The booth

Lowell is fifty-six. He did not hire me. He came from an app because I wrote blanket booth, microphone on, one night, file stays with me. He read it back in his own words at the door so I would know he had actually read it. I let him in. Silver bob, black turtleneck, the good chair, blankets killing the room tone. I sat where I sit for work and told him this was not work. The screen stayed off. Nothing on it to read. The microphone was live, and we both looked at the little red light like it was a third adult who had also said yes.

I wanted the sound of my mouth first. I told him to stand close. He took his cock out, thick, already hard, and I leaned in and licked the head so the mic would catch the wet click of it. Then I sucked his cock properly, slow, letting the spit be loud. I like that sound. It is honest in a way my commercial voice is paid not to be. I took him deeper and hummed, and he swore, and I smiled around his cock. My hand was in my trousers. My cunt was soaked. I fingered my cunt while I sucked him and the chair creaked once, which I knew the blanket would only half eat. Good. I wanted the creak too.

I pulled off and told him to sit. I stripped from the waist down, turtleneck still on, and I straddled him in the chair. His cock pushed up into my cunt and I groaned into the mic on purpose, a low warm sound I would never sell. I fucked myself on his cock, hands on his shoulders, pace mine. The mic stood at mouth height. I talked. His cock is deep. My cunt is taking it. I am going to cum. I did, shaking, voice breaking into something raw, and I kept riding until the aftershocks made me laugh. He asked where. I said my mouth. I want to hear it and I want to taste it.

I got down and sucked his cock again, cunt still fluttering, and he came on my tongue with a rough shout the blankets made intimate. I swallowed because I like the finish in the file and in my throat. We listened back once. My mouth, his groan, the creak, the moment I said cunt and meant it, the fuck caught clean. Then I locked the drive. He kissed my cheek like a polite man and left. I did not walk him to a future. I sat in the chair and played the swallow one more time in my head, not on the speaker, and I was very pleased with the private voice.