Telemarketing Turnabout

"Blue! Twenty-three!" I barked, and turned my head to the left. There was no receiver on the left side of the formation, so this was just for effect. "Blue! Twenty-three! Set! Hut, hut!"

The centre, Mike, snapped me the ball. We were in the shotgun, so I was able to watch Dave out of the corner of my eye, as he put a move on his defender. I plucked the ball out of the air, and back peddled a few steps. Mike was keeping the rusher at bay, and Dave had a step on the defender.

That's about when Mike stumbled, and the rusher came free. He was almost on me when I sidestepped him, and unloaded a perfect, arching spiral downfield, just like I had in high school, eight years ago. Dave was racing away, nearly wide open, and the ball was on the way.

"Look for the ball, Dave," I muttered. He didn't, at least, not until it was on him.

He finally turned, and the ball hit him right in the middle... of his forehead! From fifty yards away, I drilled him in the head, and the pass fell incomplete. Oh, and he fell too, like he was hit with a brick. I thought I had killed him.

I ran over, and he was laughing, as was the defender, and Mike, and everyone who was watching. I joined in when I realized he would live, but it spelled the end of the game, as once we started laughing, none of us could stop.

"That's what I call accuracy!" Dave laughed, rubbing the red welt between his eyes.

The guys wanted to hit the local bar, but I'd had enough fun for now, so I begged off and headed home.

As I walked in the front door, the phone rang, and I scooped it up. "Hello?"

It was a telemarketer, for a local business. I might normally have just hung up, but there was something about the woman's voice that made me stick around. She positively oozed sexuality, which was really out of place for a furnace cleaning company, unless they were branching out to include other sources of 'heat'. I let her complete her script, then explained that my landlord took care of that stuff. She thanked me for my time, and was just about to say goodbye, when something in my gut made me speak up.

"Excuse me, ma'am... Before you go, may I say something?"

"Certainly," she replied, sweetly.

"I just wanted to say that you have the sexiest voice I've ever heard. I hope you don't mind me saying that."

There was a pause before she finally responded. "Why, thank you for the compliment. Most people just say 'no' and hang up rudely. "

"I know that you're just doing your job, and I wouldn't do that," I lied, leaving out the part about her voice being the only thing that had kept me on the line. "May I ask you one more thing?"

"You're not going to ask me out, are you?" she laughed.

"Well, actually... Yes, I was. I mean, I am. I meant what I said about your voice. I would like to meet you," I said, truthfully.

"You don't know anything about me. I could be married, you know?"

"If you are, then I apologize," I offered. "Are you?"

Another pause. "No, I'm not."

I laughed. "Well, now you must meet with me, to make up for trying to mislead me!"

"Okay, okay, okay! Just let me chew on it for a while. I have your number... I will get back to you. Good night." She hung up.

Well, it was worth a shot,

I thought. I didn't expect to hear from her again.

As it turns out, I only had to wait about an hour. The phone rang again, and it was her.

"Okay, Friday night, 8 o'clock, Casey's Pub," she whispered in her sexy tone.

"And how will I know you?" I asked.

"I'll be the tall redhead waiting outside the front door. Don't be late. At 8:05, I'm gone, and you'll never hear from me again."

"I won't be late. One more question? What is your name?"

"Rebecca, but you can call me Becca. 'Til Friday."

I hung up, and my head started to spin.

That voice, and a redhead, too?

Wow! I wondered how I would survive the two days until then.

Somehow, I did survive, and Friday night arrived. I wasn't taking any chances on being late, so I sat in my car after arriving twenty minutes early. It also let me watch for her.

The clock said 7:57, and no one was waiting outside. Then the door opened, and she stepped out. She had been inside, but came out at the time she had promised.

Also true to her word was her description. She was tall, and she was a redhead. She left out the part about being pretty, curvy, and stacked. She looked like she was in her early thirties, maybe younger, so my interest was piqued. She was wearing tight jeans, and a black cowl neck sweater. A matching denim vest hugged her midriff, but couldn't be buttoned all the way due to her bountiful chest.

I hopped out of the car, and hustled over to the entrance. She had her back to me.

"Nice to meet you, Becca," I said quietly. Hearing her name, she turned.

Her eyes met mine, and she gave me a quick 'once over', before she smiled. She took my hand. Hers was soft, and warm. That's when her smile faded.

"I had no idea you were so young. I think you should go home now. Thanks for asking me, but I don't see much point in continuing," she purred.

"I'm sorry to hear you say that," I began, "You have a reason, of course?"

She laughed. "Yes, I do. I'm old enough to be your mother!"

"I seriously doubt that, but even if it is true, the fact remains; you are NOT

my

mother. You are just a very beautiful woman, whom I would very much like to get to know better." I paused. "Is age your only reason? "

She was still staring at me, and holding my hand, trying to digest my 'beautiful woman' compliment. She finally opened up.

"Look, my ex-husband left me for a younger woman, and I don't know if I'm ready for anything this... 'complicated'... and I don't even know why I said yes when you asked me, and... "

I held up my free hand. "May I make an observation?" I asked. She nodded. "Your ex-husband is a jackass. Any man who would give up a woman like you is an idiot, in my opinion." I thought some more, then added, "I don't know if there is anything between us, but consider this: why don't we just go inside, have a drink and talk. If there is going to be any future, then it has to come out sometime. If not, consider my shoulder available to cry on. Either way, I'd just like to spend some time with you."

Her mouth opened, and nothing came out. After a few more seconds, she just smiled, and nodded.

"I think I'd like that too," she whispered.

We went in, and took a place in a booth. As good as she looked from afar, she was even nicer up close. Her eyes, dark brown in colour, sparkled, and her smile lit up spontaneously as we talked. She had a very pretty face, with a smattering of freckles across her high cheekbones and cute nose. Dark red hair, with flaming highlights, fell in flattering waves around her face, reaching almost to the middle of her back. Her sexy, slightly smoky voice was even better in person. Mostly, I listened as she unloaded her baggage and tried to justify her age issues.

Her husband had left her for a younger woman, about a year ago, and the divorce was finalized in the last few months. She didn't understand it. She thought they were happy for the last twenty-five years, but as soon as the kids were gone, so was he. Naturally, she felt it was her fault. I did the math. Twenty-five years of marriage probably put her in her mid-forties, at least. I was stunned, as even up close, she looked at least fifteen years younger. She was gorgeous, and built. I couldn't help noticing her chest, mostly because she had a habit of resting it on the edge of the table. All of these factors combined to confirm my initial impression of her husband. Foolish man.

"Becca, you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. Your ex did what he did for his own reasons, and whether you believe it or not, those reasons had little to do with you. Oh, sure, his excuse is that you did this, or didn't do that... but that's just the blame game. The truth is probably something else, that even he didn't know exactly. He just felt he needed to. That doesn't make it your fault. He just didn't know how good he had it. " I said, hoping it would help.

She leaned forward, and looked like she was going to say something serious, but finally just blurted "Bathroom. Back in a sec."

I waited for her to return, and the longer it took, the more I was sure she had ditched me, unhappy about my 'advice'. After all, she really

was

almost old enough to be my mother. Who was I to give her advice? Suddenly, she was back, and rather than taking her seat opposite, she slid in beside me. She saw the mild surprise on my face.

"Well, if I'm going to cry on your shoulder, I can't very well do it from over there, can I?" She took my arm, and snuggled against me. "So keep talking. Tell me again about what an asshole my husband was, and how beautiful you think I am!"

I guess my words had made it through. I turned to look at her, pressed softly against my arm, and she looked back, her eyes sparkling brightly. She really was beautiful, and as I gazed at her, she leaned forward slowly, and kissed me softly. It was delicious, but before I could reciprocate, she pulled back.

"I'm sorry," she giggled, "I shouldn't have done that. Please forgive me!"

"Do you hear me complaining? It was nice. Feel free to do it again!"

She began to slide out of the booth. "Dance with me?"

I followed, and seconds later, she was cuddling in my arms while we swayed gently on the dance floor. We were the only ones out there, but I put aside the uncomfortable feeling, because she felt so good. Her head rested on my shoulder, and her body pressed into me. I could feel the soft swell of her large breasts, and it was having a predictable effect on me. I had my hands at her waist, and could feel how firm her midsection was. When one hand wandered a little lower, I made a similar discovery about her ass. It was while my hand was stroking her rump that she tipped her head back, and looked at me with those lovely eyes.

I wasn't going to wait for her, this time. I bent in and kissed her, and she immediately kissed back. We pecked at each other for a minute or so, before she parted her lips and teasingly snaked her tongue across my lips. I opened up and captured the little intruder, leaving us locked in an increasingly passionate french kiss in the middle of the empty dance floor. She wiggled her hips, and I knew she was feeling the hard bulge of my cock against her. She finally pulled back.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but, please take me home," she purred in her perpetual bedroom voice, which was totally appropriate at this point. "I live close."

True to her word, again, we were at her front door ten minutes of walking later. Actually, it was more like four minutes of walking, and six minutes of intense making out, during which I got my first quick feel of her breasts, when I dragged my hands forward from around her back. Her globes were full enough that they were wider than her ribcage, so I palmed the sides of each breast as I passed.

She unlocked the door, and I followed her into her living room. Her lips were on me again virtually as soon as the door was closed, and I took her in my arms, holding her tight. Now that we had some privacy, her kisses were accompanied by quiet moans of passion.

"Mmmm.... mmmm..... Oh, my.... we'd better pace ourselves. After all, we have all night," she purred, patting me on the chest. She turned out of my grasp, and walked slowly toward the kitchen. "Can I offer you anything? We never ate at the pub. I could throw something in the oven? Maybe some wings?"

She was right, we did have all night. If she wanted to do the hostess thing, I could live with that. "Thanks, Becca. Wings sound great."

I took a seat at the small kitchen table and watched her. When I first saw her outside the pub, it was dark, so I just got the general parameters of her body. Inside the pub, the lighting wasn't much better, but I had been able to get a more complete impression of her face, at least. Now, in her well lit kitchen, I got the whole picture.

She had her back to me, so I could feast my eyes on her ass, and it was something to see. Nicely curved, classically heart shaped, and obviously quite toned, I had felt it briefly while we danced. It flowed down into what appeared to be very nice legs, and up into a very sexy back.

She offered me a cup of coffee, which I declined, grabbed one herself and sat down opposite me, peeking over the rim at me while she sipped. She really was pretty, and it took some careful observation to discern a few small creases around her eyes, the only hints to her age. She was resting her considerable chest on the table edge again, and I was treated to a teasing hint of cleavage, visible in the open cowl neck of her sweater. She saw me peeking and smiled, before standing. She leaned over a little more than might have been necessary as she stood, giving me a little better view of her sexy boobs. It was clearly a tease.

She walked over to the sink to clean her coffee cup, and I was only a second or two behind her. I pressed against her from behind, my hands on her hips, and kissed her on the side of the neck. She moaned softly and braced herself. I pulled her long hair aside and repeated the process, adding a few nibbles to the kiss, and wrapping one arm around her waist. Her head lolled back, giving me even greater access to her neck.

"Mmmm..... Oh yes..... Oh, I like that," she whispered. I pressed harder against her ass, bringing my free hand up under her breast. The fullness of it filled my palm. "Oh, God!" she groaned, wiggling her ass back against my crotch. I continued to ravage her neck, now holding both breasts in my hands. Her moans were becoming more passionate and urgent. While I gently fondled one of her large breasts, the other hand was busy undoing the metal buttons that held her vest closed, and finally succeeded in dispatching them. Now I could feel her breasts better through the soft knit fabric of her sweater.

"Mmmm yes...... Your hands feel so good on my tits." I nibbled on her neck again. "Ooooooo, and that feels good, too." She moved sideways and spun around, taking my face in her hands and kissing me softly. After a few more kisses, she released my face and pulled herself up onto the counter. "Come here," she asked, beckoning me with her finger.

I stepped in front of her, and she hooked her heels behind me, pulling me closer. She took my hands in hers, and placed one on each of her magnificent breasts. She then wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled my lips to hers, plunging her tongue into my mouth. Becca was getting pretty heated up, and was making noises of approval while I mauled her tits.

The timer bell from the oven made both of us jump. Becca laughed, patting me on the shoulder. "I guess it's time for chicken wings," she giggled. I gave her breasts a few parting caresses, then helped her down off the counter.

It took all my willpower not to grab her ass as she removed the food from the oven, but I held off. She plated the wings, and we sat like two very anxious, very horny, civilized people, eating as fast as we could so that we could pick up where we left off. The kitchen was silent, other than the sound of wing sauce being licked off fingertips, when Becca looked at me in a way that made me shiver. She reached out, took my hand, and guided my sauce slicked fingers to her mouth, eagerly sucking the sweet, gooey fluids off. Before long, my fingers were clean, but she continued to swirl her tongue around them suggestively. One thing is sure, that suggestion was being received loud and clear by my dick, which was trying to find a way out of my pants.

Becca stood, moved the plates to the counter, and slid the table aside on her return. She knelt, and began to unbuckle my belt. Her hand cupped the bulge in my crotch. I raised my hips, allowing her to tug my pants down out of the way.

My erection sprung straight out into her face, and she gasped. She took it in her hands, and gently caressed my hard, hot flesh. I am about 6'4" tall, weigh about 220, and my dick is proportioned likewise. She could just reach around it with one hand. "This thing would make two of my ex! My goodness.... It'll definitely scrape the sides, and probably touch bottom, too! " She smiled at me while she continued to stroke me with her hand." I, um, don't have a lot of... uh.... 'oral' experience. I wasn't that active before my ex and I were married. I wasn't a virgin, but I wasn't a slut either. He had a hangup about oral sex, both giving and receiving, so I haven't really.... "

"No apologies are necessary. You don't need to do anything you don't want to," I offered, but she had other ideas.

"Oh, no... I definitely want to. I want to suck the cum out of your cock! I want you to squirt it down my throat! I have been watching a lot of porn. I had no idea how hot cocksucking was, and how excited it gets me. Since I wasn't getting laid, I had to, um, you know... take matters into my own hands."

"Now that's something I would love to see. I don't suppose you would give me a private per... form... ance?" I gasped.

"Mmmfff nrrbtt," she replied, having inhaled my cock while I was talking. I'm not sure if that was a 'yes', or a 'no', but it was a moot point. Her lips were sliding down, claiming my cock millimetre by millimetre. God, it felt so good. I felt the head touch the back of her throat, and she moaned. One hand was busy caressing my balls, while the other was stroking the length that was too much for her pretty mouth. She started to bob her head in a complex motion that included a twisting hand action each time she withdrew, spreading her slick saliva along the shaft. Her moans of excitement added a further level of stimulation, sending vibrations up my spine. For someone who professed a lack of experience, she gave one hell of a blowjob. I guess you really can learn something from porn.

"That feels so good, Becca. You're going to make me cum!" She let out a soft moan of delight, and pumped faster. "Oh, you like that, do you? You want me to cum in your mouth?" She moaned something that conveyed the affirmative. I gently placed one hand on top of her head, running my fingers through her lovely hair, before pulling her head closer. I was close, and my hips started an involuntary pistoning action, fucking her tightly stretched mouth. She put her hands on my thighs, and let me use her for my pleasure, which wouldn't take long to achieve.

The last few strokes were a bit funky, really more like spastic twitches, but culminated with a forceful jet of semen basting her tonsils. Becca swallowed dutifully, amidst making yummy noises, while tracing her nails across my butt cheeks in a tickling manner. She eagerly extracted every drop I could produce, sucking me dry.

Becca sat back on her haunches, licking her lips and smiling up at me. I raised a finger, regaining my breath before commenting on her performance. When I could, I croaked out a positive review.

"That was fantastic, Becca! I can't believe your husband didn't want you to do that! If it were me, I would welcome it, as often as you wished to offer your services."

Her smile got wider, and she marked a 'one' on her invisible scoreboard with her finger. I helped her back to her feet, and wrapped my arms around her. When I kissed her, I tasted a little of my salty spunk, but I held the kiss. I needed her to know that I was different than her husband, to show her that it was his attitude that had resulted in his actions.

I pulled her sweater free of her jeans, and lifted it off over her head. When her breasts came into view, I was awestruck. They were round, full and firm, standing prominently out from her chest. Freckles dotted the swelling upper curves, disappearing into the welcoming crease of her cleavage. Her bra, lacey, semi transparent and black in colour, was actually quite brief given the job it was tasked with. She pulled me close again, kissing me with renewed passion. She felt wonderful, so smooth and warm, but there was one item of clothing still in the way. I made a typically pathetic attempt to dispatch her bra, before she took pity on me and did it herself. She held it in place with her arms for a moment, backing away a couple of steps. Once she was clear, she dropped her arms.