The Telephone Prank Man

I had two close friends, one was Fannie and the other was Denise.  After school, we often went to one of our houses, and for whatever reasons, we were usually ‘home alone’.  So what did we three young girls do for fun?  We made prank telephone calls!  We dialed random numbers and messed around, any which way we could – silly jokes, whatever!  We looked up odd and funny names in the phone book and called them and just did every dumb thing possible that came into our foolish heads. It was the ‘internet’ of several decades ago – we were lost for hours in a world of anonymity, surprises, fun and mystery. Oh, it was so much fun… kind of like that ‘box of chocolates’ – we never knew what we were gonna get! And it was just as dangerous, and just as addictive.

One time, we got a man on the phone who intrigued us right off.   He was immediately quite taken with us young girls.  He had a deep, slow voice and he seemed to have plenty of time to talk.  He asked us all about ourselves and our school and our parents.  And, stupid children that we were, we gave him such a lot of information.  We made some of the answers up, but some were true.

We had fun talking to him though, as he seemed to be so very interested in all of us.  After a while, we knew that he’d always talk to us for a long time and we called him often.   We had not even found his name in the phone book – it was a purely random call.  But once we knew his number – oh well!

Sometimes when I was home alone, bored, all by myself, I decided to call him, as I thought it would be entertaining, engaging – and it always was.  I was sure that no-one would know or interfere – and it was just so easy.  This went on for more than a year.  

With this man, we never used any names – not once.   It was always ‘you’ and ‘I’ or ‘me’.  But the conversation got very intimate.  It was quite a game and I was quite secretly and quite dangerously involved with this man, but never met him, never knew anything else about him.  He was my ‘secret phone friend’ and that was that.  His voice was so special sounding, soft and close and personal, and he had such wonderful diction, like an actor, so clear and so precise.

He said he lived alone and he was happy to have me as a friend.  One rainy day he started telling me how I could do some things that would make him feel good and that would be fun for me too.  He asked if I had ever seen a man naked.

In his slow, toasty-warm voice, he asked, “Did you ever see what a man has between his legs?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Tell me all about it, how did it happen?”   I told him about some of my early encounters. 

“Well, my goodness, you have had some exciting things happen, haven’t you?”

Then he said, “How do you feel between your legs when you talk to me?  Does it feel nice and warm? Have you ever touched your pussy?”


“How do you do it? Do you put your fingers inside? Are you doing it now?”


“Why don’t you just try it for a few minutes – right now?  I want you to pull your panties down. Ok?”

“Um – ok.”

“Tell me when your finger is in your pussy. Tell me when you’re touching it.”

“Ok – uh – I – I am touching it.”

 Is it very warm? I bet it’s feeling kind of tingly – isn’t it?”


“Is it getting all wet now?  Come on, now, tell me, is your pussy just a little wet?”


“You know something?  What would you say if I told you that my penis is getting all big now?  You are making it all big.  Do you like thinking about that?”

“I – I don’t know… I think so.”

“Yes, it’s big, and it’s all hard.  You are making me very hard.  I have my hand on it and I am rubbing it up and down, and it feels so good!  Did you like me telling you that?”

“I – I – I guess so.”

“Now slide your finger inside your wet pussy.  It’s all warm and slippery – isn’t it? Feels so good, doesn’t it?  Come on – tell me, honey, tell me it feels so good.”

“Uh – it feels good.  Yes … yes.”

“Well, that’s just fine, just fine.  Feeling all tingles? Breathing kind of fast now?”

“Mm- I – I don’t know …”

“I am squeezing my penis, and it’s going to start throbbing and it’s going to spurt some of that milky sticky cream out – just for you!  You can touch it with me, you can make it squirt.  Then you can lick it off the tip of my penis.  Want to try it?”


“Keep rubbing your pussy, and think about licking my creamy stuff for me. Oh, honey, I want to lick your pussy now.  Open your legs wide and let me do it.”

“Are you doing what I said?  Say yes, you know you want to.   Then tell me when you’re doing it…”

“Uh, uh – ok…”

“Say it, honey, come on, now…”

“I –I –I am… I am doing it…”

“Tell me exactly what you’re doing, love.”

“I am touching my – my – between my legs… my – my pussy.  And I am thinking about you – and letting you lick it…”

“Tell me you like it, honey.   Tell me – beg me to please lick your pussy now.”

“I –I –I like it.  Please – lick it now.”

“Lick what?  Say it out loud for me.”

“Ohh – um – please lick – my – my – my…. pussy…”

“Yes, honey, I am licking it.  Feel my tongue on it?  Nice and soft and wet and warm and I love it and you love it.   Yes, and you’re going to get hot and you are going to come. Tell me , did you ever come before?   Ohh, here comes my creamy stuff – oh, honey!  Here it comes! Put your lips on my penis, lick it all up, do it now – tell me, say you will! Say it!”

“Ooh – ohh – oh, ok, I will.”

“Good girl!  Open your mouth – open it really wide and big for me.  Ahhh – do it, sweet thing! Oh, you’re doing it just right.  Now I want you to listen to everything I tell you, every time you call me.  You do like talking to me, don’t you?  I want you to call me every day.  Promise?”


Well, I didn’t call every single day, but I had become quite addicted to these talks, and I learned all sorts of masturbation tricks from this man.  He had me put creams and objects into my own genitals and into my rectum too.  And yes, always, always, there was the ‘licking’ talk, which even now, I do admit, affects me in many ways I wish were not happening…

And so it went for many, many months.  Then one day he got me to give him my phone number.   He then used that to call my house and my mother answered.  Apparently he tried doing some obscene talk with her.  She hung up immediately of course, but he tried a few times.  She was alarmed and I think she might have called the police or told him she would. 

I don’t know what happened after that, but he never called again and neither did I.  My mother never asked me if I knew anything about it, even though the first time that it happened, I was in the other room when he called. I heard her answer the phone and I heard her say, “What! Who is this?  How did you get this number?”  That got my attention and I listened, somewhat alarmed.  Then I heard my mother slam the phone down, and I was pretty sure why.  But I never said a thing to her. 

I did talk to my two close friends – Fannie and Denise – who had often been my cohorts in all those other ‘secret’ telephone pranks, and I told them that “Claude” (which is the name we had been calling him amongst ourselves), had phoned my mother!  I had to tell them that I had told him my phone number one time, that I did call him on my own.  We all laughed about it.  But never, oh, no, never I did tell anyone else about my own, very private games with “Claude”.

It was a strange and risky game, and I know I am profoundly lucky that he was never anything more than just so very creepy. I am pretty sure that if he had asked to meet me I would have done it.  But it never did  happen. I guess it just didn’t occur to him.  He had me pretty much in his power on those phone calls, and after all, it was I who called him. I liked it. It was such a fun secret, so wrong, so hot and so dirty and it fascinated me for such a long time.  

Published by rozhinka

I am a writer, artist and a woman who is exploring and reflecting on many things. In writing this very personal Diary of Secrets and Fantasies, I am looking backwards in trying to understand myself - and I am looking forward in exploring new paths of pleasure and possibilities. It's a precarious and precious journey. It's already been quite surprising - and often shocking.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Create your website at
Get started
%d bloggers like this: