sexual vocabulary was. How easily my fellow students, women as well as men, spewed out the “forbidden” words. A couple didn’t have sexual intercourse, they “fucked.” To say the words “penis” and “vagina” instead of “cock” and “cunt” was to risk being though of as odd, even stupid. Soon enough I came to think of my rear hole as my asshole and not my anus, and in time, once I clearly understood what the act entailed, I realized that “cocksucking” was far more descriptive than “fellatio.”

In truth, I found all naughty words attractive. Every one of them made me tingle. A nervous energy would envelop me every time one of my girlfriends related an evening’s adventure, describing how she had sucked a guy raw before he rammed his fat, juicy cock in her pussy or how she had been eaten alive by a well hung stud before getting her asshole reamed by his thick prick. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to actually say those exciting words, tempted though I was. It was as if an invisible lock had been placed on my tongue, preventing it from forming any “dirty” word.

It was my husband who finally liberated me, freeing me from the constraints of my sheltered youth. Urging me to follow his lead, he has broadened my vocabulary so that today the so called dirty words come easy to me, especially in bed. But what I truly enjoy is simply listening to Andy talk dirty. He is a wonderful storyteller, and what he’ll do every once in a while to really get my juices flowing is tell me a story he’s made up. A deliciously dirty story.

Last night, as we lay in bed fondling each other, my husband let me know I was in for a treat by saying, “Did I ever tell you about the time…” I smiled, closed my eyes, and settled back to enjoy what I knew would be another torrid tale.

“Remember last Wednesday,” my husband began, “when I had that high school coach on the show?”

“Agnes Something or other, right?” I said. “She coaches girls’ soccer and softball.”

“Yep, that’s the one,” Andy said, rolling over onto his back and clasping his hands behind his head. “Well, believe it or not, she looks a lot like you. Same long blonde hair, same blue eyes, same slim figure. A real sexy piece of ass.”

“Am I a sexy piece of ass?” I asked, idly stroking my pussy.

“Are you ever, baby. And her resemblance to you is the reason I got so turned on. There I was, trying to hold a serious conversation with her about state funding for community sports programs, and I had a giant bulge in my pants. Well, she noticed my condition and her eyes lit up. The next thing you know, her hand is in my lap and she’s squeezing me, I mean hard. Then, during a commercial break, she whispers in my ear that she’s really horny and wants to get in my pants and blow me.

“We were alone in the studio at the time, so I figured, why not? I slid my hand up along her leg, under her short skirt, and when I got to her underpants, I found them soaking wet. She was hot, all right. I rubbed her pussy through her panties while she rubbed my bulge. Then we were back on the air and I had to open up the phone lines. I took four calls and right after the last one, as soon as we went to a commercial, Agnes got down on her knees, unzipped my pants and pulled out my cock. The next thing I knew, it was in her mouth and she was sucking on it like crazy.”

As I fondled my pussy with one hand and fingered my nipples with the other, I visualized the sexy soccer coach, who looked like me, sucking hungrily on my husband’s cock. It was a deliciously lewd image. Opening my eyes, I looked down to see that my husband’s cock was erect, and my desire to have it in my mouth became even greater.

Andy continued with his story, telling me how as soon as he went off the air, he went down on Agnes, eating her first through her soaked underpants and then, after removing them at her urging, licking lustily as she whimpered with approval. I “saw” Agnes on the table in Andy’s studio. She was on her back with her skirt up over her waist, her legs dangling over the end of the table as my husband’s mouth played between them. He described her taste and scent, her response to the tonguing of her clit and then, finally, the way she had clamped her thighs around his head at the moment of climax, squeezing him hard as she came.

I wasn’t that far from orgasm myself as my husband, still on his back, with his hands clasped behind his head and taking almost perverse pleasure in arousing me with words alone, launched into an account of his and Agnes’ coupling. Both of them were too excited to get fully naked, he said, so he had simply told her to bend over the table.

“…there I was, babe, with my hard cock sticking out of my pants as I tried to decide which of her two holes I wanted. I put two fingers inside her pussy and she clamped down on them immediately, which made me think how nice it would be to slip my aching cock into such a tight, butter soft place. But then I had her reach back and spread her asscheeks for me. One look at that pretty pink asshole of hers it reminded me of yours, in fact one look and I was sorely tempted to bury my boner in her succulent behind.”

“Fuck her ass,” I blurted out, my voice a tremulous whine. I was totally caught up in my husband’s story and the lust it was building inside me. “That’s what she wants, her ass fucked.”

Andy turned his head and smiled at me. “Oh yeah. Well, as it happens I did fuck her ass but not before sampling her sweet pussy.”

Andy turned over on his side and propped his head on his hand. I wanted him to touch me, but I knew he wouldn’t until he finished his story and I was crazy with the need for him. He even made sure his erect cock didn’t come in contact with my leg as he told me about moving behind Agnes and pushing his cock inside her grateful pussy.

“She was moaning and groaning something fierce. She kept telling me to do it harder and faster. You know, just the way you do sometimes. Well, I gave it to her the way she wanted, but only for a few moments. Then, to tease her, I stopped moving altogether but stayed hard and deep in her. Agnes darn near went berserk. She was wiggling her ass and pushing it back against me, doing all she could to get me moving again. Finally I pulled my cock out of her sweet puss and took dead aim at her asshole.”

“Yes, do it to her,” I said breathlessly, cupping my pussy and squeezing it hard. I didn’t dare touch my clit now, because I knew if I did, I’d come immediately. And I wanted my husband’s beautiful cock inside me when I went over the edge. Just another moment or two, I told myself.

“…until finally I had every last inch buried inside her hot ass,” Andy was saying. “Tight? You better believe she was tight. Reminded me of your asshole, honey, how it wraps around my cock like it never wants to let go.” I let out a moan and looked at my husband pleadingly.

“Anyway, hon, I started moving in Agnes’ hot ass, and she started grunting and groaning and trying to get me to go even deeper. When I looked down, I could see my hard cock going in and out of her asshole, which now was stretched so wide around my hot cock. Finally, when I couldn’t hold off any longer, I let out a groan and blasted my load deep inside Agnes’ rectum. That’s when she came, letting out a scream I thought would have everyone rushing into the studio.”

With the image of my husband’s cock spewing semen into Agnes’ rear passage searing my mind, I shouted, “Enough!” Andy’s story had inflamed me to the point where I couldn’t see straight. I ordered him to get inside me immediately, which he did, and seconds after he’d mounted me, jamming his cock into my soaking pussy in a single bold thrust, I started coming right away, the orgasm I had been holding back washing over me in one giant, sweet wave of pleasure.

Less than a minute later, with my husband still pounding my hot pussy, I came a second time, and then again, and then for the last time when I felt his creamy semen spilling into my pussy. We stayed like that, Andy resting atop me, until our breathing had returned to normal. Then Andy rolled off me onto his back with a sigh of contentment.

“I’d have to say that was one of my best, don’t you think?” my husband said, turning his head on the pillow and smiling at me.

“Definitely,” I said, smiling back. “But maybe next time you can work a little spanking into the story. You know, you could put her over your lap, pull up her skirt, take down her panties and then spank her “

“All right, all right,” Andy interrupted. “Next time the woman will be spanked. Anything else you’d like to hear me tell you?”

I thought for a moment. “Well, you could do one about tying a girl up before fucking her.”

My husband grinned. “I’ll start working on it right away, hon.”

Ms. S.O., Michigan

It is early in the morning and I am in bed naked with a raging hard on. A long distance call from my wife caused it. We live in Alabama and my wife, Helene, had to go to Florida for the weekend to take a computer class. Before she left I jokingly told her to call me Saturday night and we could talk sexy to each other over the phone. When she called I got more than I bargained for. Much more.

At about ten she phoned and told me to take off all my clothes and go to the bedroom phone. When I picked up the bedroom phone, she asked me if I was naked. Then she informed me that she too was naked and lying on the hotel bed playing with her pussy. She said her pussy was all hot and gooey.

There was a pause then she said, “Honey, I just got fucked by my instructor and my pussy is full of his gooey come.”

There was silence again on both ends of the phone. Suddenly I had a tremendous hard on. Then my wife said, “Honey, I’m not kidding. I’m not making this up. It really happened.”

Thinking she was putting me on, I started playing along by asking her questions. “How big was his dick?” I asked. “Did you give him a blowjob?”

Helene told me she had indeed sucked off her instructor and that the reason she went to bed with him was because he had bragged to her about how big he was. “He was big, about nine and a half inches of beautiful cock,” she said. “I’m not kidding. This one was really enormous.”

My wife said she called me because she loves me and she knows that I love her. She then reminded me of my favorite fantasy of watching her with another man. “Well, hon,” she said, “you can’t see me now, but you can hear me screw not one but two men.”

Helene then told me that Bert, her computer instructor, had gone back to the bar to get a buddy of his and that the two of them should be returning any minute. She told me she was going to leave the phone off the hook so I could hear what was going on in her room. Then she said, “Okay, here they come. Just listen and enjoy!”

As I lay naked in bed, I still thought my clever little wife was playing a game. Then I heard her put down the phone and call to someone to come in. I heard a door open and then a male voice. My heart skipped a beat. Then it hit me this was really happening! The voice said, “Okay, sweetheart, is that hot pussy of yours ready for round two?” There was some laughter and then I heard my wife say, “I thought you were going to bring just one friend. I don’t know if I can handle all three of you guys.”

I was going crazy! I was shaking all over. I couldn’t believe my wife was naked in a hotel room with three guys. They could do anything they wanted to her, and all I could do was listen on the room telephone.

I heard my wife tell one of the men not to hang up the phone. She explained that she was leaving it off the hook because she didn’t want her husband to call and interrupt her party. Somebody said, “Hey, let’s call him and let him listen while we fuck this hot pussy of yours. Let him listen to his wife getting a proper fucking from real men.”

Helene said, “Why don’t you guys stop talking and get your clothes off. My pussy is still hot and wet from the fuck Bert gave me and I need some more hard dick.”

For the next three hours, I listened to what was happening to my wife. I could hear her slurping on their dicks and her words of encouragement as they fucked her. For my benefit, I’m sure, she described each position they put her in as hey fucked her one at a time or two at a time throughout the night. I also could hear the guys making lewd comments about her come filled pussy dripping on the hotel bed.

At one point, as she was sitting on one of the guys, another told her to fall forward. When she did he told the guy she was sitting on to hold her and not let her up. He then told my wife it was time for a sandwich. He kept talking to her, telling her he wanted her tight asshole. Then he told the other guy to spread her ass open for him.

For the next two or three minutes, all I could hear was Helene whimpering and saying, “Yeah, do it to me. Do it to me.”

When the guy doing her anally finished, the guy who had been looking on must have taken his place, because my wife started grunting and whimpering all over again. I’m just guessing, but it did sound like they changed places.

All of a sudden it got quiet and then I heard the three men talking, one of them describing my wife as “a real fine piece of ass.” I figured they were getting dressed now and I was proven right a minute or so later when I heard them say goodbye. “Next time you’re in town, give me a ring,” Helene’s instructor said. “I’ll be sure to do that, Bert,” my wife responded.

I heard the bedroom door shut, and then Helene came on the phone. “Well, hon, did you hear everything? Exciting, wasn’t it? I’ll bet your cock is as big and as hard as it’s ever been. But don’t come, honey. I want you to save that juicy hard on for me. See you tomorrow. I love you. Bye.” And then she hung up.

It is now four in the morning. I’ve come three times and my dick is still hard. My head is spinning and I still can’t believe the wild, incredible scene I heard over the phone.

My wife is due home this afternoon. I don’t know what to say to her, but I do know I can’t wait to get her in bed for more wild lovemaking.

Mr. E.T., Alabama

Plug in gadgetry has never done much for me. I’ve never been overly fond of modern devices like electric can openers, pencil sharpeners and answering machines. I realize that makes me something of a dinosaur in the modern age, but I’ve always felt awkward and uncomfortable delivering a message onto a tape at the other end of a phone line. Canned messages, ear splitting beeps, the silliness of muttering your name and number into someone’s machine no wonder I resisted buying one for so long.

I finally cracked and bought an answering machine only after I missed several important business connections simply because I wasn’t home to receive the calls. Within two weeks, however, a message popped up on the tape that made me realize that maybe answering machines weren’t quite as bad, and as impersonal, as I had initially thought.

I was listening to the usual succession of “hang ups” when I was startled by a voice that absolutely dripped with sensuality. From the moment the husky female voice breathed out a sultry “Hi, sexy,” I wouldn’t have turned it off if someone had offered me the price of the machine.

It was, I’m delighted to say, an obscene phone call. Actually “obscene” isn’t anywhere near the right word, because the voice was sexy as hell and the message was tantalizingly personal, the very opposite of offensive. Since I have it on tape, I can render it with exactitude:

“I’m making this call from the office,” said the voice, “and I’m looking at and lusting after your body as I talk. Do you know I watch you every day, and that when you walk by my desk it makes my panties moist? I’m wet right now. Want to know why? Because I’ve been fantasizing all morning about taking you into my mouth and sucking you until you come in my throat.”

I was positively stunned. I’d never particularly thought a telephone conversation could be a sexual turn on, but this purring voice had me vibrating with sex, and I was all ears.

“Have I got your attention? Good, because I can’t seem to get much of a rise out of you around here. Are you really as serious as you seem here at the office? I hope not, because I’d like to find out what you look like naked. From where I’m sitting you look very yummy in your clothes, but every day I take them off in my mind and eat every inch of you with my eyes. I’ll tell you what if this phone call sounds like something you’d like to pursue, bring something to work tomorrow a new coffee cup, say and leave it sitting on your desk. I’ll see it and leave another message. In the meantime, I’ve got to get back to work. But if the thought of my nipples getting hard every time I think of you, or if my sinking down on your cock turns you on, bring that cup tomorrow. Bye now.”

I was flabbergasted, to say the least. Quickly I reversed the tape and listened again to that wonderfully sexy voice and felt its titillating affect on me.

Was it a prank, or for real? And who could it be? I work in a large office with some thirty people, about half of them female, so it could have been any one of more than a dozen women.

Half of them leaped to mind instantly: Cathy? Suzanne? That new girl what was her name Elizabeth? Or maybe it was Cheryl, one luscious piece of work. In fact, nearly every girl in the office was worth a tumble. Several of them were absolute knockouts.

I spent the whole evening playing back the tape, letting it work its magic on me, feeling my cock swell as the sultry voice talked about it. I stroked my shaft to its full thickness while walking back and forth in front of the machine. I kept finding the part where she talked about the panties and her throat. Of course I was trying to recognize the voice, but I also realized that the caller had a point. I was cool at the office.

Although I’d worked there for six months, I never really got to know any of the girls beyond the daily exchange of pleasantries. I had some notion that business and pleasure should be filed in separate pigeonholes. But this caller was intriguing at the very least I wanted to know more, and before going to sleep with cock in hand, I had decided to take a new coffee cup to work with me in the morning. If it was just an office prank, so be it. If not, well, a good deal more than my curiosity had been aroused.

I’m afraid I didn’t get a lot of work done the next day. I was too busy trying to guess which of the women in the office had called or if, in fact, any of them had. Aside from drinking too much coffee from my new cup, I looked for the eye contact that would tell me something, for some sign or another that might reveal my caller, but there was nothing beyond the ordinary all day not unless you count the fantasies that went through my head as one by one I imagined each of the girls kneeling in front of me, sucking me to a withering orgasm or sinking down on my rampant cock with the smooth grace of ocelots.

It turned out to be a frustrating day, as I was unable to guess her identity. As quitting time approached I became anxious for it to be over so that I could hurry home and turn on the answering machine. That sensual female voice, her sultry allure, her mystery were like a drug. And I was completely addicted to her skillful poetry, intoxicated by her insinuating sexual remarks. I needed a fix, and that’s just what I got.

“Hi, Stan. You brought the cup. Do you know how absolutely horny that makes me? I may have to make this a short call so I can sneak into the washroom, slip off my sticky panties and use my fingers to do what I wish your tongue were doing right now.

“Think about it. Think about crawling under my desk, reaching up my skirt, licking me, teasing me with your tongue, while I try to pretend nothing at all is happening. I can practically feel your mustache tickling my clitoris. If you were doing that right now, I’d melt all over your face.”

Her words, her imagery captivated my senses. With the turn of a phrase, a pause, a mournful sigh, she made my nipples hard, my cock erect, my heart shudder. She massaged my ego and took me on a fantastic voyage into the realm of the sexual intellect.

“Do you mind my calling? Don’t you like the mystery of it? Which one is it, Stan? I’ll bet you undressed us all today. I promise you, if you figure out who I am, I’ll undress for you slowly. Then I’ll take your clothes off and lay you down. I’ll lick your balls and then slide my lips over your cock and suck you until you come in my mouth. Mmm, delicious. Gotta go. Sweet dreams, sexy. Until tomorrow when I see you at work again. Can’t wait.”

Needless to say, this second message fueled my curiosity and arousal. But for all the titillation, there was also a tremendous amount of frustration. She never called while I was at home. I couldn’t talk to her, couldn’t ask anything. Here I was, walking around my apartment with an enormous erection, listening to a mysterious voice making love to me over the phone, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

The next day I resumed my search, watching whenever any of the women used the phones, but since that included practically everyone at least a dozen times a day, it was a futile stratagem. I smiled a lot, too, offering an opening my mysterious caller might be looking for. Bu nobody responded. Nothing happened.

That evening in fact, every evening for a week there was a new message, each one sexier and sultrier than the last. She told me how she went home at night and masturbated in front of the mirror, how her nipples ached at work as she watched me. Each call became a little longer as she described in greater detail what we would do when I figured out who she was.

Then she began to give me hints. Her desk faced mine, she said, a fact that eliminated nearly half the girls in the office. She also told me she was a brunette, which eliminated three more. Gradually, from the clues she gave me, I was able to narrow it down to two women, Cheryl and Connie, both of whom were saucy and gorgeous and inspired thoughts so sexual, so thrilling, I had to remove myself to the men’s room and relieve myself.

In the back of my mind was this nagging thought of how silly I’d look if I chose wrong or if this was simply a prolonged prank. Yet there was a quality in that voice that made it genuine, a sincerity, even an urgency, that grew almost daily. She wanted me to guess. I knew it was up to me, that she wasn’t going to come forward until I made the first move. In the meantime, her calls were keeping my lust at a fever pitch. True, it was maddening, but the titillation, the rush, became my raison d’etre. I loved it.

After much consideration, I was convinced that my gal was Cheryl. The voice on the phone was husky and deep, and that fit Cheryl better than Connie. I also began to sense a certain electricity coming from Cheryl a shy smile, eye contact that set off sparks, a kind of special attention she seemed to pay when we had to discuss some office matter. I decided to go for it.

The two of us had been working together on an account for several weeks and I used that as a pretext for asking her if she could stick around for an hour or two so that we could clean up the file. It was a thin excuse, I knew, but when she agreed I exulted. It had to be Cheryl.

It was then that I had my inspiration. As people began leaving for the day, I dialed her extension. Her desk was halfway across the room from mine, but since we faced each other I could see her pick up the phone and when I heard her voice, I was certain. Though properly businesslike, it had that same breathless quality, that warm sultry allure that had become so familiar. I took the plunge. “It’s you, isn’t it?” I asked.

Her quick look I swear I could see her blush, even from five desks away was all the confirmation I needed.

“Still want to slide those luscious lips over my prick? Or would you rather just tease me over the telephone? Pretty soon everybody is going to be gone and we can see if you meant all those things you said. Did you?”

Silence. Yet from across the room, as she looked at me, I saw her nod.

“Okay. Now it’s my turn. I’m getting hard, Cheryl. All this time I’ve been thinking about how much I wanted to get into your pants. I’m glad it’s you. Are you wet?”

“Yes.”

“How wet?”

“I’ve been wet all day. I don’t know why, but I sensed you knew. I was hoping you’d find me out.”

“Good. Now listen, as soon as the last person leaves, I want you to come over here, hike up your skirt, put your sweet derriere on my desk and let me find out for myself how wet your little pussy really is. Okay?”

“But, say, what if somebody comes back?”

“Nobody will come back. And now that we both know, I don’t want to wait. Do you?”

“No.”

“Take off your panties.”

“What, now? With people still around?”

“Do it under your desk and no one will see what you are doing, I’m sure.”

“Just a minute.”

From halfway across the room I watched her put down the phone and squirm around in her chair. Aside from me, no one was paying the least bit of attention to her they were too busy cleaning up their desks and heading for the door.

“Okay, they’re off. I’ve put them in my desk drawer.”

“Great. Now tell me how wet you are. Use your fingers and describe to me what you’re doing.”

“Somebody will see,” she protested.

“Not a chance. There’s only a few left and they’ve all got their minds on the weekend. Come on, sexy lady, tell me what you feel.”

For a moment there was silence, but when she spoke again her voice was trembling and breathless. “I’m doing it. Feels so good, but I wish it were your fingers instead of mine.”

“Later. How wet are you?”

“Extremely. Oh, that feels so good. If I do this, will you let me suck you?”

“With pleasure. As a matter of fact, I’ve got my cock in my hand right now. It’s hard, Cheryl. Very hard.”

“I want it. I want to look at it. I want it in my mouth and my pussy. Oh! I’m going to make myself come just thinking about sucking you.”

“Do it. Everyone’s gone now.”

I listened to her breathe and murmur into the phone, and watched as she leaned back into her chair. I was close to exploding myself as she masturbated there at her desk across the room, telling me, between breathless gasps, how her fingers were penetrating her pussy and stroking her hard little clit.

“Oh! I’m there, Stan. I want you in my mouth. I want to swallow you…I’m going…I’m coming.”

“My prick is in my hand right now, Cheryl. I’m going to fuck your mouth, baby, I’m going to shoot my load way down your throat. Do you want that?”

Mystery Caller

Yes.” Her voice came in little staccato explosions in time with her orgasmic spasms. She was panting little squeaks of urgency and excitement into the phone and I had to stop stroking myself or else I would have come with her. Besides having neatly turned the tables on my mysterious caller, it was incredibly sexy to listen to her whimpers and to watch her wriggling in her chair as her orgasm shook her. Then, after a moment of silence, she found her voice again.

“All right, Stan. As you said, it’s your turn. I’m coming over there.”

She went over to the front door, locked it, then she turned toward me. I stood up and began stripping, but had barely gotten my pants off before she had crossed the twenty yards that separated our desks. Without a pause, she pushed me back against the desk, knelt in front of me and, with one hand around my cock, looked up into my eyes.

“Are you ready for this, Stan? I’ve been thinking about it almost from the day you came to work here.”

“Ready? I’ve been waiting ever since I started getting your sexy messages.”

“Here’s my best one.” In a single plunge she engulfed half my cock in her mouth, pulled her face away briefly and plunged again. I could feel my swollen cockhead push into her throat as with each bob of her head she took more and more of me into her mouth. My legs seemed to fail me and I had to reach back to grab the desk to keep from collapsing.

The view of her wet lips sliding up and down the length of my cock was too much. All the anticipation, our phone sex only moments before, the sight of hits scrumptious lady kneeling in front of me, burying her nose in my pubic hair, being blown here in the office which just a few moments before had been full of people it all came together in a searing instant of orgasmic pleasure. My whole body shook with sexual energy and I blasted Cheryl’s mouth with gush after gush of hot semen. As I started coming she backed away slightly so that only the tip of my prick brushed her open lips. She pumped me with both hands now, and I watched my semen shoot into her mouth, watched her tongue stab out to catch the spurts. And then she plunged again, driving me deep into her mouth to suck the last drops of my healthy ejaculation into her throat.

As I descended from the heights of passion, she gently soothed my cock with her tongue, much like a tiny animal reluctant to quit nibbling before going to nest. I eventually pulled her up and tasted the traces of my semen on her lips. After several minutes of touches and kisses only a little less torrid but no less sexy than what had started with my calling her on the office phone, we finally got ourselves together enough to talk.

Cheryl told me that she had gotten tired of waiting for me to be a human being around the office and decided to try calling my home number on the off chance that I might have an answering machine. The rest, she said, had been impromptu. She added that she hoped the calls had excited me as much as they had her when she made them. I assured her they had.

We spent the rest of the evening together, first having dinner, then making languid love at my apartment while we listened to Cheryl’s messages I had saved them all and now she tried to fulfill as many of her promises as we had the stamina for. When we finally fell asleep at four in the morning, we hadn’t even made it through the third message.

In fact, I doubt if we’ll ever catch up, for every day now when I come home, usually with Cheryl right behind me, there’s a new message on my machine. Cheryl has an adventurous mind and manages to keep our schedule of enticing coming attractions.

The only solution, as I’ve suggested to her, is to turn the tape recorder off or move in together. But I’ve since overcome my dislike for answering machines, and I think the latter solution is the only one either of us truly wants.