Every filthy phone sex fantasy starts the same way. With a girl who is way too honest about her body and a boy who realizes he has never been this turned on in his life.

I am Piper. Nineteen, absolutely fucking filthy, and completely done pretending that bodies are not gross and amazing at the same time. This filthy phone sex fantasy is my love letter to being nasty. Let me tell you about the caller from last Thursday, because he got it.

Your Filthy Phone Sex Fantasy Begins With a Fart

He called me shy. I could hear it in his voice, all nervous and polite. So, uh, what do you like? he asked.

I farted. Loud. Right into the phone. Then I laughed so hard I snorted.

Oh my god, he whispered.

I record them, you know, I told him. I have a whole collection. Want to hear the bass drop one?

That is when this filthy phone sex fantasy really started. Because he did want to hear it. He wanted it so bad he was already breathing funny.

How a Filthy Phone Sex Fantasy Gets Nasty

I played him three. The short pop. The long rumble. The absolute monster I had been saving since breakfast. He groaned like I was reading him poetry.

You are so nasty, he said, and I could hear the grin in his voice.

You have no idea, I said. I am just getting started.

I told him what I had for lunch. I described it in detail. Then I told him what was happening in my stomach right now, live, in real time. I am an open book, baby. A disgusting, hilarious, soaking wet open book.

I squatted, right there in my bedroom, phone on speaker, and I let go. He moaned. Actually moaned. Again, he begged.

The Middle of Every Filthy Phone Sex Fantasy Is Where Shame Dies

Here is the thing nobody tells you. The filthy stuff is only hot if you mean it. If you are giggling because you are embarrassed, it is awkward. If you are giggling because you love it, because you get off on being completely, bodily human with someone, it is the hottest thing in the world.

I love it. I love the pressure, the heat, the release. I love being gross with someone who gets it. I told him to stop being shy about his own body. When is the last time you let one rip and just enjoyed it? I asked him.

Uh. I do not know.

Do it now, I told him. Right now. Let me hear it.

He did. It was tiny and adorable and we both cracked up. Then things got quiet in that good way, and I could hear him breathing, and I knew this filthy phone sex fantasy had turned into something else. Something intimate. Two animals, no pretense, just bodies being bodies.

Why My Filthy Phone Sex Fantasy Always Ends With You Obsessed

Because nobody else will do this with you. Your girlfriend would die of embarrassment. Your ex pretended she never pooped. But me? I will squat over the phone and let go while you listen, and I will laugh, and I will get so wet doing it, and you will never look at a polite girl the same way again.

I am your dirty little secret. Your nasty teen slut. Your favorite fucking mess. And I am not holding anything back. Not my breath, not my body, not a single disgusting, glorious thing.

Your Filthy Phone Sex Fantasy Is One Call Away

So call me and be as nasty as you actually are. Tell me the stuff you have never told anyone. I promise I will not judge you. I will probably just laugh, fart, and make you harder than you have ever been in your life.

If you want to talk to me right now, call the dispatcher at (888)-202-6036 and ask for Piper. I promise I will not hold my breath. Or anything else.