Carl get an unexpected call while volunteering at an emergency help line.
The phone rang, and Carl jumped for it. So far, his second night covering the crisis line had been quite the snooze fest. But, he was passionate about his research – working towards his doctorate in psychology – and volunteering here was providing him with a wealth of experience… and brownie points with his professor.
“Hello…” the voice on the other end of the line was tentative, and sounded young, but not in trouble.
“I hope this doesn’t get me into trouble, but I’m bored, and I need some help… sorta…
“This is a help line, after all,” Carl replied, trying to make his 21 year old voice sound concerned, calming, and mature. “What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Elizabeth, but almost everyone calls me Bethy.”
“May I call you Bethy? I’m Roger.” For some odd reason, Carl had the sudden inspiration to not use his real name.
“Yes, silly, of course you can. I know I’m not supposed to call ‘less it’s a ‘emergency, but I’m all alone, and there’s no one to talk to. Daddy works the swing shift and Mommy works all night. I only get to see my family at breakfast and on the weekends, mostly.”
“That’s OK Bethy. Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you.”
“I saw something the other night accidentally.”
“Mommy and Daddy were making lots of noise, and I was scared, so I went to make sure they were OK.”
“Bethy, was everything OK?”
“Mommy’s legs were way up in the air, and daddy was between them kinda sitting.”
“Ok, go on Bethy.”
“Uh huh… Mommy was shouting about how it felt so good in her assho… uh, bumhole. I’m no supposed to use that word, sorry mister.”
“That’s OK Bethy. Go on.”
“Daddy was all sweaty and red-faced, too. He was grunting and rocking back and forth.”
“They both started shouting at each other that they were coming, and I was scared because they were already there. It confused me.”
Carl put down his pencil and shoved the notepad aside. This case wouldn’t need those kinds of notes.
“Then they both fell over, and were really still, but I could hear them both breathing, but the weren’t talking of anything. I opened the door and went in to make sure they were OK.”
“They got really scared and jumped up. Mommy pulled the blanket around her, and daddy kinda crouched down behind the bed. But not before I got a chance to see his thingy. It was all swollen and purply and wet.”
“Mommy asked if I was OK. I said I heard shouting and then saw them collapse and I was scared.”
“Mommy explained that it was just grown up fun, and she tied the blanket over her boobies like a gown and took me back to bed.”
“I asked her if she was really OK when she tucked me in ‘cause her face was all red.”
“She said she was fine, and she was smiling, so I got back into bed, but I couldn’t go back to sleep for a while. I heard mommy and daddy giggling.”
“Then, the next day after school… I am always home alone after school ‘cause mommy and daddy work and can’t get me a nanny, and I kept thinking about what I saw and heard. Mommy said it felt good having daddy’s thingy in her, um, bumhole, and I wanted to feel good.”
Carl began to feel his prick stiffen. He knew it wasn’t right and so tried to force his mind away from it.
“So, anyways, mister, I tried something naughty. I tried putting a Shapie marker up my bum.”
It didn’t feel good. It hurt a lot. But then I remembered how daddy’s thingy was wet, and the Sharpie was all dry. I pulled it out and licked it and spit on it to make all wet and shiny.”
“That helped when I put it back in, but I didn’t feel good like mommy had.”
But then I thought about the size of daddy’s thingy. It was a lot bigger than a Sharpie marker, so I pulled it out again and licked it clean so nobody would know what I used it for.”
“Then I licked my first and middle fingers and got them all slobbery and tried that.”
“It felt better, after a little bit of burning, but it still didn’t make me want to scream or shout.”
“Then I remembered that daddy was rocking back and forth and that mommy had her legs up in that air, so I laid down and tried moving my fingers in and out of my bumhole.”
“It felt really good, but still no screaming or shouting.”
“What are you doing now, Bethy?”
“Well, I called you, silly. I pulled my fingers out and licked them off and wiped my bottom with my panties. I put them way down deep in the laundry basket.”
“Then, I thought that maybe my fingers weren’t the right shape. Maybe I needed something shaped like daddy’s thingy.”
“Timmy is 14, and he rides the school bus home with me. He usually doesn’t talk to me ‘cause I’m only 12, but after everyone else was off the bus, I asked him if he could come over and help me.”
Carl was having a difficult time keeping his prick down. “Go on.”
“Well, he wasn’t exactly mean, but he was kinda rude. He said ‘what so you want squirt?’ But, I’m not a squirt, so I told him what I saw and what I tried and what I wanted to try. He said he’d help! He actually seemed kinda happy to help and rushed me home.”
“I took him to my bedroom and got on the bed after I took off my panties, and raised my legs way up in the air. I pointed to my bumhole and said ‘right here, but you have to make it wet, first.’”
“He’s a bit bigger than me, and he had no trouble pushing my legs even higher as he spit on my bumhole. He stuffed a pillow under my backside, and stood to take off his clothes.”
“His thingy was hard and stolen and red like daddy’s, but not much bigger than my two fingers… maybe a little longer. I was worried that it wouldn’t work.”
“He said he was all out of spit after spitting in my assho… er, bumhole… sorry, mister. He asked me if I could get his thingy… he called it a cock, though. Is that an OK word to use?”
“Well, Bethy, it is kind of a grown up word, but it’s OK for now,” Carl’s own cock was now throbbing and it was all he could do to keep his hand from stroking it right in his cubicle. “Go on.”
“I really wanted to try, mister, so I put his rock in my mouth and clobbered all over it to make it very wet and shiny.”
“Timmy got back down next to my bum and started to push. It didn’t look a lot bigger than my fingers, but it sure felt bigger. I had to tell him to slow down.”
“Did he slow down?”
“A little, and the hurt went away, and it really started feeling good, but then he grunted and everything stopped, but I did feel something warm up inside me. Is that what Mommy felt?”
“Bethy, did you feel like shouting or peeing.”
“Ew, no peeing. And no, not really shouting. Except maybe at Timmy. It was starting to feel good when he stopped so suddenly, and his cock fell out and was all floppy.”
“He got all embarrassed and pulled his pants up and ran out.”
“I hope he doesn’t tell anyone. I didn’t get a chance to ask him not to.”
Carl smiled. He couldn’t help but think it was a sly smile? But he had no mirror. “I’m sure he wont.”
“Oh, I hope not.”
There was a pause.
“So mister, this is a help line. Can you help?”
Carl was almost out of his chair, but remembered that he had no real information.
“Maybe I can Bethy.” Throwing caution to the wind, he had started stroking his cock through his tight jeans. “Can you tell me what you look like?”
“Oh, sorry. I’m 12 years old, and about 5 feet tall. I just started wearing a real bra instead of those training bras ‘cause mommy said I needed at least an A cup… but it’s getting tight now. I have blonde hair and blue eyes. I’ve even started to go hair down there. Just a few, but they kinda tickle me sometimes and my kitty gets kinda wet. I weigh almost 85 pounds. Is that fat?”
“No, Bethy, that’s not fat at all. You’re a growing girl. Bethy,” Carl was trying to sound real serious now, I think I can help, but I’ll need to see you in person to do it, and you can’t tell anyone I’m helping.”
“Oh, Goodie! Thank you mister!”
“My address is…”
Lots of other operators turned when they saw Carl leaving. No one had ever left their cubicle and run to the door that fast.
