Recollections Ch. 04bysammican1©
"Of course," I replied, settling back on my couch as I felt an instant reaction between my thighs. Even after the break in contact between us, you still had the same effect.
"I'm from a London agency," you continued. "Privacy prevents me from saying exactly who. I have few questions."
Yes, that was Sammi. Her voice was unmistakeable.
"Fire away," I answered, my nervous voice trembling a little.
"Could I ask where you are answering the questions from?"
"My home in Yorkshire."
"A-ha. Are you alone?"
I'm sure I heard an almost imperceptible sigh of appreciation. What did that mean? "Good. First question. Have you had sex lately?"
I gave a soft grunt as my hardening erection hardened further. I moved the mobile phone from my right to left ear, so that I could stroke myself through my jeans while I answered. "No, not for some time."
Good? Was it?
"Are you keeping yourself for one particular person?" you continued.
"I hadn't thought of it that way," I answered.
"But right now, talking to me, you have an image of someone you'd like to fuck?"
Damn, Sammi! I was so hard now, that I had to yank down my zip to ease the ache. When I pulled my cock out, the cool air did nothing to help my predicament.
"Is she from London?"
You know she is, I thought. But this was your game and I was going to play along with it. "Yes."
"How old are you?"
For God's sake, Sammi! Stop teasing. "Sixty."
"SIXTY? You can still get hard at sixty?"
"Hard enough," I grunted.
"Hard enough? Hard enough to fuck a twenty-three year old blonde?"
"Absolutely," I said through gritted teeth - if you were here right now, I'd fuck your brains out. On the couch, the floor, or even on top of the window sill.
"Impressive," you said, and I felt a little better. "For a granddad," you added, deflating my bubble, though not my erection.
"Do you get hard when you talk to her?"
"Yes," I replied, my hand softly running up and down my shaft.
"Do you masturbate when you talk to her?"
This is our first real conversation other than face to face, so I only had this experience to go by. And I was already masturbating. We both knew it.
"Are you hard now?" you continued, without waiting for my answer.
"Yes," I conceded, though my voice was little more than a grunt.
"Good. Are you masturbating right now?"
Geez, you knew how to turn the screw. "Yes!"
"Thinking about your young blonde?"
"Thinking about fucking her?"
Oh, God. I wasn't going to last much longer. How long was it since I'd previously masturbated? Too long! All that pent up emotion was gathering in my balls, threatening to make this a 'personal best' for spilling my juice.
"You're thinking about fucking her while you wank?" you continued, your words as effective as my heavily stroking hand.
"Do you know whether she's wanked thinking about you finger fucking her in that back alley?"
God, your words were threatening to suck my seed from me just as effectively as if it was your soft mouth wrapped around my cock. That image filled my mind. Your soft blonde hair dancing on your shoulders as your head bobbed up and down on my cock, your flicking tongue running up and down my hardness, then your pink lips sucking me deep inside your mouth.
"She may be wanking now," you continued, "Thinking about you stroking yourself."
"Sammi," I grunted, feeling my creamy manjuice beginning to gather for its upwards journey.
"Legs apart," you continued, and from the way your voice had become harsher, more of a growl, I actually believed you were wanking along with me. "Thumb on her clit, two fingers inside, wanting to cum."
Sweat formed on my brow, my imagination went into overdrive, just like you wanted. I saw you in my mind, wantonly spreaded legs, eyes closed, masturbating. Oh, fuck. My balls were tightening.
"She's thinking about you cumming," you continued, leaving me wondering how and at what point we'd changed from the pretence of a survey to outright telephone sex. "You are going to cum, aren't you, Alan?"
"Yes," I grunted, only seconds away from that most exquisite of moments.
"Good. I'll be in Covent Garden at 5 on Saturday afternoon. Don't be late. Now, baby. Imagine Sammi's mouth on that sixty-year-old cock, sucking hard. Imagine it Alan, and give me that cum!"
I 'saw' you between my legs, your pink nipples gently brushing my knees, your soft lips teasing the very tip of my shaft before plunging down. It was too much. My hand movements were a blur.
"Cum, granddad," you almost shouted. "Cum with me!"
Oh God, that was it! I came like a beast, roaring into the phone at the same time as my Sammi-tribute launched itself high into the air.
I made no attempt to stop the fountain, after all, this was your mouth, your throat, I was firing into, but the line had gone dead, you had gone.