Don’t Know

Don’t Know
by David Cain

“Honey, I left my phone at Liz’s last night. Please send her a text to tell her I’ll be over to pick it up.”

“What’s her number?”

“I don’t know. It’s on my phone.”

“That doesn’t help much.”

“Call my phone and maybe she’ll pick up.”

“Sure,” I said.

“What do you want for dinner tonight?”

“I don’t know. Surprise me.”

I called Stephanie’s phone but Liz didn’t answer. So I sent a text explaining the situation. All I could do was hope Liz would see it.

A few minutes later, Liz replied. “Sure, no problem, I’ll be home all day.”

“Excellent,” I replied. “Thanks for last night.”

Liz was a friend of Stephanie’s. I had known her for a few years, but only as a friend of my girlfriend. We had never really talked, partly because I found Liz very attractive and an attractive friend of a girlfriend is tricky territory. I wanted her to like me but I didn’t want to flirt, at least not in a way that would give Stephanie concern.

“Thanks for coming over. I like seeing you guys.”

“We had a great time.”

“You’re the first boyfriend of Stephanie’s that I’ve liked. I’m glad.”

Liz liked me. I couldn’t stop turning that thought over in my mind. I liked Liz. Reciprocation is cool.

A few hours passed. Someone sent me a text.

“You looked great last night. Made me crazy.”

When I say someone sent me a text, I mean Stephanie’s phone sent me a text. I assumed Liz sent it. In an excited rush, I responded.

“You always get me hot”

A few seconds after I pushed the send, I suddenly realized that Stephanie could have messaged me. I didn’t know when she was going over to Liz’s. Maybe she picked up the phone. Maybe she didn’t. My first thought was to ask. I started to type in the message – “Is that you Stephanie?” Then I realized that I couldn’t. She would have replied “Is someone else getting you hot?” That was a bad path. I deleted the text and thanked my lucky stars. That single stupid text could have spelled the end of everything.

I didn’t know who I was talking to. How could I find out without tipping my hand?

“That would explain the big bulge in your pants.”

“Thanks for noticing.”

“Couldn’t help but notice.”

“I could sure use a taste.”


“Yeah, anytime I don’t drink too much.”

“Did you drink too much last night?”

“One too many – I hate wasting hard cock.”

“Waste not, want not.” I was getting lame but still hoping I could get her to say something that would let me know who was sending the texts.

“I must be wasting because I sure am wanting.”

“Fortunately, dick’s a renewable resource.”


Shit, I thought, all I knew is that she was horny. I had my suspicions about Liz but I knew it could be true of Stephanie. She had definitely had one drink too many last night, had wasted a perfectly good hard cock.

“Sad, tho, you could have had all the dick you wanted last night.”

“Did I seem slutty?”

“Absolutely, in a good way.”

“I was aiming for slutty.”

“Your tits were mesmerizing us all.”

“You liked?”

“You ask, with that big bulge in my pants?”

“Stop that, you’re making me wet.”

“That’s a problem?”

“It is if you don’t do something about it.”

“Work is a harsh mistress.”

“Is your dick hard now?”

“My erection is raging.”

“I’m just going to have to help myself.”

“How’s that?”

“My plastic fantastic lover.”

“Oh yeah.” I closed the door to my office.

“Between my lips.”

“Teasing your lips.”

“I’m so wet right now.”

“I’m so hard.”

“You were hard last night and this is what I was thinking.”

“What was what you were thinking?”

“Sliding that thing into this thing.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.”

“Put your thing in my thing.”

“You like that?”

“Slip sliding.”

“Down deep.”



“There it is.”

“More, more, more.”

“I took it all.”

“So hot.”

The messages stopped. I stayed super charged for hours, trying to figure out if I was talking to Liz or Stephanie, and getting excited every time. My breath was shallow. My face was flush. I walked stiffly. I headed home.

I tried to base an analysis on the burst of messages and then enduring silence. Perhaps Steph had gone early and the whole conversation was her. Perhaps she had gone late and I was sexting Liz. Which would leave the whole conversation on Stephanie’s phone to discover later and I was in so much trouble. Or maybe Liz is smart enough to consider this possibility and deleted our exchange. Or part of it.

My weirdest idea was that Stephanie took over the phone in the middle of my exchange with Liz, that somehow she was unaware of what Liz had said and while I was talking dirty, maybe Steph thought we were talking about something entirely different, something non-sexual. Perhaps she was aware of what Liz had said and continued the conversation because she’s playful. Perhaps, and this pleased me for reasons, Liz and Steph had perpetrated this talk together, probably ending the story with a lesbian love fest.

I didn’t know what to think.

I opened the door and halloed hello.

“Hey, Honey,” I heard from the family room.

Stephanie wore the dress she had been wearing the night before, a slick piece of silk that draped intoxicatingly over her body.

“How was your day?” she asked.

“Wonderful,” I said, trying to cautiously read her mood in her eyes. I really couldn’t tell if she was mad or horny? The dress, however, was a good sign. “What’s for dinner?” I asked without thinking.

“Something hot,” she replied as she lifted her hem before she sat down in a chair. Her swollen wet cunt glistened as she spread her legs wide and leaned gently back. “Surprise.”

About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, erotica, fiction, literature, literotica, personal, short stories, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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