It was easily one of the very worst days of my entire fucking life.

All week I’d been thinking and dreaming about my Saturday night date with Lynda Griffith. You don’t know her, of course, but you probably know somebody a lot like her. Most guys here at State would kill for the chance to spend an evening with Lynda, and she had said “yes” to me.

But on Friday I got shot down. In flames. And with no parachute.

Obviously Lynda had found somebody with more going on than she thought I had. I’m not rich, and I don’t drive a car whose model number includes the letter “Z”. There are worse-looking guys, but there are better-looking ones, too.

What hurt the most was, the bitch didn’t even have the hair to tell me she was cancelling our date at almost the last minute. She gave the message to my goddamn aunt instead.

Most people don’t believe Noelle is my aunt. She’s my dad’s youngest sister -- half-sister, actually; they don’t have the same mother -- and she’s twenty-four years younger than Dad. In fact, she’s six days younger than _I_ am. But her father is my Grand-dad, and that makes her my aunt, any way you cut it.

Both Aunt Noelle and I are students here at State. We see each other pretty often around campus, though we don’t have any classes together. She does have a couple of courses with Lynda, though, and that’s how she happened to get delegated to give me the bad news.

“I’m really sorry, Craig,” Noelle told me, after passing along the message. “Lynda is pretty, but she’s also kind of a bitch.” I just shrugged her off. I knew it wasn’t her fault, but remember how they used to treat the messenger that brought bad news?

I wasn’t being especially nice to Noelle. At the moment, the sting of Lynda’s kiss-off left me pretty insensitive to my aunt. We hadn’t seen much of each other when we were growing up -- just at holidays, because Dad’s folks lived so far away from us -- but we’d always been close when we were together, more like brother and sister than aunt and nephew. And now I just turned and walked away from her, lost in my own thoughts.

Friday was a really down day for me. I bought a six-pack on the way home, and I rented a couple of porn tapes at the video shop. Maybe watching Jeanna Fine and Amber Lynn in action would make me feel better. I couldn’t feel much worse, could I?

Anyway, they were both gorgeous bleach-blondes, just like my faithless Lynda, and if I wasn’t going to be with her, I could at least scope out a couple of lookalikes. It was definitely as close as I would get to some hot sex this weekend.

After fixing myself some mac ‘n’ cheese, I cracked the six-pack and settled down at the tv. The tapes were pretty good, and damn hot in the bargain. I mean, Hard-On City!

The sight of Jeanna Fine deep-throating ten inches of black dick made my balls ache with envy. I had homework to do, but it could fucking wait, as far as I was concerned. My cock began to throb inside my pants, and I stroked it as I watched the porn videos.

My place was a sleazy little dump, but cheap enough that I didn’t have to split it with a roommate. If I wanted to take my dick out while I watched fuck tapes, I could do it. And I did. I had my prick in my fist, stroking the swollen boner with a lazy rhythm.

The images on the small screen kept me hard, and I didn’t even hit the fast forward to get through the talk scenes. It wasn’t nearly as good as what some lucky son of a bitch -- who should have been me! -- was getting from Lynda Griffith tonight, but it wasn’t quite as bad as it could have been.

You should always watch a fuck film the whole way through, before you get yourself off, because the next scene might be a real doozie. This tape was hot as the bonfire under a Salem witch; it just got better and better.

I was pretty sure I’d save my squirt off for a replay of the scene where this hot, skinny redhead with sweet cupcake tits took on four guys at once -- two in the mouth and one each in her asshole and her cunt, with a four-way cum shot that showered her whole body -- but I still needed to check out the rest of it. Just in case.

And that’s when the fucking phone rang.

I turned down the volume on the tv but let the tape run. I was still playing with my Peter, just stroking it, when I picked up the phone. There was no voice, but I could hear soft breathing. “Hello?” I said. “Hello?”

I was about to slam the receiver down -- who needs shit like this, when you’re trying to get your nuts off, right? -- when a soft breathless voice spoke my name.

It was all I could do to hear her, but the sound of her voice was startlingly sexy in my ear. “Can you talk a little louder?” I asked. “Who is this, anyway? Lynda?” I had this wild fantasy that she’d changed her mind and was calling me to apologize, to beg for the pleasure of my company.

“No,” she whispered, “it’s not Lynda. What are you doing, Craig? Do you have time to talk to me, even if I’m not Lynda?”

I heard her take a very deep breath. Her voice didn’t get any louder, but the words came out a little faster. “I’ve been thinking about you for a long time,” she said softly. “And tonight I thought I’d call and tell you some of the things I’ve been thinking about. Do you know where my hand is while I’m talking to you, Craig?” I heard a sniffing sound, then a soft giggle. “My finger smells like tuna fish.”

I could’ve shit my pants when I heard that.

“And my finger is wet,” she told me. “It feels like I just peed on it. Oooh, it’s still wet down there. I’m touching my pussy again, Craig, rubbing my finger up and down my crack. I don’t have any panties on, and I’m pretending that it’s your finger on my pussy -- my soft, wet pussy...”

Holy Jesus! I’d never had an obscene phone call before, but I sure had one on the line now. The tape was still playing. Fuck the tape! I hit the “stop” button. “Who are you?” I asked, more than a little piqued by curiosity. “Do you know me? Do I know you???”

“I doubt it,” my caller purred. “If you did, you’d know how much I like you -- really like you, Craig -- the way a girl is supposed to like a guy, not the way...”

She cleared her throat, then started to talk faster, as if she’d just said something she shouldn’t have. “So tell me about your cock, Craig. I bet you have a big one. I bet it gets really hard when it’s excited, too. Is it getting excited now? Is it getting hard?”

I laughed hoarsely. “Shit, baby, I’m ‘way ahead of you! And the dirtier you talk to me, the harder my dick gets.”

“Take it out of your pants,” she suggested. “Stroke it, and I’ll tell you all of the things I’d be doing to your big beautiful cock if I was there with you.”

I didn’t tell her it was already out, and in my hand. “Thrill me,” I urged. The truth was, I was more than slightly excited already. Wasn’t that Lynda’s voice? Fuck, it had to be! I knew in my guts that it was Lynda who had called me and that she was just playing this teasy game because that was the kind of girl she was.

“I’d be on my knees in front of you,” she murmured into the phone. “With my shirt off so you could touch my tits, and with both of my hands holding that big luscious cock of yours. I’d stroke every inch of it -- can you feel my fingers walking up and down your cock, Craig? Just like I was there with you?”

Jesus, I could! I gripped my tool tightly and gave it a few shakes, clenching my teeth lest I get too carried away. I’d been whacking off for a good while, and my dick was on a hair trigger anyway, but the soft, sexy whisper that oozed into my ear did absolutely nothing for my self-control.

A bubble of cum emerged from the slit, milking my finger. I rubbed it into the flesh and kept on stroking myself -- slowly, carefully. And I listened. There’s a hell of a lot to be said for phone sex. It was sure making up for what I had figured to be a lost weekend.

The things my caller poured into my ear were hair-curlers. She had fantasies that left me speechless. And I was the male lead in all of them! Whoever this lady was -- and I was starting to think it was not my faithless Lynda -- she had obviously been thinking about me for quite a while. That excited me tremendously. A secret admirer of my very own.

My dick couldn’t handle it. I squirted while she was midway through her breathless description of the way she’d blow me. My hand filled with hot cum, and my prick quivered in the throes of orgasm.

“I heard you sigh, Craig,” she purred kittenishly. “Did I make you come already?”

I looked at my cock. It was still hard as iron. “No, baby,” I lied, “it’s gonna take more than that to get me off...”

She had more. Jesus, did she have more! I came again to the image of this sexy-voiced lady on her knees, using both hands to split her ass so I could jam my big, hard tool into her sweet little butthole. She moaned, as if I were really there, doing it to her, and I could almost feel my prick slipping into the tightness of this beauty’s asshole. Her moans wrenched at my balls, and I squeezed my cock one, two, three times, and then I was squirting again.

“I heard you, Craig,” she laughed, “and this time you can’t shit me. I made you come, didn’t I?”

“Why don’t you meet me face to face and see if you can do it again?” I countered. “Like, this is a local call? We could meet?”

“We could,” she agreed, “but maybe you wouldn’t want to.”

I stood up, gave my dick a flip. Two loads squirted, and it hadn’t gone soft a bit. “Come to my place and find out,” I said. “Please???”