Phone Sex Operations

His Voice- the man on the phone. Kate immediately recognizes that she has known him for years. She knows his real name. She knows his credentials. Quickly, as they venture into the well-known/now dull to her territory of sexual banter, it is with a striking fear of his Voice which befalls upon her consciousness. Kate is an operator. She has entertained men on the phone many times before; sometimes even managing to please herself as well, but this time is different.

Is it her paranoia? Is it real fear? This territory of previously not shared between them base flirtation causes unparalleled hearing in her ears. His Voice reminds her so much of another man they both know who has been very abusive, so Kate attempts to revert to the sanctity of the ‘ole familiar content. She begins by welcoming him and describing how much she needs a man tonight.

“Express your desires,” he interupts, “feel free, we will always go at your pace. Tell me how much you want ME.”

Her thought: “Oh that nice guy method. The excusatory method of barely hiding his reproaching. He can make this all my fault.” She is sure this rationale hopes he sleeps right next to his wife at night, but really she is not interested in his rationale. Instead, her own arousal and wetness lessens at this; his familiar tenor.

Kate knows this one “in real life” to be a harmless-seeming, intellectual type. She had previously even conversed with him, but now as they enter into the same banal expressions, she realizes with distinct disappointment that he too has just called to grunt and groan with her on the phone like any other. He does not seem to recognize her.

She herself now feels a growing repugnance. Trite and somwhow less male-sexy than she ever wanted him to be, she proceeds in an “eh why not- I am getting paid” sort of way. He wants her to be the bad one. She will be the one more harshly morally judged anyway. Kate knows just how to edit for him, even as she grows more personally listless.

Quickly, Kate knows to revise her “do me up the ass pretty, pretty, please” routine into a softer version of describing him as merely “behind” her, taking his lead. Etc, etc, etc. Thinking how that in “real life” Kate has discussed with this man’s best friend how rarely she cums vaginally, she laughs as he begins to go on and on about just how he will do her like she has never had before, with his cock throbbing up inside of her.

Half-heartedly, Kate starts to stroke herself. Although this is never going to work for her, doing it herself will inevitably help her convincingly pant in and out- the only part of her he wants to hear. It’s so easy to fake it on the phone, thankfully.

“I am a real pleaser in bed, I am all about pleasing you. I almost never let a woman go down.” he states as if in an avowal. He talks on and on about how great he is making her feel, so she does too.

It takes him forever.

He, of course, finishes first and she does not at all. His Voice says how much he appreciates her. He tells her how beautiful she sounds and how big he is sure her breasts are. He loves that tight pussy. And, so it goes...

Next time he calls: he begins with her true name, “Kate!” and a moan. His tone in naming her, calling out her anonymity, now is different. He says, “Sometimes in life, it’s better the spell is broken, dear,” as if it’s a threat.

What was deafening was the deep, meanness of his Voice. He had the pseudo-intellectual quality that spoke down to her intrinsically. His sarcasm disguised as wit completely creeped her out. It reminded Kate of the interactions in “real life” with his best friend, the one who had eaten up her desires and handed them back to her, revised for his pleasure alone. Tonight his Voice was completely sexist and stereotypical, the crap of ideals where he was dead set on pleasing her, pleasing her in his ways only.

His Voice on the phone decides to woo Kate with talk of his wife stating, “We are liberal in our expressions and attractions to others, she more than I, and it is really the level of emotional cheating that would never be touched anyway, between us.” He spoke as if this revelation was supposed to turn her on even further as if these calls are “ok.” But, Kate hears the underlying put down that she is nothing to him and knows she would do best to incorporate that angle into her routine.

In “real life” he and his best friend are smart maybe, but neither care at all about Kate’s truest needs. This one has an excuse- he is just another caller, unlike his best friend who had bothered to play with her heart and not just her pussy, in a made-up love game. As his Voice went on and on about his wife’s conservatism, Kate’s legs clamp together at the thighs compulsorily. Kate began to re-lead the conversation. It’s better to demean herself first.

He had muttered that his wife would not even wear black lace, so Kate began with those, her black lace garter and panties. quickly attempting to move back to carnality rather than a therapy session. Their identities, the roles they were to play, were now all confused. Kate could tell from his Voice how much he needs this thing with her, a slut he never needs to see as a person, and she also understands that he faults himself for how much he wants her and for who he needs to be; that same faceless slut.

Kate’s words become automatic as her mind wanders to the distant past. She had known the owner of this male Voice and his circle of friends back in college when they were pursuing their Master’s degrees- hers in Psychology and others in Art History or History. They had been in a loose-knit group of student friends who would meet and speak about actual topics such as The Man, Censorship, The Beauty of the Female Form, campus gossip. A few of the men even had pretended to understand about The Patriarchy. She could only remember his Voice as if he had mumbled among them.

Suddenly, tonight Kate decides to try a different if pervy track. She begins to describe all of the times in between their acquaintance that she had been smacked or beaten by his very friend around their home, but without naming any names. The times she had asked for it. The times she had not. This man’s Voice had called just for pussy talk after all, and despite his feigned control of intellect neither one of them was now standing on moral grounds. Kate felt this was fair game as after he had used her real name, he did nothing to further acknowledge her at all. Possibly, he even knew her tale and had called for it to be replayed back to him.

Kate decided to mix wife with whore. She spoke of house cleaning in her panties and bra, of being bent over while doing dishes. Kate thought the adoring role mixed with his perversion would soon pay off. Likewise, his Voice’s tone turned weird, shaky, and trembling as he barely disguised his blue balls and disgust and excitement. He said that treatment was fine, that she deserved to be treated that way, he had thought about it so many times.

“Dumb bitch,” finally his Voice revealed his need. He would fuck her in every room. He would reward her only if she begged for him. He wanted to keep her, rapunuzeled away in his home, fucking her as he loved his wife.

Kate responded. She would be down on her hands and knees. She would plead and yell out no until he hit her, maybe gagging her or pulling her arms behind her back. Their Voices together on the phone- this was his fantasy role play, obviously this was his idea of fun.

The Voice of this man reminded her of the “real life” scenario of which she was tapping her input. Her ex may even have told it to him already in his words. The exact knowledge that he would want her to replay just how into it all she had been, but with this guise of it being much better with him, is what had been giving Kate that ultimate shiver. The underlying unsaid between them, the knowledge that this had been real too, just was almost overwhelming to Kate, but rather than dwell on the past or analyze it further, she simply allowed herself to get wet this time by this one’s Voice.

“He told me all about it, bitch, how he took you like the worthless dog you are.” And, Kate got incredibly more wet, even in her anger. She began to express the dirty secrets, the burning desires- how every time she had objected she felt more worthy. Now, revving up, remembering the mentalities, Kate could moan on and on.

As like last time with the real live man, Kate’s own body responds, betraying her. She recalls how she had struggled against the other one and herself and eventually how she had cum and cum in huge ripples. Kate incorporates saying a loud harsh, “No!” This man’s Voice also teeters between whining and his obvious attempts at being in charge. Kate likes that he struggles too. She laughs internally as she forced her phone sex dude’s hand- pushing him to admit that he is also carnal and depraved. Kate could hear him trying to restrain himself as if he uses his hand to play out the simple move of The Patriarchy.

His Voice now begins to quiver, fluctuating as if he was unsure. He demanded she pretends to be shy. Next, he demanded her to describe how exactly it felt for her when he was thrusting in her most intimate space. “I know how bad you want it…”

Kate laughs. It just squeezes out of her.

She sounds mocking or cute and that angers and yet strokes at him too. His Voice reveals that he is unsure about being reduced to this. The two now are too competitive; each of them racing to their finishes.

He had wanted the depravity to have been hers alone. He had begun by feigning his astute level above hers. He needed her to beg. He told her how and when to want him inside of her.

But, as suddenly Kate recognizes exactly from where and when she had known this man before in “real life,” their actual connection. Kate chuckles uncontrollably as she recalls that he had been the one- the one her abusive ex used to cheat on her with, the man with this Voice was the closeted one- the one that her ex used to meet up with to fuck up the ass, in Kate’s own absence.

He cannot admit it. She cannot bring herself to admit she knows. The multiple layers of spells are now completely broken, indeed.

One more time with a quivering, “Bitch.” One more time Kate can feel herself shaking from somewhere deep inside. His Voice pretends to need to grasp at her pussy. Her mind grasps at visions of him being pierced by another man, taken from behind himself by the same man in “real life” who used to take it all out on her.

The two shake. They both cum, hard, again.

His Voice on the phone now sounded melted. Her Voice was reduced to nothing more than a whimper. The unspoken between them is as deafening as silence as all their screaming grunts a mere second ago, together in this, had been.