I’m a twenty-three-year-old female graduate student who is studying music at a small university in Manhattan. Since I’m out on my own, I try to keep costs down by renting a studio apartment in Brooklyn—one of the “other” boroughs, which means being far away from campus activities, not to mention convenient campus employment. Between practice sessions (my primary instrument is violin) and going to class, I found that holding down a day job was more than difficult—it was impossible.
Most of my dorm room-dwelling friends are engaged in more noble part-time endeavors, like tutoring fellow students or spending their free moments volunteering at soup kitchens, but I cannot afford to be so virtuous. So when my next-door neighbor, Joe, offered me the chance to work as the night dispatcher for his towing company, I readily accepted. And it was because of my new job that I was recently able to sample a different kind of “night music.”
After apprenticing for two weeks in the busy, Bensonhurst office of Joe’s company, I was familiar with many of the drivers and knew how to operate the two-way radio and monitor the emergency frequencies with our illicit scanner. It’s my job to send a truck to anyone who calls in for service or, as is usually the case at night, listen in on the police precincts’ reports and send out a driver to the scene of an accident.
On my first night alone, I was working in a tiny office in the posh area of Mill Basin. Most of the area’s residents are well to do. Their gorgeous homes are complete with docks in the back, so they can go sailing off into the bay during sultry summer nights. Joe had told me that most of my work in this office would be call-ins; that’s because the streets here are filled with family-style station wagons and luxury cars, not the joy-riding rabble-rousers you might find in Bensonhurst.
The day dispatcher had warned me that the air conditioner was on the fritz, so I arrived for work in my denim cutoffs and a lightweight cotton tank top. The day had been blistering hot, and I wore my blonde hair in a ponytail gathered at the back of my neck. Voting for my comfort, I didn’t wear any underwear. My breasts were covered with a sheen of sweat, my nipples jutting out against the thin material. My freshly washed hair had begun slipping out of my barrette and the loose strands clung to my neck.
I readied myself for the evening, grabbing an ice-cold soda out of the fridge and settling down to begin the graveyard shift. The perspiration ran in slow drips between my breasts as I tapped my fingernails on the table and waited for a call. Even though the window was open, the only thing that flowed inside the office were the chirping sounds of the crickets.
Deciding it was a slow night, I reached for the scanner to see if there was any ambulance-chasing to do. Turning the dial, I heard squeal after squeal turn into the voice of an operator announcing a fire here and there or a domestic disturbance call, but nothing I could use. I rolled the cold soda can along my forehead and let out a sigh. I continued cruising the frequencies and was startled to hear the sound of someone dialing a phone. I stopped to listen. After two rings a man answered with a sleepy hello.
“Hi, baby, it’s me,” said the caller, a woman with a whispering, sexy voice. “I’m so hot. I can’t sleep… I’m lying on my bed, not wearing a stitch of clothing.” I quickly realized that I must be picking up the conversation of someone using a cordless phone!
“I bet you look good, Maria,” the man answered, sounding as though that really woke him up.
“Do you know what else is burning up, Sam?” she asked. “My pussy is. It’s so hot and wet, it’s keeping me awake. And now I’m lying here thinking about your hard cock and how I’m dying to be fucked.” I sat up, suddenly very interested in my work. I placed the scanner on the table next to me.
“Tell me what you look like, sweetie,” Sam begged. I couldn’t wait to hear.
“I’m sitting back against soft pillows with my knees bent and my legs spread,” Maria said. I heard a lip-smacking noise as she continued. “And I just wet my finger and my thumb in my mouth so I can roll my nipple in between them and get it hard like a little pebble. Now I’m squeezing it—” there was a sigh as she paused. “Oh, and I’m thinking about you taking it between your lips.”
I pictured her in a dark bedroom with her hair scattered around her pretty face on the pillow. I could almost see her lips pursing as she moaned and fondled her full breasts. My nipples responded in sympathy with Maria, becoming firm points under the sheer cotton of my top. Leaning back in the chair, I lifted one breast out of the low-cut tank top and rubbed the soda can against it. The cold shock caused my pussy to clench as the first drops of wetness seeped out of my slit.
“I can picture your cock, honey. It’s growing bigger, isn’t it?” Maria panted into the phone. “Stroke it for me. Make it nice and hard.” I heard Sam breathe deeply and imagined that he was doing just that. I pictured him slim and tan, with black hair trimmed short in the back but with a lock that fell over his eyes in a sexy drape. I visualized a strong hand rubbing a heavy cock and smiled at the thought of it driving into me.
I heard Maria whimper and let out a small gasp. “What are you doing now, sweetie?” Sam asked, his breathing becoming heavy.
“I pushed my dildo inside me, and I’m fucking myself with it slowly, just like you do when you first slip inside me.” My throat was dry as I imagined Maria naked on her bed, a flesh-colored dildo glistening in the moonlight as she plunged it in and out of her tight cunt. I reached down and unsnapped my shorts, lowering the zipper slowly and quietly. I didn’t want to miss a word.
The heel of my palm rested on the soft fur of my pussy, and I reached a finger down to tap on my throbbing clitoris. My finger delved in between my folds and scooped up some wetness that was dripping down my slit. I rubbed my pink button in determined circles, wetting it with my juices. I felt a drop of perspiration run down my neck and tickle my spine as I concentrated on my hungry pussy. My eyes were closed, and I was rocking in time to the sex rhythm of my body.
Maria’s gasps picked up speed. “Oh, you’re fucking me so hard, Sam. You’re pounding into me,” Maria cried out. She must really be thrashing about, I thought, because I could hear her mattress squeaking beneath her. “Oh, please make me come.” Maria was whimpering with pleasure in time with Sam’s grunts on the other end of the line. He sounded as though he were working as hard as she was. And I was keeping up with them.
I frantically rubbed my clitoris, fingers getting lost in the rivers of my swampy cunt. My cries matched the plaintive wails of Maria as we both became helpless with our mounting passion. Her squeals soon became screams as she begged Sam to pull out and come on her breasts. His breathing was coming in short pants. I worked hard to time my orgasm with theirs.
Maria and I came simultaneously, with our cries and gasps in perfect stereo. Seconds later, I heard Sam announce, “I’m gonna go, baby,” his words punctuated with fractured gasps. He came with a groan and I pictured the thick, white ropes of his come covering Maria’s heaving breasts.
The noise of trilling crickets slowly filled the room again. I could barely make out the sound of the shallow breathing of my hot-talking lovers. After a few loving words, they said their good-byes and left me panting in my swivel chair.
Just then I was shocked into reality by the ringing phone. I grabbed it with my free hand while the other was still resting on my quivering pussy. It was Joe. “How’s it going?” he asked happily.
“Oh,” I answered, breathlessly, “I’m coming along fine.”
—Ms. N.R., Brooklyn, New York