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Late one cold, wet November night a couple of years ago, maybe 3 a. Who could possibly be calling? Nobody knew I was there; I'd arrived only an hour earlier. It had to be the old Pakistani guy down in the motel office, I figured, or else my little brother, Peter, whom I was traveling with; he'd gone out walking down the service road, looking for better reception on his cellie so he could call his girlfriend.

After the third ring, I picked up. I think it might go into overtime. Who is this, by the way? I went to the window, peered through the curtains—the parking lot was dark and still.

Was this someone's idea of a joke? Maybe so, but I was just that bored and lonely stories to play along. I used to deliver for Bell's Pizza. We made these shirts for our rec-league basketball team.

Hey, I've got a question for you. Can I ask you a question? What are you wearing? Sex was a stirring in my gray mesh basketball shorts with the three thin white stripes down each side. Nicole explained that she'd hit the bars all night with stories friends, and that now they were drunk and passed out and she was bored.

I'd never had mobile sex before. Not that I was opposed to it—it was just one of those things that never came up. I guess it had always seemed sort of strange and mobile to me. Real sex was so much more appealing. I'd lick you everywhere. Tell me what you're doing. Oh yeah, I'm sucking you good. I want you to fuck my mouth like you're fucking my pussy.

Nicole's dirty talk was both ridiculous and oddly arousing. But I couldn't shake the thought that this was all being recorded, that in the parking lot, staked out in the back of an ice cream truck that had been pimped into a mobile surveillance unit, friends of mine were listening in, wide-eyed and gleeful, headphones clamped to their ears.

It was hard to be serious. I'm kissing you with reckless abandon! I'm pumping mobile and out of you, like, well…well, like an oil derrick! Or a piston?

I'm the sword, baby, and you're the scabbard! Finally, I grew less bashful and got into it for real, and in a few minutes there was a happy ending. We said good night. The basketball game on the TV had ended long before, and I had sex idea who'd won.

At seven thirty the next morning, the phone rang again, jarring me awake; my brother, too. He lifted his head from the pillow. It was Nicole. Don't you know what time it is? Call me later, okay? A few months earlier, in MayI'd published a book called Found and hit the road with Peter for an eight-month, city tour. At each event, I read from my mobile and Peter sex guitar and sang.

We burned from mobile city to the next in a Dodge van we'd bought on eBay. Mostly, we crashed on sofas and floors at friends' houses or stayed with folks we'd met that night at our show, though sometimes we'd take turns driving through stories dawn while the other slept in the backseat, which folded down into a bed. It was actually so comfortable, a lot of nights I chose to sleep out in the van rather than on a stranger's sagging couch.

Once a month or so, dusted from the road, we'd splurge on some sad-sack hotel, like that Motel 6 on the outskirts of Austin. That night Nicole found me, Peter and I had been on the road for six months; we were about a hundred cities into the tour. Stories nights later, in Oklahoma City, I was getting ready for bed out in the van when my cell phone rang.

She was still whispering. She said her roommates were sleeping in the next room. We chatted for a few minutes, then got into the phone sex stories. She told me she was tonguing my balls. This time I went Shakespeare: "Oh baby, wherefore art thy labia? If the fantasy is that we're having sex, I don't mobile to just zip up my pants the second we're done and leave.

Can't we just talk for a bit? You know, cuddle? I was curious about Nicole. Now that we'd had sex a couple of times, I wanted to know what she was all about—I wanted to know where she worked; I wanted to know what she was into besides having phone sex sex strangers ; I wanted to know what kind of person calls hotel rooms to have phone sex with strangers. She told me she'd studied psychology at the University of North Texas and that now she worked as a nurse at an old-age home in Waco; she'd just been down in Austin visiting friends.

She also told me that her mother had stories away recently and that she'd been having a tough time with it—they'd been especially close.

The next few times we talked, she was still whispering, which was starting to seem a little suspicious. She said sex boyfriend was studying just outside her bedroom door. I got a little freaked out—was this a guy I'd been talking to? I said. Still, she seemed like a girl—there'd been a few times when I mobile I'd heard her real voice, times when she laughed, times sex she moaned.

So I went ahead and had phone sex with her anyway. Every few nights, I'd be out in the van after a show, making my bed in the backseat, when Nicole would call, and we'd get hot and heavy. I was stories wary that this was all some crazy prank by my friends and that our calls were being recorded, so during phone sex I kept things tongue-in-check, as though hamming it up for an audience.

Nicole would be talking dirty, telling me how she wanted to squeeze my dick with her pussy, and I'd just start riffing on some goofy shit: There was NASCAR-themed pillow talk "Straddle my throttle, Nicole. Take me to the checkered flag! I'm coming, I'm coming, tea and crumpets for all! Only irony could distance me mobile the sad truth of what I stories really doing: jacking off in the back of my van in a Taco Bell parking lot in Jefferson City, Missouri, while talking on my headset to someone who was possibly a man.

My brother gave me shit for it. Over the phone, Nicole definitely had the resigned sex of a woman who'd had a lot of attention from guys in sex school but then, knocked around by life, had slid hopelessly overweight.

It was weird that she was always whispering, though. A couple of times, I told Nicole it was over unless she talked out loud so I could be sure she was a girl. She refused, and for the next week I wouldn't answer her calls. Then I'd relent. One time I even asked a girl I met at one of the Found readings for details of what happens on the visit to the gynecologist, then asked Nicole the same thing. Ten out of ten male friends I polled had no idea what that was. Surely she was a she. But why disguise her voice?

It was maddening. Ultimately, this is what I told stories Phone sex was really about the power of the imagination, and in that case I could imagine her to be whomever I wanted.

It wasn't hard to imagine her as Fiona Apple's stories. Our relationship deepened. My phone had a special ring for Private Caller, and since Nicole was the only one who rang like that, I could tell when she was calling. I started looking forward to her calls. I dropped the funny guises and just talked to her genuinely. Sometimes we'd talk for half an hour before phone sex.

Out sex my van after a long night in Phoenix or Des Moines, I'd be lonely, mobile, and depressed, and tell her about my problems. Nicole sex a great listener, willing to indulge each tangent of every story she was told. She was as curious about my life as I was about hers. In a fucked-up way, this was mobile closest I'd had to a real girlfriend in years.

And the more we got to know each other, the more the sex improved. Nicole was insatiable. She started calling me every day, a half hour before my reading, when she knew I'd stories out in the van getting sex notes ready. In December the book tour ended, and I resumed a more regular kind of life—staying put in Michigan, playing mobile twice a week at the rec center, sleeping in my own bed.

For the most part, I stopped answering Nicole's calls.

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Who would have thought that something as simple as a phone call, could turn into a moment of pleasure to be remembered for the rest of your. A phone sex fantasy. A man tells his lover about his date without another woman. A paranormal investigator encounters a mysterious woman. and other exciting. Free incest and taboo sex stories from Literotica. Includes short fiction as well as novels.