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Message-ID: <28745asstr$981245409@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Maria1971@aol.com
Subject: {ASSM} Telemarketing - Maria Gonzales
Date: Sat,  3 Feb 2001 19:10:09 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


a


<1st attachment, "TELEMA~1.TXT" begin>

If you aren't 18, or 21 if you live in a backwards
place, then go away : )

This story is copyrighted by the writer formerly known
as Maria Gonzales, AKA M-Go. Copyright 2001. Send me an
E-mail at Maria1971@aol.com and/or visit my web site
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/MariaGonzales/www

Just a couple of notes. This story was formatted for
my web site. It used advanced computer stuff like
italics and links. Since the newsgroups are not that
advanced, I posted the link in another post (titled
"Sex" and used these ----- to show you where the story
stops (some would say ground to a scheeching halt) and
my notes begin. It's not rocket science, I think you'll
be able to figure it out.


Telemarketing
(with free author notes)

by Maria Gonzales

Copyright 2000 - All Rights Reserved. Any use of this
work without the author's written permission is 
strictly forbidden.

I crossed off the next to last name on the computer 
printout in front of me. Only one more cold call to 
make and I was finished making sales appointments for 
the day. I glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall, it 
was almost two in the afternoon, I still had about an 
hour and a half before my eight year old son got home 
from school and three and a half hours before my 
husband got home, more than enough time to do nothing 
before starting dinner.

If the last guy on the list, somebody named Daniel F. 
West, would agree to listen to a sales pitch from the 
sales rep, I would have an even twenty-five 
appointments made for the day, meeting my quota. At 
least his name was easy to pronounce, not like some 
tongue twisters I've gotten. The absolute worst one 
that I've ever seen was spelled Prznybyll. How are you 
supposed to pronounce a name that doesn't have any 
vowels? As I adjusted my phone headset, I quickly 
dialed his number and listened to the familiar sound of 
a telephone ringing.

------

Be patient, the sex is coming. Some people like their 
sex stories to have characters that seem real and I'm 
trying to develop the characters. If you want to skip 
to the sex part, then follow this link, SEX .
I guess I should name the protagonist. Her name is 
Melissa. Now you know the name of the main character, I 
know a girl named Melissa, but the character isn't 
based on her, I just like the name. As to where the 
other name came from, Daniel West, I have no clue. I 
just pulled it out of thin air I guess. I don't know 
anybody with that first name, so I don't have any 
preconceived notions about what somebody named Daniel 
would be like, as for the last name, it's the opposite 
of east. Sorry, that's the only last name I could come 
up with off the top of my head. I suppose I could have 
named him Smith... nah.

-----

The ringing stopped, replaced by a momentary silence 
then the sound of a bored female voice. "Hello."

"Hello," I answered in my most professional voice. "May 
I speak to Mr. Daniel West?"

"He's not home," the woman answered in a weary tone. 
 From her voice, I guessed that she was probably in her 
late twenties to early thirties. There weren't any 
children screaming in the background, so unless they 
had a baby that was taking a nap, they probably didn't 
have any kids.

-----
On a whim, I just decided to make this a lesbian phone 
sex story, instead of a normal heterosexual phone sex 
story. It was easy enough to do, wasn't it? I didn't 
even have to rewrite anything, just make it so Daniel 
West wasn't home. Why? Why not. It's a little bit more 
unexpected and... well, I want to make it a lesbian 
phone sex story. I can do that, I'm the author.

-----
"Is this Mrs. West?" I asked.

"Yes, this is her. What can I do for you?"

"My name is Melissa and I am calling in behalf of 
Fidelity Insurance Companies. We have a low cost health 
plan that may save you and your family money. Would you 
like to have a representative meet with you in the 
comfort of your own home at a time convenient to you 
and Mr. West? There is no cost or obligation and my 
representative, Mike Kach, will be in your area 
tomorrow."

-----
What, Melissa doesn't have a last name? Well, I suppose 
she does have a last name, but that would mean I would 
have to think, and I don't feel like putting that much 
effort into it. Where did the name Mike Kach come from? 
Read it fast. Get it? If you still don't get it, maybe 
you're pronouncing it wrong, try it with an O sound, 
not an A sound. Get it? Sorry, it was a sophomoric 
joke, but hey, what can you expect? I'm not writing a 
literary classic here.

-----
"Sorry, not interested," Mrs. West answered.

"Are you sure? There isn't any commitment and I can 
almost guarantee that Fidelity Insurance can lower your 
health insurance rates."

There was a long pause before she replied, "My name is 
Rebecca by the way. Don't call me Mrs. West, that's my 
mother-in-law. I don't have to dye my hair or take my 
teeth out at night, not yet anyway. What did you say 
your name was again?"

"Umm, Melissa." I answered, wondering where she was 
going. If she was trying to get me to hang up, she was 
doing it in a way that I have yet to encounter. I've 
been a telemarketer for almost a year, and I've heard 
nearly everything. Everything from somebody claiming 
that they went to a Metallica concert the night before 
and was having trouble hearing, I yelled at him for 
almost five minutes, repeating everything at least 
twice before I realized he was just mocking me, to a 
woman that acted paranoid, she kept asking if I could 
hear little voices through the phone telling her to 
kill, kill, kill. My favorite attempt at the game of 
"frustrate the telemarketer" was the guy who kept 
asking me what clothes I had on, what color my panties 
were and if I liked to have sex. I think he was a 
little surprised when I patiently answered all of his 
dirty questions. When he panted that he was having an 
orgasm, I moaned in fake ecstasy as I thanked him for 
making an appointment. "Oh yes, thank you, thank you," 
I told him as my breath grew shorter and my voice rose 
an octave. "Somebody... oh yeah baby, somebody will... 
harder, harder, that feels so good... tomorrow... ah, 
don't stop, baby," my voice cracked as my fake orgasm 
peaked. I pretended to be out of breath as I added 
before I hung up, "Thank you baby, that was great. 
Somebody will be out to see you tomorrow at noon."

-----
The preceding is in the story because I think it's 
funny. Admit it, how many of you wanted to get revenge 
on the telemarketer that called in the middle of 
dinner. It doesn't really add very much to the plot or 
to the characters, except to show that Melissa has 
experience as a telemarketer. Not that it's necessary 
to know that, but like I wrote earlier, I think it's 
funny, so it's in the story. I can do that, I'm the 
author.

-----

"OK, Melissa," Rebecca said. "To be truthful, our 
health insurance is fine and we don't have to pay for 
it. Give me one reason why we should meet with your 
sales rep."

She had me, maybe I could try to be truthful with her, 
I thought. It couldn't hurt. "Because if I make your 
appointment I'll meet my quota for the day and earn a 
little bonus."

I waited for her answer. As the silence on the 
telephone continued, I waited for the click of her 
hanging up the phone. A couple more seconds of silence 
passed as I waited for her to hang up. I guess honesty 
wasn't the best policy. "OK," she spoke suddenly, maybe 
the honest approach worked after all, "I'll make an 
appointment, but only because you were honest with me, 
and only with one condition."

"Condition?" I asked.

"It's a simple one. Just say you'll meet my condition 
and we'll set up the appointment."

-----

The next plot twist is a little bit of a stretch, but 
hey, this is a sex story, it doesn't have anything to 
do with reality. I'll bet if you think really hard and 
use your imagination, you can guess what the condition 
is, or at least come close to guessing it. Oh wait. I 
already told you the twist. It's a lesbian phone sex 
story, remember?

-----

"OK, I'll meet your condition."

"Are you sure? You can't back out afterwards and say, 
'I didn't know you were going to have me do something 
like that.' Is it a deal."

"It's a deal," I answered. I was talking to her over 
the phone, what could she have me do that could be that 
bad?

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Great dialog, huh?

"OK," Rebecca said, "you sound attractive. Tell me what 
you look like."

I giggled embarrassedly. "Are you serious?"

"Seriously," Rebecca laughed, sounding as if she 
couldn't believe she was doing this.

"Okay," I answered stretching out the last syllable. "I 
have shoulder length light brown hair. It's straight 
for the most part, but it curls as it reaches my 
shoulders. More?" I asked.

"More."

"OK, I have hazel colored eyes, umm, what else?" I 
asked, not knowing what else to describe.

Think about it. It's hard to describe what you look 
like. Try it yourself if you don't believe me. I'll try 
it along with you. I'm five feet one, with dark hair 
that goes just past my shoulders. I have dark brown 
eyes with a nose just below them but above my mouth. My 
mouth has red lips, when the lips are closed they hide 
the inside of my mouth. Am I boring you yet? See, it's 
not easy is it?

"Sounds pretty," Rebecca said. "Now get to the good 
parts?"

"The good parts?" I asked with a giggle, pretending not 
to know where she was taking our conversation.

"Yeah, the good parts. Do you have a nice ass?"

"Umm..."

"C'mon, Melissa. You don't have to have any false 
modesty, if you have a nice ass, just say it."

"OK, I have a nice ass."

"Big boobs?"

"What!?!" I asked incredulously.

-----

You, of course, are not incredulous at this point. I 
bet you wanted to know if Melissa has big tits too. 
Didn't you? C'mon, admit it, you were wondering if she 
has big fun bags.

-----

"I wish," I answered.

"You have tiny tits? Funny, you have the voice of a 
woman with big boobs."

-----

"The voice of a woman with big tits," if that isn't 
great dialog, I don't know what is. Since I'm adding 
these little notes in the story wherever I think it is 
necessary, I can cheat and explain myself instead of 
having to put it into the story somehow. Have you ever 
noticed that busty women, i.e., women with big tits, 
tend to have hoarser, more mature voices, while women 
with smaller chests have sweet, little girl voices? 
It's not a rule, but a general guideline. I'm sure 
there are many exceptions, but I have noticed the 
trend. In case you're wondering, I do have a hoarse 
voice and big breasts. My husband tells me I have a 
sexy voice and that I would be a good phone sex 
operator; I just think my voice sounds like I have a 
perpetual sore throat or have been drinking whiskey and 
smoking cigarettes for twenty years. FYI, I don't do 
either, I just have big boobs. Truthfully, they're not 
THAT big, I wear a D cup, but I'm short so they look 
bigger than they really are.

-----

"I wouldn't say that I have tiny tits," I said. 
"They're just not as big as I would like."

"What bra size do you wear?" she asked.

"34B."

"Listen," Rebecca said turning serious, "I would kill 
to have breasts like yours. I wear a 36D and it sucks. 
Guys think I'm stupid because I have big boobs, and the 
next time somebody looks me in the eyes instead of 
staring at my boobs would be the first."

I giggled and replied, "The guys aren't looking at your 
boobs because they're big, they're looking at your 
boobs because they're boobs. I barely have any, and 
guys are always staring at my chest and not into my 
eyes."

Rebecca laughed and said, "I guess you're right, guys 
do stare at all breasts. OK, I know that you have cute 
tits and a nice ass. What are you wearing?"

"What am I wearing?" I asked.

-----

Have you noticed that Melissa repeats the questions 
asked her? Pretty annoying, isn't it?

-----

"Yeah, what are you wearing? Something sexy? I bet the 
guys in the office go crazy when you wear something low 
cut or short."

"I work out of my house, so there aren't any guys in 
the office. Just me. My son is at school and my husband 
is at work."

"Oh, so you work at home, but you're not answering the 
question; what are you wearing?"

-----

What do you think? Since this is a sex story, maybe 
Melissa is working wearing absolutely nothing at all, 
or maybe she has on a little black teddy, or maybe a 
bikini. Like I said before, sex stories have nothing to 
do with reality. It's true, it's true.

-----

"It's really hot today, and the air conditioning is 
broken, so all I'm wearing are my panties." I answered. 
"I love the feel of the fresh air on my boobs, it 
always makes my nipples hard and gets me horny. I am so 
wet right now, just a little touch on my clit and I'd 
be screaming in ecstasy."

-----

Just kidding, forget that last paragraph, it was a 
joke. While sex stories have nothing to do with 
reality, I do have some standards. It's just too much 
to expect a woman working out of her house making 
telemarketing calls to be topless and horny. Of course, 
the next time you answer the telephone and it's a 
female telemarketer, it's going to make you wonder what 
she's wearing, isn't it?

-----

"I'm wearing a pair of cutoff jeans and a bikini top," 
Melissa answered. "The air conditioner is broken and 
it's really hot."

-----
Some standards, huh? FYI, when it's hot out and the air 
conditioner is broken in my house, I don't wear a 
bikini, uh-uh, not me. I usually just go topless with 
all the windows and doors open. In fact, as far as I 
know, all attractive women do that, it doesn't matter 
if the air conditioner is working or not. In fact, if 
you look in on your neighbor right now and she's cute 
and home alone, chances are that she is walking around 
the house topless, if not, she's probably laying on her 
bed masturbating, instead of doing something mundane 
like the dishes or the laundry. It's true, it's true.

-----

"Wow, what a coincidence. I'm wearing a bikini too," 
Rebecca answered.

-----

Since this is fiction, I can have both Rebecca and 
Melissa in bikinis, well, Melissa has cutoffs on too, 
but the shorts will be coming off soon. Of course, if I 
were going for a realistic story, both would be naked 
on their bed, twelve inch dildos sliding in and out of 
their pussies, or at least I would have them walking 
topless around their respective houses, the doors and 
windows open so whoever walked by, the mailman, meter 
reader, cable guy, whoever, could see them, walk in and 
seduce them. It's true, it's true.

-----

"Really?" I answered. "What color is your bikini? I 
have on a bright red one."

"Mine is white," Rebecca answered. "I have the air 
conditioning on, I was just outside swimming but I had 
to come inside to answer the phone. My nipples are so 
hard that they're sticking through the thin material."

"You're all wet?" I asked.

"Dripping," Rebecca answered coquettishly.

-----

Get your mind out of the gutter. Rebecca was swimming, 
so her body is wet, and her hair, and her clothes, but 
not between her legs, although now that I think of it, 
she's probably wet down there too, just not in the way 
you're thinking. Perverts.

-----

I don't know what got into me, but thinking of Rebecca 
standing in her dripping wet bikini and flirting over 
the phone with me was getting me a little horny. "So 
take it off," I said impulsively.

"OK," Rebecca answered. After a few seconds of silence, 
she continued, "I have the top off, should I take the 
bottom off too?"

"Yes."

"Take yours off too," Rebecca said commandingly.

"Yes, ma'am," I answered. I took the headset off my 
head and pulled off the bikini top. I replaced the 
headset on my head, unbuttoned the shorts and said, 
"The tops off, I'm taking off the cutoffs now."

"Hurry up," Rebecca said breathlessly. "I'm already 
naked."

-----

Details, details, details. Notice that I had Melissa 
take off the telephone headset before she took off her 
top, then she put it back on so she could continue her 
conversation. I even mentioned that she unbuttoned her 
shorts before sliding them off. Actually, she hasn't 
slid them off, wait a sec, let me write the next 
paragraph.

-----

I lifted my butt off the chair then slid the shorts 
past my hips, over my knees and pulled one foot out of 
the shorts before kicking them off. With the same 
motions, I pulled my panties off, kicking them on top 
of the shorts in a neat pile.

-----

There, the shorts are off, and as an added bonus, the 
panties came off too. Now both of them are completely 
naked. Rebecca was swimming and Melissa was in her un-
air-conditioned house, so neither of them had shoes or 
socks on. See, details, details, details, they're 
important. I thought kicking off the shorts and 
underwear was a nice flourish.

-----

"I wish I could see you now. I would love to see your 
cute little boobs. Would you let me suck on them?" 
Rebecca asked.

"I don't know," I answered as I played with my left 
nipple, twisting it softly between my thumb and finger. 
"I've never been with a woman before. Have you?"

-----

It's always sexier when a character is trying something 
new. Now Melissa seems a little more innocent.

-----

"You've never been with another woman before?" Rebecca 
asked, amazed at my innocence. "It's incredible. I 
usually prefer to be with a man, nothing beats a hard 
cock sliding in and out of my pussy, but you've never 
been licked until you've been licked by another woman. 
It's incredible. If I were over there, I would make you 
feel so good.

"Mmmm," I answered. "I'm all wet just thinking about 
it." I opened my legs and looked at my glistening 
pussy. I slid my hand down my stomach and ran my finger 
along my wet slit all the while continuing to play with 
my nipple.

-----

She's really innocent, isn't she?

-----

"Do you know what I'm doing right now?" Rebecca asked 
with a naughty voice.

"What?" I asked.

"I'm rubbing my pussy with one hand and pushing one 
finger in and out with the other. I wish you could see 
me playing with myself." Rebecca moaned softly, so 
softly that I could barely hear her. "Play with 
yourself, Melissa."

"I am," I answered as my finger touched my clit, 
causing me to moan loudly.

-----

Stuff like this happens to women all of the time, we 
just don't want men to know how horny we really are. 
It's a secret, so don't tell anybody. Just the other 
day, I was talking on the phone with my girlfriend 
Mari, and we both ended up laying naked on our beds 
while we masturbated. Just listening to her come made 
my orgasm even stronger. And just this morning, I was 
talking on the phone to another friend, Teresa, we were 
talking about our sex lives, and one word led to the 
next, and we both ended up moaning in ecstasy as we 
played with ourselves. I'm making this point and giving 
these examples so you know that I'm being realistic in 
this part of the story, not making something up just 
for the sake of a sex story. It's true, it's true.

-----

"How does it feel?" Rebecca asked.

I opened my mouth to answer, but all that came out of 
my mouth was an unexpected lustful moan.

-----

Happens to me all the time, opening my mouth and an 
unexpected moan of ecstasy comes out. I don't even have 
to be touching myself. At work the other day, I was 
pressing a pair of pants when a guy that works with me 
tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to him intending to 
ask him what he wanted, when I opened my mouth, all 
that came out was a lustful moan. You should have seen 
his face, I think he came in his pants. It's true, it's 
true.

-----

Sounds like you're having fun," Rebecca answered 
lustfully. "If I was there with you, I would lick your 
pussy from the bottom all the way to the top, then I 
would nibble on your clit. Would you like that?" 
Rebecca moaned loudly and whimpered, "Oh God, oh God! 
I'm coming!"

I imagined her kneeling in front of me, her mouth 
wrapped around my tiny clit, her finger pushing in and 
out of my pussy. Suddenly, my toes curled, my eyes 
rolled into the back of my head as my orgasm hit me. I 
rubbed my clitoris furiously, my body shaking in 
ecstasy as the waves of pleasure tremored through me.

-----

You may have noticed that the only word that I use for 
the female vagina (as opposed to the male vagina), is 
"pussy," with an occasional "slit" thrown in for a 
change of pace. I recently received an E-mail telling 
me to use other words. Among the words suggested, were 
"cunt," "box," "muff," and "bush." Sorry, box, muff and 
bush are not what I call my vagina. My vagina is a 
pussy, and the word cunt... forget about it. This may 
surprise some of you, even though I write sex stories, 
erotica or whatever you want to call what I write, I 
refuse to be vulgar. It's true, it's true.

-----

As my orgasm crescendoed to an intense climax then 
slowly faded, I heard Rebecca's phone drop to the floor 
as she screamed in ecstasy. Her passionate screams 
heightened my senses and I felt another orgasm race 
through my body.

-----

To me, the hardest part about writing sex scenes is the 
orgasm. OK, maybe not the hardest part, but it's right 
up there with the challenge of writing sex scenes and 
making them different every time. It's hard writing the 
same basic thing over and over. Insert tab A into slot 
B, or in some cases rub slot B over slot C, or 
sometimes, wrap slot A over tab A, wet with lots of 
saliva and repeatedly slide slot A up and down over tab 
A while teasing the tip of tab A with probe A until a 
white creamy liquid  spurts out of tab A, them clean 
liquid with probe A. It's equally as hard to describe 
an orgasm, the feelings that race through my body as 
I'm having an orgasm are inexpressible, words like 
ecstatic, intense and pleasurable don't even come close 
to being strong enough.

-----

As my orgasm subsided, I heard her phone tap a few 
times, then her voice, "That was intense," Rebecca 
said. "When I heard your lustful moan, it sent me over 
the edge. I haven't had an orgasm like that since my 
husband finger fucked me at a carnival last year.

"At the carnival?" I asked as I ran my fingers along my 
hypersensitive slit.

"Yeah, we were on the Ferris wheel, and his hand went 
into my shorts and as we went round and round, his 
finger went in and out. I tried not to scream, but as 
you might have noticed, I'm a screamer," Rebecca said 
with a giggle. "You should have seen the look on the 
guy running the ride."

I opened my mouth to answer, but my finger rubbed 
against my clit and another orgasm raced through my 
body. I moaned uncontrollably as my finger rapidly 
rubbed my clit.

-----

After I've had my first orgasm, for the next ten 
minutes or so, all it takes is for me or my husband to 
just touch my clitoris for me to have another orgasm. 
One orgasm is nice, two are great, three are fantastic, 
but anything more than that and it gets overwhelming. I 
try not to have more than three orgasms at a time too 
often. It feels great, but it makes me feel like I'm 
about to die and I get scared. Multiple orgasms are 
great, you guys can't even imagine what you're missing.

-----

"That's it, baby," Rebecca growled. "Rub your pussy, 
make yourself come."

My back arched as my eyes rolled back and I pumped my 
pussy against my finger. With a loud uncontrollable 
scream, my orgasm peaked and I moved my hand away from 
my clit, unable to take any more.

Through my headset, I heard Rebecca giggle. "OK, 
Melissa, you met my conditions. Send somebody over 
tomorrow around noon."

The appointment, I forgot all about it. "OK," I 
answered as I tried to regroup. "Noon tomorrow."

"Oh yeah, Melissa. I almost forgot."

"What?"

"I taped the entire conversation. I hope you don't mind 
if I play it for my husband and my friends. They're 
going to love it."

"What?" I asked incredulously.

"We have this game where we try to get telemarketers to 
do funny things. I think you just gave me the all time 
winner."

-----

How about that, foreshadowing!

-----

"What?" I repeated. I didn't know what else to say.

"If it makes any difference. I did come, twice, but 
lets keep that between me and you. Ciao."

"What?"

The phone clicked dead, and I stared at the list in 
front of me. As the silence in my headset was replaced 
by a dial tone, I continued staring at the list. When a 
loud blaring sound replaced the dial tone, I reached 
across to the telephone and hung up. I grabbed a pen, 
checked off the last name on the list and wrote next to 
it, noon, tomorrow.

End

-----

OK, so it's not a great ending, not even a good one, 
but hey, what did you expect? Faulkner?
<1st attachment end>


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