I have met some interesting characters. Some cute others weird and some so scary that I have their details in a file called Missing in case I ever go missing. Please my precious review this file carefully and submit to the appropriate authorities if ever you lose me.
One of these characters was a guy called The Wanker. Not his birth name admittedly he was a Caribbean born male with a beautiful lilting accent and the frame of a sprinter. Well he would have done if he hadn’t eaten his way through the pie shop. But there was something sweet about him. We met on a dating site and initially he pretended to want a relationship but after I made it clear we weren’t a match he opened up about his…needs.
Working late night at hotels can be very dull. The Wanker used to use the time effectively to chat to random strangers online including me. On nights off he would be found travelling to exotic places like Luton and Kent for sex. But sadly for The Wanker he was no oil painting. One time he spent all night talking to a woman who invited him to Luton for a hot and heavy session. He arrived at the woman’s house; she took one peek out of the window, gasped and promptly switched off all of the lights and pretended not to be home. That was one long frustrating drive back to South London for The Wanker.
Between wanks we would talk. He had been single for a while and being new to the country didn’t have a wide circle of friends and family. He was a sweetheart bless him something told me that we weren’t a match. But, he loved to wank off and talk dirty. It was not to the sound of my voice thankfully but to the sound of his own. He would sit there and tell me what he was going to do to me when he saw me and then, all too soon it would be over.
I had my script. I sat at home giving myself a pedicure and moaned at the appropriate places. I gave the occasion oooh yeah, yeah baby. Little did he know I was talking to the Haribos. Then he would cum, thank me politely and tell me about his latest aborted attempt to meet up with some woman from the internet. He wasn’t having much luck. He offered to come to visit me one night but I wasn’t having it. My bed was assembled by my own fair hands and I don’t think it would have taken his weight. I am many things my precious but a DIY expert I am not.
I soon tired of Wanker. Mainly because there is only so much pleasure I can get from listening to the fantasies of a guy who was struggling to transition from the virtual to real life. I also found it really tiring trying to think up different ways to feign interest and fake an orgasm. I wasn’t really inspired and drama wasn’t my strongest subject at school. Besides, I believe an orgasm is only as good as the person giving it to you.
However it helped improve my phone sex and I learned that for some there is satisfaction in just being heard.
© Chelsea Black
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