[FM] phone sex leads to real sex!

Next to a sprinkling of leaning palm trees and a pool supply store that always smelled faintly of chlorine, our band’s practice space stood modestly, yet proud. We had the space booked three times a week, but due to a money-minded building owner, another soundproof wall was added to break up the space and allow another band to occupy the creative domain while we worked.

I understood communal accommodations. Still in college, I had only just moved on to student apartments, having previously shared a room with two rowdy ladies. They were fun, but invasive. I have plenty of stories about them too that I’d love to share one day. While on tour with the band, we all shared a camper. Four adults to one bed and two cots encourages bonding, but never privacy.

Even so, the group of guys practicing next to us caused me tension. They all smoked away fifteen minutes of their time each session sucking on cigarillos and loudly rotating through inside jokes and jabs. I thought they were decadent, hedonistic, and apathetic towards the world. They seemed a little mean, a tad jagged, wearing crooked smiles across their jaws with an inexplicable emptiness behind the eyes.

As the days passed on, I noticed one of the cohort seeming more human, less engaged with the horseplay and instead, straying away to make endearing attempts at skateboard tricks across the curb. He was a big guy, something he later attributed to “warehouse worker strength”. From that day, I appreciate the humble warehouse employee with their functional abilities, their hearty thighs and all. He was very tall, at least 6’2”, towering almost a foot above me, with about 260 pounds on his hulking posture.

Despite his stature, he maintained a boyish gleam in his eyes always paired with a mischievous smile, eager to crack a joke or hype up one of his buddies. What caught me one day, in a particularly flattering sunset cast parking lot, was the shine of his ocean blue eyes behind his round glasses, glimmering in a gaze that I caught eagerly, surprising myself entirely. I nodded and smiled at him, only to be interrupted by my bandmate shoving my guitar case into my hands and authoritatively telling me to get inside.

Embarrassed excitement crept through my body on my drive over to the space every time when I lost myself in curiosity over what he would be wearing when I arrived. He donned an effortless style, cool and neutral. I figured he prioritized letting his personality show through his words and actions, not like what I felt myself falling into sometimes. I mirrored this fixation I had in my own grooming routine before practices. Despite being annoyed when my guitar rubbed against the bare skin on my chest, I wore low cut crop tops and blouses to show off my size E+ (never knew my size then!) tits and strutted the chubby, curvy body I had at the time. I wore heeled boots so it would be easier to talk to him without straining my neck. Instead of going without make-up as usual, I started spending some time perfecting my complexion and highlighting my best features.

Every practice was a mating ritual in my mind. I would speak with him often, but in short opportunities. I was eager to push the relationship forward, but I barely knew anything about him beyond his name, Larry, and that he was the vocalist and one of the guitarists in his band. I decided one day that I would ask him to hang out after our practice time, and to my relief, he agreed and offered up a suggestion for a coffee place down the street we could walk to and perk up after a work-filled afternoon.

It never ends at a coffee. We spent time together often: driving around in his car with the sunroof down and Brian Wilson blasting, sharing a bowl while staring at the bay, Larry showing me how to ride in a straight line on his skateboard without toppling over. It was always suspiciously platonic. I began assuming he had a partner, chest caving in with disappointment as I feigned a normal temperament watching a movie next to him on the couch. How many times had I visited a man’s house on multiple occasions and not had them eventually pull a move? Very few, I couldn’t think of any. I’d find that there are always exceptions to rules, and perhaps they could come from someone who you thought fit into a stereotype.

Each day that moved forward, I daydreamed about him while in lectures, his broad shoulders and warm voice, his high cheekbones and thick arms. I imagined him saying dirty things to me, what would’ve happened if he could be in my ear through a bluetooth headphone and tease me throughout the class. That’s practically what he was doing anyway; I wanted to hear him breathlessly moan to me and tell me what he would do to me if I ditched my dreams and spent every day fucking him until I was rendered stupid and satisfied, no work, no band, no school – just two degenerates tangling limbs and lips from sunrise to sunset. I imagined shivering deep feelings of yearning down my body while trying to understand a philosophical theory, fearing the proof of my brazenness dripping in a puddle onto institutional seats. I wanted to feel my stomach churn in wanting, deep blush spreading from face to thighs as I wished he was there to slide a hand up my skirt and let me rock back and forth on his fingers until I had to hide a desperate orgasm right as we wrapped up Kant.

I returned home from class and quickly retreated to my bedroom without even acknowledging my roommates. Stripping off my clothes, I sat on my meditation pillow and took a hit from my bong, resting my head against the wall and exhaling into euphoria. The bright idea struck me – I should call him. After a few rings, I heard that lovely voice greeting me happily and asking me what I was up to. I told him nothing important, and that I just felt like talking to him. After several minutes of banter, he was exasperated about the unseasonably hot weather. Without inhibition, I told him I was presently sitting naked while we chatted. He asked if I typically call men out of the blue and tell them I’m naked.

“Only the ones who strike my interest as much as you do.” He laughed incredulously but indulged my flirtation.

“I can’t say I’m complaining about it. Wish I actually had a smartphone so this could be a video chat.”

I had noticed the old flip-phone before and would frequently call Larry instead of texting. His phone could barely manage sending a small MMS, let alone support person-to-person video chats.

“Well, let me describe what I’m wearing.”

He broke out into laughter, and I heard the sound of him settling into his desk chair, then – the sound of a belt being undone.

“Whatcha doing there?”

“Just meeting the dress code. Your voice sounds comfortable, so you must be onto something.”

I giggled and didn’t bother fighting the blush all over myself. I moved my hand downwards between my thighs and noticed just how excited I was. My hand accidentally brushed my clit, and I couldn’t move on after that. It begged to be rubbed and played with. My vibrator was just inches away in my desk drawer. Perhaps I could strategically mute my mic when I wasn’t talking so he wouldn’t hear the ambient buzz of the device. I settled on using my hands at first, but I would move on if the moment arose. I started gently rubbing my clit, clockwise with two fingers, very slowly, trying to deny myself of a quick orgasm too early, not earned.

“What are you doing now?”

I wondered if he had hurt a slight hitch in my breath, or if I was just paranoid my lust for him would be too overt. Was I caught? Should I admit my crime before the evidence is presented? Do I fold? I decided to admit and submit to my fate.

“If I had pants on right now my hand would be in them, you know what I mean?”

It was met with a nervous chuckle and Larry clearing his throat.

“Why’s that?”

He said it with an open-minded tone, curious and clearly fishing for an answer.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day in class, and that’s why I called you. I wanted you to call me during the class and make me want to cum my pants.”

“Alright, can I put my hand in my imaginary pants now too?”

“Only if you tell me what you’d do to me if you were here right now.”

“Deal.”

I quickened the pace of my rubbing when I heard his breath quiver when he first began rubbing his cock, so quiet and vulnerable. I reached for my vibrator, emboldened knowing that I could do whatever I wanted as he narrated to me. I chose a setting with calculated, scattered buzzes to tickle and tease myself, riding the wave of near-climax to the depths of cruel denial.

“First of all, I’d want to see those big fucking tits of yours. You wore that little tank top with the rip in the front, and I just wanted to pull you out of your room by that top and rip it the fuck in half. You don’t even fucking wear a bra dude – you gotta be kidding me.”

“Wait, so all these times we hung out, you were just fantasizing about me and shit, but you never even made a move.”

“Kinda thought you were just trying to extend an olive branch so you could hang out with me and the boys. I never said I was smart though.”

“No, I actually want to fuck you like, so bad Larry.”

I giggled my way through an orgasm at that moment, just finally saying the words to him let my body flood with relief and ecstasy. I moaned into my phone as I rubbed my vibrator against myself through the orgasm, riding out every last aftershock with another sharp pulse of vibration. I almost knocked myself out throwing myself against the wall while trying not to be too loud for prying ears.

“Did you cum?”

I shook myself into reality and switched off the vibrator.

“I did, I’m sorry.”

“Can I come over and do that for you now? We have a few hours before practice.”

“Actually, yeah, come over right now.”

I stared impatiently at my phone as I sat on the ground, now wearing a pair of overalls with nothing else. I grabbed the first thing I had found on the ground in preparation to get the door. I snuck my hand through the side hole and stroked myself, edging and waiting for Larry to arrive and show me what he thought was too eager to reveal over the phone.

Finally, I heard my phone buzz with a text of: “Here”

Throwing on my sweatshirt, I quickly ran to fetch the door and lead him to my room. Wasting no time, I threw off my clothes into a pile and did the same for him, letting my hands linger over the firmness of his triceps and the light hair decorating his chest. I danced small circles into his skin with a soft touch while I reached for the buckle of his jeans, rubbing my naked body against him as I left him in only his briefs. His cock already brushed against the side of my hand, seemingly only half hard, but already so thick and substantial. I stepped back to eye him up and down, enamored and satisfied with what he had to offer. I waited to remove his underwear, waiting to see when he would get so pent up he had to rip them off and engage with me, just like he had done to me.

“Pick me up.”

Smirking, he strolled over and easily hoisted me up so I could wrap my legs around to secure myself. He supported me with a firm grip around my waist, almost like a dance. I leaned up to kiss him, running my fingers through his hair our kisses grew stronger, needier, a tease into what we had been waiting for this entire time. He lifted me up higher to reach my breasts and began lightly running his tongue over each nipple, circling around at first, then flicking up and down, slowly at first, then quicker as he felt my nails dig into his scalp and back with overwhelmed urgency. I leaned forward to smother him with my breasts, using my shoulders to squeeze in tighter and leave him tapping out for mercy. As I bounced, I felt his cock stiffen to an intensely hard state with pre-cum soaking through. I asked him to put me down on the floor.

I laid there with my legs up and open, toes pointing at the sky. I held this pose and beckoned him to come over and kneel in front of me. He dropped to his knees and crawled over to me, placing his lips against my pussy and kissing every inch lovingly, following with small flicks of the tongue over my clit. He held my legs up and back as I lost control through the build-up, using my own body as leverage to lick faster and with more gusto. I came with force, gyrating my hips uncontrollably against his head.

After I came, he sat back on his heels and pulled down his underwear, revealing a cock that matched the physique entirely. It was about 7 or 8 inches long with significant circumference and a pulsing pink head. I stroked myself as I watched him, and he did the same, fixated on my every move as I cradled my breast with one hand and slipped a finger inside of myself with the other. I made sure to allow him auditory access to every loud wet sound that my pussy made while I fingerfucked myself. The pace of his stroking increased as I brought myself close to orgasm, begging him to come over and see me to the end. Kneeling next to me now, he inserted two of his fingers inside of me, next to mine, picking up the pace I had taken and stroking my g-spot. I moved my hand down from my chest and began rubbing my clit, taking me over the edge quickly.

“Babe, I’m gonna squirt.” “Do it, now. Cum for me.”

On his command, I squirted all over the floor and his hand. Breathless, I found my way to my feet and reached for the box of condoms in my desk. He followed me, taking the condom from me and sliding it on his cock. I grabbed his hand and led him to my twin-sized bed, comically

small for him, but I knew we would make do. He sat back against the wall and lifted me onto his lap, rubbing his cock against my lips and only inserting one or two inches inside of me before heartlessly taking it out and rubbing my clit with it once again. I wrapped my arms around his neck and begged into his hear to fuck me with his perfect cock. He gave in, sliding himself into me and stretching out every inch I had to give him. In this position, I could bounce up and down on him while staring in his eyes, feeling every moan against my face and returning the same. My tits rubbed against his chest, gyrating and jiggling with the quick pace of his thrusts. His grip around my hips was firm and controlling, keeping me secure as he pounded me and let me scream into his shoulder as my pussy tightened around his cock. I tightened my legs around him and rode that orgasm into another calf-tightening, delicious orgasm, trying not to scream as every nerve in my body emitted rays of pleasure.

Larry pulled me off his cock and told me to get on my knees in front of him. I gripped onto the sides of my bed, knowing how this would feel. He kissed down my back, across my ass, and licked up from my pussy to asshole. He stroked himself as his tongue pleasured my ass, and I started stroking myself as well. I wanted him inside of me, and I knew he was giving me more foreplay because he was afraid of hurting me in this position, possibly too big for me perhaps. I was going to prove him wrong, of course.

He guided his cock inside of me, and I tilted my body down low with my ass high up. He grabbed my sides, looming over me and thrusting with all his might, moaning and producing garbled compliments about me and my body. I felt incredible, so much cock throbbing inside of me, making me feel so whole and satisfied. My entire vagina felt like a g-spot. I could feel him everywhere, and I felt another orgasm flooding my body. I told him this, and he gripped me tighter, hands and fingers digging into my skin, eventually leaving large hand-shaped bruises all over my body. He picked me up off the bed and held my waist as he slammed me down on him, calling me beautiful and amazing as he brutalized me. He could feel my vagina starting to pulse again, so he demanded me to cum for him, and that he would cum at the same time.

I leaned all my weight into his lap and grinded against him as I exploded all over him, squirt flying against my pillows, walls, and sheets. With a satisfied grunt, he thrust one final time and held me tight as he filled the condom with a hot load of cum, spurting out rope after rope in me until I felt his fingers relax and him lean over me to kiss my shoulder. I quickly cleaned myself up with paper towels and peeked out my door to find that my roommates had left for their classes. With a laugh, I grabbed Larry’s hand and brought him into the large, accessible shower. We both stood under the water and held each other while kissing and washing each other’s bodies.

Over the next few years, my meetings with Larry increased in their rate, and we ended up exploring a lot more kinks and fantasies we both shared. I’ll definitely be following up with more when I get a chance to write more.

I hope you’re well, Larry. Miss you a lot.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/veaabq/fm_phone_sex_leads_to_real_sex