Either I'm Becoming Too Perverse, Or Telephone Sex Chat Lines Have Seriously Gone DownhillSubmitted by JoeyG at 2006-11-13 07:40:57 EST
Rating: 1.66 on 58 ratings (58 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
Friday night poker sessions.
What better way to unwind after a week spent chipping away at the grindstone? A few beers, takeaway pizza, 10 notes to buy a share of the chips, and the winner takes all.
Sadly, this isn’t enough sometimes. What better way to celebrate a sweeping victory, than with a little ritual humiliation at the hands of the loser.
Loser, meaning me, on this occasion.
The fickle finger of fate had well and truly flipped me the bird, slapped me round the chops and shoved a thumb up my crack for good measure. In 2 and a half hours of cards, the best hand I had was a 2-pair, sixes and sevens, which I ended up folding to a bluff.
Cursing my luck, I switched my drinks to neat whiskey, and sat and watched as the rest of the chips slowly ended up in a single pile in front of my friend Shaun.
“Easy pickings! Gimme my money, bitches!” Shaun bragged as we each handed over a 10 spot which quickly disappeared into his wallet never to be seen again, miserly fucker that he is. “And Joey, I do believe it’s your forfeit this week…..”
“Go on then you bastards, do your worst…..”
“Ok, lemme see…… yeah, that’ll do for a bit of entertainment! You’ve got to ring one of these chat lines, and make it convincing. The bitch on the other end has to completely believe that you’re some sad fucker, holed up indoors on his own on a Friday night, with nothing better to do than ring her up and have a wank. We listen to the whole thing on speaker phone.”
The chorus of consent from the rest of the players had sealed my fate. Oh well, I’ve made them do worse I suppose.
It was Steve’s house we were at, so he produced a suitably depraved media publication, and flipped to the numbers at the back.
“Ok, here we are – Gracie’s Gang-Bang Hotline. Fulfil your widest, exotic fantasies. All yours!” He handed over the mag, and I picked up the phone to dial the number. The advert was accompanied by a reasonably attractive, topless brunette chick, so I just concentrated on that, and tried not to think about what the woman on the other end would actually look like in real life.
Phone Chick: “Hi there…. Who’s this?”
That threw me right away. Exotic? This woman has more of a West Country accent than I do.
Me: “Hi, this is, um…..”
I scan the room for inspiration, and notice how Shaun looks a bit like the guy from ‘The Musters’.
Me: “….this is Herman. And you are….?”
Phone Chick: “I’m Gracie. How you feeling tonight?”
Me: “Me? Oh, I’m feeling hot, baby….”
Gracie: “Well, I guess it is a little warm in here tonight.”
Gracie: “I said it’s quite hot in here.”
Me: “No, no, I meant hot as in, y’know, horny, randy, ready to get dirty!”
Gracie: “Oh. I see now. Right. Gotcha! How’s that working out for you?”
Me: “Well, that’s kind of why I’m calling you…. I thought you could, y’know, ‘help me out a little’?”
Gracie: “Help you out? ‘Fraid you’re gonna need to be a bit more specific that that, darling.”
Me: “I want you to give me a ‘hand’, or more specifically, help me give myself a ‘hand’, you know what I mean?”
Gracie: “Hand with what? Hand in the kitchen? You got some cakes need baking, dishes to clean, is that what this is all about? If so, I think you got the wrong idea about what I do here……”
Me: “No! I know exactly what you are! That’s why I called…..”
Gracie: “Well, spit it out and say it then!”
Gracie: “That’s ok, sugar, I got all the time in the world…..”
Me: “Ok, ok… I wanna sit here, while you talk filthy and I jerk off, ya happy now?”
Gracie: “There, see, that wasn’t so hard now was it?”
Me: “You better get talking, bitch, or it’s not going to be hard at all in a minute.”
Gracie: “Keep your panties on… oh wait, I’m guessing they’re already on the floor, huh? Ok, darling, what do you want to talk about?”
Me: “Right then…. um, what you wearing?”
Gracie: “What am I wearing?”
Me: “Yeah, I want you to tell me what you’re wearing.”
Gracie: “Ok, lets see, I’ve got a tight, black figure-hugging top on……..”
I begin to make fake fwapping sounds, accompanied with a slight increase in breathing.
Me: “That’s it, go on……”
Gracie: “…. And my top is covering a black, lacy bra……”
I speed up the sound effects, and begin moaning in an overdramatic fashion.
Me: “Oh yeah, keep going baby….”
Gracie: “And, um, a pair of jeans.”
I stop all noises.
Gracie: “I’m wearing a black top, black bra and jeans. You wanted to know what I was wearing, so I told you.”
Me: “Is that it? No suspenders, silk panties, anything like that?”
Gracie: “I’ve got some pink fluffy slippers, if they’ll help? Maybe a silk nightie tucked away somewhere if you wanna wait while I go get changed?”
Me: “Slippers? What? Hey, just forget it…. come on, it’s getting late, and I wanna pop my cookies. Whaddya say, Gracie?”
Gracie: “Now, now, don’t be so demanding………..”
Me: “Shut up, you slore! I’ve got my dick in hand here, and a set of balls that are about to burst, so can you make with the filthy slut talk already?!”
Gracie: “Well, I do love it when a man knows what he wants… It kinda makes me moist…”
Me: “Moist? What the fuck do you mean, ‘moist’? ‘Moist’ is what a fungus likes to grow in.”
Gracie: “It makes my pussy all hot and wet…….”
Me: “Now we’re talking……”
Gracie: “OK, imagine, my hand, squeezing tight around your cock, sliding up and down, up and down…”
By now the sound effects have returned.
Me: “Oh yeah, that’s what I’m talking about…”
Gracie: “Now imagine my hot mouth closing around the end of your dick, and you force it down my throat……mmmmmmmm”
Me: “Hell yeah…. That’s the shit, right there….. now come and fuck me. I want you to climb on, and ride me to the rodeo, bitch!”
Gracie: “Ok, I’m taking off my top, then I slip the straps of my bra down onto my shoulders, undo it, and let it fall to the floor. Now, I’m sliding off my jeans….”
Me: “Again, with the jeans, can’t you at least pretend to be wearing something sexy?”
Gracie: “Well, ok, but it’s kinda hard to find stuff like that in my size……”
Me: “Your size? What?”
Gracie: “Well, when you get past 350 lbs, and……”
Me: “350 lbs? DAAAAAAAMMN, bitch!”
I stare resentfully at my friends, who are quite literally rolling around on the floor, trying not to piss themselves and give the game away. They motion for me to go on.
Gracie: “What’s the matter, scared of a little meat?”
Me: “A little meat? Fuck me, you could open a butcher’s shop!”
Gracie: “Ah yes, fuck you – that’s exactly what I intend to do….. now, sit your ass back down and listen, coz I’m clicking away at my own mouse now, and I always get my man!”
Me: “This is fucked up…….”
Gracie: “Ok, I can slip 4 fingers in me now, so I’m ready for you….. that’s it, don’t be shy, come here, and stick it in me…..come on, that’s it…… that’s it….NO, WILL YOU GET THE FUCK OUTTA THERE!”
Gracie: “Not you, honey – my damn dog, he just tried sticking his wet nose where he shouldn’t. Now, where we’re we?”
Me: “What the fuck are you on? Do you have any idea what you’re actually doing? Fuck, I could do a better job than you! What kind of asshole do you take me for?”
Gracie: “The kind of asshole that jerks off to complete strangers, and pays £1.99 a minute for the privilege.”
Gracie: “Now, are we gonna get it on, or what?”
Me: “Fuck you.”
Gracie: “Thank you, please call again.”
The laughter that my friends had been holding in, suddenly erupted. I had to laugh to, to install a sense of us laughing together, as opposed to myself being laughed at.
God damn telephone sex operators.
Thank fuck for the internet………………
Admit it, you thought she sounded hot on the phone, but things went downhill when you finally met up for that 'dogging' session.jpg