I met Sarah in Portland Chatβbig surprise thereβin late winter 1999. The Internet is the easiest way to meet people. "Does anyone want to talk on the phone?" she asked the room. Bored and a little lonely, I Instant Messaged her. We began chatting. She emailed me her picture. She was chubby and cute. I gave her my phone number, and five minutes later we were talking away. "Hi, Rod. How are you?"
"I'm great. How are you?"
"I'm good. What are you doing?"
"Oh, I'm playing with myself."
Silence.
I laughed. "Haha! Just kidding! I'm sitting here at my computer playing solitaire."
Sarah laughed along with me, a good sign. I take risks with humor. Some people get it; some don't. Fortunately, Sarah got it.
We talked more, going into greater detail about our lives, what we wanted, where we were going. Our respective love lives became a subject of conversation. We were quickly becoming more intimate. I imagined making love to her, a pleasant daydream. For the hell of it I asked if she had ever been in a threesome. Sarah answered yes, she and hubby had gone camping with a friend of theirs and screed their brains out. Sarah recalled the details fondly. Naturally, I began to envision myself in a threesome with her and hubby, him plugging away at one end, me at the other. What the hell.
In my own charming way, I steered the conversation to what if Sarah and I were to make love? That subject excited her. Hell, it excited me. She was a horndog too. Her breathing grew fast as I told her all the naughty things I would do to her, until she was gasping into the phone. Then she went into great detail as to how she would please me, evoking a hot little fantasy in my mind's eye. I stroked myself while she described doing all manner of delightful things to my phallus. I saw, I conquered, I came. It was crazy. Call it phone sex. I did.
On a what-the-hell whim, a few weeks into our acquaintance, I asked Sarah if I could listen in on her and hubby's lovemaking. He knew 1) we were friendly, and 2) we were having phonesex. I was an OK guy in his book because I was a friend to his wife.
Sarah called me later on that evening. "How are you, Rod?
"Great. How are you?" I was electrified with anticipation.
"Great. I'm sitting here in a T-shirt and undies. I'm caressing my boobs, thinking about you touching them."
"Oh, my god." She had a nice pair of breasts. She had sent a photo. I badly wanted to fondle them. I am a breast man from way back.
Then I heard hubby's voice in the background. Sarah giggled. "He's waving his cock like it's an elephant trunk. It's pretty funny."
They made husband-wife pre-bed small talk ("Did you lock up?" etc.) before segueing into nookie-time. He gave her instructions.
"I'm on my back and Brad is sucking on my tits. He has a finger in my pussy."
I would watch ESPN if it had commentary like that.
My mouth puckered involuntarily and my member stiffened as I envisioned her hubby mouthing her mammaries and doing other naughty things to her, the lucky bastard. I listened to her moan. After a minute or so of foreplay he mounted her. "His cock is in me and it's stroking in and out," she informed me.
You don't hear that every day. The world would be a better place if you did. At least my world would. Especially if the cock in question was mine.