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Dirty Calls
Sade Rena
1
Jessica
I don’t know why I insist on coming home every night with more shit than I had when I left the house. With my hands full, I struggle to open the heavy door to my apartment. I unload the bags on the counter, letting my keys fall from my grasp, sending a thump and jingle through the air. After putting everything in its place, I retrieve a plate and wineglass from the cupboard and prepare for dinner. I rush into my bedroom, where I remove my bra and change into my lounge wear: a pair of satin shorts and an old wifebeater. After wrapping my hair with my silk scarf, I peel away my contacts, replacing them with my glasses before returning to the kitchen.
The Indian food I ordered has gone cold, so I pop it in the microwave. I reach for my wine, and take a sip, savoring the taste, and silently thanking Jesus for such a gift. Lord knows I need several glasses after the week I’ve had. Remembering the deadline I have for tomorrow, I gather my laptop bag and carry both it and my glass into the living room. The microwave dings, signaling my food is ready.
I grab the plate and a fork, stealing a bite on the way back to the couch. With one leg folded underneath me, I sit, burying myself in to the plush cushion and devouring my dinner. Once done, I unzip my bag, remove my computer, notepad, and favorite pen. I power on the device and click on the TV for a bit of white noise. It doesn’t matter what’s on, soon I’ll be lost in my work and will tune it out completely.
We have a big presentation in the morning, and it’s important I make a good impression and seal the deal with our clients. I’ve been in Arlington, VA, for six months and while I’m more than qualified, it’s my first solo project. I’ve developed many training programs during my internship in New York, but the client called with last-minute changes that undoes all the work I’ve already completed. It’s going to be a long night, but I do well under pressure, and tonight will be no different. Tiring, but a challenge I’ll overcome—if I don’t get drunk first.
The TV flickers, drawing my attention to the beginning of a sex scene, and my body instantly reacts. The hero rips open the heroine’s blouse and pulls her close, devouring her mouth in his. Their passion stirs through me, warming the sensitive parts of my body. I sigh, realizing how long it’s been since I’ve been touched like that. Then I think of the ways I could be touched if I hadn’t accepted this job, if my ex hadn’t dumped me over it. I could be getting fucked right now, letting out all the stress yesterday brought me. This is pathetic. To clear the thoughts from my mind, I shake my head. I’ve been at this for hours and have almost finished the assignment. My shoulders tense when I notice the time: three-fifteen in the morning. My eyes are heavy, and I’ve emptied the first bottle of Merlot, and now, thanks to that one little kissing scene, I’m horny as hell.
I sit up, flexing my muscles and tilting my head from left to right. With my fingers back on the keyboard, I prepare to type while struggling not to look up at the television. Now distracted, I hear every word pouring from the speaker, even at the low volume setting.
“Let me make love to your body and your mind,” he says to the heroine.
I take a deep breath, diverting my eyes between the two screens, willing my desires to settle.
“Finish this project, Jessica,” I demand of myself, but who am I kidding? Once you’ve gone down the road of lust, sexual release is often pretty hard to ignore. Another deep breath, and I continue my task only to stop mid-sentence. I press my lips together, and glance at the TV, thankful the scene switched to something more wholesome. But—it’s too late now. Fuck it! I sit the computer on the table and push myself off the couch with my wineglass in tow. When I reach the kitchen, I pour myself another drink, downing it before making it the few feet to my dining table. I look to my bedroom and subconsciously find myself pushing the door open and walking over to my nightstand.
Pulling the drawer open, I grab the pink satin drawstring bag that houses my best friend for the last six months—BOB. The MF that gets the job done—E-V-E-R-Y fucking time. “Hey, good friend,” I say, while making my way back into the living room.
I flop down in the middle of the sofa, slightly slouched, and reach for my phone. I thumb to the internet browser and eagerly type in the URL to a porn site. Explicit images bounce off the screen, jolting my vision as I skim them in search of the perfect one. The hardest part about masturbating is finding the right video. My body comes alive pretty easily at the thought of a nearing orgasm but watching a good flick can make the process more…exhilarating. At least for me. Sometimes, I picture myself as the girl, getting stretched out so deliciously.
After searching through a few pages, I settle on a— I was caught by my stepbrother skit. Yes, I like the corny role plays where they pretend there’s some sort of forbidden connection that makes the sex…wrong. It takes the scene a couple of minutes to get started, and if I’m sure I wouldn’t face the dreaded buffering fiasco, I would skip ahead to the good parts. Thankfully, the wait isn’t too long, and as soon as I see the brother spying on the sister with his dick in hand, my body lights up.
I touch my breasts, tugging at my nipples and shiver through the tingles it brings. The camera zooms in on the brother’s stroke, and my arousal stirs, coating my folds. The sister finally notices him jacking off to her, and the reaction is…stupid, but it’s the part I’ve been waiting for. They share a few poorly written lines about how it’s wrong, then the scene cuts to him lapping away at her pussy.
My kitty purrs as I reach for BOB and with one hand slide him out of the pink satchel and position him just right. My clit throbs when the cool silicone touches it, and aches with desire as I circle the tip. I need this release so bad, and I want more than nothing to drive it into my walls, but instead, I take my time, teasing myself so I can come when the actor does. In the next scene, he enters her, and as if on cue, BOB makes his way into my pussy. I click the side, turning the motor to a low speed. It’s late, and I need to sleep, but I don’t want to rush my orgasm. I pleasure myself, slowly coming undone right here in my living room with the shades wide open. The thought of someone watching me through my window aids in my pleasure. He increases his stroke, and I do the same, raising the speed on my vibrator one notch. And boy does it feel amazing.
The camera flashes in again, and I arch my back, imagining myself in her place. My eyes roll shut as I pump against my thrusts, reveling in the bliss. He groans, forcing one of my own, but instantly his voice goes quiet, snapping me out of my trance. I peek one eye open to see my solo sexcapade is being interrupted by a call. Not recognizing the number, I decline it, closing my eyes when the step brother’s voice roars through my ear again.
Not even sixty seconds later, my video pauses once more, and the same number stares at me from the screen. I shut off my vibrator but leave it in place. I don’t want to answer, but for this person to call back to back, it may be important. Pressing the accept call button, I sit upright, preparing myself to speak.
“I’m imagining how good your pussy would feel wrapped around my dick, Candace. Your sweet sticky juices coating me,” a deep voice pours through the speakers before I can get out a word.
It’s not important after all, and whoever Candace is, she’s a lucky bitch. I’m about to tell him he’s got the wrong number, but what he says next sends pulses to my pussy, reminding me that BOB is still there waiting for me. Fuck it, I think to myself. It would be a shame to let this go to waste. He’s obviously already into this, and I’m so close to getting my nut. What would it hurt to let this man’s zaddy voice coax me through to my orgasm?
“Can you picture my dick inside you, Candace?” he growls.
I flip on the motor and press my dildo deeper inside my throbbing fortress. “Um,” Is all I can muster.
“That’s a good girl. Play with your pretty pussy for me. Picture me inside you, stretching you out, while trailing kisses along your neck.”
I do as instructed, using his voice and direction as my muse. My imagination runs wild with the envisioning of his strong hands touching my body in places I’ve longed to be touched for some time. His words send me over the edge, forcing me to crave more of whatever it is he has to offer. This stranger opens me up, lighting a fire I didn’t know I had. Phone sex has never been my thing, Justin and I didn’t do things like this. Missionary was the best it got for us, and I honestly thought that was enough. I listen to all the dirty things this man wants to do to—Candace—and realize I’ve been missing out.
It isn’t long before my toes curl and my back arches in preparation for my nearing orgasm. My breath quickens, and I tune out his voice, focusing only on the steady humming coming from my vibrator. I clench my muscles around the stiff silicone and angle my wrist to hit my G-spot. A rush of sweet, erotic bliss pours through me, sending my pelvis and every nerve ending into a convulsing frenzy.
“Uh, Uh. AHHH, I’m cumming.”
“Damn, baby. You sound so fucking amazing. Put the phone to your pussy, I wanna hear you come.”
Why the fuck did he say that? Meeting his request hesitantly, I place the phone on speaker and position it between my thighs, the buzz of my toy seemingly exciting him more. He moans, and I can tell he’s enjoying himself. Our breaths race at the same pace, and I know my release is near.
“Fuck yourself good, sweets. I want to know how it sounds when your cum is pouring out of you.”
Those are the words my body needs, and soon my pleasure seeps out, soaking my leather cushions. I moan loudly, my chest pumping rapidly, and I will my heartbeat to a steady pace. The line goes quiet for a moment while I gather my thoughts and prepare to clean up the mess we’ve made.
“Thank you!” I say hastily.
“Damn! You’re welcome. That was—”
“By the way, my name’s not Candace.”
Click. I end the call, tossing my phone onto the coffee table, leaving it and everything else right where it is until morning.
