Hello there. I'm Janet. I'm in my early forties, divorced, and my kid is in college, so I'm very much on my own. Conversely, I manage a very successful real estate business, which keeps me extremely busy. In terms of sex, there's not much to discuss. I don't go out often, and I don't really need a man in my life. I guess when I have to sum it up, I'd say that sex isn't all that important to me. At least, that's what I would have said if you'd asked me a few weeks ago.

In my line of work, my phone is frequently ringing. It's my most important business tool, so I don't think much about when or where to answer; it's a natural reflex. When I was out early one day to prepare a house for a potentially interested couple and received a call from an unidentified number, I wasn't shocked by it. It happened all the time.

"Hey," said a soft, male voice on the other end of the phone. "Well, where were we?"

"Hi," I replied, pausing for a second to think about who might have called.

Did I forget about an appointment? Was there a conversation that got interrupted? I thought.

"Ah right," the voice continued before I could say anything else. "You were going to tell me how wet you were."

I was speechless. My first impulse should've been to hang up, but I was so confused and taken aback that I couldn't form a clear thought in my head.

Is this man flirting with me, or having phone sex with me? Or did I misunderstand something? I wondered.

"Put a finger in your pussy and hold your phone on it, so I can hear how wet it sounds," the caller insisted.

That was abundantly evident, and everything inside me told me to just hang up. But, gosh, now that he had mentioned my pussy, I had to admit that I was getting wet! The thought of this stranger telling me what to do, wanting me, and finding me desirable without even knowing me turned me on more than I wanted to admit.

I went quietly to a remote area in the empty house and pulled up my skirt just enough to let me reach inside my panties. My fingers very gently brushed my pussy, but that was enough to confirm that I was indeed getting wet. I gasped almost inaudibly into the phone.

"Didn't you hear?" the voice said again. "I want to hear your wet little cunt suck in your fingers."

I didn't dare to respond. I somehow assumed that if I didn't say anything, the whole thing wouldn't be real, as if I hadn't admitted it then. There was no way for anyone to tell me whether I did what he told me to do or not. With trembling fingers, I pushed down my panties—silky green panties with a matching bra that always made me feel great. I pushed them down until I could feel the cool air against my labia. Holding the phone close to my crotch, I crooked my other hand's index and middle fingers, and pushed them up inside my pussy. I was so wet that they quietly slid in. I heard no noise coming from between my legs, and I almost felt disappointed.

"Come on," the unknown, manly voice said. "You know how to make that pussy squirm."

Defiantly, I moved my fingers faster and faster, probing myself deeper and getting more and more horny, until the fingers were completely covered in slick juices all over, spreading it out across my labia. Every time I pushed in or out, I could hear slight sucking noises from my crotch. The man groaned blissfully.

"Mmm, now, lick them clean," he whispered. "I want to hear your greedy mouth suck your cunt juice off your fingers."

I gasped. Part of me wanted to just go on playing with my pussy, and another part of me wanted to throw the phone away and hide in shame. Unfortunately, the biggest part, the one that finally won, just wanted to obey this mystery stranger and follow his instructions.

I put the phone back up to my ear and started licking my wet fingers. I didn't typically do that, so the taste of my or anyone's vaginal fluid was new to me. However, it was not unpleasant, and I soon put both fingers in my mouth, sucking on them like a child would suck a popsicle. I smacked my lips a few times, making sure the caller could hear me well.

"Hmm, you enjoy your pussy in your mouth?" he asked as I ran my tongue between my fingers, licking them clean.

I didn't respond, instead sucking a little harder, pretending my mouth was too full to speak.

"Mmm... very good then," he continued. "Make sure those fingers are all wet from spitting, so you can slide them into your ass."

I will never do this. I've never done this before, and I won't start now. Here's where I draw the line. I thought to myself.

"No," I said firmly.

"Come on, you know you want to," the voice murmured abruptly, interrupting my thoughts as if he had read them. "Your little butthole is already itching for it, and just thinking about it makes your pussy juices run down your legs."

Fuck! Why do I suddenly want to do that? Where are these feelings coming from? What is going on with me? I wondered.

Almost mechanically, I reached behind me and bent over slightly. As I leaned against a ledge, I ran my fingers around my butt—the nice round butt that I was so proud of. The tip of my middle finger was already poised at the hole, as if it had never done anything else. I took a deep breath and finally pushed them inside. The sensation caused me to gasp for air. It was nasty, unpleasant, and wrong, but it also felt really hot! I had no idea how warm it was inside my ass, how amazing it felt to have it enter, and how much of a slut it made me feel. I must have begun groaning unconsciously, focused on the sensation of my finger in my asshole.

"Yes, baby, that's it," he whispered. "Take it deep into your little whore ass, and start fucking it."

I pushed my finger in and out, spurred on by his words. Whoever he was, the man could talk dirtier than anyone I had ever met.

"Nice and deep, with both fingers," he directed me. "That's how you like it, don't you?"

I bit my bottom lip, trying to be quiet, but pushed my other finger into my ass, as he ordered.

"Aaahhh..." I groaned, feeling stretched hard and painful, my asshole burning from the penetration.

"What was that?" he said, a slight mockery in his voice. "I didn't hear you, ass slut."

I shuddered, slowly pushing my fingers in and out, trying to go deeper with some unknown urge.

"Oh my god," I muttered, immediately regretting it.

"I can't hear you, baby," the voice said, louder and more insistent than before. "Speak up!"

"Y-yes," I whispered into the phone. "Yes..."

The fingers in my ass stopped moving as I felt I had crossed a line into scary and unknown territory.

"Yes, what?" he asked, not letting me off the hook so easily.

"Yes, I like it," I answered, my voice scratchy as if I hadn't spoken in years.

"You like what?" he prodded, almost taking sadistic delight in my mental turmoil.

"I-I like it in... in my ass," I replied again, getting more and more quiet towards the end.

"Yes...I like it in my ass," I repeated, trying to sound as confident and in control as I could.

"Then fuck that ass!" he said, harshly and loudly.

Without any hesitation, I drove my fingers deeper into my butthole, fucking it like I had done with my pussy when I was most horny. I gasped and groaned, having completely forgotten about my surroundings, when I suddenly noticed movement outside the window. The couple had arrived!

I panicked and threw the phone on a counter as I pulled up my panties and straightened my skirt, not knowing what to do with my two sticky fingers. With a big smile on my face, I opened the door, avoiding having to shake their hands. I hustled them through the house, giving them the shortest estate tour ever, all while making sure not to hang up the phone. They left about ten minutes later. I knew they were slightly bewildered and confused by my lack of interest in selling the house. I caught my breath and leaned against the door I had just closed behind me. I couldn't think of anything else than the mysterious caller waiting for me. I could hear giggles over the phone.

"Haha, mmm... I take it you didn't want me to go while you were busy," the voice said.

"God, I-I'm sorry," I answered hurriedly. "That was..."

"Shut up and spread your legs," he interrupted me. "You'll rub your little clit harder than you have ever done before; do you hear me?"

I gulped hard and agreed, sinking to the floor with my legs spread and my right hand pulling up my skirt. I shoved my panties aside and began to rub my clit.

"Hard," he reminded me. "Don't you want to cum, little slut?"

"Y-yes," I responded.

"Good," he replied. "Take a picture of yourself as you are now, and keep your hand on your cunt while you do this."

"B-But..." I swallowed again. "I just want to come!"

"You're not allowed to until you take a picture of the horny little ass slut that you've become," he commanded. "Now do as you're told."

I paused; my eyes wide open.

He wouldn't know whether I did or not, would he? I pondered pretending to obey him to get this over with and finish myself.

But something in the back of my mind made me want to obey. I wanted him to tell me what to do, to guide me, to use me, and, yes, to abuse me. I had to send him a picture as well.

I turned on my phone's camera and positioned it as far away from me as possible.

Click! Click! Click!

I lifted my skirt up to my waist, my legs open, and my right hand at my swollen pussy. I was sitting on the floor of a client's home with a finger in my soaked pussy.

"I-It's done," I replied after picking up the phone again, moaning and trembling.

"Hard now," he said. "Fuck it hard!"

"Yes," I replied.

Finally, I was getting to masturbate. My fingers slid wildly across my clit, rubbing it so fast that I was afraid my arm would go stiff.

Is this what I have desired all along? Fucking myself on the floor, being ordered around by a stranger, and being treated as a whore? I wondered.

Suddenly, my legs clenched tight, and my hand pressed cruelly in between, refusing to let go of my clit just yet, but the orgasm rushed through my abdomen like electricity. I groaned, bending forward and speaking loudly into the phone, my hair tossing wildly in my face.

"Good slut," the voice on the phone said. "Well done."

"T... Thank you," I gasped, too much out of breath to respond.

"Well," he responded, "Remember this."

"Wait," I said.

"I know you want me to stay, but I have to leave now," he giggled.

"Can we talk again?" I asked, trying to catch my breath.

"Yep," he replied, slightly amused. "Next time, don't wear panties, and bring a toy."

"B-But... I don't know when our next time will be," I said, confused.

"Exactly, my dear, Janet!" the caller laughed and hung up.