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  Vicky, naughty girl that she was, didn’t even try to peel her jism-slick lips off my rupturing cock. Instead, the sexy wild-child stared up at me with a happy expression on her flushed face, her throat working as she earnestly chugged my spurting sperm. Takkinen went on and on, but, unfortunately, I wasn’t so lucky; my dick was soon convulsing on empty, drained of an incredible heated load by my eager-beaver co-worker.

  Vicky yanked my dripping cock out of her mouth and squeezed a final few drops of goo from my slit, tongued them up and gulped them down. Then she shook my hands out of her hair, climbed to her feet, and kissed me sloppily on the lips, before quickly re-clothing herself.

  ‘See ya tonight, big guy!’ she yelled over her shoulder, as she slipped out the door, giggling.

  ‘You get what I’m saying?’ Takkinen inquired on the other end of the line.

  ‘Sure…sure,’ I replied exhaustedly, zipping myself back up with a shaky hand. ‘You’ve been a real help.’

  A Rank Outsider

  by Phoebe Grafton

  Sometimes I used to wonder what Janet saw in me. She was my best friend, was Janet. We had known each other since school. We just didn’t seem to have a lot in common. While she was out being chased by all the boys, I was in being pencil monitor.

  Physically, there was no similarity at all. We were like two pieces of a jigsaw. Where she stuck out, I caved in. Where she caved in, I stayed the same.

  Some unkind soul christened us Beauty and the Beast. Janet, vivacious, hour-glass figure, blonde. No prize for guessing which one I was supposed to be. The relationship had mutual benefits when we left school and tackled the world of commerce. Janet and I shared a flat.

  Any persistent guy that managed to get past the front door felt his ardour cooling rapidly when he found me there.

  Particularly when we explained that it was a one bed-roomed flat.

  It wasn’t really, but that usually worked. Of course when Janet encouraged a persistent guy, that was a different ball game altogether. Groans, grunts and sighs would flood through the thin bedroom wall.

  It was like television without the picture. Meanwhile I’d be munching my way through a chair leg in sheer frustration.

  The breakfast which followed such nights were awful. The guy would strut the kitchen in his jockey shorts, all limp macho and stale sexuality.

  He’d get the last egg…I’d settle for the wholemeal crust. Janet would get a pat on the bottom. I’d get a pat on the head.

  For all that, Janet didn’t seem really ready for a permanent relationship. That’s why we decided on a holiday together.

  We kicked several ideas around. Like the words of the song – we’d been everywhere man. After much discussion, a quick argument and a sulk or two we settled on an Aegean cruise. Neither of us had been to sea before, so at least it would be a new experience. You only had to look at our baggage to realise that.

  Janet and I had a council of war about the accommodation.

  ‘After all,’ she explained. ‘If one of us hits the jackpot, it’s going to be awkward if we are sharing a cabin.’

  I got her drift. She didn’t want me cramping her style. Yet I might get lucky, I reasoned to myself in the tall bathroom mirror. Then I took another look. I should live so long.

  The negative mood didn’t sustain. This was holiday time. Anything could happen. I was determined to enjoy myself even if I had to ambush a short-sighted, rich, old Greek pensioner.

  It was nice to find that many of the passengers aboard were of a similar age, and single. Perhaps this would be the turning point. Even if I did get the worst of a pair in a foursome, it was too far to swim ashore.

  Luck seemed to favour us on our first night at sea. We were coupled in a social get-together with two very presentable young men. Janet got Mark, a bank manager. She would. I got…well I got…a man. OK, so my escort was cross-eyed most of the evening trying to keep his eyes off Janet.

  It was fun. We drank and danced the evening away.

  Perhaps we drank a little more than we should, but it was our first night afloat, so what the hell.

  We left the men to return to our separate cabins alone. There was always another night.

  Was it an hour later? I’m not sure. I was dozing peacefully when I heard a gentle tap. Half in a daze I opened the cabin door.

  My daze soon turned to excited expectancy as I recognised the silhouette. It was Mark’s friend, my companion of the evening. If he was expecting a protest he didn’t wait too long for it. He pushed into the cabin and took me in his arms.

  Kicking the door shut behind him, he kissed me with an urgency that brooked little delay. I could feel his hunger in the darkness as he diligently explored my lightly clad body.

  I was excited beyond belief. Was it Christmas already? Easing back from me, I heard him remove his jacket and drop it on the floor. This was swiftly followed by the unzipping of his trousers, as he sought to disrobe with all speed.

  My own frustrations were almost at boiling point. At last, at last I cried to myself in the darkness. I switched on the bedside lamp to assist my would-be lover.

  The light caused him to blink and stare for a moment.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He said awkwardly. He suddenly looked quite ridiculous with his trousers around his ankles, stuttering apologies.

  He hurriedly pulled his trousers up. ‘I thought,’ he began, ‘I mean…I didn’t mean to.’ Snatching up his jacket he fled, leaving me frustrated and angry.

  Through the long night I tried to calm my raging thoughts. At least I’d been fondled. For a short space I had been desired. Such compensating thoughts had no lasting effect.

  In the morning the ship berthed at Istanbul. There was an arranged trip to the Blue Mosque with the afternoon free. Janet, Mark and friend wanted me along. Mark’s friend had passed apologetic glances in my direction all morning. I ignored them. My mood was not sociable enough to fit the gaiety of my companions.

  I left them to their explorations, while I went off alone to sulk in a souk. Certainly you cannot be alone in a souk. The jostling crowds, the persistent traders, all serve to lend an atmosphere which is unequalled.

  In the subdued light I made my way along the narrow passage, stopping here and there to examine silks, leathers and gold on display. Such pauses were necessarily short to escape the traders whose only failure in English was in not understanding No!

  I was attracted by a shop which displayed an interesting pair of sandals. While I was bargaining with the young trader, he was joined by an older man whom I took to be his father.

  The older man, having established my nationality, smiled a welcome. Then he held out his hand.

  ‘Come with me, English missy. I have a surprise for you in my shop’.

  ‘No thanks’ I told him.

  ‘Come, come,’ he insisted. ‘You no be afraid of Yousef. Yousef, honest trader.’

  He flashed a row of white teeth. What the hell, I thought. The last man that showed this much interest in me apologised afterwards.

  The rear of Yousef’s shop was like an Aladdin’s cave. With the room stacked full of Persian rugs, and Yousef dressed in his nightshirt, it was like a scene from the Arabian Nights.

  He went to a safe in the corner and took out a small bracelet. Not very attractive. It looked copper with some green and opal stones inset.

  ‘This is a very ancient bracelet from the Land of the Pharaohs, passed down through the ages’ he said solemnly.

  I groaned inwardly. Oh God! Not another ancient Egyptian bracelet. Everywhere you went, somebody tried to flog you an ancient Egyptian bracelet. They must breed like mice. Even Woolworths had them.

  ‘No thanks,’ I began.

  He quickly interrupted me. ‘Please,’ he said eagerly, ‘for you special price…you try on.’

  I took it and tried it on. It was quite ugly…and yet…and yet. I began to feel good. Not just about the bracelet, but about me, about everything.

  In that back room I noted
something different. Yousef was beginning to breathe heavily.

  ‘You are very beautiful, English missy,’ he said in a thick voice.

  His hands moved about me. His eyes lustfully bore into my own. Without preliminaries his hand vanished beneath my dress to grind and massage those places which, up until now, had remained largely unexplored. I didn’t scream. I was grateful.

  So grateful, in fact, that when his hands started to pull my knickers down, I struggled not one little bit.

  So it was that I saw on Yousef’s face a look of pure Turkish delight.

  The real Yousef was a little difficult to reveal at the outset. He had more petticoats than a Victorian nanny. Once he removed them though, his resemblance to a Victorian nanny instantly vanished.

  Not that I’m experienced, as I explained, but Yousef did seem generously endowed. Such contemplation was short lived as he turned me and bent me over a large pile of rugs. It afforded me a close up view of the rug pattern, as well as a brief moment of further contemplation. I’d only come for a pair of sandals.

  Spreading my thighs, he grunted with satisfaction as his searching fingers found my moist entrance. A man of few words was Yousef.

  Expertly parting the lips of my vagina he guided the head of his shaft inside. I was right. He was big. Grasping me firmly by the hips he thrust inwards and upwards.

  I felt the huge, rampant cock of Yousef filling me, stretching me. It was a rapid confusion of pain, wonder and desire as he plunged into me again and again.

  Desire won, for as the rhythm intensified I became aware that I was thrusting back to meet his pulsing rod

  My loins felt on fire as I matched him in ecstatic convulsions. Inside, I felt his thick penis swell as I sensed Yousef was near completion. Without warning he almost completely withdrew from me to instantly ram in his pumping manhood.

  Moaning, as this new experience overtook me, I thrust back upon him fiercely, milking his tool, as the encompassing joy of my first climax overwhelmed me.

  Just as with the lack of foreplay, so with his completion. Yousef’s next thought was to get about his business.

  Making all sorts of excuses about his wife he ushered me from his shop. For Yousef it hadn’t altogether been a bad day. It wasn’t until I’d left the souk and was on my way back to the ship that I realised. I’d lost my knickers and six hundred lira. Furthermore… I still didn’t get my sandals.

  Back on board I sat on my bed gathering my thoughts. I’d been fucked by a Turk. The memory of it was not in the least bit displeasing. All I had to show for it though, was a grotty bracelet, which cost an arm and a leg. So what? I shrugged.

  This English missy had enjoyed herself.

  I took the bracelet off and was about to put it in the drawer when I hesitated.

  It was the only memento of a lusty interlude that I was likely to get for some time. I decided, provided my arm didn’t go green, that I’d wear it for social occasions

  So I wore the bracelet that evening. Once again when I put it on I felt that wholesome feeling, a strange completeness, as if there was nothing but good in store for me.

  My general appearance must have improved. Janet asked me if I’d been stuffing my bra. She noted my change in appearance almost, I fancy, with a sniff of disapproval.

  She finally dismissed my emphasised frontage by saying that probably for the first time I was holding my back up straight. Who needs a mother when you have a friend like Janet?

  I stole another look in the full length mirror before dinner. Yes, no doubt about it, I certainly looked more attractive. Was it a glow from my recent experience? Perhaps the bracelet did possess powers beyond normal comprehension. Whatever the explanation, I felt justified in the knowledge that I’d already spent far too long in the shadow of the attractive Janet.

  Mark obviously liked what he saw. We danced together quite a bit. Janet was relegated to the second division with Mark’s friend, my midnight non-event.

  Once again we drank and danced until way past the witching hour. Mark and Janet finished the evening with the last dance, before we once more retired to our respective cabins.

  The tap on my door a little later was not totally unexpected. Nor was I surprised to find it was Mark. This time I took no chances. My cabin light was on.

  ‘You looked quite stunning tonight,’ he said.

  ‘Are you sure you have the right cabin? Janet is three doors down.’

  ‘Janet who?’ he queried, eyes sparkling full of mischief and desire.

  I helped him off with his jacket. It wasn’t fair on Janet, of course. Yet I’d spent too long in my friend’s footsteps to be troubled by conscience.

  Was it true? Desired by two men in one day. An earlier thought came flooding back. I was right. It was Christmas already! Mark brushed such thoughts away.

  We lay together in the narrow bed. Mark’s lovemaking was an orchestrated, yet measured, interlude of fulfilment. My resultant climax, a feast after so many years of fasting, filled me with pleasure.

  I snuggled close to Mark. My experience was very limited indeed.

  Yet in that quiet cabin I decided, as far as lovers go, I preferred British bank managers to Turkish tradesman.

  There was a quiet tap on the door. I slipped from Mark’s protective arms.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘It’s Janet…I can’t sleep. Mark didn’t come.’

  I didn’t share her complaint.

  ‘Perhaps he had a headache’ I offered sympathetically through the closed door.

  ‘Can I come in?’ she whispered.

  ‘Not at the moment,’ I answered urgently.

  ‘Oh…right,’ she hesitated. ‘Got it. See you in the morning.’

  Next morning proved to be a laser display of stolen glances. Janet looked at Mark’s friend knowingly…Mark looked at me gratefully…Janet looked at Mark quizzically.

  It didn’t last. The penny, for Janet, finally dropped. The warm Eastern Mediterranean sun turned, suddenly, decidedly cool.

  For the next few days everybody avoided everybody else. Well, not everybody. Mark continued his nocturnal meandering which always managed to end up at my door. No complaints from me. I had a lot of catching up to do.

  This brief respite, in an otherwise hectic programme, gave me time for serious contemplation. My whole world had been turned topsy-turvy. Sceptical as I was, I had to admit that the bracelet seemed to be at the core of this transformation in my life.

  To be turned from nondescript, non-desired woman, to one that men couldn’t wait to get at, called for a little readjustment. One thing was for certain. The bracelet would stay as my most treasured possession even if Mark did complain that it scratched in bed.

  Before the general thaw set in between Janet and me the cruise was over. Then we were back to the flat and normality once more. Until Tom, that is.

  Tom was one of Janet’s regular boy friends. He was dishy alright, even if he was the one that always got the last breakfast egg.

  Previously he hadn’t paid a great deal of attention to me. So I didn’t think anything of it when he arrived one mid morning.

  I was slobbing about in my old dressing gown. Janet was out.

  It was time for the usual coffee and small talk. I was making the coffee when I sensed rather than saw Tom behind me.

  ‘There’s something different about you,’ he said.

  ‘Oh really,’…I began,

  That’s as far as I got, because he slipped one hand inside the top of my dressing gown and began playing wicked games with my breasts.

  Did I tell him to stop? I honestly can’t remember. I know I should have done. Anyway, cupping first one breast, he teased the nipple to firmness. I leaned against him, coffee forgotten.

  He slipped loose the belt of my dressing gown. The only thing underneath was me. As he stood behind, his hands played sweet music over my unresisting body.

  Touching here, there, probing gently, he sent hot desire coursing through me. Ceasing for a mo
ment I heard the now familiar sound of a zip behind me. Seconds later his hand guided mine to grasp his rampant shaft.

  We abandoned the idea of coffee altogether as he led me into the lounge. Sitting on the settee I pulled his pulsing weapon free. I bent to tease.

  Holding it firm I allowed my tongue to wander lightly over the purple head. I took it in my mouth, sliding my lips wetly up and down its length. He liked that. I felt Tom begin to respond to my rhythm.

  Then Janet walked in.

  The relationship between Janet and me went down hill rapidly after that.

  That was always her trouble – no sense of humour.

  All was not lost. Janet and I still ring each other occasionally. I moved out, of course, Tom came with me. He stayed…right up until this morning.

  It was this way. I was in the bath this morning when Tom came in. Even as he started to soap me in his usual, sensual way I could see his obvious interest.

  ‘I think I’ll join you,’ he said.

  ‘Man, you’re insatiable,’ I teased.

  ‘Are you complaining?’

  ‘No way…hurry up the water’s getting cold.’

  ‘Why do you have to wear this old bracelet?’ he queried. ‘You’ll do somebody a nasty injury one day.’

  So saying he slipped the bracelet off my soapy arm and left the bathroom, putting it on the dresser as he went. I could hear him singing, and seconds later he returned, clad only in a towel. He stopped singing abruptly. He stood staring at me for a moment, nonplussed, confused. Finally he spoke, panic words tumbling out.

  ‘I’ve just remembered,’ he stammered. ‘I’ve got an early appointment…can’t stop.’

  He rushed out. I could hear him clattering about for a while. I called out, but he didn’t answer. Very soon I heard the front door open and close with a bang. Then there was nothing but silence in the flat.