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Subject: {ASSM} The Donor (Part 6) By Katzmarek (MF, Mf, Phonesex)
Date: Thu, 20 Mar 2003 06:10:07 -0500
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<1st attachment, "The Donor 6.doc" begin>
The Donor 6
By Katzmarek
The phone by Jonathon's bedside beeped urgently. Jonathon's brain
willed it to go away but it's shrill sound persisted. Eventually
he reached for the handset.
"Yeah?" he said
"Jonathon is that you? You sound drunk. Have you been into that
horrible sherry again?"
"Um Joanne," he replied, "no it's early, I was asleep..." He
looked at the clock. "It's 5.00 in the morning."
"Is it? It's 8.00 at night here. I'm in my hotel overlooking Lake
Geneva. It's still light... the lake looks beautiful, Jonathon. I
wish you were here."
"Good Joanne," Jonathon mumbled.
"Oh come on! Show some enthusiasm. It really is a picture."
"Sorry... um."
"Jonathon, I meant what I said. I do wish you were here. I... I
miss you."
"I miss you too, Joanne."
"What do you miss about me, Jonathon?"
"Huh?" Jonathon asked.
"What do you miss about me? It's not a hard question. Or is it?
Have you gone off me already?"
"No, no. It's just... I'm not really awake yet... it's early,"
Jonathon stumbled.
"Will wake up then."
"Ok."
"You can go back to sleep later."
"Ok."
"So what do you miss about me?"
"Um... let me think..."
"Don't take all day. My credit card has a limit you know."
"It does?"
"I didn't ring you to discuss my credit, Jonathon. Answer my
fucking question," Joanne continued.
"Ok... sure..."
"You're bloody hopeless..." Her voice dropped a little, "how's
your cock?"
"How's my what?"
"Your cock, Jonathon. That thing between your legs, how is it?"
"Ok, I guess," he said.
"Is it hard?" she asked.
"A little... always is in the morning..."
"Good. Put your hand on it."
"Eh?"
"Shut up and just do it."
"Ok."
"Now! Think of me, Jonathon," Joanne commanded.
"Ok."
"Imagine my mouth... my tongue... imagine I'm going to suck
you."
"Yes," Jonathon said, thickly.
"Think of me going down on you... sliding you into my mouth...
would you like that?"
"Yes."
"Are you harder now, Jonathon?"
"Very."
"Then rub it for me.
"I am, Joanne."
"What would you like me to do? Do you know what I'm doing to
myself now?"
"Are you touching yourself?" asked Jonathon.
"Oh yes, sugar... I have my hand between my legs... squeezing my
thighs together... I'm so horny, Jonathon... I miss your...
cock... your hard cock."
"I'm horny too... now, Joanne. I want to suck your tits... finger
your pussy," Jonathon's mouth was dry.
"Yes... I have to sit down... my legs are rubbery... that's
better... I'm lying on the bed, now. I'm wearing a bath robe,
Jonathon, my green one."
"Really!"
"Yes and I'm naked underneath... I'm stroking myself now, babe.
Are you stroking your hard cock, Jonathon?" Joanne panted.
"Yes... keep talking..."
"Put it in me... slide it in... it's juicy and ready for
you...Would you like to fuck me, Jonathon?"
"Yes... god yes... keep going..."
"Hold on... I need to put the phone down..." she said
desperately.
"Joanne... Joanne... are you there?" Jonathon called into the
phone.
A few minutes later, Joanne comes back on the phone,
"That's better!" she said, blowing.
"It is?"
"Yes... thanks babe... I needed that... nothing like a good
orgasm after a hard day of meetings," she said breezily.
"What about me? I haven't finished," Jonathon whined.
"Oh you'll manage. You've had lots of practice... I'd better get
dressed for dinner... Bye."
"Joanne!" he said but the phone was dead.
Jonathon was angry. It lasted all day, surprisingly for a man so
easy-going. He put in a day's work at the radio station composing
a series of biscuit ads. Even the banality of the exercise didn't
make the anger dissipate.
It angered him that she took him for granted. It angered him that
she trod all over his feelings. It angered him when she bossed
him about and it enraged him when she wakes him at 5 o'clock in
the morning.
After work he caught the bus around to Joanne's house. For years
he'd watched the over-rich banker's sons circulating around town
in their Alfas and Beemers, impressing the giggly teenage girls
and sneering out of the window. He'd a mind to play out a little
fantasy. Like those 'wish for a day' shows.
In his pocket the keys felt like they were burning a hole. He
pushed the little remote attached to the key ring and the garage
door creaked and groaned as it responded. The inside light
flicked on and Jonathon found himself staring at the shiny white
sports car with a gun-sight on the grill.
Jonathon headed into town down the coast road. The big Mercedes
turbo whispered and hummed along with a sound and look that spoke
of wealth and extravagance. At least that's what Jonathonhoped.
He'd driven around the town for a half-hour or so before he'd
realised he'd hadn't eaten. Pulling over by a takeaway he noticed
a group of teenagers nearby. They were all in various stages of
intoxication and playing the usual games of 'watch me watching
you.'
While waiting for his order, Jonathon caught snippets of a nearby
hushed conversation.
"... Half a million bucks at least... latest model... V8 turbo...
goes like stink... cool!"
Jonathon peered across at the whisperers. A young guy with two
girls.
The guy was dressed in a pair of 'baggies' two sizes too large.
The girls, tight tops with bare midriffs, bottle-blond hair and
'spray-on' jeans. The girls looked to be sisters, a pair of
teenage foxes, Jonathon concluded. The older sister had a hand
draped around the guy.
"Cool car," the guy tells Jonathon, slurring a little.
"Thanks," replied Jonathon.
"Take us for a ride?" the older girl asked.
"Ok, sure," Jonathon found himself saying.
The older sister and the guy were squeezed into the back, the
younger one was playing with the CD player.
"Got anything ragey?" the girl, asked.
"Motorhead?"
"Alright!" the guy responded.
'The ace of spades, the ace of spades,' Lemmy's croaking voice
blasted out from the speakers as they headed on down the coast.
The teenagers were thrashing their heads around to the music, in
between taking swigs out of a soft-drink bottle clearly spiked
with vodka.
Under such circumstances conversation was difficult. Jonathon did
manage to find out the guy's name was Toby, 19, the older girl
Charli, the younger Trisha. Charli, Jonathon found out was 18,
her younger sister 16. Toby and Charli lived together, Trisha was
staying with them for the weekend. Toby and Charli had been going
out, 'like forever' and had moved in together after Charli left
school.
Both the girls were, 'very well packaged,' Jonathon thought, that
emphasised there trim little teenage bodies.
Jonathon bought them some 'alcopop' from a liquor store. They
suggested he take them back to their apartment and 'have a party'
with them. Jonathon didn't mind, they were better company than
Roxy the cat and the girls were way more picturesque.
The apartment was messier than his. A pair of huge PA speakers
dominated the lounge and the posters on the wall were of
motorbikes and heavy rock groups. The seating consisted of a pair
of 'Salvation Army' sofas that had frankly seen better days. Toby
and Charli took one sofa, Jonathon and Trisha, the other.
Soon some 'Creed' or some such was blasting out of the speakers,
again making conversation impossible. They sat around drinking
the 'alcopop' while Toby began rolling joints. The booze was a
mixture of Vodka and Lime that Jonathon once knew as a Gimlet,
but now was called ' Stinger'. After a bottle of the stuff
Jonathon began to feel himself relaxing, his inhibitions slipping
away.
Certainly Toby and Charli's inhibitions were dissolving for they
were soon in a passionate clinch. Jonathon felt Trisha keeling
over slightly to rest on his shoulder. He thought she looked a
bit the worse for wear from the booze and the dope. Occasionally
she would have a fit of the giggles at such time she'd place a
hand on his chest. A mixture of scent, shampoo and lime assailed
his nostrils.
At some point in the inebriation process there's a point when
Jonathon starts too feel horny, while his normal inhibitions are
not working to full capacity. Pacing himself better then his teen
company he knew when that point was reached and any more alcohol
would just make the room start to spin. So at that point Jonathon
set the bottle aside and concentrated on his female company.
The CD finished. Jonathon looked across at his hosts and found
they had disappeared. Trish was still leaning on him, giggling to
herself.
'A little cuddling would hurt, would it?' he told himself. After
all it wasn't like he had to chase her around the room. She might
even be persuaded to help him relieve the stiffness in his
pants.
He gently lifted up her face to give her one of his 'passion
specials.' Her tongue immediately thrust pass his teeth and her
lips threatened to suck in his whole face. Jonathon reeled, but
held on for the ride. Her arm curled behind his head increasing
the pressure.
Jonathon looked into the 'too perfect' little teenage face.
Trisha's eyes looked a little glazed and she had trouble
focussing however the way her chest was heaving signaled to
Jonathon that she was more than willing for a little more. He
suppressed the thought that she might not be fully capable of
consenting.
"Yawanna stay?" she slurred.
"For a bit," he replied.
"Your cute, for an ol' guy," she cooed.
"Thanks. You're quite a fox."
She giggled in response.
"D'yer think this suits me, it's my sssister's," she asked,
smoothing a hand over her chest. Jonathon's eyes followed her
hand as her little tits jiggled.
"Perfectly!" Jonathon replied, boldly following her hand with his
own. She responded with more giggling.
"Yer don' think I look tarty?"
"Not at all," he answered, cupping one of her little beauties.
As she began to giggle again, Jonathon kissed her once more.
After a while he became aware that her enthusiasm was fading.
Jonathon withdrew his mouth to look at her face and realised she
was on the point of passing out.
"Trisha!" he called. Her only response was to mumble something.
Jonathon gently lowered her to the arm of the sofa. Her head was
lolling about. Jonathon stood up, preparing to leave.
"Hey! Yergoin'," she said suddenly.
"Yes, I better. You're wasted."
"No, don'go, ssorry... jusss tired issall," she mumbled.
Jonathon made to leave, but again Trisha called to him.
"Hel' me up? Gotta go t'bed."
Jonathon helped her up from the sofa
"Hel' meup sstairs?" she asked.
"Ok, where's your room?"
"Up'ere," she indicated.
Jonathon assisted the drunken girl up the stairs to her room.
They got inside and he deposited her on the bed. Next door he
could hear the banging of a bedhead against the wall and the
creaking of springs. He listened for a bit. He felt himself
stiffen to the sound of the muffled cries of Trisha's big
sister.
Under the twin assault of the alcohol and Charli's sexy cries
Jonathon's gentlemanly restraint began to crumble. He
rationalised that he couldn't leave the semi-comatose young girl
in her tight clothing. He began to undo her top.
Trisha seemed to be assisting him by turning so he could pull her
top over her head. Her bra followed, well he had to make her
comfortable, didn't he? Her breast just fitted snugly into the
palm of his hand, he had to check! He bent down to taste her
little puckered nipple. Trisha gave a little shake.
Next, Jonathon figured he'd better loosen her jeans as well. It
was a struggle, they were very tight, but with her occasional
assistance her managed to get them off. The front of her panties
was soaked, her girl-thighs invited exploration but that damned
conscience intervened and he tucked her under the cover. Just as
he turned to go he saw Charli standing in the doorway.
"Are you going?" she asked. Jonathon saw she was wearing a large
T-shirt that finished just below her pussy.
"Yes. I just put Trisha to bed, she was wasted," he said a little
guiltily.
"Thanks, um... what's your name?"
"Jonathon."
"Oh, that's right. Well thanks for a great night, Jonathon. It
was fun. You can come back anytime. Trisha really likes you."
"Sure," Jonathon found himself answering.
"She likes older guys."
"Thanks," he replied doubtfully.
"Not that you're that old... I mean."
"I know... I need to take a leak."
"Ok, that way."
As he passed the girl she put her arm around him and kissed him
on the mouth.
"That's for not fucking her," she whispered.
As Jonathon drove back at least he could feel he'd done the right
think after all. It didn't take away his horniness, however.
Once home he looked at the time, 2am. He dialed up Joanne's
mobile. Her voice came on straight away,
"Hi, this is Joanne. I can't come to the phone right now but if
you leave a message and a number, I will get back to you as soon
as I can... BEEP."
"Hello, Joanne," Jonathon said, "this is Jonathon. If I were
there right now I'd come up behind you and pull those panties
down. I'll then shove my hand between your legs and fiddle with
your pussy until you're nice and soaked. Then I will push my hard
cock up you and fuck you until you can't come anymore. From
behind, over your desk, by the window so everyone can see. See me
fucking the life out of you until I've pumped every ounce of my
sperm right up you. Have a nice day." He chuckled to himself as
he rang off.
His phone rang some 2 hours later. He was still awake listening
to music.
"Jonathon, don't you dare leave a message like that on my phone.
I nearly choked on dessert," Joanne told him.
"Serves you right for leaving me up in the air."
"Well I'm sorry," she said unconvincingly, "I'm busy here, I
can't always cater for your... needs."
"But I've got to cater for yours?"
"Well, if you don't like it..."
"Y'know, I nearly fucked a 16 year old blond tonight."
"Oh sure! Why didn't you? Did the farmer want her forshearing?"
"Fuck you! Joanne," Jonathon replied angrily.
"Fuck you too!" she replied, ringing off.
Not for the first time, Jonathon threw the phone across the
room.
<1st attachment end>
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