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Subject: {ASSM} NEW STORY: Mystery Caller Ver 1.0 (Revised Post) (MF, Incest)
Date: Fri, 7 Jan 2000 15:10:02 -0500
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NEW STORY: Mystery Caller Ver 1.0 (Revised Post) (MF, Incest)
Hello folks this is the attempt of a new kind of story. This will be an
effort by me to seed the story groups with new and more interesting story
lines. Also theses ideas are not copyrighted nor should they ever be.
Make changes, add more detail what ever you see that could make a good
story line a great story. But PLEASE E-mail me a copy of the story with
the changes and the best changes will be posted back to the groups and the
process starts over. Again and again until a great story is born. All
people wishing to contribute will have their names included in the authors
line in the story. I am not an author but have seen tons of ideas and will
put them out to you. My name will mot appear in the author line and these
will never be copy righted so write-on. The stories changed will come with
new version numbers every time changes are made. Hopefully we will have
several directions with several endings which in theory will give us all
more sexy and intriguing stories
I'm just "the_redoubt" and nothing more For questions or to submit
changes..... E-Mail: the_redoubt@yahoo.com
Mystery Caller Version 1.0 (Revised Post)
Plug-in gadgetry has never done much for me. I've never been overly
fond of modern devices like electric can openers, pencil sharpeners and
answering machines. I realize that makes me something of a dinosaur in the
modern age, but I've always felt awkward and uncomfortable delivering onto
a tape at the other end of a phone line. Canned messages, ear-splitting
beeps, the silliness of muttering your name and number into someone's
machine - no wonder I resisted buying one for so long.
I finally cracked and bought an answering machine only after I missed
several important business connections simply because I wasn't home to
receive the calls. Within two weeks, however, a message popped up on the
tape that made me realize that the answering machines weren't quite as bad,
and as impersonal as I had initially thought.
I was listening to the usual succession of "hang-ups" when I was
startled by a voice that absolutely dripped with sensuality. From the
moment the husky female voice breathed out a sultry "Hi, sexy," I wouldn't
have turned it off if someone had offered me the price of the machine.
At first I thought it was the voice of my Mother but dismissed that
right away. Because why would my Mother be calling me sexy for God's sake.
But it was, I'm delighted to say, an obscene phone call. Actually
"obscene" isn't anywhere near the right word, because the voice was sexy as
hell and the message was tantalizingly personal, the very opposite of
offensive. Since I have it on tape, I can render it with exactitude:
"I'm making this call from the office," said the voice, "and I'm looking
at and lusting after your body as I talk. Do you know I watch you every
day, and that when you walk by my desk it makes my panties moist? I'm wet
right now. Want to know why? Because I've been fantasizing all morning
about taking you into my mouth and sucking you until you come in my
throat."
I was positively stunned. I'd never particularly thought a telephone
conversation could be a sexual turn-on, but this purring voice had me
vibrating with sex and I was all ears.
"Have I got your attention? Good, because I can't seem to get much of a
rise out of you around here. Are you really as serious as you seem here at
the office? I hope not, because I'd like to find out what you look like
naked. From where I'm sitting you look yummy in your clothes, but every
day I take them off in my mind and eat every inch of you with my eyes.
I'll tell you what--if this phone call sounds like something you'd like to
pursue, bring something to work tomorrow--a new coffee cup, say-- and leave
it sitting on your desk. I'll see it and leave another message. In the
meantime, I've got to get back to work. But if the thought of my nipples
getting hard every time I think of you, or if my sinking down on your cock
turns you on, bring that cup tomorrow. Bye now."
I was flabbergasted, to say the least. Quickly I reversed the tape and
listened again to that wonderfully sexy voice and felt its titillating
affect on me.
Was it a prank, or for real? And who could it be? I work in a large
office with some thirty people, about half of them female, so it could have
been any one of more than a dozen women.
Half of them leaped into mind instantly: Cathy? Suzanne? That new
girl- what was her name--Elizabeth? or maybe it was Cheryl, but that was
my Mother and even so one luscious piece of work. In fact, nearly every
girl in the office was worth a tumble. Several of them were absolute
knockouts. Including my Mother, which I've thought of sexually since my
teen years, but just the thought of it maybe being her made me crazy with
lust.
I spent the whole evening playing back the tape, letting it work its
magic on me, feeling my cock swell as the sultry voice talked about it. I
stroked my shaft to its full thickness while walking back and forth in
front of the machine. I kept finding the part where she talked about the
panties and her throat. Of course I was trying to recognize the voice, but
I also realized that the caller had a point. I was cool at the office.
Although I'd worked there for six moths, I never really got to know any
of the girls beyond the daily exchange of pleasantries. Excepting my
Mother, of course, but didn't dare ask her straight out. If it was her I
was willing to play her game as well. Besides, I had some notion that
business and pleasure should be filed in separate pigeonholes. But this
caller was intriguing; at the very least I wanted to know more, and before
going to sleep with cock in hand, I had decided to take a new coffee cup to
work with me in the morning. If it was just an office prank, so be it. If
not, well, a good deal more than my curiosity had been aroused.
I'm afraid I didn't get much work done the next day. I was too busy
trying to guess which one of the women in the office had called--or if, in
fact, any of them had, including dear old Mom. Aside from drinking too
much coffee from my new cup, I looked for the eye contact that would tell
me something, for some sign or another that might reveal my caller, but
there was nothing beyond the ordinary all day--not unless you count the
fantasies that went through my head as one by one I imagined each of the
girls, including my Mother Cheryl, kneeling in front of me, sucking me to a
withering orgasm or sinking down on my rampant cock with the smooth grace
of ocelots.
It turned out to be a frustrating day, as I was unable to guess her
identity. As quitting time approached I became anxious for it to be over
so that I could hurry home and turn on the answering machine. That sensual
female voice, her sultry allure, her mystery were like a drug. And I was
completely addicted to her skillful poetry, intoxicated by her insinuating
sexual remarks. I needed a fix, and that's just what I got.
"Hi, Steve. You brought the cup. Do you know how absolutely horny that
makes me? I may have to make this a short call so I can sneak into the
washroom, slip off my sticky panties and use my fingers to do what I wish
your tongue was doing right now.
"Think about it. Think about crawling under my desk, reaching up my
skirt, licking me, teasing me with your tongue, while I try to pretend
nothing at all is happening. I can practically feel your mustache tickling
my clitoris. If you were doing that right now, I'd melt all over your
face."
Her words, her imagery captivated my senses. With the turn of a phrase,
a pause, a mournful sigh, she made my nipples hard, my cock erect, my heart
shudder. She massaged my ego and took me on a fantastic voyage into the
realm of the sexual intellect.
"Do you mind my calling? Don't you like the mystery of it? Which one
is it, Steve? I'll bet you undressed us all today. I promise you, if you
figure out who I am, I'll undress for you slowly. Then I'll take your
clothes off and lay you down. I'll lick your balls and then slide my lips
over your cock and suck you until you come in my mouth. Mmmm, delicious.
Gotta go. Sweet dreams, sexy. Until tomorrow when I see you at work
again. Can't wait."
Needless to say, this second message fueled my curiosity and arousal.
But for all the titillation, there was also a tremendous amount of
frustration. She never called while was at home. I couldn't talk to her,
couldn't ask anything. Here I was, walking around my apartment with an
enormous erection, listening to a mysterious voice making love to me over
the phone, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it.
The next day I resumed my search, watching whenever any of the women
used the phones, but since that included practically everyone at least a
dozen times a day, it was a futile stratagem. I smiled a lot, too,
offering an opening my mysterious caller might be looking for, but nobody
responded. Nothing happened.
That evening--in fact, every evening for a week--there was a new
message, each one sexier and more sultry than the last. She told me how
she went home at night and masturbated in front of the mirror, how her
nipples ached at work as she watched me. Each call became a little longer
as she described in greater detail what we would do when I figured out who
she was.
Then she began to give me hints. Her desk faced mine, a fact that
eliminated nearly half the girls in the office. She also told me she was a
brunette, which eliminated three more. Gradually, from the clues she gave
me, I was able to narrow it down to two women, Cheryl, my Mother, and
Connie, both of whom were saucy and gorgeous and inspired thoughts so
sexual, so thrilling, I had to remove myself to the men's room and relieve
myself.
In the back of my mind was this nagging thought of how silly I'd look if
I chose wrong, and the wonder if it was truly my Mother doing this, or if
this was simply a prolonged prank. Yet there was a quality in that voice
that made it genuine, even an urgency, that grew almost daily. She wanted
me to guess. I knew it was up to me, that she wasn't going to come forward
until I made the first move. In the meantime, her calls were keeping my
lust at a fever pitch. True, it was maddening, but the titillation, the
rush, became my raison d'etre. I loved it.
After much consideration, unbelievably, I was convinced that my gal was
my Mother Cheryl. The voice on the phone was husky and deep, and that fit
Mom better than Connie. I also began to sense a certain electricity coming
from mom--a shy smile, eye contact that set off sparks, a kind of special
attention she seemed to pay when we had to discuss some office or family
matter. It shouldn't be this way between Son and Mother, but in the end, I
decided to go for it.
The two of us had been working together on an account for several weeks
and I used that as a pretext for asking her if she could stick around for
an hour or two so that we could clean up the file. It was a thin excuse, I
knew, but when she agreed I exulted. It had to be her.
It was then that I had my inspiration. As people began leaving for the
day, I dialed her extension. Her desk was halfway across the room from
mine, but since we faced each other I could see her pick up the phone--and
when I heard her voice, I was certain. Though properly businesslike, it
had that same breathless quality, that warm sultry allure that had become
so familiar. I took the plunge. "It's you, isn't it?" I asked.
Her quick look--I swear I could see her blush, even from five desks
away--was all the confirmation I needed.
"Still want to slide those luscious lips over my prick? Or would you
rather just tease me over the telephone? Pretty soon everybody is going to
be gone and we can see if you meant all those things you said. Did you?"
Silence. Yet from across the room, as she looked at me, I saw her nod.
"Okay. Now it's my turn. I'm getting hard, Mom. All this time I've
been thinking about how much I wanted to get into your pants. I'm glad
it's you. Are you wet?"
"Yes."
"How wet?"
"I've been wet all day. I don't know why, but I sensed you knew. I was
hoping you found me out."
"Good. Now listen, as soon as the last person leaves, I want you to
come over here, put your sweet derriere on my desk and let me find out how
wet your little pussy really is. Okay?"
"But . . . what if somebody comes back?"
"Nobody will come back. And now that we both know, I don't want to
wait. Do you?"
"No."
"Take off your panties."
"What, now? With people still around?"
"Do it under your desk and no one will see what you are doing."
"Just a minute."
>From halfway across the room I watched her put down the phone and
squirm around in her chair. Aside from me, no one was paying the least bit
attention to her; they were too busy cleaning up their desks and heading
for the door.
"Okay, they're off. I've put them in my desk drawer."
"Great. Now tell me how wet you are. Use your fingers and describe to
me what you're doing."
"Somebody will see," she protested.
"Not a chance. There's only a few left and they've got their minds on
the weekend. Come on, Mom, tell me what you feel."
For a moment there was silence, but when she spoke again her voice was
trembling and breathless. "I'm doing it. Feels so good, but I wish it
were your fingers instead of mine."
"Later. How wet are you?"
"Extremely. Oh, that feels so good. If I do this, will you let me suck
you?"
"With pleasure. As a matter of fact, I've got my cock in my hand right
now. It's hard, hot momma, Very hard."
"I want it. I want to look at it. I want it in my mouth and my pussy.
Oh! I'm going to make myself come just thinking about sucking you."
"Do it. Everyone's gone now."
I listened to her breathe and murmur into the phone, and watched as she
leaned back into her chair. I was close to exploding myself as she
masturbated there at her desk across the room, telling me, between
breathless gasps, how her fingers were penetrating her pussy and stroking
her hard little clit.
"Oh! I'm there, Son. I want you in my mouth. I want to swallow you .
. .. I'm going . . . I' coming."
"My prick is in my hand right now, Mom. I'm going to fuck your mouth,
Mom, I'm going to shoot my load way down your throat. Do you want that?"
"Yes. Oh, yes. Yes." Her voice came in little staccato explosions in
time with her orgasmic spasms. She was panting little squeaks of urgency
and excitement into the phone and I had to stop stroking myself or else I
would have come with her. Besides having neatly turned the tables on my
mysterious caller, it was incredibly sexy to listen to her whimpers and to
watch her wriggling in her chair as her orgasm shook her. Then, after a
moment of silence, she found her voice again.
"All right, Steve. As you said, it's your turn. I'm coming over
there."
She went over to the front door, locked it, then she turned toward me. I
stood up and began stripping, but had barely gotten my pants off before she
had crossed the twenty yards that separated our desks. Without a pause,
she pushed me back against the desk, knelt in front of me, and with one
hand around my cock, looked up into my eyes.
"Are you ready for this, Son? I've been thinking about it almost from
the day we came to work here."
"Ready? I've been waiting ever since I started getting your sexy
messages."
"Here's my best one." In a single plunge she engulfed half my cock in
her mouth, pulled her face away briefly and plunged again. I could feel my
swollen cockhead push into her throat as with each bob of her head she took
more and more of me into her mouth. My legs seemed to fail me and I had to
keep from collapsing.
The view of her wet lips sliding up and down the length of my cock was
too much. All the anticipation, our phone sex only moments before, the
sight of my scrumptious Mother kneeling in front of me, burying her nose in
my pubic hair, being blown here in the office which just a few moments
before had been full of people--it all came together in a searing instant
of orgasmic pleasure. My whole body shook with sexual energy and I blasted
my mother's mouth with gush after gush of hot Son semen. As I started
coming she backed away slightly so that only the tip of my prick brushed
her open lips. She pumped me with both hands now, and I watched my semen
shoot into her mouth, watched her tongue stab out to catch the spurts. And
then she plunged again, driving me deep into her mouth to suck the last
drops of my incestuous ejaculation into her throat.
As I descended from the heights of passion, she gently soothed my cock
with her tongue, much like a tiny animal reluctant to quit nibbling before
going to nest. I eventually pulled her up and tasted the traces of my
semen on her lips. After several minutes of touches and kisses only a
little less torrid--but no less sexy--than what had started with my calling
her on the office phone, we finally got ourselves together enough to talk.
Mom told me that it was an experiment and that she'd felt the same way
when I was a teenager but never had the guts to try anything. And since I
wasn't very son-like in the office that this was the perfect chance to try
knowing full well that I had an answering machine. The rest, she said, had
been impromptu. She added that she hoped the calls had excited me as much
as they had her when she made them. I assured her that they had.
We spent the rest of the evening together, first having dinner, then
making languid love at my apartment while we listen to mom's messages--I
had saved them all and now she tried to fulfill as many of her promises as
we had the stamina for. When we finally fell asleep at four in the
morning, we hadn't even made it through the third message.
In fact, I doubt we'll ever catch up, for every day now when I come
home, usually with Mom right behind me, there's a new message on the
machine. My Mother has an adventurous mind and manages to keep our
schedule full of enticing coming attractions.
The only solution, as I've suggested to her, is to turn the tape
recorder off or move back in with her. But I've since overcome my dislike
for answering machines, and I think the latter solution is the only one
either of us wants.
Hello folks this is the attempt of a new kind of story. This will be an
effort by me to seed the story groups with new and more interesting story
lines. Also theses ideas are not copyrighted nor should they ever be.
Make changes, add more detail what ever you see that could make a good
story line a great story. But PLEASE E-mail me a copy of the story with
the changes and the best changes will be posted back to the groups and the
process starts over. Again and again until a great story is born. All
people wishing to contribute will have their names included in the authors
line in the story. I am not an author but have seen tons of ideas and will
put them out to you. My name will mot appear in the author line and these
will never be copy righted so write-on. I'm just "the_redoubt" and nothing
more
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