Daddy Watches Lacey's PhonefuckingbyNonStopFunGuy©
Mmm, an active cheater! Frankly, I liked that; I have always feared, although it hasn't actually happened, that a guy might weird out on me if I was the first girl he cheated with. I laughed at what he wanted me to infer from his response. "So that means you are fucking other girls?"
I was right. He admitted, "Oh yeah, I am, with a girl from work, and a woman I met through a web site."
Now, I don't always believe guys when they talk about girls they are screwing, not that it really matters. But, on the chance he had something that would make me hot, I asked, "Do you have pictures of either of the girls?" My vagina was really starting to ache for attention; I slipped my feet off of the chair, putting them on the floor, so I could stretch my legs out and arch my back. Between my thighs, my mound was really making my thong damp.
"Not Vicky, but probably for Diane yes," he wrote. I had to resist the temptation to touch my pussy while waiting for his next email, which I hoped would be something sexy. I got a picture, but maybe not what I expected; it was the cropped photo of a smiling blonde woman in her early 30s, maybe, with her arm around a guy standing next to her but his image was wiped out. She had dirty-blonde hair in pigtails, if you can believe that, and she looked sort of diminutive like me, not much more than 5 foot 2 or something, with a smaller chest than me in her plain sundress.
"Who is she?" I asked, staring at her smiling face, visualizing her mouth wrapped around Paul's big penis.
"Diane, I met her on a dating website, she's married."
Ooh, two people cheating together, I liked that thought! Mmm, I was going to have to touch my kitty pretty soon. "How many times have you fucked her."
"Twice, oral sex just once, and fucked last time," he answered, then added quickly, "and we have a date Saturday morning."
I found myself jealous that she was going to get fucked by him; it was just sort of an instinctive reaction, it wasn't like I felt competitive with her. "Are you going to fuck her Saturday morning, Paul?" Ok, I gave in, my hand on my breast slid down my flat tummy to my thong. I stiffened one finger and pushed it over my clit, just grinding down on it, giving it some relief. Mmm, that felt good.
"We are meeting at my office," came his playful answer, "it'll be empty, she and I fucked there last time and I am sure we'll do it again." Then, without giving me a chance to write something, he asked me a question now. "Do you have any more pictures of you fucking?"
I laughed, because I have a ton. Daddy is very capable with a camera in his hand while his cock is in me. Plus, he made screen captures of two of the DVDs I've made of me fucking other men. But, sending dirty photos of myself is not particularly fun for me; I just sit there waiting for the computer to load, and I'm not really getting anything out of it. I love making men hard, but if they pop off and log off, I'm just left sitting in my pool of juice. Men are kind of assholes that way. "I might have a couple, but it would take me a while to find the disk."
He bought my excuse, I guess with a hard cock in his hand he didn't want to wait. "Would you send them to me later?" he typed instead.
"Sure," I wrote. I didn't really have an intention to do that. I was getting pretty uncomfortable now, my thong was sopping wet on my pussy that really wanted to come out and play. So I wrote Paul, "Do you have your big dick in your hand baby?" I was visualizing his penis erect and hot, with his fingers wrapped around it, stroking it up and down.
"No, I like it just pointing up," he explained. "Are you naked Lacey?"
I thought about telling him I have a webcam, and could show him what I was doing, but we'd have start up completely separate Yahoo IMs, and I have this standard that if a guy doesn't have his own cam, I'm not really going to give anyone a free show. Again, not a lot for me in it, is there? Have your own fucking webcam, go spend $100 why don't you. So, instead, I wrote him another idea. "I am not quite nude, Paul, I have my thong on -- want to listen to me take it off?"
His response came through the computer lines at the speed of light. "Fuck yes, can I call you?"
Now, here again is one of my standards. Daddy lets me give out my private phone number, it's the second line to the house, and we know whoever is calling it is probably some guy who wants my pussy. I only use the number for my sex fun. My friends call my cellphone, and I never give out Daddy's phone number. I don't give out my cellphone number to guys on the internet, I mean, I don't want to be bothered by horny men I found boring. If I really like a guy, he'll get my number eventually.
"I'll give you my number," I typed, my fingers anxious to get off the computer so I could go lay on "my" bed, "but you have to promise me not to hang up when you cum."
I liked his response. "Do guys really do that to you?"
"You won't believe how many," I answered truthfully.
"I can talk a couple of hours," he explained to my satisfaction, "so the sooner I get your number the longer we can talk."
I really wanted to get off, so his plan was sweet music. "Call me at ..." and I typed out my phone number. Then I added, "I don't have to log off, call right now."
I instantly looked at my wireless phone, currently sitting on its base right next to my computer. I kind of expected it to ring instantly, but about a minute passed and nothing happened. Paul wasn't typing anything either. Disappointment suddenly hit, hoping that he wasn't one of those guys who gets a phone number for phonesex then never dials it. I can't explain that phenomenon, but it's happened a few times to me. Like guys chicken out or something. What's the point of that?
I smiled and stood up, pushing my computer chair backwards with the backs of my knees as my legs straightened. Then I grabbed the phone, my other hand tugging at the straps of my thong on my hips to smooth it out. It was really wet on my pussylips. "Hello?" I answered, assuming it would be him.
It was. "Hi Lacey, it's me, Paul," came a very smooth, deep, confident voice. It really turned me on; I could hear maturity, lust, and manliness in just those few words.
"Hi there, Paul," I giggled back, "I'm glad you could call."
He let out a deep breath, then he asked in a low tone, "Oh, why's that?"
"Mmm," I purred, biting my lip, wondering how truthful I should be. I leaned my almost-nude butt backwards, resting it against the front edge of my desk. "Because I'm really wet for you, Paul."
"Oh, are you now?" He didn't sound cocky, nor surprised, his voice was steady and smooth. "My prick is really hard for you, Lacey, you are really gorgeous and sexy."
"Thanks," meekly came my response, I was weakened from my arousal and trying not to be too anxious about getting right into it. I liked the tension to build a little. "Tell me all about your cock, Paul."
As the words were coming out of my mouth, I looked up and saw Daddy coming through my door. It wasn't closed, just cracked, and he quietly pushed it open to walk into my room. He heard every word of that sentence, and as soon as he did, he grinned at me with a silent smile. Daddy was fully dressed, a huge tent sticking out of his crotch. His dick, which I know so well, was fully erect inside those pants. He stood there in the middle of my room, watching me approvingly.
I turned my attention to the phone. Paul answered my question about his tool. "You saw the picture, right, it's very, very thick, girls are always saying it's so thick."
"Oh fuck," I moaned, squeezing my thighs together, one hand grabbing the desk as I held the phone to my ear tightly. I could sense Daddy watching me, but I wasn't looking at him. "I love thick cocks, Paul, I love how they--"
He almost cut me off with a question. "How many do you -- no, tell me Lacey, what do they do?"
"They stretch my pussy," I moaned anxiously, now looking at Daddy. His face didn't change, he was smiling at me. I didn't wink or smile at him, but I looked at him while I talked to Paul. "I love a guy to just fucking stretch my legs open, and like, shove your really fat dick into my pussy so it hurts when you go in, I love that."
Paul's breath was audible, and you could tell he was jerking his meat. "Ooh, Lacey, I bet you have a really tight pussy, don't you?"
"Tight bald 19 year old pussy," I whined at the top of my high-pitched voice, "tight for big manly cocks like yours." I was still looking at my father, and him back at me, but we weren't communicating in any way. He was just enjoying being a voyeur with me, and I loved how he found my sexuality entertaining. "Paul, have you fucked a 19 year old lately?"
He chuckled on the phone. "No, the youngest I've fucked since I got married is a girl in her 20s. Tell me Lacey, have you fucked any men in their 30s or older?"
"Oh yeah!" I knew Daddy couldn't hear Paul's voice, so I decided to repeat the questions a bit, so Daddy could follow along. "I've fucked a lot of guys in their 30s or older; I love older men, I don't usually fuck boys my age or anything."
"You are perfect for me then," Paul soothed, "how many men have you fucked?"
I giggled, shy, even looking down a moment, then looking againt at my father sheepishly. "Ummm," I hesitated for Paul, not sure how honest I should be. "Well, how many men have I fucked? Don't, like, be, like, judgmental, okay?" I knew he wouldn't be, and of course he immediately said he wouldn't be, so I told him the truth. "I've fucked probably about 12 men, most of them older, most of them married, not all."
"My, my," Paul admired on the phone, his voice not the least bit disappointed, "you are a fun date, aren't you? Are all these men you met online?"
"Most," I said truthfully, "not all."
"You have a boyfriend?" asked the stranger on the phone, still stroking his penis talking to me.
For this question, I smiled at my father's eyes as I answered it. "Do I have a boyfriend? Um, yeah, I do -- he's 42, he's very, very sexy, and he gives me the longest, hottest fucks." My dad knew I was talking about him, and he winked, but otherwise he didn't smile or do or say anything. He was making sure I had my fun on the phone, and so he didn't ruin it by letting Paul know he was in the room.
"Is that your boyfriend's cock in the pictures?" asked Paul, the beating of his meat still clearly discernable.
I nodded, as I started making my way to my bed. This talk was fun, but I needed to fuck. "Yeah, most of them it's him"
"What's his name?" As Paul asked that, I put one knee on the bed, my other foot remaining on the floor. I reached one hand behind myself on my bed, propping me up, my back arching and my B-cup titties pointing straight ahead. My father admired my nudity from his distance, still not moving. To answer Paul, I flicked my long golden hair away from my ear with the phone. "His name is Robert," I answered, not looking at my father this time, "and he's my boyfriend not just because he fucks me so good, but because I love him so much, and he cares for me like no one else."
"Mmm, more than your own father even?" asked the ignorant man on the phone, who was definitely not going to learn the truth, ever. "Lucky guy, Robert, getting to fuck you, you are sensationally sexy, Lacey, your body is fucking perfect."
"But he's not here!" I lied, whining as I said it. "He's left me alone, Paul, and my pussy is aching for you, I wish you were here baby."
"And if I were there," he said very deliberately and slowly, "what would you want me to do? Tell me, exactly."
I sighed, my twat dying to come out from my drenched thong. "Well, before I do that," I giggled at him, "do you want me to take off my thong, Paul?"
I heard him breathing and stroking his dick a few seconds before he answered. "Maybe not yet, Lacey, how wet is it?"
Oh the tease! But I was willing to do what he wanted, it was a fun part of the game. "Paul, it's drenched, I want to cum so bad, I'm streaming for your big cock baby. Please, Paul, please, let me take off my thong, I wish you were here so bad!" I leaned back more, now sitting on my ass with my elbow behind me propping up my top, my knees spread. Daddy was eyeing the shape of my wet thong on my shaved cuntlips.
The man responded confidently, "Not yet, Lacey. Before you take it off, I want to tell you about something first, okay."
I was on one level mad at him, I just wanted to cum so bad, but of course I didn't say anything like that. Every guy has his own way of doing phonesex; that was part of the fun of it, it was like how different guys fuck differently in bed. The point of the game was always the same, but the rules changed you know. "Tell me what, Paul?"
His tone was more subdued and quiet, but still firm and confident. "Picture this, Lacey. The girl in my office I'm fucking? She's our events coordinator. Her name is Vicky, she's this very foxy 29 year old with long black hair. Two weeks ago we were setting up a convention booth in Vegas, and I lied to my wife that I needed to go out a day early to help set up. It was bullshit, the contractor set us up. Lacey was in my hotel room the entire day with me, we fucked all day, I mean, we didn't leave for almost 14 hours. And," he added with a smirk I could hear over the phone, "during the day I was on the phone with my wife, telling her I loved her and missed her, while Vicky was sucking my dick or fucking me, and I had Vicky's pussy juice all over my face and everything."
"Holy fuck!" Air burst out of my lungs hearing the story, I flopped onto my back and pulled my knees open, feeling my thong stretch and twist on my cuntlips. He was pushing my buttons, he somehow knew that story would really turn me on. "Oh fuck, Paul, that's so hot -- that's so hot -- oh I want you so bad, Paul!" I needed to put my fingers on my pussy, but I resisted. I glanced up, and Daddy was pulling my computer chair quietly into the middle of the floor, sitting on it backwards while he faced me. He wasn't taking off his clothing or touching himself or anything. I liked how he just wanted to watch me have phonesex, I guess just like how he'd hide in my closet watching me fuck other guys. He's been in there over 3 hours while I screwed and slept on "my" bed with other men, so this was nothing out of the ordinary for him.
"I knew you'd like that," Paul snickered, a bit of his ego coming out now, "I can tell since you like fucking married men, you get off on it, don't you, Lacey?"
"Yes!" I blurted it out anxiously, hoping to get to the point he'd let me fuck myself. "I love it, that's so hot. Oh fuck Paul!" I had to close my eyes and bite my lip, my clitoris was literally burning in my thong, it was hurting for real.
Paul snickered again. "Does it make you really wet hearing about it?"
I hated him for tormenting me like this, I loved it. "Yes!"
My reaction only encouraged his playfulness. "The first time I cheated, Lacey, was the day after I got back from my honeymoon. My wife had to go into work to catch up, I had the day free, and an ex-girlfriend sent me an email. She didn't know I was married. So I went to her place for lunch, and she met me at the door wearing just a robe, nothing else. Pretty much we just made out as soon as I got in her place and we started fucking and doing everything." He laughed and asked, "And want to know what happened?"
"Please!" All I was aware of was the intense pressure inside my vagina, wanting to be filled with something, and how my clitoris begged to be plucked and played. My nipples also ached, pointing so hard. I forced myself to remain still, listening to Paul's stories working me up. Daddy, of course, couldn't hear the stories, he was just watching my body as I listened, and the pained look on my face.
"Well, my ex, Kristi, after the fucking asked if we could get back together, so I told her I was just married you know? And she said she didn't care, she said, 'I don't fucking care about that,' so for about three months I fucked Kristi about as much as I fucked my wife."
This guy was truly a creep; even if the stories weren't true, the fact that he liked telling the stories made him scum. But my heart was hoping they were true. I was picturing his wife, her smiling innocent face, not having a clue, thinking she's bagged this hot guy with a massive cock, and he's all hers. Meanwhile from the outset he's been banging other pussies and lying to her while he stuffs tons of horny women. My body ached to be one of those women, I knew he lived far away to the West, I wished he lived close.
"Paul," I squealed, "you're so sexy, I'd love to be one of your sluts, I wish you lived close so you could fuck me so good."
"You do, huh?" His confidence was growing, and he certainly was enjoying plucking my strings. "I like hearing it, tell me again you'd be my slut?"
I gladly obliged. "Paul, I want to fuck you so bad! My cunt is so wet for your big dick Paul. I'd be your slut every day, I'd fucking wait at home alone at night hoping you sneak away from your wife to come fuck me!" I loved him hearing it; and I loved my Daddy hearing it too, right in front of me. I wasn't really lying, either; right now, I was fucking Paul, and he was the only man I wanted at the moment. If my wish came true, I probably would hate myself forever, but when I was desperate for Paul's dick in me, my wish was brutally honest at that point in time.
"Mmm, you are a hot slut, aren't you Lacey?" Paul's manhandling of his penis was getting louder, he was whacking it rhythmically.
I pictured his hand on his penis and I loved it. I could imagine his precum leaking out. "I'm a slut, Paul, I would be your slut, I want your big cock so bad. Paul, baby, let me take off my thong, I want to fuck you so bad!"
My words were fuel on his fire, which in turn gave him the ability to tease me even worse. "I'll let you take off that thong and fuck yourself, Lacey, but first you have to tell me, um, when was the last time -- who was the last married guy you cheated with?"
Fuck him, now I had to tell a story! My vagina and clit were about to pack their bags and leave, they wanted my attention so bad. Just put your hand down there, Lacey, rub it, I told myself. But I didn't move, not yet, intensifying the need to fuck. "Um, well, it was a few weeks ago, maybe a month. But," I said, thinking of facts I could easily remember in my state of arousal, "even today, I got an email from a handsome married guy who lives around here, he wants to fuck me, and I told him I want to fuck him too." I glanced up, and my stoic Daddy looked at me without changing his countenance, but I know he heard the words.
"Did you?" Paul sighed deeply, like he was letting my words roll around inside his head. "Did you talk to him yet? Or you just emailed him?"
Minor details, who cares? "I emailed him," I said tersely.
Paul was way ahead of me, the tease. "Very sexy, you are pretty slutty," he admired, "so I'll let you take off the thong, but you have to do ONE more thing for me, alright? Okay?"
I would have done virtually anything to get my thong off. "Yes," I said in a hushed voice.
"Go to your computer again," Paul said, "if it's still on, and if it is, I want you to forward to me right now, right now, the email you sent to this guy, okay?"
"Okay." I was too aroused to think of the implications; I just wanted to get off. "Hurry, Paul, I want to fuck so badly!"
"Ahh, my little slut," Paul cackled over the phone, "it's all up to you, just go to your computer and forward the email to me, so I can see what a little slut you are -- tell me when you're ready to type in my email address, okay?"
"Alright." I sucked in some air, forcing myself to sit upright on the bed. Daddy looked at me funny, but I had to ignore him. I stood up, arching my stiff legs, and stepped to my desk. I didn't have the computer chair now, so I just leaned over, my almost-naked ass literally within a foot of my father. He didn't touch it. I held the phone to my ear while my other hand used the mouse to call up my online emails, and I opened up my response email to Charlie. I hit "Forward," and a clean screen came up. "Okay," I spat into the phone, "what's your email baby?"