Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Hit The Post


Tuesday morning rolled around. As I was getting ready to go to work I was well aware that I was supposed to stop at Pamela's Place a few minutes after noon. Just a sales service call... review how the ads were working... change the copy if needed... pick up a check for that week's ads and, hopefully, a few more weeks in advance...   But, of course, I had a sense that something else might happen. So I made sure I was wearing clean clothes.  It was the least I could do.

While I was airing the 8 o'clock hour news feed from ABC Contemporary Radio I noticed the light on the control room phone was blinking. Nothing unusual there.  I did have listeners who could dial a phone ya know. They weren't all cows grazing out there on the range.   I answered it the way I always did by giving the station call letters “KCTW.”  Of course, I was versatile.  If I had a contest going I would say, “KCTW, you're the fifth caller!” and hang up.   I usually didn't go past the eighth caller as a winner since the first time I did a twelfth caller I realized that the same guy was the first, fourth, ninth and twelfth caller. That was kind of depressing.  But this particular call wasn't depressing. The caller responded to my “KCTW!” with “Billy? Is that you?”

I almost said something smart-ass but something about the sleepy female voice caused me to simply say, “Yes.”
“Mmmm you sound good this morning...”
“Where are you?”
“In bed... nice and warm... listening to your voice... thinking things...” she said.
“Sounds nice,” I said. I thought it was Pam but I couldn't tell for sure. It wasn't the first time I'd had a naughty woman call while on the air.
“I'm coming out of the news in twenty I need to put the phone down for just a second.”
I cued up “Cut The Cake” by AWB and listened for the news sign-off, made my flawless segue into the song and opened the microphone. I said something devilishly clever, gave the time and temp and hit the twenty-two second post like a seasoned pro. I made sure the mic was closed when I picked up the phone.
“I'm back,” I said.
“Wow, that was like going backstage. Cool.”
Now I was sure it was Pamela.
“Well, you know what happens to good-looking women who wander around backstage all alone, don't you?”
“Is it anything like what's gonna happen to a disc jockey who wanders into the back of my store today?”
I laughed.  She sounded very dirty.
“I think I'll end up an unemployed radio guy if I don't hang up right away,” I said.

She made a harumphing sound. “OK. But play a song for me.”
“It has to be something current.”
She told me what she wanted to hear. It was something I could play so I agreed.
Then she told me what she was going to do to herself if I played it next.
“Hey! Save some for me, Pamela,” I said.
She sounded so hot and bothered.
I hung up and cued the next record.
Going from AWB to the Steve Miller single that Pam picked I opened the mic, “Listen up cowgirls... everybody headin' out to make big money this morning, lemme hear a big Whoo-hoo!” The Hoo left my throat at :07 of “Take The Money and Run.”
Billy The Kid hit another post on the button. 
Lord, Top 40 radio was so much fun.
----------

“Get in here, you!” Pamela said when she opened the back door of her store.
She lead me to the couch in her office. She had on a denim skirt, a white gauzy top, obviously no bra but lots of craft jewelry like she sold in the store-- necklace, bracelets, rings on several fingers.
I was leaning back in the corner of the couch and she was sitting to my right. She was sitting on her
left hip and facing me. She went right for my belt, unbuckled me, unsnapped me, and pulled my zipper down. I tried to get my hands on her but she fended me off. “Just relax, baby. I'll take care of everything today,” she said.

I was already stiff when she got my cock out of my pants.
A slight moan escaped from her mouth.  Her lips were slightly parted and the tip of her tongue was visible just behind her lower lip. She stroked me with her right hand for a while. Her eyes were locked on the head of my cock. She switched hands and tilted her head without breaking her stare at my dick. She was like a beautiful lizard sizing up a juicy bug for her lunch.

Pamela leaned forward-- but she didn't suck me. Instead, she flicked my cock head with her tongue a few times and then pressed her lips onto it-- a kiss. But she didn't take me into her mouth.
“God you're a fuckin' tease,” I groaned.
She smiled, still looking nowhere but straight at my hard dick.
“Feels good, doesn't it?” Her voice was a gruff whisper.
She started working it with two hands. Leaning forward she drizzled spit all over the head, got it on her left hand and stroked me quickly while she cupped my balls with her right. 


She kept on, slowly, until I was drained of cum.

1 comment:

Topaz said...

Big reward for playing her song!