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sex!
Hi, I'm Genevieve. I work at a phone sex chatline. I monitor for "quality" and kick off people who are too dirty. Because there is a line. I enforce it.

Dirty people call in. Some aren't as dirty as others. These are their stories...




My So-called Phone Sex Life:
happening

She walks and stands in his room. Straight, wearing pajamas. Wrapped in a blanket. She is watching him smooth out the covers and arrange the pillows. He looks at her and smiles. He, having promised to wear something, has chosen boxer shorts. She is looking at him. His smooth chest. The dips of his biceps. His long slender legs. He seems taller lying down. He pats the empty side of the bed beside him. She advances and lays down quietly, making no sound, the blanket still surrounding her. He smiles and laughs as he reaches and takes the blanket from her. She hugs herself. He lifts the covers up and places them on her, up under her chin. Underneath, his hand finds her arms and breaks her hold on her ribs. He places his left hand on top of her head and both his feet under her feet. She is so little, he says. He had no idea.

She is nervous. She has come under the premise that she will sleep. In his arms, the man she had come to love so secretly that it surprised even her to admit it. Her attraction to him overwhelming. Her heart is thudding against her sternum. He can feel it in her belly with his hand. She rolls on her side and he slips up behind her, spooning. And with his right hand, he rubs her belly and slides up under her shirt, cupping her left breast. As he does this he presses his forehead into the back of her neck, letting out a tiny groan. So soft. So sweet. He had no idea.

Now she is on her back, under his hands. Her face under his lips. His kisses are huge. Covering her. Her clothes are being removed. His lips are on her mouth, neck, breasts, belly, and navel. His mouth finds where her legs and torso meet. Where her hipbones point, like arrows. Right here.
Right here. Don't stop.
And then it is her turn. And her small mouth finds his smooth chest and dipped arms. His face under hers. His body under her hands. She is covering him with her pale skin. She is the blanket. He feels as if his entire body is in her mouth. And it is, almost. And then he needs to know if this is ok. He can't go further until he knows this is ok.
It is.

I can't remember much of what we said. Afterwards, I mean. It's as if there was nothing to say. We were like foreigners in each other's countries. No passports. No translators. Lost. Reeling. We went for brunch and then to do laundry. By the dryers while I was folding, he came behind me and slipped his arm around my belly, his hand under the waist my jeans. He kissed my neck. He's touching me now. Are we really here? Is this what we are really doing?

We looked at stereos and guitars. He picked out an amp and speakers that seemed decent. We went home and set them up.
While I fiddled with the speaker wire, he found my bare shoulder and kissed it. So are we doing this now?

After, he, weighed by his record bag came in and found me laying on my couch. He leaned over it and looked at me, smiling.
"I'm off to work, I'll be home later." And then he was gone.

Later, when I came to the club, he jogged up to me, taking my hands and kissing my cheek. Smiling. Am I here? Is this happening?


post #14
bio: genevieve
perma-link
12/17/2001
02:00

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