It was December 4, 2004, one of the coldest days of the year, and I was already an hour and a half late. I finally located the motel room where he said he would be and knocked on the door. 10 seconds went by then 30 then a full minute and no one answered. "Where the fuck is he?" I muttered to myself and blew into my hands before I knocked again. I looked at the sign of the motel and cursed myself silently. I told him the wrong place. I meant to say Super 8 instead of Glenwood Inns and now would have to walk about 15 minutes down the street. I thought to myself, "You know, you could always go home," but by this point, I was too far gone. Plus, he was waiting for me. And I hate to disappoint what I was hoping would be a good lover.
Who was he? His name was Ben and I had met him on one of those phone chat lines about 3 months previously. When we got into a private chat, I thought he was a nice enough guy and his free trail was almost over so I gave him my home phone number and told him to call me right back. Some guys say they will and never do, and others you wish you never gave your number to. He was different. He had a vibe about him that let me know he was a pretty sincere guy and was just looking to talk and have fun, nothing serious. Which was good because I wasn't looking for anything serious. The last few relationships I had been in ended up with me getting very hurt and I didn't want to get burned again. I hung up the phone and about 2 minutes later it rang. I answered and it was him. That one phone call changed my life forever.
We started getting to know each other for real, known of that unimportant nonsense that people exchange on the chat line. He called himself Al (half of his middle name) and he didn't want to tell me his real first name until he knew I was honest and not some crazy bitch that he'd invite over and won't leave (another day, another story). He told me about where he was from, his family, what it was like when he was growing up. I asked him age and he easily bypassed that question by asking me things about myself. I told him my name was Alisha ( not my real name but I wanted to make sure he wasn't crazy either) and that I was 18 and told him about my siblings and family life as well. It was a nice, normal conversation which is something I hadn't had in a while from the freaks that I thought I could trust to give my number. They always wanted to talk about sex, which was fine because most times I did too. But after they had gotten their jollies, which was usually after only about 10 minutes of talking, all of a sudden they remembered something had come up and they had to quickly get off the phone. If they did call me again, which they usually did, I've give them some bogus excuse to get off the phone and dismiss them. I am not one to be dumped once someone has gotten their fill and they needed to know that. But I digress.
This meet-and-greet session lasted about 2 hours and as it wound down I finally asked him the question that I had been dying to ask since the conversation began. "Will you make me cum?" He chuckled softly and told me I wasn't shy and began to let the hot, dirty words roll softly off his tongue and into my ear, down my chest and through my fingers which were working overtime on my clit. I mumbled softly as he described how he'd eat my pussy and lick me from head to toe, stop at all the obligatory spots and just some hot spots like my neck and belly button. He capped it off by telling me how he'd thrust his big, white cock in and out of my tiny pussy, making my cunt suck his cock so hard, and having me splash thick creamy cum down his dick until it coated his balls. I came so hard I thought that I was going to pass out. I had never met him or even seen his face and this man had already taken me to heights I'd never thought possible. It was incredible. I slowly floated back down to Earth and asked him if he had cum himself. I had become so wrapped up in my quest to achieve that ultimate orgasm that I hadn't even bothered to make sure he achieved the same. He said he had and couldn't wait to do it again. We said our good-byes and hung up and I fell into a deep but very pleasant sleep.
For the next two weeks we talked almost everyday, and each conversation ended with me covering my hand and bed with hot, sticky girl cum. He told me how much he enjoyed our phone meeting but really wanted to meet me in person. I had met a few other gentlemen before him online so it wasn't such an outrageous request. After all, we had exchanged so much information about ourselves to one another that it was only reasonable to want to see the face that matches the voice that you're spending so much time with. I told him I wanted to do the same and we agreed that we would do it soon. But before that, he was going to take a trip to Ohio to visit his mother and after that, he promised me we'd get together. He told me he would be gone for about 4 days but the weekend after that, he wanted to meet me.
The next weekend rolled around and I called him. He didn't answer, so I left a message. Three days passed by and I had called him a few more times, and still didn't get a response. I was disappointed and my feelings were a little hurt. So many questions started rattling off in my head. Did he find a new girlfriend? Was he bored of me and didn't want to talk anymore? Was he dead? I didn't have any of the answers and didn't know where to begin to answer them so I just let it go and hoped that maybe, in time, he'd finally get the balls to call me back and tell me what was going on with him.
About another month passed and there was still no word and I had all but completely forgotten about him. I was hoping that I'd at least get one more courtesy call telling me he had gone back to his wife or something and that we couldn't talk anymore. I would've understood that a lot better then just not knowing what was going on at all. I started stewing a little in the anger that was building in his disregard for my feelings when one Saturday mid-morning, the phone rang. I picked up, a bit ticked because at that time of the morning it was either my mother or telemarketers, and I didn't want to here from either.
"Hello?"
"Hello. May I please speak to Alisha?"
"This is she. Who is this?"
