I doubt that even my most dedicated readers will remember my phone stalker. I mentioned him a couple of times, a year or more ago. The short version: I did some phone sex with a guy off gay.com, and then he started calling me all the time, even though he was in Texas and (I figured) married. He was never scary, but for a while he was annoying.
At some point, though, I figured WTF and started answering some of his calls. He usually called when he was driving home, and that often coincided with either the end of my work day or my evening commute. I mostly let the phone ring when it said "Private number," but sometimes I'd answer, talk to him for a few minutes, get him all worked up by telling him how I was going to spank/abuse/fuck him, and then hang up without notice and not pick up when he called back thirty seconds later. Playing games with him only made him more into me, of course, and I liked hearing his Texas twang, so I never told him he couldn't call me again. I did tell him once that he needed to get off the phone, call me back, and leave his number on my voicemail. I figured he wouldn't, but he did, so I called him back and got him really worked up and then hung up on him.
I don't hear from this guy all the time any more. He'll go a few weeks without calling me and then he'll call me five or six times over three days.
Anyway, the other day I was on gay.com, and I was chatting with this very cute young Asian man, Mitchell, with whom I used to have occasional (and fun) phone sex. He was saying that he missed talking with me, so I asked for his number (it had been maybe six months since we'd spoken) and told him I'd try to call him on my way home. I wrote the number down, but I didn't put it in my cell phone, and then I left the number on my desk when I left Friday afternoon. It was unfortunate but not a big deal. Then on Friday evening, I started getting text messages telling me how horny the sender was and how much he missed hearing my voice. I figured the messages were from Mitchell, so I sent him one back saying how that he was a slut and that I missed hearing him cum on the phone. There were a few more messages, but YFU was still awake, so I couldn't call.
When I finally did call, I got an anonymous voicemail recording, so I left a message and I sent another text. I got a text back saying that he wanted to call me so that I could talk to him. He couldn't talk, he said, but he'd be on his cam. I couldn't imagine why Mitchell would need to be silent, but it seemed odd that I'd start getting text messages from someone else (other than Kip, who still texts me regularly to ask if I'm horny; I've given up responding to those) on the same day Mitchell had given me his number. Anyway, I texted back asking who the guy was, and he replied that it was my Texas bf. So I replied, "You can't talk because your wife is there, right?"
Tex had never admitted that he was married, but he did then and asked whether I had a problem with that. And I didn't have a problem with it. At least not until he started texting me asking me if I was also "into pussy." Eww. Anyway, he asked to be on my messenger program at a certain time and said he'd have the webcam on. So I did and he did. Typically, he was only showing from the chest down, but he does have a very nice body. He's smooth and slender. He was stroking his cock, and it seemed to be hard. It was very average, or so I thought until I started talking at which point it turned into serious meat. I don't really care about serious meat, but it was cool to see the effect on him when I told him that I was going to eat and fuck his ass.
Tex is fun on the phone, but he talks too much and asks dumb questions just to hear me refuse to answer him. It was kind of cool that he couldn't talk and had to just listen to me get excited, (pretend to) cum, and tell him what I'd like to do to him. Of course, he couldn't keep himself from typing question after question. I told him he should stroke instead of typing, and he told me that I had him really worked up and that he liked edging or he'd have cum fifteen minutes earlier. I finally told him to shut up and show me the jizz, whereupon he slipped on what he called a leather jockstrap (I think it was really a leather thong, but whatever, right?) with half his erection sticking out the top and promised to shoot on it. He looked pretty hot in it as he finally stroked out his load.
Naturally, a few seconds later, he was back peppering me with questions about how many times I'd cum. I refused to answer him a couple of times, and then I closed the messenger window. I got a text message thanking me a couple minutes later. And then the next day, I got multiple calls. I answered one of them and let him guess for five minutes how many times I'd cum (he never considered that the answer might be none; he thought four was the most likely; I am not one to destroy other people's delusions), then I talked dirty to him and when he started going into his spiel about how he wants me to fuck my own leather jacket, I got bored and hung up. He wants to do the whole thing again, of course. ASAP.