#telephonesex

[pollymorgan]

Oh my God, how embarrassing... I did it and translated my German fanfiction into English... into bad English! Don't be too harsh on me, but rather make suggestions for improvement: So now a little phone sex with Coach Negan. 🙈😌

Warnings: arrogant Negan, frustrated woman, explicit phone sex

Today is one of those days again, where nothing seems to work as it should. Just like so often lately. Why couldn't I transfer those damn photos to the laptop? I've never been very tech-savvy, but the modern world practically forced me to. I'm actually a cookbook author and used to be quite successful with it. Some of my books were bestsellers and I even had my own cooking segment on a nationally broadcasted morning show. But then I was suddenly replaced by a younger, "cooler" colleague and ever since then, I've been struggling to keep afloat with social media, more or less. If only the technology would cooperate..

Even in my personal life, I have been replaced. Four months ago, my husband left us. By us, I mean my three children and me. After 19 years of marriage. But love goes where it goes, right? Nothing can be done against that. At least, those were his words when he got into his Porsche with a blonde woman who could be his daughter and disappeared.

Since then, he has managed to do something with his children exactly twice. But in exchange, he has already disappointed them seven times by canceling the meetings at short notice. Yes, I'm keeping count. At least for now.

My oldest daughter Penny is 15 years old and fully immersed in puberty, and it seems that this situation is hardest on her. She and her father were always a unit, his little princess. But there's no trace of that at the moment. Most of the time, he doesn't even bother to answer his damn phone when she tries to reach him.

I see her suffering. She's lost interest in school, and her circle of friends is dwindling visibly. I would love to help her, but how? At the moment, I just can't seem to reach her. Our communication mostly consists of doors slamming.

But back to my current problem. These damn pictures! The article is supposed to go online today. I cooked an Indian dish and had to drive halfway across town to get these damn spices. Thursdays always bring an international post, and now, of all times, nothing is working again. My laptop doesn't recognize the memory card, and the camera won't connect either. I keep plugging and unplugging the cable, hoping the error will magically resolve. Which of course it doesn't. Suddenly, I glance at the small display in the lower right-hand corner. Damn it! So late. I won't be picking up the kids on time again, the second time this cursed week. Annoyed, I close the screen. Grabbing my purse, I walk quickly to the garage. Where's the damn car key? Nervously, I rummage through my chaotic bag, spilling half of its contents on the floor. Finally finding it, I get into the car and speed out of the driveway.

The first stop is the kindergarten to pick up my youngest. She's a real bundle of nerves, but so sweet that you can forgive her anything. Of course, she throws a tantrum right at pickup. It's a real struggle to get her into the car. Like a madwoman, I drive on to the elementary school to pick up my 9-year-old son. He is the calm one in our family and thankfully waits with his best friend relaxed in front of the school. At least one who's not mad at me. Lucky me. And off we go, heading to my daughter's high school. From a distance, I can see her and immediately know that - once again - something is wrong. She stands all alone and pretty annoyed on the street, looking out for me. When I park the car right in front of her feet, she angrily drops onto the passenger seat.

"Penny, I can explain, you know what a loser I am when it comes to technology..." I try to justify myself.

My eldest rolls her eyes in annoyance. "Mum, this time, for once, it's not your fault..." I see tears forming in the corners of her eyes, and automatically, I feel a lump in my throat.

"Mister Smith... he..."

She doesn't need to continue speaking; just hearing that name fills me with such anger again. Right from the start, there have been issues with her physical education teacher, Negan Smith.

I've only seen him twice so far, at parent-teacher conferences, but Penny's stories are enough for me to know that he's an absolute failure as a teacher. He has his favorites whom he praises to the skies, while the less athletic students suffer under his authoritarian ways. My daughter already feels uncomfortable in her own skin, and that jerk doesn't even realize the impact his remarks have on the young girls.

A few years ago, his wife passed away from cancer. A terrible tragedy, but apparently that did not make him more empathetic; quite the opposite.

I'm currently looking in the rearview mirror to avoid hitting anyone in the chaos outside the school. That's all I need on this crappy day. Then I catch sight of none other than Penny's physical education teacher.

"Isn't that him?" I ask excitedly.

My daughter buries her face even further into the backpack in her lap. "Yes, Mom, it's okay, please just drive..."

The anger that had been building up recently had just found a good release.

With the words "Nothing is good...", I yank open my driver's door and head purposefully towards my daughter's physical education teacher, who is just stowing his bag in his car.

"Who do you think you are?" I stand behind him with arms crossed, eagerly awaiting his reaction.

Confused, he turns around to face me and suddenly a big grin spreads across his face. "Negan Smith, nice to meet you, and who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

What a cocky jerk!

"The mother of a rather offended young girl, because of you..."

Can't he just drop his arrogant smile for once? Quite unimpressed, he closes the door of his car.

"Penny has so much potential and she's wasting it on the damn bench..."

Such an idiot, he clearly knows who I am.

"Maybe you should listen to the young students as well, instead of just spouting off random remarks at them?"

Amused, he shakes his head. "I did... her excuse for skipping today's P.E. class was menstrual cramps..."

"And in your opinion that's not a valid reason or what? How dare you even pass judgment on that? Your students' bodies are going through changes and such discomforts should be taken seriously..." I respond a bit too loudly, causing some students to turn towards us.

Resigned, he raises his hands. "Of course, but not every damn other week. Maybe you should give your daughter some biology lessons again and explain to her that her P.E. teacher isn't completely from another planet."

Oh God, what does this man think he is..

"And you should work on your teaching skills... Otherwise, maybe I should consider contacting the school board!"

„Oh wow, you're actually a bigger drama queen than your dear daughter!".

Did he really just say that? Did he just seriously insult me? My daughter's teacher. I look at him in disbelief, but he just grins.

"And now she's quiet... I really have to go now, but I'm pretty sure we'll meet again soon." With these words, he jumps into his car and drives off.

Completely perplexed, I walk back to my car and am greeted by my daughter with the words "That was soooo embarrassing.."

7 hours later

Finally peace! Why does it always have to be such a struggle to get the kids to bed? Isn't it unfair that you are a thousand times more tired than the dear little ones? What a crappy day! I'm glad to be freshly showered in my bed and finally have some time off. Just me and my phone, no one else. No more whining, arguing, and crying. As much as I sometimes curse technology, I also love being able to connect with people over the internet. It's fun to respond to comments, the direct exchange with like-minded people is the only positive thing about social media. As I scroll through Instagram, I suddenly see comments coming in at a rapid pace. Confused, I open them. From "Do you always look so good when you cook?" to "Can you cook that for me sometime?" to heart emojis, and they all come from the same account. As I read the name, a shock runs through me. Can this be for real? "Coach Negan" is he not only a tactless asshole, but also a real psychopath? Excited, I click on his account, but apart from a profile picture where he is clearly recognizable, there is no further information.

I quickly open the messaging function and type "What is this???" into my phone. It only takes a few seconds and I receive a response.

"I am a fan 😉"

For a while, I stare at the screen, unable to believe what is happening here.

Suddenly, he sends me a picture. I open it and see a photo of me from my highlights, showing me from my post "Valentine's Day." I had cooked a three-course meal and written a pretty cheesy text back then. It's one of my most liked posts.

"Red lipstick suits you. Matches your fiery nature.." he writes.

What does he want to achieve? Did the confrontation before school hurt him so much that he is trying to provoke me? But to be honest, it seems like he's the one giving me a warning. Well, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that the best defense is a good offense.

"Oh, do you think so? Most men say I look better without wearing anything...I mean, without lipstick, of course.. 😉".

"Are you already in bed?" he asks next. What a bizarre situation? Why does my daughter's teacher want to know where I am? The same teacher who called me a ‚drama queen‘ just a few hours ago.

I keep trying to type a suitable response on my phone and then delete it again. Finally, I write briefly, "Yes, and you?"

"Yes, and I'm studying your profile. Do you realize how crazy you can drive a man with these pictures? Why am I even asking, of course you do. 😉"

The feeling of small electric shocks runs through my body. The whole thing feels strangely forbidden. Maybe what I'm doing here is damn wrong, but right now, the consequences seem pretty irrelevant to me.

"How mean, you can look at my pictures, but you don't have any online yourself."

"That's true, but how about you hear my voice instead?" Attached to this message was his phone number. Okay, this is all moving pretty quickly, in a pretty strange direction. I'm so excited that I can feel my heart pounding wildly in my chest. But what do I have to lose? I haven't felt like this in the last 20 years. Okay, it's a damn bizarre situation, but I'm an adult and single. So I can finally talk to whoever I want. Even with the biggest jerk I've come across lately.

Feeling totally tense, I dial the number and as it rings, it gets even worse. I take a few deep breaths, and suddenly the deep voice on the other end answers with a "What took you so long to decide?" and I can practically feel his grin.

"Well, I had to think for a moment about what would be so sensible about calling my daughter's narcissistic gym teacher in the middle of the night," I say calmly.

"And what would be sensible about that?" he asks with interest.

"I haven't really found a solid reason yet, but maybe you can tell me?"

He thinks for a moment, and I imagine him lying in his bed. A slight tingling sensation spreads in my stomach, which is intensified by his response.

"Well, I can make sure you feel a little better... forget all the everyday crap that's weighing on your pretty shoulders right now."

I briefly close my eyes to focus more on his voice, which really manages to relax me a bit with just that simple sentence.

"And how do you plan to do that?" I ask softly.

"When was the last time you were really well fucked?" As soon as he says it, my lower abdomen tightens, and I automatically press my legs together.

After I take a moment to collect myself, I honestly respond, "That was much too long ago..."

"Oh, poor girl," Negan provocatively replies, but instead of getting upset about it, it triggers completely different feelings in me. "Tell me about what you imagine when you stroke your lonely pussy at night."

I have to swallow briefly to get rid of the extremely dry feeling in my throat.

"I can tell you what I think about when I do it in a moment..." I say softly but firmly.

And his tone changes too. His breathing becomes heavier. "Then tell me, come on," he commands.

"I imagine it's your fingers running over my body and finally sliding my panties to the side and penetrating deep into me..." My cheeks feel like they're glowing. I've never talked like this with anyone before, and now I just did it with a man who is actually a stranger to me.

"Come on, sweetheart... touch yourself for me and tell me if you're wet," he interrupts.

Without thinking, I click on the speaker icon on my display and place the phone next to me on the pillow, then I slide my right hand under my nightgown into my panties and I'm surprised at how aroused I already am, how swollen my clit is, and how sensitive my whole intimate area has become. I sigh softly.

"Fuck, the sweet little sounds you're making... they make my damn cock twitch in my hand with joy..."

Just the thought that he's so aroused by me on the other end sends waves of pleasure through my body.

"I'm already so wet because of you, Negan..." I admit breathlessly.

"You dirty, pretty lady, if I were with you right now, I would slowly penetrate deep into you... you need that now, don't you?"

"Yes!" I can only whisper.

"Okay, now do everything exactly as I tell you, understood?" he demands.

"Yes, please tell me what to do.." I focus solely on his voice, completely tuning out everything else.

"Take off your panties. Use your index and middle fingers to gently stroke over your mons pubis and then slowly over your outer labia, but not more, just right there.."

Immediately, I follow his instructions. The air feels cool on my bare lower abdomen. I feel strangely exposed, even though I am alone in my bedroom, but it's not uncomfortable, quite the opposite. I begin to caress myself gently.

"How does that feel?" his voice breaks the silence again.

"Good, but I want more.." I plead.

"I already knew that.. Bend your legs and spread them wide.. as far as you can.." He gives me a brief moment to comply with his instructions. "Now push your pelvis even further forward.. Imagine I'm between your legs and you want to present me with your beautiful pussy, you would like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes.." I say and nod vigorously, even though no one can see me.

"Such a good girl.. and now run your index finger through your slit, spread your juices.."

I can't and don't want to hold back my moans now. There is silence for a while at the other end, then I speak heavily.

"Are you also pleasuring your cock for me?" I ask as I continue to touch myself.

"Oh, sweetheart, so your thoughts are currently only about that.." he says snappily. "Yes, I am, and if you keep moaning so sweetly into the phone, it won't be long, so it's time for you to start massaging your clit, but don't be too timid, circle it with two fingers and use some pressure, even if you're very sensitive now, you can take it.."

Oh God, that was exactly what I needed right now. My body felt like in ecstasy and I could feel the orgasm slowly building up.

"Don't come yet," he commanded, and on cue, I immediately removed my fingers from my most sensitive spot.

"Now, bring your knees close to your body!“

"Yes," I replied, completely exhausted. "You're doing it perfectly, how much I would love to see you in this position right now, just the damn thought!" I could clearly hear him softly moaning. This sound made my body twitch with excitement.

"Penetrate yourself with two fingers... nice and slow. Focus entirely on the feeling of stretching your pussy wide... Tell me when you're all the way in!"

"Now," I whispered, already quite spent.

"Then add your ring finger, once you've done that, you can come intensely as a reward, I promise."

Slowly, I press the third finger into me, which initially causes a bittersweet pull, but I'm so wet that it's not a problem.

Without me telling him, Negan knows that I fulfilled his request.

"So perfect, sweetheart! And now, pleasure your clit! Bring yourself to climax and don't hold back any sound, I want to hear every sweet noise from you."

With the first gentle touch, my body twitches like crazy.

"Negan, please come with me," I stammer into the phone.

"Yes, I promise, beautiful," he replies breathlessly.

And these words are enough for me to come as intensely as I haven't in the past years. My thighs tremble uncontrollably and my heart almost jumps out of my chest. My lower abdomen contracts in waves and I can barely breathe. It feels like I am weightless for a few seconds.

"Do you feel good?" he asks after a short pause.

"Perfect.." I reply and can't gather my thoughts yet.

"Okay, then I expect you tomorrow at 3:30 p.m. for a parent-teacher meeting at the school, and, by the way, without panties.. Good night!" After these words, I only hear a beep on the line.

[raspberrypi16900]

Telephonesex

I search Telephonesex now. Write me.