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Saturday, October 17, 2009

Touch Screen by Giselle Renarde

I live in a big, faceless, 28-storey concrete block. An apartment building, in other words. A hideous monster of a thing on the outside, though the inside’s not looking too bad now that the lobby’s been refurbished. They put in this new touch-screen system so your visitor only has to touch your name to call up to your apartment. Your phone rings, you press nine, and that buzzes open the lobby door. So, now that you’re clear on how the system works, let me tell you how it can fail you and why I can’t show my face around the building anymore.

Russell came for a surprise visit one lazy afternoon. The phone woke me from my cat-nap when he called up from the lobby. In my state of drowsy disorientation, I kept hitting snooze on the alarm clock, but that obviously didn’t stop the ringing. Finally, my brain kicked into gear. I picked up my cordless phone and my insides fluttered when I heard his voice. “Would you care for a visitor?”

“Get your ass up here, mister!” I cried, pressing nine on the phone and throwing it down on the pillow. Wiping the drool from my cheek, I ran to the door to greet my man in lacy pink panties and nothing more.

The minute he walked through the door, I tore his clothes off, kissing him madly as he tried to say, “Just thought I’d stop by for a…”

“Quickie?” I suggested, dragging him into my sunlit bedroom. Just the scent of his skin had me hopping with wild desire.

“A visit, I was going to say. But have it your way,” he replied melodramatically.

“Have my way with you?”

“If you must,” he sighed, flopping onto my bed like a big diva. I didn’t need much more encouragement than that! Hurling myself at his half-clothed body, I made his pants disappear like magic and pulled a rabbit out of his shorts. That raging cock of his was so hard in my hands I didn’t even bother pulling his socks off his feet before diving at it.

Between my man’s muscular thighs, I traced circles around his cockhead with my tongue as he ran his hands through my hair. I made mmm noises as I wrapped my lips around it, listening for a response in kind. Nothing. I ran my tongue the length of his shaft, taking the tip in my mouth, anticipating a moan of approval. Still nothing.

“Why are you always so quiet?” I asked, sounding more exasperated than I wanted to. “I’m always so loud and you don’t make any noise at all! How am I supposed to know if you like what I’m doing?”

“I always like what you’re doing,” Russell assured me.

“Then prove it! Make some noise,” I encouraged.

It worked. When I took his delicious cock in my mouth, he cried out, “Oh yeah! That is so good.”

“Oh, so you like it when I suck your cock?” I teased.

“God, yes.”

“What do you love?” I asked, wanting to hear him say the dirty words.

“I love it when you suck my cock!”

“When I what?”

“Suck my cock!” he shouted, and I growled, hurling myself at him. I could almost feel his cock surge as I sucked, pumping his meat with my hand.

“Grab my balls,” he instructed. That was a new one. So I took them in my palm, rolling them like a pair of those jingling Chinese orbs that used to be popular.

“Squeeze them,” he roared, bucking his hips. “Squeeze my balls hard.”

I did. I squeezed them so hard I thought it would hurt, but he only cried, “Yeah, that’s good. Pump my cock. Suck it ‘til I come.”

God, I felt like such a naughty girl with my soft-spoken Russell hollering dirty requests at me. I nearly came at the instructions alone. I didn’t think he had it in him, but he was out to prove me wrong.

In double time, I went wild on his cock. My hand flew as I jerked him off, squeezing his balls and sucking at his cockhead until his body writhed beneath me. He cried out, “Yeah, suck my cock; I’m gonna blast cum down your throat. Suck it hard!”

I could hardly keep myself from smiling as I listened to my aural sex virgin’s first vocal ejaculation. He came harder than I’d ever felt, panting, “Oh yeah, babe. That was so good.”

Just as I was starting to feel pleased with myself for teaching Russell a new skill, I looked up at my pillow. Upon it, right beside his head, sat my cordless phone. My heart turned to ice as I reached for it. It was still on. It had just broadcast our quickie, complete with Russell’s dirty talk, to my entire lobby.

Yes, there are worse things in the world, but as it stands I try to keep a low profile around the building. Every so often, I’m convinced I hear someone taunting, “Squeeze my balls!”

About the author: Eroticist, environmentalist and pastry enthusiast, Giselle Renarde is a proud Canadian, committed volunteer, and supporter of the arts. For Giselle, a perfect day involves watching a snowstorm rage outside with a cup of tea in one hand and a chocolate truffle in the other. Ms Renarde lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head. She is published with several publishers including Phaze, eXcessiva, loveyoudivine, as well as numerous online erotic magazines and sites. For more information on Giselle and her work, visit her website at or her blog, Donuts & Desires

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