My freshmen year in college, I lived in Memorial Hall. It used to be an infirmary for soldiers returning from WWI and it's tower was rumored to be haunted. The facade was decorated with relief sculptures of soldiers in gas masks. It was one of the oldest buildings on campus and had a certain charm that the newer, massive, hideous, cinder block tower dorms lacked. It was an all female "quiet dorm" which meant the girls in it tended to be more studious than the co-ed dorms.
This made it the target of more obscene phone calls than any other dorm, the perception that it was the place for prissy, prudish, nerdy girls who were too scared to party with the boys. It wasn't true, but the reputation stuck.
You would hear a phone ring down the hall, then moments later another ring a bit closer, then another until it came to my room and I answered the phone anticipating the heavy breathing. I would hang it up then moments later the phone in the room next to me would ring. Sometimes I would hang up right away, annoyed. Other times I would listen, trying to picture the boy on the other end and what they were doing, why they were calling and what they would expect to happen. More than once, I talked back, participating in the awkward phone sex, masturbating along with my anonymous caller until I heard him groan and hang-up.
I once got a call that was different from the others. It was late and I was already in bed. I answered the phone with an annoyed hello and was greeted by the usual panting. "Yes?" I asked, feeling confrontational.
"I need to be fucked." He said in a soft, quivering voice. "I need to be fucked." He said over and over again.
"Do you want to be fucked in the ass?" I asked, not totally understanding if he meant he needed to fuck a girl, wanted to be fucked by a girl or wanted to be fucked by a boy. I wanted clarification. He stopped talking and his breathing quickened. "Do you need a cock in your ass?" I asked.
He let out a whimpering and slightly sad, "Yes."
I wanted to ask him why he didn't call a guy, why he automatically defaulted to the girls at Memorial Hall, but I thought that might be needlessly cruel. I deepened my voice. "You want it badly don't you? A thick, long hard cock pounding inside you. I bet you have a finger inside you right now..." I think I was doing this for me as much as him, since at the moment, we both wanted the same thing.
I went on as best I could (I've never been very good at phone sex) until I heard him moan. It sounded far away, as if he had temporarily sat down the phone. He hung up without a word and I went to bed, feeling like I had done some kind of humanitarian service and wondered long it would be before he would ask for this from an actual boy. Or, for that matter, when would I?
