So I can’t read or write erotica, because I’m a twelve-year-old boy and I giggle too much. One day, though, out of pure curiosity, I decided to sit down and try to write purposely-bad erotica, just to see if I could do it, and I had a blast. As you’d imagine, there isn’t much of a market for this, though, so I decided to instead treat you to it. Sometimes, shit is just for fun, and this is one of those times. Enjoy. Or don’t, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.

---

Dream Nights

“So, you’ve fucked before, right?” He asked.

Serena’s breath caught at the question. It took everything in her to continue to hold the watery gaze across the desk from her. Despite the heat of the question, Brennan Franks’s (“Call me Mr. Franks, and only Mr. Franks) expression was dispassionate, almost sleepy. It occurred to Serena then that she was taking too long to answer; Mr. Franks had clasped his meaty hands in front of himself on the desk, and he was leaning forward expectantly. 

Serena’s neck loosened enough to let her head nod. It was a little too enthusiastic a gesture, though, and she wound up making herself dizzy. If Mr. Franks noticed, he didn’t let on. 

“You took a minute there; is that a hard question to answer?” He asked. 

Serene shook her head this time, and she was careful to do it like a normal person. “No, I just…the question caught me off guard.”

Mr. Franks leaned back, his leather office chair creaking in protest as his massive frame pushed it to work even harder than it already had been. Serena thought the expression on Franks’s face was either one of amusement, or one of annoyance – she’d always had a hard time telling the difference. 

“You offended by me asking if you’ve had sex before?” Mr. Franks asked – no – challenged. 

Serena huffed. “No. I just…was surprised. The question makes sense for this kind of job.”

“Damn straight it does.” Franks countered, leaning forward again. “Ain’t no one gonna spend five dollars a minute to have you talk dirty to them if you don’t know how to sound like somebody’s seen you naked.” His liquid gaze slid up and down her body for a moment, as if the mention of her naked had sparked his curiosity. She felt his eyes as if they were fingers, grazing over her neck, her nipples (she suddenly wished she’d worn something more than a tight-fitting button-down), and pausing much too long at the space between her legs. She shivered. 

Franks suddenly popped back to life, as if he hadn’t just been undressing Serena ocularly. “I get the feeling you’re a bit of a good girl, though, right? “

Serena shifted. “I…um…”

“Lemme guess. The craziest thing you’ve ever done was Reverse Cowgirl, right?”

“Well…”

“And probably the whole time you were like -” Franks pitched his voice into a cartoonish falsetto and released a vulgar moan. “- OH GOD. OH GOD. PLEASE DON’T TELL MY DAD! DON’T TELL MY PASTOR! OOOHHH!”

Blood pulsed throughout Serena’s ears. It was like she was listening to her own personal ocean of embarrassment and rage. The impression was degrading and horrible and also somehow 100% correct. Mr. Franks seemed to know this, because he was cracking up at his own joke. He barely calmed when he saw Serena’s anger. 

“Oh…haha….chill out, Sandra Dee. Hee hee. I’m just kidding. There are plenty of guys who love the idea of deflowering sweet virginal girls with a naughty side. You can start whenever.” 

“Tonight.” Serena demanded, putting all of the energy she wanted to use on slapping Mr. Franks into her voice. 

Her new boss didn’t even flinch. Serena had the feeling that pissing girls off was part of his job description. He merely waved a hand dismissively. 

“You’re technically not supposed to start until we’ve sent in your tax forms. We can get in trouble.”

Deflated, Serena felt herself slump. “But…” There wasn’t really much else she could think to say, so the word just hung there while Franks stared at her. His eyes started roving again, and his voice deepened a bit. 

“I could be persuaded to make an exception, if you’re willing to do something for me.”

The highest roller coaster in the world dropped, and Serena was on it. Her stomach was in her throat. Her voice came out as a mix between a whisper and a gag. “Like…like what?”

“Fuck me. Now. Right here on my desk.”

She gasped. She didn’t mean to, but there didn’t seem to be enough air in the room for her to scream. Tears immediately began to flood her eyes. And then Franks laughed. 

“Oh my GOD, Priscilla, I’m joking. You should see your face right now.”

Those tears immediately dried to arrows of hate. Mr. Franks was laughing too hard to see it, though. He merely motioned towards the exit. “Just don’t tell anyone and yeah, you can start tonight.”

Serena stood immediately and stomped off to leave. She stopped, ripped the door open, and glared back at her new boss over her shoulder. He’d stopped laughing just long enough to meet her gaze. Now, she figured, was the perfect time to show him that she was no pushover, that he would rue the day he’d crossed her. Someday. After she was able to pay her rent. 

“Thank you for the opportunity.” She said instead, much to dismay that reached the tips of her toes. 

Franks burst into fresh laughter, falling out of his seat. Serena shut the door, cutting the sound short. 

                                           ____________________________________________

“Wait…we’re going to be on the phone?” Serena didn’t care that she sounded like an idiot. She felt like one. 

Apparently Diamond, the woman tasked with training her, thought so, too, as Diamond’s exasperation emitted from Serena’s computer screen with an intensity that one could feel on the skin.

 “Yyyyesss…” Diamond said. “We’re a sex chat line.”

“I…um…I thought it meant like online chat. Like sexting.”

Diamond looked like her head hurt. “How old are you?” She demanded. 

Serena frowned. “I’m old enough.”

“Not old enough to know that people still talk on the phone, apparently.” 

Serena didn’t really have a comeback. Diamond looked to be about 55 or so, and she came off more like someone’s American Midwest grandma than a sex chat operator. Despite this, her most popular character was a foul-mouthed dominatrix named Lady Labia who got guys off by describing horrible genital torture and humiliation. Serena knew this because Diamond had been perfectly pleasant while recounting how she came up with Lady Labia, and explaining how she was making a wild amount a night so that she could send her grandson to science camp just five minutes before. 

That all went down the drain the moment it had suddenly occurred to Serena that Diamond was describing actually talking to people. 

“I just…well I…didn’t plan on using the phone.”

“Your generation and fearing phone calls, I swear. My daughter is just like you.”

“I’m not afraid of using the phone.”

“Well then, what’s the problem?” 

Serena took a moment to decide how much she trusted Diamond, and therefore how much she wanted to share with her new colleague. The answer to both questions, she decided, was “not much.”

“It just seems like you’re supposed to talk sex with people you don’t even know and -”

Diamond rolled her eyes. “You’re one of those. One of the ‘sex-has-to-include-feelings’ people. You need the money, don’t you?”

Serena refused to look at the pile of letters on the table in her peripheral vision. She also refused to respond. They both knew she needed the money; why would she be there otherwise? “I’m just…not great at dirty talk, okay?”

Diamond’s face softened a bit. “Listen…you’ve been fucked before, right?”

The words coming out of that mouth, so similar to Serena’s own cookie-baking grandma, made her flinch. “YES. Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Because you’re gonna use that. When you talk to a customer, think of the last time you had really good sex. Then talk to the customer like they’re the person you were with. Works every time.”

“What, so you set your last partner’s balls on fire?” Serena quipped. 

Diamond’s face went blank. The silence went on for much too long. Serena suddenly wished she’d taken that job spinning signs on the corner downtown. Someone needed to say something. Anything. 

“So –” She began. 

“Good luck tonight.” Diamond said. The computer screen went blank. 

Work began in an hour. 

                                                                   +

“Thanks for calling Dream Nights. My name is Barilla. How can I make this your dream night?” Serena tried her hardest to speak with a breathy, Marilyn Monroe-like cadence. Diamond had also told her that moving her body as she spoke would help, so she leaned forward suggestively. 

“Damn, girl, they making you work while you got a cold?” The voice on the other end sounded very concerned. “Go get some rest and don’t worry ‘bout other people for awhile, ok?”

“Oh no,” Marilyn slipped just a little. Serena’s voice cracked. “I’m fine. I just.”

“No, I insist.” The customer said. “I know I can’t work when I’m sick. It’s not fair to you. Bye, sweet thing.”

Serena tried to assure the customer with her normal voice, but the phone was already from his ear. She heard him mutter “ain’t gettin off while talking to fuckin’ Cookie Monster,” and then the line went dead. 

Ok then. 

      +

“Thanks for calling Dream Night. My name is Barilla. How can I make this your dream night?” No Marilyn voice this time. Serena had some problems, but she’d always been a fast learner. 

“Ooh, Barilla.” The voice on the other end was a little nasal. Young. Nervous. “What’s that? Spanish? What’s it mean?”

Serena froze. The hell if she knew. She’d found the name on an old box of pasta in the back of her pantry and thought it sounded exotic. 

“Oh. Um. Okay. Thanks.” The line went dead. 

Goddammit, she’d said that last part out loud. 

This was a lot harder than she’d thought it would be. 

      +

“Thanks for calling Dream Night. My name is Pamela. How can I make this your dream night?” Okay. Normal voice, normal name that was common, but sexy enough (she’d spent the last hour logged out for a “bathroom break” so that she could search baby name websites and cry a bit). She could do this. 

“Pamela, huh? That’s a sexy name.” The voice on the other end was very attractive: deep, confident, and a little playful. 

Serena subconsciously started playing with her hair. “Thank you. What’s your name?”

Silence. Uh oh. Probably shouldn’t have asked that. His voice finally sounded again, with a hesitancy that one only uses when they’re lying through their teeth. “Jack. My name is Jack.”

“I like that name, Jack. I’m glad you’re here tonight.” Serena was so desperate to smooth things over, to not get hung up again, that the dude could’ve said his name was Mussolini, and she’d have made it work. 

“I am, too.” The-guy-henceforth-known-as-Jack responded. “What’re you wearing, Pamela?”

“Oh! Um…I’m wearing…uh…a low-cut top and a very short skirt that doesn’t cover anything when I sit down…right?” She was actually wearing a stained T-shirt and her track pants, but close enough. 

“Mm.” Jack said. “How does it feel, sitting down in that short skirt? Describe it to me.”

Serena froze. What would it feel like to sit in a short skirt? More importantly, how does one describe that in a sexy way? Something told her that the response “it’s drafty and my skin keeps sticking to the vinyl” would lead to another hangup. 

“Hello?”

Panic seized her and pressed itself to her. “DRAFTY!” She yelped. 

“…drafty?” Jack’s voice was a little smaller, as if someone had just shown him a picture of his mother while he was jacking off. Serena knew she needed to fix this, and fast. 

Diamond’s words suddenly inched into her conscious, and Serena’s mind traveled back to the last amazing, sensual night she’d had. 

Her eyes closed. She could see the muted blue of his basement apartment. She could hear his breath on her ear. She felt the seat beneath her as his hands bunched her skirt up around her hips. 

“It feels a little itchy on my thighs.” Serena heard herself say. Her voice wasn’t her own. It was husky, excited. 

“Yeah?” Jack was back on board. “The chair feeling good on those smooth thighs of yours?”

Serena chuckled. Her eyes were still closed. In her memory, hands were lifting her shirt. “Yeah. But I really like when you put your hands on my body.”

“Oh, baby, I like it, too.” Jack was breathless. His breathing was ragged. “You like how I touch you? You like it?”

A moan escaped Serena’s throat. “Yeah. You feel so strong, like you’re going to take me and give all of  yourself to me.”

“You know I will, baby. I’m going to make you scream my name.”

“The way you’re undressing me, I can tell.”

“Describe yourself to me, baby. What do you look like when we take off your clothes?”

Serena’s eyes flew open and darted side to side. Oh no. 

“Pamela?”

Serena’s hand shot out and hovered over the “hang up” button. Her hand shook with the need to end the phone call immediately. But she kept seeing the giant, red heading on her latest eviction notice floating in front of her eyes. She kept thinking of how she’d be sleeping in her car soon if she didn’t do this. She loved her car, but she didn’t love it that much. 

Her eyes then flicked to the timer on her phone. She’d been on this call for 20 minutes already. She did a little math, and upon realizing how much she’d made just flubbing a phone call with one customer, her eyes widened. 

“Hello?” Jack sounded lost. Serena had a moment where she imagined him, a floppy dick in his hand, looking like someone had abandoned him in the woods. She felt like a monster. 

She took a deep breath, and tried to put herself back in the moment. The guy, Caleb, had asked to see her naked, too. She’d gladly obliged. 

Caleb was the kind of guy who’d seemed out of her league, so when he’d asked her to the movies, she’d said “yes” without even thinking about it. The movie had only been on for about 45 minutes, if that, before Caleb’s hand somehow found its way under her skirt. He’d deftly used his thumb to push her underwear aside and moved his hand with perfect pressure and speed, as his lips brushed her ear. “You want to get out of here?”

Suddenly the movie and the $15 box of candy didn’t exist. It took them ten minutes to get to Caleb’s house, and five to get to the basement. 

At one point, he’d asked her to stand in front of him, completely naked, and his eyes had taken her in with a hunger she’d never forget. She could still see his arms flexing as he held back from touching her, as if he was trying to test himself. 

“Hey listen, I know I have to pay by the minute but this feels sketchy, and for a sex line that’s saying something -” Jack was pissed now. 

“I’m here!” Serena said. “I’m here. I’m so sorry. My phone dropped for a second. But I’m here. And I’m ready for you.”

Unsure silence from Jack. Then: “…really?”

“Yes. I’m standing here, waiting for you. Don’t you want me?”

If someone could lunge forward with their voice, that’s exactly what Jack did. “I want you, Pamela. I want you in the worst way.” 

“Then come and take me.” 

“What do you want me to do, baby?”

Serena thought back to Caleb. How he’d stood from the chair after looking at her, what he’d done next. “I want you to…put your fingers on my hips. I want you to trace them. Slowly.”

“I’m tracing those hips, I’m pulling you toward me.” Jack was breathing hard again. 

Caleb was kissing her neck. “I want you to kiss my neck. Gently, but like you’re hungry.”

“I’m so hungry, baby, I’m so hungry.”

Caleb was cupping her bottom half and pressed it against his. “I want you to press me against you, so I can feel you.”

Jack was panting. His voice came out as a low moan. “What do you feel? Do you feel how hard I am, baby? Tell me you feel how hard I am. Tell me what you feel.”

Serena was still lost in her own memory, and she said it before she could stop herself. “I feel your dingle-dangle against my thighs. It is so hard.”

Jack’s breathing slowed a bit. His voice was a little less breathy.” What?”

Serena slapped a hand over her mouth. Her mind reached for a way to come back, found it. “You know what I meant, baby. I can feel that you want me, and I need you to give it to me now.”

“Yeah, baby. Oh, Pamela. You gonna climb on top of me?” 

“I’ll do whatever you want, Jack. Anything.”

“What do you look like on top of me, Pamela?” 

Serena’s jaw clenched. She stared at the pale skin and short, blonde hair she and her reflection shared.  “Um…I have long, red hair. And tan…tan legs.”

“What about your breasts? Tell me what your tits look like.”

Oh God. Serena covered her eyes and willed herself to say the word. “Tits.” Not hard. She could do it: “My t-t-t-…my tatas are so pretty. Little handfuls.”

“Your…ta-tas?”

“I mean my…Chesty-Boos.” 

“I-what?”

“Left Pam and Right Pam?”

“…are you serious?”

Serena tried to think back to Caleb, but now he just looked blurry, and he was sitting in what she imagined Jack’s bedroom looked like, look confused and disappointed. This needed to end. It needed to stop. 

“Listen,” Serena said, “I’m really bad at dirty talk. I can’t say dirty words. Can we just…end the call here?”

Jack’s panting had slowed, but his breath was still heavy. “You took a job as a phone sex operator but you can’t talk dirty?”

“I’M BEING REALLY VULNERABLE HERE, ALRIGHT?”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Um…”

He was still on the line. Serena checked the time and she was now working on 40 minutes with this guy. The idea did give her a little comfort. Not much, but a little. Why wouldn’t this guy hang up? 

“Yes?” She asked, trying and failing to hide her irritation. 

“I just – it – I’m really close to done.”

It was Serena’s turn for incredulity. “Are you for real right now?”

“I mean…your voice is hot. I can lead the way. Just make the noises. I swear I’m almost done.”

Serena grunted. She felt like she owed this guy that much. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

A few seconds of silence followed and then Jack was breathing really hard again. “Oh, Pamela. Oh, baby. I love looking at you. The way the moonlight looks on your skin, the way you’re wrapping your legs around me?”

Serena gave a half-hearted moan in reply and got up to get a burrito out of her pantry. 

“Mm,” Jack continued. “The way you’re moving, the way you’re riding me is so hot. You’re taking it all. Aren’t you taking it all, you dirty girl?”

Serena put the burrito in the microwave and jammed a couple buttons. The turntable in the middle began to spin. “I’m so dirty, Jack. I need you to clean me like a cat.”

“Ew,” Jack said. “Don’t say that.”

“Sorry.”

Then Jack was back at it. She heard his entire body shaking. The microwave beeped, signaling that her burrito was done. She took it out, took a bite. It was too hot, she immediately spat it out. 

“Your hands are all over my body.” Jack moaned. “You’re touching my skin.”

“You’re so muscular.” Serena said, adding some panting for good measure. She found an old packet of hot sauce and started squeezing it onto her burrito. 

“I’m inside you.” Jack said. “You’re so wet.”

“Ew.” Serena said, mouth full of burrito. “Don’t say that.”

“Sorry.” 

Jack’s voice was tense now, desperate. “I’m so close, Pamela. I’m so close. I’m almost there. Tell me you want this dick. Tell me – “-TELL ME YOU WANT THIS DICK”  Jack’s voice was a near howl.

Serena swallowed her mouthful of burrito and froze. “I want that di-that weiner.”

“OH MY GOD BABY YELL IT! YELL THAT YOU WANT IT!”

“I WANT THAT WEINER!” Serena tried to add her own desperation, and she sort of succeeded. The desperation was more about wanting to escape the situation, but whatever worked. 

Jack cried out, and then his end of the call was silent. Serena checked the call timer and saw that it was still ticking. He hadn’t hung up. She waited for another ten seconds, then cleared her throat. 

“So uh…this was…I dunno. But I have to answer other calls so…”

“When do you work again?” Jack’s question stunned Serena silent for a couple seconds. 

“I’m sorry?” She asked finally. 

“When do you answer calls?” Jack sounded very out of breath, but otherwise cheerful. 

“I um… Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays.” 

“Can I ask for you specifically?”

Serena looked around for a sign that she was being messed with. “Why would you wan – I mean…yeah, I can give you an extension.” She gave him the number, and he even asked her to give him a moment to get a pen. 

“This was great.” Jack said. “I’ll call you again on Saturday, okay?”

“O-okay.”

“Goodnight, Pamela. You were amazing.”

“Night, Jack. You were neat.”

Jack chuckled, and his end of the line shut off. 

Serena sat in a confused silence for about thirty seconds before she looked at the call’s final timer. An hour. She’d had that guy on the line for an hour. She immediately stood and laid down in her bed. That was enough for today. 

Then she jumped out of bed, sat back down, and logged back in. 

Why the heck not? Those weiners weren’t going to touch themselves.