The Scary Guy

Disclaimer: most of the guys that call for phone sex are completely normal.  A handful of them have unusual tastes that they can’t indulge with their wives/girlfriends.  I’ve only had one caller that scared the shit out of me.

First thing he does, he wants me to be his mommy.

Wait, wait, let’s back it up a bit.  The mommy/daddy thing?  It goes the other way 99.9% of the time.  In other words, many many men want to be called Daddy.  Practically none of them want to call me mommy.  Of the ones that want me to call them Daddy, most of them are just interested in the “big daddy” concept, not the idea of being my ACTUAL daddy.  Ok?

When he starts by wanting me to role play his mommy, I’m thinking, uh-oh.  Freaky shit coming down the pike.  And lo, it came to pass.

“I want you to be wearing a black leather miniskirt and matching thigh-high leather boots,” he demands.

“Ok,” I say, pondering what sequence of events would EVER result in my wearing such an outfit while interacting with my children.

“Mommy,” he says, all whiny voiced and pleading, “Mommy, why are you dressed like that?”

I think, d’oh, what the hell am I supposed to answer?  Fortunately, he didn’t wait for me to respond.

“I know I’m late getting home from school, Mommy, I’m really sorry.  I know I need to be punished.  Punish me, spank my little ass till it’s pink and hot.”

Ok, I think, this I can do.  Not a dominatrix by nature, but this is simple stuff.  I start spanking him–or more accurately, slapping my thigh to simulate the appropriate sounds–and he’s whining and crying.

“I’m sorry Mommy, I’m really sorry, please kiss me, please.”

(Side note on incest: it’s a really common fantasy.  It doesn’t phase me at all anymore.  Except for this guy.)

I’m talking him through simple seduction, kisses, touches, and he’s resisting gently, “Mommy, please don’t do this, please Mommy, please stop.”

Actually up to this point, all is normal, as far as I can tell.  Which, upon reflection, says something about how fucked up people are.  But this is where it gets scary.

Ok, he’s whining and resisting.  And then suddenly, “Take it, you stupid fucking cunt!”

I blinked and paused.  Wait, what?  and he launches into a stream of invective the likes of which I’ve never heard before or since on the phones or anywhere else.  He’s describing brutally painful sexual acts and accompanying them with screamed insults the like of which made that first one seem tame.

He leads me through two more scenarios, both set in different places and both follow the same exact pattern: leather skirt and boots, punishing him, seducing him, brutally raped.

I don’t know anything about him at all.  I don’t know his name, or where he lives, or anything.  Part of me is glad for that.  Part of me wishes I did know that because of all the guys I’ve ever talked to, he’s the most likely to become a serial killer and I’d like to be able to point the cops in his direction when hookers in his city start going missing.


One Response to “The Scary Guy”

  1. That was pretty interesting ready

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