"The Sound of Her Voice"
Someone, I’m not sure who, said that love makes people do strange things. Fuck that. It’s complete bullshit. It certainly wasn’t love that caused me to sit in the bathroom stall at work with my cock in one hand and my cell phone in the other. If anything, blind, uncontrollable lust makes people do strange, if not completely stupid, things.
“I want to fuck you so hard right now…brace you against the door and fuck you from behind.” I grunted, convinced that any minute now, my boss would kick the door down and fire me on the spot.
It all started with a phone call, from some girl I only vaguely knew from college. In all truth, I wouldn’t have remembered her if not for the sound of her voice. It was low, throaty and mature, as if someone transplanted the voice of an old-movie starlet into the body of a voluptuous 21-year-old. By all rights it was a one-night-stand, and should have stayed that way, but in my drunken stupor, I somehow gave her my phone number. A couple of years later, that would come back and bite me in the ass.
“Hello? Who is this?”
“Sorry, I just found this number in my phone and wanted to see who it was before I deleted it.” Bitch probably had it planned all along.
I don’t recall anything about that first conversation other than how hard I had gotten, remembering her as the girl who could get her legs over her head while I plowed her into the bed. For all I knew, she was not only unable to do that anymore, but fat and unattractive. That thought should have stopped me dead in my tracks. Yet for some reason, the conversation had steered in the direction of sex, resulting in the beginnings of our current “arrangement.”
“Where are you right now?” Her words always came out so slow and deliberate.
“My bedroom.”
“Take your pants off. I want you to make yourself cum.” Hearing her say that nearly made me cum before I could even touch my pants.
This continued until our “conversations” became almost nightly. It always seemed like I was doing most of the talking, or at least making most of the noise. She never told me she was fingering herself, but I always got off on the idea that we were engaging in mutual gratification. It started in my bedroom when she would call late at night. Then she called me in random places, like when I’d be out eating. I actually dropped my fork and ran to the bathroom to take her orders, which varied between touching myself or telling her the filthy things I wanted to do to her. When it followed me to my workplace, I wasn’t sure whether or not I should try to draw the line and end it there, but all 7 and ¾ inches of me told me to push that boundary. After all, how could I refuse someone who wanted my cock so badly that she’d call me at any time to get it?
“How hard is your cock right now?” She had a thing for interrogation and detail.
“It’s…so…hard.” At a time like this, one can hardly be expected to be eloquent.
“I want you to run your fingertip along the head of your cock and taste your precum.” The colder and more distant her voice sounded, the more I thought I was going to lose it.
It tasted a salty and bitter. Apparently the vegetables she had told me to start eating weren’t working. I imagined her tongue running along the head of my cock and told her that.
“When I want to know what you’re thinking, I’ll ask.”
As usual, I wasn’t sure what to say, but kept stroking myself.
Some may wonder why I would subject myself to this, or if I was so desperate for sex I’d take anything I could get. I’m no Brad Pitt, but I’m not repulsive either. I’m about 6’2,” a bit on the lanky side. If I wanted to, I could chat up someone at the bar and take her home, but the last time I did it, I couldn’t get it up. The girl tried stroking me, sucking me off, but it was only when I heard her voice in my head that my cock shot up like the Fourth of July. I fucked the girl I was with until she got off a couple of times, but I couldn’t cum. All I could hear in my head was her voice telling me “not yet,” which is what she usually said to me when I said I needed to cum. Even back when she and I had actually had sex, her moans and sighs were low and soft. As for my present partner, she started spewing ridiculous talk about how she wanted me to cum in her cunt and how good my cock felt in her. It was the sort of dirty talk that got me off before, but all it did was nearly make me go limp.
Fortunately, my cell phone rang. The girl I was with told me to turn the phone off with her slightly grating, whiny voice, but like hell I’d miss this chance to finally get off. She stormed out of my apartment calling me a freak, but damned if I needed her anyway. I passed out that night on my bed with cum and lotion all over me.
“I’m so close…” Any minute now, somebody would walk into the men’s room and hear me.
“Not yet.”
“Please.” My cock was starting to turn pink and raw. I spat on my hand for more lube.
“Not yet.”
“Unnghh…” I was beyond words at this point. The bones in my wrist may as well have ground into powder.
“Not yet.”
“Aaagh…” It felt like the muscles in my arms were about to snap like rubber bands from cramping so hard.
“Not yet.”
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