The telephone was ringing somewhere in the back of my mind, and I could feel myself groping towards consciousness. My eyes opened and I looked about my room still slightly confused. I remembered last night with Yvonne Hill and her husband. Then I remembered that I had left there and returned to my own apartment.
I sat up, sleep half-blinding my eyes and numbing my awareness. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, stretched and walked over to the telephone. Naturally, by the time I got there, the ringing stopped.
"Hello!" I said into the receiver.
Nothing.
I cursed quietly and turned back towards the bed.
I lay back in the warmth of the sheets and the softness of the pillow, but I knew sleep would not come again. I was like that. No matter what time I went to sleep, I could never get back to sleep after I had been awakened.
I stared up at the ceiling, feeling sleep receding from my brain. I thought again of Yvonne Hill and her obsequious husband Kenneth Hill. Imagine pimping for your wife. Procuring men for her to fuck. Hill must be a sick man.
She was good, though, I told myself. After the first fuck there were three others. In the last, we were all naked, and Hill had his camera and lights out for more home movies. He's quite creative, that man. He got some very good closeups of her sucking my cock and me fucking her.
That part was strange, I thought. Fucking her and having Hill in the background, directing us: "Open your legs a little more. That's it, play with his balls. Push it all the way into her pussy, Allen."
It even felt odd; having someone in between your legs, pressing up against you, lifting your balls so that the camera would have a nice tight shot of his wife's cunt. Or feeling the added heat of the lights on your ass or stomach, and listening to the rattle of the film run through the camera. It was an unusual, novel experience.
He never touched me once, though, I remembered. If he was a queer, he never made any overt attempts to join in with us. It was as though he were content just to watch me making it with his wife. As though watching another man giving her his cock was exciting in itself.
We parted friends, with an open invitation to come and visit again. "Bring your wife the next time!" Yvonne had added. When she said it I assumed it was for Hill, but the more I think about it, I'm sure she wanted Patti for herself. I wonder how that would have turned on Hill? I know the idea turned me on, and I pushed the sight of Patti eating out of Yvonne's cunt from my mind.
The telephone rang again.
I was to the receiver before the first ring had stopped.
"Hello!" I fairly yelled into the receiver.
"Uh… hello," someone said on the other side. It was a man's voice.
"Who is this?" I asked.
"I'm calling about your ad… in Stud…"
"Yes…"
"Are you… Al?"
"Yes."
"And the ad is real!"
"Yes," I said. "It's real. But I specifically said in the ad that it was for women only. Men aren't my thing. Nothing personal, you understand."
"Oh, no!" he said. "I think you're misunderstanding me. I'm not answering the ad for myself… I'm calling for my wife… Michelle."
"Your wife?" I asked. I thought of Kenneth Hill and his wife Yvonne. I remembered how I had answered his ad. Apparently, Hill's perversion wasn't as unique as I had imagined.
"Yes," he confessed. He seemed to be breathing heavily. "I was just checking out the ad for her… to make sure that it was a good ad, you know."
I became suspicious. "Is your wife there now?"
"Uh. No. She's out just now… shopping."
"I see." I did, really. "Why don't you have your wife give me a call when she returns? Okay?"
"Sure, sure," he said. His voice altered. "But before you hang up, just let me ask you a few questions?"
"Go ahead."
"Let me tell you something about Michelle. She's twenty-six, and has short black hair. She weighs about one-twenty, and she's five-five…"
His voice trailed off, and he sounded as though he were spitting his words through half-clenched teeth. I had a feeling I knew what he was doing while we were talking.
"Continue," I told him.
"She has nice tits… and a nice big ass… really big. Good to hold onto when you're fucking her…" My cock began to twitch.
"And her cunt… oh God… she has a wonderful cunt! Black hair… a lot of it… heavy hair. But none between her legs… near her cunt hole. It's bare there… when she opens the large lips you can see right up her cunt…"
His voice trailed off again. He was breathing hard. I knew he was masturbating, because I was beginning to feel like doing it myself. His talk was strangely erotic.
"Michelle loves to fuck… to feel a dick slide up into her… to feel you cum inside of her… cum inside of Michelle!"
I touched my own cock and began to manipulate it, slowly.
"Do you like to eat? Eat pussy?"
"Yes," I said. I sounded distant from my own voice.
"Well… Michelle loves to be eaten… loves for men to suck her cunt and stick a tongue up her twat… And she loves to blow too! Suck cocks… big cocks that cum in her mouth… I'M CUM-INGGG!"
I heard him make a shuddering noise with his voice, and the telephone went dead. I said hello twice more and then hung up the receiver.
Son-of-a-bitch! I thought to myself. I walked back to the bed, fondling my erection. I sat down and half-contemplated jerking off. I was that aroused. Again the telephone rang.
I thought it was him again. "Hello!"
"Is this Allen?" another voice asked. It was a man's voice, a different man's voice.
"Yes, it is."
"Allen of the Stud ad?"
"Yes," I said again.
"Good. My name is Brian. Brian Bennett and I'm a homosexual…"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Bennett," I cut in. The ad was beginning to be more annoying that promising. I seemed to be getting all the wrong responses. "But in the ad I clearly indicated that I wasn't interested in men. Women only. Girls. Housewives. Pussies, you know!"
"No," he said, continuing, not the least bit disconcerted. "I understood that part."
"Then why are you calling? You're wasting your time and mine!"
"Maybe not," Brian insisted. "I know you're not interested in gays, but I could be interested in you. I could be very helpful to you."
"How?" I asked.
"Did you ever get yourself rimmed when you were fucking a woman?" he asked. "Did you?"
"No…"
"Have you ever had your balls sucked while you were fucking? Or the shaft of your cock licked while you're pushing it in and out of someone's cunt?"
"No." Again.
"I thought not. How do you think you'd feel about those things?"
"You mean would I enjoy them?"
"Yes."
"Of course I would."
"Then I'm the man for you."
"Are you proposing that you do these things?"
"Sure," he said. "Why not? I've done it before. To many men. They have enjoyed it, and I've enjoyed doing it."
"But why?" I asked.
"It's exciting. It's stimulating for the man to be worked on while he's working on some woman. He cums better. Heavier. Hotter. I work on his balls, his prick and his ass. And he works on her pussy. It's great!"
"How do you cum?"
"Any number of ways. Sometimes I just spontaneously cum while I'm doing my thing. Mostly I have to jerk myself off. Once or twice I've tried fucking the woman; it's not bad, but it's certainly not as good as a nice tight ass."
"Why don't you try just sticking to men?" I asked.
"Whenever you get three or more people together sexually, its always better. More intense. Besides," he confessed, "there's nothing sweeter than taking the cum from a dick that has just been buried in some woman's pussy. That cream really shoots out of that cock, like hot milk from a cow. It's like I'm stealing it from the pussy."
"What if I object?" I asked. "I've never been sucked off by a man."
"Never?" he was incredulous. "You don't know what you're missing. There's no cocksucker like a gay cocksucker. Women are cunt-oriented. Gays are oral. Believe me, once you have had your prick sucked by a gay, women will seem vapid by comparison."
I doubted that. But the idea didn't sound too bad. I had no hang-ups about homosexuals. If that was his thing, it was all right with me. Who knows, it might be exciting?
I took his telephone number and told him that I would be in touch with him should the situation ever arise where I could require his peculiar services.
"Nice talking to you, Allen," Brian said.
"I'll be in touch," I told him.
"Just one more thing…"
"Yes?"
"You have no hang-ups about organ size, do you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well… I'm what you might call well hung."
"How well hung?"
"Nine inches."
That made my seven inches feel small.
"No hang-ups, right? I know some guys are very sensitive about things like that."
"No. No problem."
"Good."
"Good-bye."
"Ciao." He hungup.
My hand was still on the receiver, when the phone rang a third time.
"Hello!" I said.
Nothing.
"Hello! Who's there?"
Still nothing.
"Bull shit!" I cursed softly under my breath.
I was just about to hang the telephone up when I heard a noise. Giggling.
"Who is this?" Tasked again.
"Someone who wants to get fucked," was the reply I received. It was a woman's voice.
"Who?"
"This is the man who put the ad in the magazine, isn't it? The man who's going to fuck all those lonely women?"
"That's my ad," I said. The voice sounded younger than a woman. I guessed it was a girl.
"Well," she said. "I want you to fuck me."
"How old are you?"
"Old enough to get fucked… Old enough to have already been fucked… plenty of times."
"I see." I answered. I was sure now she could be no older than fifteen or sixteen. Judging from her frequent use of the word fuck, and her boasting, she might even be younger.
"When can I meet you?" she asked.
"Whoa! Just a second. I didn't say I wanted to meet you yet."
"Why not? I got a good cunt. As good as anybody's. I know how to use it, too. I ain't been a virgin since I was thirteen!"
"Well," I said, humoring her, "That is commendable."
"So when are you going to meet me?"
"I don't know yet. I have been kind of busy…"
"Busy at what? Fucking all those ladies?"
"Partially."
"So why don't you want to fuck me?"
"Well, you do sound a little young."
"So what! When I sit my cunt on your face and you stick your tongue up my hole, I don't think you're going to ask me for my birth certificate."
I didn't answer. The crudeness of her language was shocking, and oddly sexual. I knew the girl could not have been more than sixteen, but here she was talking to me about intimate sexual matters, and using language that a hardhat might blush at. I found it exciting me regardless of what I personally thought of the girl.
"Did you ever eat pussy?" the girl asked.
"Yes. I have."
"How about a young pussy? A fifteen-year-old pussy?"
"No."
"Well, my cunt is different. It's smaller… and it has smaller labes… less hair. My cunt is almost naked. Would you like to lick a hairless pussy? And inside, my hole… it's tight… tighter than any hole you've ever jabbed your cock into."
She was giving me an erection. I touched myself, and squeezed my cock until it was rigid. I began to stroke myself.
"How about you?" she asked. "How big are you? Your cock?"
"Large enough."
"I bet you are… hairy balls, too… Have you got a hard-on now?… what are you doing… jerking off?"
"No," I lied, and increased my tempo.
"Why not… that's what I'm doing… sticking my finger up into my pussy… my wet pussy…"
Involuntarily, my mouth made a noise. A moan.
"I'm getting to you, ain't I?" she sounded proud. "Tell me when you're going to cum. Make believe you're fucking… or better… that I'm sucking you off… you're going to cum in my mouth…!"
I squeezed my balls. My erection was trembling.
"Tell me when you're going to cum… I want to know. Put the telephone receiver down against your cock… let me hear you cum into the receiver…"
"Jesus…"
"You're all shook up now… ain't you… Sure, I know you are… playing with yourself… jerking off… big man… going to fuck all those ladies… And here he is… talking to a young girl and jerking off…"
I heard a laugh in the background. An adolescent titter.
"Well," she said. "Take your hard-on and shove it up your own ass…"
The telephone exploded in a torrent of laughter, and I realized for the first time that there was more than one person on the line with her. I heard several voices, some of them boys. Taunting, laughing voices.
My hand trembled as I slammed the receiver down. But I still had my hard-on.
I stalked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, staring at the telephone. I cursed to myself and rubbed my erection up and down between my legs. The ad wasn't turning out the way I had planned, I could see. I knew I would receive my share of crank calls, but this was beginning to look like more than I bargained for.
I reached for a package of cigarettes from my night-stand top. I lit the cigarette, inhaling the smoke deeply into my lungs, and continued to stroke my hard-on. It was standing out rigidly between my legs. The circumcised head was swollen fully, and it rested against the curve of my thigh. I reached down and squeezed it and cursed again. I imagined the girl in my mind – how she must look naked. I saw her with her thin, not quite developed thighs parted, and her sparsely haired cunt between. She was touching herself… her cunt… putting her finger into…
The telephone rang.
I stared at it and let it ring. Twice, three, four times. I was determined not to answer it. Let it ring all morning for all I care.
It rang twice more and then it stopped. I stared at it, feeling an emptiness growing in my stomach. I tried to drag on the cigarette, but the smoke was harsh and I coughed. I crushed the cigarette out in an ashtray.
The phone rang again and I leaped for it. I held it to my ear and listened.
A woman said hello. This time I was sure it was a woman.
"Yes," I answered.
"Are you… Allen?" she asked. Her voice was thin, perhaps uncertain.
"Yes."
"My name is Gail… Gail Bowman. I'm calling about… for your ad."
That was different. I thought. She gave me a name.
"You're interested in my ad?"
"Yes… I am." She still sounded uncertain.
"Interested in what respect?" I asked cautiously.
"What do you mean?" she asked back. A heaviness of sudden anger laced through her response.
"Why are you interested?" I asked her.
"Because I want a lover!" She sounded angry that I had forced her into saying the words. Perhaps it was the first time she had admitted it to herself or anyone else.
"Why do you want a lover?" I asked.
"That's none of your fucking business!" Her voice was trembling with anger.
I began to say something but she stopped me.
"Look, maybe I've made a mistake. I'm sorry I bothered you…"
"Hey! Hey!" I said, "Don't hang up!"
"Look… I… just…" her voice worked its way down to nothing. The anger was gone, and her voice sounded empty and hollow.
"I'm sorry," I found myself saying to her. "I was just asking because I was curious. I get so many crazy, crank callers…"
"Okay. I'm sorry that I yelled. I'm just nervous, I guess. I've never done this before. Never done anything like this."
For some reason, I thought of Patti. "I understand," I told her. "I won't ask any questions." She didn't say anything. "Are you still interested?" She didn't answer right away.
"Yes," she finally said. Her voice was small and quiet.
"All right," I agreed. "But before we can get together, I'm going to have to ask you some questions. I have to know something about you."
"You're right. Go ahead."
"First, let me tell you something about myself. Maybe that will make it easier."
I told her my name and address. Then I began to describe myself: "I'm five-ten, have black hair and brown eyes. I weigh about one-sixty-five. I'm a college grad, and I'm married."
"So am I," she confessed.
"Are you still living with your husband?" I asked. "Yes… yes." I was quiet for a moment.
"Tell me something about yourself?" I suggested. "I'm twenty-six years old. I've been married almost five years; I have a little girl…"
"Tell me what you look like," I suggested. I wanted to keep her from any personal detail. She seemed to be teetering, and I didn't want her to fall the wrong way.
"I have brown hair and hazel eyes. I'm almost five-six. I guess sort of thin: I weigh one-fifteen."
"Are you pretty?" I asked.
"I don't know…" she confessed. "I used to think I was. I don't know anymore…"
"You sound attractive," I helped.
"Thank you."
"What about me rest of you? Your shape? Your dimensions?"
"Well… I have a small waist, I guess… twenty-four. My hips are sort of slim… thirty-four…" She trailed off again.
"Your breasts?" I asked. "What about your breasts?"
"They're on the small size. Thirty-four."
"You said that as though you're ashamed of them."
"They are sort of small."
"Size has nothing to do with pleasure. I've found in women with small breasts that they usually are exquisitely sensitive. Are yours like that?"
I could almost hear her blush. "Yes."
"You like them played with. Sucked. Fondled."
"Yes, I do."
"I bet it drives you right out of your mind, doesn't it."
"How did you know?"
I smiled. "Experience."
She seemed to be relaxing; less tense and high strung. She was opening up more to me.
"What about the rest of sex?" I asked. "Do you enjoy it?"
"I used to. Before. When we were first married. Even before we were married…"
She halted, as though she had revealed some dark secret to me. She never picked the thread up again, so I asked her: "How do you feel about oral sex?"
"You mean sixty-nine? Going down on each other?"
"Yes."
"We tried it once or twice… but…"
"Wait and try it with me. Then decide."
I heard her breath suck in, and I knew my words were stimulating her. It was forbidden and sinful, but at the same time, exciting and fascinating.
"When can I meet you?" I asked.
She thought for a moment. "It will have to be a week-day. Bob – my husband works during the day."
"Fine with me. How about Monday morning about nine o'clock?"
She hesitated again. "All right."
She gave me her address and telephone number. I was just about to hang up, when she asked me one more question: "Are you… ah… big? Your organ… thing?"
"You mean my cock?" I was purposefully crude.
"Yes. Your…"
"Say it. Say the word."
"Your cock. Is your cock big?"
"Yes it is. Seven inches."
She was silent for another moment.
"Good," she finally said.
The word made my cock twitch. She had revealed a hell of a lot with that simple "good". A hell of a lot. I was looking forward to Monday. I said good-bye and hung up the telephone. I decided to take a shower. I really needed it. A cold shower.
I had the shower turned up to full force, when the telephone rang again. I was going to ignore it this time. It had made me horny enough for one morning, and even though it had only been the last call that had shown any promise, the cumulative effects of talking about sexual matters to total strangers was getting to me. I still had my hard-on, and I was contemplating whether to jerk off before or after my shower.
The telephone continued to ring, and the lure of the unknown, the attraction of what might be, was too strong for me to ignore. I picked up the receiver, held my cock in my hand and said hello.
"Hello," said a woman's voice. Her tone sounded deep; husky. She seemed to be panting or short of breath.
"What can I do for you?" I asked innocently.
"You could fuck me, for openers," the woman said.
I immediately thought of the young girl from before. "Is this some sort of joke?" I asked.
"Only if I have the wrong number. Are you Al? With the ad in Stud?"
"You have the right number."
"Good. Then you're the man I want to talk to."
"To get together?" I asked.
"Not on your ass, brother!" she said. "I do all my fucking over the telephone. It's safer and cleaner."
"I don't under…"
"I want you to talk to me, baby. Talk dirty to me."
"Just talk?"
"Sure, and while you talk, I'm doing it to myself."
"You mean you're masturbating?"
"You bet your ass, I am. Right now I'm shoving a seven-inch rubber cock in and out of my pussy."
"Is this some sort of joke?" I asked again. I couldn't believe my ears. I was receiving an obscene telephone call from a woman! "I told you no already. Now let's get down to business. I'm hot and my cunt is flowing."
"Look, lady. I don't service women over the telephone!"
"Why not. Isn't it better than jerking off by yourself? Look. This way we both cum, nobody gets pregnant, I'm not really cheating on my old man, and you never have to leave your house."
"But that's crazy…"
"Why?" she asked.
I couldn't think of a why. But I knew it must be crazy. It was too crazy to be anything else.
"Look," she said. "All you have to do is take your meat in your hand and start pulling it. Say whatever you like. How it feels, tell me about the last time you got laid, anything."
My cock was as hard as a rock. Her words, combined with this morning's telephone calls had left me almost panting for release. I followed her instructions and touched myself. After all, why not! I was going to masturbate; this certainly was better than imagining sex.
"Let me get you started," she said.
I began to pump my hand up and down my organ.
"Imagine me nude," she began. "Because I am. I'm laid out on my bed, absolutely naked. I've got my legs open and up, and I'm pushing a dildo in and out of my upturned pussy… Right now I'm sliding it in… Jesus!… that feels good."
I saw her in my mind and I increased my stroking movement. Each time my fist banged against my stomach, I felt my balls smack into my parted thighs.
"What color hair do you have on your cunt?" I asked.
"That's it! That's it!… Black… heavy… black… pussy… hair… and a fat cunt with a rubber cock in it!"
I could feel my stomach tightening. My balls seemed to rise up against my legs with the building pressure. My hand was moving rapidly now.
"And my tits… I've got big, sloppy tits. They nearly hang to my stomach… hear! Listen to this… I'm picking up one and I'm putting the nipple in my mouth… I'm sucking on it… on my own tit!"
I heard a slurping noise.
"Jesus, I'm going to cum…" she said.
"Me, too," I confessed. I could feel my orgasm building steadily, with an ever increasing tempo.
"Tell me about it… about your cock…"
"I'm jerking off," I said, surprised at the excited quality of my own voice. "My hand's running up and down my cock… the head is swelling… getting red and big…"
"More! More you motherfucker…"
"Seven inches of cock that's going to cum… shoot out its hot cum…"
"How big is it?"
"Big… big! Very big… Seven inches…"
"Oh, shit! Shove it in me!"
"I am… it's in you now… do you feel it?"
"Yes… it's going in and out… like a piston… push it in hard… let me feel you in my cunt… to the hilt!"
"CHRIST!" I screamed. "I'm cuming…"
I began to spew my hot, white cum out all over the bed. I must have looked strange standing there naked, jerking off with one hand, and cradling the telephone under my ear with the other. I pumped my fist, and began to shake my cock as though it were alive. Cum splashed against my hand and my leg. It was burning hot against my flesh. I watched it sail across the room, through the air, plopping silently against my pillow and spilling like a river onto the rug. I couldn't stop cuming.
"Meee tooooo!" she screamed into the receiver. I heard a moan and then a wet, moving sound and I realized what it was. She had moved the receiver from her mouth and had placed it down near her cunt. The sound I was hearing was the noise of the dildo as it pushed in and out of her cunt!
I was listening to her fuck herself!
I began to cum again. My balls ached but I kept emptying them in dribbling puddles across my bedroom rug. Finally my hand fell away from the organ, and my knees went weak. I stumbled over to the bed with the telephone still in my hand. I fell back on the bed, exhausted.
After a moment, the wet sound stopped, and I heard her breathing heavily. Then I heard a loud, sucking noise, like water going down a drain. It was the dildo, being pulled from her wet cunt.
"That was all right!" she said. Her voice cracked and was dry. "You're a good fuck."
"Thanks," I said.
"I'll call again," she promised. "Then I'll really have something in store for you." I couldn't imagine what.
I heard her chuckle obscenely and then hang up the phone. My end went dead.
I tried to get up to hang up the receiver, but I was too exhausted. I lay back on the bed, in the puddle of my own sperm, and listened to the running water of my shower.
About three minutes later, I was sound asleep.