A Gentleman Caller (part 1)
I had my first phone sex call last night.
Well… okay, it wasn’t my first phone sex call. I’ve had boyfriends. Technically it wasn’t even my first professional phone sex call, but it felt like it was, because that was the first time I’d ever been on the phone with a complete stranger who’d been looking at my pictures right before he picked up the phone.
…It’s a really fuckin’ weird feeling. I guess I’ll get used to it – I got used to the “OMG, my face is on the internet. With my word-porn. With my boob!” thing enough to go topless post a mini-video clip last week. Two months went by and nobody laughed at me more than usual so I went for it… and of course all the sexy, flattering comments coaxed me into showing more.
Even writing text to go along with my pictures was bizarre. I had to rewrite a good five times before I reached a decent level of explicitness. Funny, I’m not a shy, naive gal, but typing in the caption, “I crave to be used as a painslut and a whore” underneath a picture of myself (even if it’s true) that’ll show up on the most trafficked phone sex site is… uh… nervewracking. I would chicken out and not even log in.
So, this guy, last night… He saw that little caption. (Shit!) He sent me a Niteflirt mail and asked me what my favorite roleplays were. Turns out we’re both really into blackmail scenes. He has this thing for prostitution fantasies, which sounded fun (yeah, now you all know why I do what I do. It makes my panties wet and my wallet happy. Any questions?) so we worked out a scenario that would get us both off…
He’s been watching me for two months now, but I have no idea. When the call comes I don’t question it; he doesn’t set off any red flags in the background check. His name isn’t familiar. We set up an appointment for Tuesday night, a week later. I’m meeting him at his motel room. It’s a joint I’ve been to before.
He watches me in my driveway, getting into my car. His eye follows the line of my body up, over my black patent high heels, up the seams of my black stockings, over the curve of my ass in my knee-high slit black skirt… The bulge in his pants is pronounced, now, but I don’t see it. He leaves after I do, knowing he’ll have time to beat me there. He knows I take a long route. I drive conservatively to make sure I’m not being tailed by cops or creeps
He takes the shortcuts. He doesn’t need to follow me.
He counts his cash to make sure he has enough – he doesn’t want his plans getting cut short and with the kinda sleazy joint we’re going to, he knows I’ll count it first. The walls are peeling; maybe he peels a strip of paint off the walls while he waits, maybe he just counts and recounts his cash and thinks about how this setup’s going to unfold.
The call starts when he answers the door, and it’s me…
(part 2 tomorrow, along with Sugasm #25 – get your links in now!)
