Calling It In

It was 5:00 AM. Shawna was sitting cross-legged on the couch in her cramped studio apartment, a telephone headset upon her head, a pint of Dreyer's Caramel Swirl in one hand and a spoon in the other. She was wearing blue Winnie-The-Pooh pajamas and her long, curly auburn hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail.

"The Terminator" was playing on the TV. She figured she'd watched this DVD at least 50 times, but it was just so good.

The telephone rang.

Shawna clicked on the headset. "This is Shawna," she said in her most sultry voice. "What can I do you for you, baby?"

"Um . . . my name is Frank."

"Hi, Frank," she cooed. "What do you want to play tonight?"

"Uh . . . I want you to . . . um . . . let me have it."

"Oh, has Frank been a bad boy?

"Very bad."

"Then I'll just have to punish you." Shawna slipped a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

"What are you wearing?"

"A black leather, studded bustiere, four-inch black boots and black leather gloves."

"Nothing else?"

"Just a cat o'nine tails in my hand." Shawna's eyes were glued to the TV screen. Michael Biehn and Linda Hamilton had just checked into a motel.

"Oooh . . . "

"Are you ready, Frank?"

"Yesss . . . "

"Lie down on the bed."

"I'm lying down." His voice was quivering.

"I've got my boot on top of your belly. Can you feel the spike digging into you?"

"Yes, yes, I can."

"Is your cock hard yet, Frank?"

"Almost . . . almost . . . " he whispered.

"Well, we're going to have to do something about that, aren't we?" Shawna paused for dramatic effect. On the screen, Michael Biehn and Linda Hamilton were engaged in passionate love-making. This was one of her favorite scenes. "Do you feel the leather strands of my whip tickling your cock?" she whispered.

"Oh God! I do . . . I really do."

"You've been such a naughty boy, Frank. I'm going to have to swat you with this whip until your cock is really hard."

"I'm hard," he groaned. "Really hard. Pre-cum is oozing out of my prick."

"Do you want me to whip you harder?"

"Christ, yes! Harder . . . harder. Yeah, that's it."

Shawna could hear a muffled squishing noise in the background. He was whacking off. This was the part she hated: hearing it. Sometimes it literally made her nauseous. "I'm moving now, Frank. I'm on the bed with you. My hot, wet pussy is hanging over your face. My hands are tugging on the head of your cock."

"Mmmmm . . . Don't stop, don't stop!"

Arnold Schwarzenegger had just entered the police station. Here comes the best line of all time, Shawna thought.

"Don't stop!"

Ooops! "Lick my pussy, Frank. Lick it hard and fast. Suck on my clit. I'm dripping all over your face."

"I'll be back," Arnold said in that delightful Austrian accent that was so thick back when this movie was made.

"Yank on it, Shawna. Yank on it. Yank hard."

The sounds of Frank jerking off grew louder. He must be using some serious lube, Shawna mused. "My lips are around your prick now, Frank. I'm sucking and sucking. I'm sliding my hands up and down your shaft. Can you feel the cool leather?"

Arnold drove a car into the police station, crushing the cop behind the counter in the process.

"Ooooooh. Oooooh. Harder . . . harder."

"Your whole cock's in my mouth now. My tongue is swirling across the vein. Can you feel my teeth? Can you feel my hands squeezing your balls over and over again?"

"Yes, yes, yes . . . Oh Jesus!"

Schwarzenegger was shooting his way through the corridors of the police station. Pop, pop, pop, pop! "Oh, yeah!" Shawna cried.

"I'm gonna come. I'm gonna come. Come with me. Drip your cum all over my face."

Oops again! She began to moan and gasp. "I'm coming, too. I'm coming! Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Oh God"

"OH MY GOD!"

Shawna knew this meant Frank was coming. "That's it, baby. Shoot all that hot jism into my mouth. It tastes so good. Give me more . . . more!"

Groans and guttural noises came from the other end of the phone.

She didn't say anything. Michael was trying to get Linda out of the police station, dodging bullets, jumping over dead cops.

"That was great . . . just great. Was it good for you, too?" His voice was shaky.

Oh Dear God! I still can't believe these assholes really think I'm getting myself off too. "Yeah, Frank. You're magnificent. My cum is in a puddle under my ass."

"Mmmm . . . I can picture it."

"Ready to call it a night, Frank? Or do you want . . . more?" Shawna took a break from both Frank and the movie to eat several spoonfuls of the rapidly melting ice cream.

"Um . . . I think I'm done. My credit card is just as spent as I am." He chuckled.

"Alright, baby. Call me again. Soon. Okay?"

"You can count on it."

Shawna broke the phone connection and paused the movie.

"Sweet dreams, Frank," she muttered sarcastically.

Shawna looked at the clock - not much longer to go. She could log off at 6:00.

She stood up and stretched. "Terminator 2" was on the coffee table. "Looks like I won't be needing you tonight," she said to the DVD case as she yanked off the headset. "Christ, I really have to pee."

The phone rang.

"SHIT!"

She put the headset back on. "This is Shawna," she murmured. "What can I do for you, baby?"

"I wanna suck on your tits and piss on your cunt."

Shawna stifled a sigh. Now why did he have to go and say "piss?" "Anything you want, baby. Anything you want."

She grabbed the handset of the phone and started walking toward the bathroom.