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?”
“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?”
“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?”
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.