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The Phone Booth – Part 1
The medical conference had been a disaster. Oh, professionally the meetings had been wonderful. But she had never been good at handling the social aspect of the job. Cocktail parties and dinners always came with clients and other male sales reps trying to get into her pants. Even some of the women had come on to her. At first she thought they were just flirting, but when that doctor from Illinois had pinned her up against the wall in a stairwell, she had almost broken his arm. Unfortunately for him she was a black belt. It would be a long time before he tried anything again.
This was also the worst possible time for her to be away from home. She and her boyfriend had argued long and hard just before she left and she regretted many of the things she had said. She desperately wanted to talk to him, to apologize, to try and patch things up. But her cell phone battery had died and she was still 15 blocks from the hotel. She had elected to walk back to her room after dinner, rather than ride in a cab with the rep from Ohio. His bad breath would haunt her all night as it was.
Down the street was a phone booth. A rarity in this cellphone era, but it provided the means for her to reach him. He said he would be home all weekend, so she dove into the booth and fumbled in her purse for her calling card. in moments she would hear his voice and she began to feel that quivering in her stomach whenever she thought of him. He could turn her into mush with his voice alone. His husky, deep bass, played her like a fiddle, and while it infuriated her sometimes; other times it aroused her so completely that she almost came just talking to him on the phone.
The phone at the other end of the line rang and rang. Where was he? She knew he would be home, since her friend Julie was dropping off paperwork she needed in the office monday. Why didn't he answer? At once she answered her own question in her mind. He was busy...damn him. He was fucking someone. She knew it. That was why he had picked a fight with her before she left. It would help him rationalize what he was doing now. The tears began to stream down her face and she began to pound the glass wall of the phone booth. Her sobbing caused her shoulders to shake and she cursed him.
She almost didn't notice the door of the booth open, until she felt the cool, fall air fill the booth. Her tears had steamed up the glass and she assumed that someone had come into the booth not knowing that she was still there. "I'm almost done.", she called. Choking back the tears. "No problem", a male voice responded, "I'm here for you, anyway."
Surprised, she turned to look at him, but he grabbed her shoulders and turned her back toward the fogged glass. "Don't be scared, but don't look at me. This will be easier if we don't look into each other's eyes." His strong arms wrapped around her until she stopped shaking. At first she was so surprised, she wasn't sure what to think. His strong arms and warm breath seemed to fill the booth. She knew she should be scared, but his voice was so calm and reassuring. "Don't worry; I won't hurt you. In fact you should enjoy this immensely."
His bulging cock pressed against her ass and she cold feel it throbbing through the fabric. But for some reason she wasn't afraid. What was it about his voice that calmed her, made her think this is all so normal. In fact, his obvious erection began to arouse her. She thought of what it might feel like inside her, and she felt the wetness begin. All she had to do was think about sex and she got moist. Her boyfriend loved it. But she had forgotten about him already, though she wasn't sure why. What was there about this man's voice that calmed her?
A more pressing reaction broke into her thoughts as his hand began to slide up the inside of her leg. Why had she worn a short skirt? why hadn't she worn panythose? What prompted her to wear stockings and a garter? Had she really wanted something like this to happen? Had she secretly dreamed of being fondled in a phone booth by mysterious stranger whose scratchy beard now rubbed against her neck? Usually that would anger her, as she liked her men shaven and smooth...all over. But this man excited her. His scratchy face was virile, and she knew he was all man. His cologne was musky, very masculine. The scent stimulated her and she felt her nipples begin to harden.
Almost as if he were reading her mind, or more importantly her body, his other hand slid to her breast and his fingers began to squeeze her nipple and twist it clockwise. She moaned involuntarily and began to push against him, her hands pushing against the wall of the phone booth. His hand between her legs slid up to her wet thong, sliding the tiny piece of fabric aside and slipping a finger inside her as she began to quiver. Her pussy lips were now swollen and sensitive and she couldn't believe how she was reacting to this most unusual assault. Assault? Was it really?
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