Obscene Calls for the Virgin Slut

It was an exciting opportunity, I was moving to San Antonio, Texas on a 2 year secondment for the multinational company I was currently working at. I was born and raised in Delhi and I had not ventured very far. It was always a dream of mine to visit the great United States of America.

I was staying in an apartment provided by the company and I tried to settle in with my new colleagues. Initially I found them to be a little brash and I did not quite understand the American humour but I tried to fit in. There were a few Indian colleagues and I found myself gravitating towards them.

They were organising an open day for the company and they were looking for volunteers to help out. I was always involved in work activities in Delhi and I signed up to get involved here. I left my number so that they could contact me if they needed any help.

I never received a call but the open day seemed to go well from what my colleagues had said. I was disappointed to not be involved and a part of me felt it was because I was Indian and with a name like Sunita Ahuja, I was not the Sarah or Michelle that they liked.

There were a few other Indian colleagues and we created a small group over time. There were 5 of us and we looked out for each other at work and spent lunch time together. There was me, Rohini, Smita, Anil and Aamir.

After work I only spent time with the girls and they had my telephone number. I always had a strange relationship with boys. I was only 22 but in all my life I has never had a boyfriend and I always lacked confidence when it came to boys.

I was brought up in a conservative Brahmin Hindu family and my mother was very strict. She would often warn me of boys and their bad intentions so I was always wary of any boys that wanted to talk to me outside of work or studying. I made it a rule to never give my number to boys. The other problem that caused me issues was my looks, I had an acne problem in my teen years but that now cleared up and I gave my skin meticulous care making sure it was smooth. I had a dark complexion and my mother would often scold me for staying out in the sun too long. This caused me significant issues with my self-esteem. My mother was against me travelling to America but I wanted to pursue my dream and I felt a part of me wanted to escape the controlling clutches of my mother.

I settled into my job and my life in the United States. I would often meet with Smita and Rohini on the weekends. We were all young and living alone in America.

We would often talk about all sorts of things but often when were drunk the conversation would turn to boys. Rohini had a boyfriend in India and she planned on marrying him once her secondment finished.

Smita had broken up with her boyfriend before she left for America and she had dated a few of the white people in the office but said she never had a good experience. We then turned attentions to the boys in our group and Smita blurted out in her drunken state, "They are both cute. Maybe Aamir if I was pushed to make a decision."

We were all giggly and laughing and I agreed, "Yes. Aamir certainly is cuter."

It was just playful talk between friends and the truth was that I would never be able to have anything with Aamir. He was good looking and cute but my mother's voice was always in the back of my head, "You are Brahmin Hindu. It is an unforgiveable crime to marry outside of your caste or religion."

Aamir was a Muslim and that would be the worst crime for me to commit in my mother's eyes. Anil was a Dalit and my mother would hate him more. Hr was the first Dalit I had ever met. I probably would never find someone to please my mother and I never really tried.

It was the weekend and I was restless in bed, tossing and turning. My phone then rang, it was late at around 12.00am.

I looked at the screen and it read, "Private Number."

I wondered who could be calling at this time. As it was private number I thought it might be my mother from India and I decided to answer.

I answered the phone, "Hello."

There was no response, just heavy breathing.

I tried again, "Hello. Who is this?"

There was still no response and just heavy breathing.

I became nervous and my own breathing became heavier. The phone was all of a sudden disconnected without any explanation.

I was just left in shock for a few minutes, who would call me like this and why they would call me. I tried to sleep thinking who it could be. Only the girls had my number and I wondered who it could be.

I called Smita as I was unable to sleep. She answered groggily, "It is 2.00am Sunita. What could be so urgent?"

I was still breathing heavily trying to get all my words out at once, "Someone called me. They were just breathing on the phone and said nothing. I don't know what is going on. Did you give my number out to anyone?"

Smita began to laugh, "You probably had a bad line with India. Or maybe it was one of the boys trying to get attention. Perhaps it was Aamir after he heard you say he was cute."

She was so annoying, "Shut up Smita. The boys do not have my number. Did you give them my number?"

Smita seemed surprised, "Of course not. It was probably nothing and you should sleep now."

It put my mind to ease speaking to Smita and I was able to sleep.

The next night I was trying to sleep and at 12.00am my phone rang again. It was from a private number again. I looked over at my phone thinking about whether I should answer it but the need to discover who it was too strong. I picked it up and asked, "Who is this?"

There was just heavy breathing on the other line. The breathing sounded like it was coming from a man so I asked, "How did you get my number?"

There was no answer immediately but then I heard a grumble as the person cleared their throat.

I could feel the excitement in my body as I listened intently to the person on the other side of the line and then they said, "I want to fuck your tight cunt. I want to cream the insides of your cunt. I want you to scream my name as I fucking pound into your horny cunt."

I screamed, "What kind of girl do you think I am?" I disconnected the call and threw my phone away. How could someone say such disgusting things? My breathing was out of control and the hairs on the back of my neck were stood up. I was in a shocked state for almost an hour and I did not know how to react.

I could not tell Smita this, she already thought I was a prude and she would just make fun of me.

I tried to sleep but I could not sleep. I went to the bathroom as my body was in shock. As I pulled down my panties to pee, I could not believe how wet they were. For a moment I worried I had let out pee due to the call but after I inspected it, I realised it was due to excitement. And then a question came into my mind, "Was I excited by the crude and obscene words he said?"

I went back to bed but I was unable to sleep, my mind just going back to the call and the vivid images he had described. I put my hand under my pyjamas to check if my excitement had gone down but to my surprise I was still wet. My hand had a mind of its own and began to explore me between my legs.

I began to press the spot that feels good and I moaned into the pillow. Why did this obscene call make me so excited?

I pressed harder and harder against that spot and then all of a sudden I felt a euphoria course through my body and I was able to sleep.

I was back at work the next day and that night there was no call. I had to admit I was slightly disappointed and I put it down to a prank that one of the boys had played.

The week passed without event and I wondered if I should tell Smita about the call but she always made fun of me as I was the only virgin from the girls and I had not even kissed a boy.

It was Friday night and I always went out with Rohini and Smita for drinks. I loved them both like sisters and we had a close bond but I was too embarrassed to mention the phone call as I did not have much experience.

I arrived back at my apartment late and as I went to bed I noticed there was a call at 12.00am but I had missed it. I had a mixture of disappointment and relief.

The next night I tried to forget about the calls but as the time drew closer I found myself looking over at my phone. I could not sleep and I was tossing and turning, my body needing the call.

As my phone rang I answered eagerly within 2 rings. There was no hesitation on the other end, "I have been watching you all week. Your body craves to be touched. Your breasts hunger to be fed on. Your nipples licked and sucked until they are erect to their most engorged point. I want to softly bite the soft skin of your breasts. I want to pinch and pull on your nipples to take you between the point of pain and pleasure."

I disconnected the call. My breathing rampant. My body out of control. My hand was already between my legs pressing that spot that felt so good. My other hand was pinching and pulling my nipple as he described.

I had that hit of euphoria once again and it felt as good as my body relaxed.

What was wrong with me? Why was I so obsessed with these obscene calls?

The next night I waited for the call but no call came and I could feel my body hunger for that next call to feel that euphoria again.

It was the middle of the week and I was asleep when I was awoken by my phone. I was fully awake as I heard his voice, "I walked past your office today and you were bending over to pick up a file from the bottom of the cabinet. I could not stop staring at your juicy fat ass in your pencil skirt."

I was pressing my breast and my hand was between my legs bumping against my spot. I could feel my breathing get out of control as he continued, "I wanted to unzip your skirt and let it drop to the floor. I love seeing your legs in pantyhose. I imagine you do not wear stockings. Well, not yet anyway. I would tear the fabric of the pantyhose that covers your ass. I start kissing your fat juicy ass. I pull your panties to the side and start kissing your dirty asshole. My hand rubbing your clit as I finger your horny wet cunt."

Was the spot called the clit? I was so excited that I could not end the call. My hand was inside my underwear and I was rubbing it where he said and I tenderly pushed a finger inside my wetness. It felt so good as he said, "I want to hear you moan as I finger you and press your clit. I want to pinch your clit and make you feel pain and pleasure."

I pinched my clit and it hurt but also triggered that feeling euphoria as I moaned in pleasure as it coursed through my body again.

As I came to senses the phone call was still connected but I quickly disconnected it.

What was wrong with me? Did he know what I did as he spoke so obscenely about my body?

At work I was suspicious of all the men and I kept looking out for anyone who was paying more attention than usual.

My mind kept going back to Aamir or Anil. The voice on the phone was familiar and I knew he worked with me. Anil was nice and friendly. He had even darker skin than me but it did not seem to bother him. He was born and raised in America. He was a bit more confident than Aamir. Aamir was light skinned and he had this cute fluffy hair. He had a shyness to him and I liked that. We had a lot of similarities and I liked talking to him.

I could not imagine either of them being the voice on the phone.

There were no calls and on Friday I left early from my usual gathering with Smita and Rohini.

I was at home and waiting for the call but there was no call. Why was I setting myself up for disappointment? It hurt to be waiting for an anonymous call and then for it not to come.

It was Saturday night and I was annoyed. I pretended to not be interested but as the time drew closer, my eyes were drawn to my phone and I waited for the call.

I saw my phone light and I answered on the first ring. I was already breathless with excitement as he began, "I spend all day at work thinking about what you are wearing under your clothes. I first think about the colour. I wonder if it is black, red, pink, blue or red. Or are they just plain white cotton. I think I know you well and I am sure you wear plain white cotton."

It was true I never thought much about underwear and I also bought multi packs of the same plain white underwear. I thought of it as more of a practical thing as he continued, "I then wonder if you still had your plain white panties on the last time we talked. How wet those panties got as you rubbed your clit? I wonder how wet your cunt was as you fingered it? And then I wonder what stains you left on those plain white panties. Were they yellow or just crusty?"

He was talking about my underwear in such obscene detail but instead of disconnecting the call I was rubbing my clit through my panties.

I did not respond, I did not want him to know what I was thinking. He was a sick pervert and I did not want him to have the pleasure of knowing I was hanging on to his every last word.

He continued, "I want to lick your dirty panties. I want to lick the crust off the panties. I want to lick the dirty perverted stains you make. I want to wrap your panties around my hard cock and stroke it with your filthy panties."

I came hard as I heard him spout such perverted filth.

I cut the phone as my orgasm faded and my actions concerned me. Why was I letting a man speak to me in such a way? Did he speak to other girls in this way or was there something about me that made him think he could speak to me in this way? Was I leading him on by listening to his every word?

The more time I spent with Aamir and Anil the more I believed it was Anil. Aamir would never have the confidence to do something like this. I subconsciously began to spend more time with Anil at work. I could imagine the offence it would cause my mother as he was an untouchable but in the States these labels no longer mattered and I saw the way Smita and Rohini behaved with everyone, they were free and liberal. I blended in although it was difficult and I did once flinch when he came close to me. It is hard to forget what you are brought up with. Similarly my mother would never let look at Muslim as they were known for "Love Jihad". I once mentioned this to Smita and she laughed at me and patted me on the head as though I was a child. She explained, "These are stories that idiots spread in India. There is no such thing as 'Love Jihad' and it is really offensive to Muslims. You are such a child sometimes."

I felt so naive and stupid at believing my mother's bullshit stories about caste and religion. I was only now discovering people and learning about the world myself without my mother's influence on my life.

As I spent more time with Anil, I noticed Smita spending more time with Aamir. I would always glance over at them and Smita would whisper in his ear. I felt so at ease with Aamir and it was usually us two giggling and whispering. I was beginning to regret my actions in trying to pursue the mysterious caller.

That night the mysterious caller called again. I picked up the phone and I wanted to answer but I threw the phone away in frustration. I no longer knew what I had to do.

The next day at work I kept my distance from the boys and tried to speak to Smita. I only liked Anil when I thought he was the caller. I found him to be too American and he did not have any real connection with the culture from home. Whereas Aamir was a lot closer to me as we were both from Delhi and we had a lot in common. Perhaps I just needed to stop thinking about boys.

I noticed the Christmas party was being organised and I put my name down again. Only this time I noticed Aamir's name was at the top of the list and I wondered if he had volunteered the last time when I was not asked to help.

I was called by Susan to help make the arrangements for the party. She paired me with Aamir to arrange the decorations.

We worked together and I exchanged numbers with him. He would call me and text me and we began to talk all the time. We brought our own ideas to the decorations and it felt nice collaborating together.

Aamir was at my apartment and it was getting late. We had been going over plans and we had drank a bottle of wine between us. Aamir seemed ok but as he was leaving I grabbed hold of his hand stop him. It was late and I thought he should stay over.

As I grabbed his hand, he was strong and he turned as I stumbled into his chest. He was stronger than I thought and I was a little unsteady on my feet.

He asked, "Are you ok?"

I was a little out of breath and I said, "I am sorry. I think I drank too much. You should stay. It is late and you should not be driving at this time."

He had a protective authority as he held me, "Maybe I should stay with you."

We agreed for him to take the sofa and I would sleep in the bed.

We settled down on the sofa to watch a movie before we went to sleep. It was a horror movie and I hated watching these on my own so I was pleased Aamir was with me.

The movie was a haunted house type movie. It always made me jumpy and I was edging closer to Aamir. He put his arm around me as he could see that the movie was making me nervous.

In one of the scenes the young blonde girl with the big boobs is walking down the stairs to the cellar. Who would walk down creaky stairs to a creepy cellar in a haunted house?

Anyway she is walking down the stairs and then I hear something fall behind me from the kitchen and I really jump this time but Aamir holds me and reassures me, "It was just a spoon in the kitchen. You are ok." I take a deep breath almost embarrassed at my own reaction but as I look down I notice I am practically on his lap and as I turn my head our eyes look.

We are just caught in that moment for a few seconds and then he leans in and I close my eyes in anticipation.

Is this how it was going to happen? My first kiss? That too with a Muslim boy.

I then heard a scream from the TV and the moment was lost between us as we both looked at the TV. The stupid blonde bimbo had found trouble in the basement cellar. Internally I screamed.

We went back to our normal seated positions but there was an awkwardness between us now.

He slept on the couch and I went to sleep in my bed but I was restless. Sleep would not come but all I could think about was Aamir and that moment.

I imagined him on the sofa and a part of me wanted to go to him naked and offer myself to him but my upbringing stopped me.

We organised the party and tried to forget the events of that night. At the party everyone was dressed their best. The men were wearing Tuxedo's and the girls had dresses. I wore a black dress that came up to my knees and had a high neckline. I wore pantyhose under it as it was cold. Smita wore a short red dress, it was mid-thigh and showed a lot of cleavage. I could never dress with that confidence. She always looked sultry and sexy.

All through the night she was talking to Aamir. I did not care about who he spoke to but it was the way she spoke to him. She would lean against him, her arm on his shoulder and she would whisper in his ear.

I didn't like to admit it but I was jealous and I wanted Aamir to myself.

I had to step away from our table to get some space. I was sat on the toilet just gathering my thoughts when I heard someone come crying in. I went out to see what the commotion was about and then I saw Smita, her make up was ruined and she was sat on the floor crying. I went to her and asked, "Smita, what happened? Who hurt you? Are you ok?"

She said, "I am just being silly. I trust men and men hurt me."

She could only be talking about Aamir. I knew he was the anonymous caller and I knew he had hurt Smita. I took Smita outside and called a taxi. As she was waiting I went inside to give Aamir a piece of my mind.

I found him near the dancefloor talking to Stacey and in a fit of rage I stormed over to him and slapped him hard and said, "I know what you did."