A few days ago, I overhead two teenage boys talking at a nearby table at a restaurant where I was having lunch.

Says the first boy, “Last night, my girlfriend called me at three A.M. to tell me she can’t sleep.”

At 39, I know a thing or two about why women like me call their boyfriends at three in the morning. When we say we can’t sleep, it means our men are very much on our minds and we miss them and we are horny as hell and we wish they were in our beds with us.

So I figured that boy number one was about to boast to boy number two, about how horny his girlfriend was and how she drove over to his place half naked and they had the most amazing sex of his life.

So I was shocked when boy number two replied, “That fuckin’ bitch is crazy.”

I was even more surprised when boy number one replied, “I know. I told her that. I said, ‘You crazy bitch! You can’t sleep, so you gotta make sure I can’t sleep either? You’re so fucked up, bitch.’”

“Did that shut the bitch up?” asked boy number two.

Boy number one: “No man. The bitch started to cry! Something about why don’t you love me anymore?”

Boy number two: “I told you that fuckin’ bitch is fuckin’ crazy, man!”

I so wanted to tell these boys that their attitude is going to make them miss out on a whole lot of sweet sexual memories that they would cherish for a lifetime. And that it was going to be a long time, if ever, before boy number one gets laid again, after the way he treated the girl whose only “crime” was that she wanted to take a three A.M. cock ride on him.

But I remembered that when I was a teenager, you couldn’t tell me anything, either. So I said nothing. Better that both of them never, ever find love, and thus remove themselves and their stupid, ignorant attitude permanently from the gene pool.

The next night, I decided to try a little experiment with my own boyfriend, Vince. At 35, he’s much more mature and sexually intelligent than those two teenage boys.

So I called him at three A.M. to see what would happen.

“Hi, Vince,” I began. “It’s me, Justy.”

“What’s the matter, baby?”

Already this conversation was going way better than the one that teenager number one had with his girlfriend a couple of nights before.

“It’s just that I can’t sleep,” I continued.

“How can I help?”

“Well, that deep, sexy baritone voice of yours is helping already. So soothing, so calming.”

“Will my talking to you help you sleep?”

“Well---“

“Or would it help you relax if I came over there and let my tongue pamper and spoil that pretty little pussy of yours?”

“Mmm, baby, that would help me feel a million times better.”

“You can’t sleep because you miss me?” I could almost seeing him grinning over the phone.

“I do miss you.” Then after a pause, I continued, “And I miss what that big beautiful hard cock of yours does to me.”

“I can be over there in fifteen minutes.”

“Make it ten.”

Twelve minutes later, there was a knock at my front door. I greeted Vince at the front door in my tiniest, sheerest red lace bra and panties, which nearly match my red hair.

I threw my arms around Vince at the door, and I kissed his mouth hard.

“I’m sssooooo glad you aren’t teenager number one,” I whispered.

“What?”

“Never mind, darling. I’ll explain later. Right now, I just want what you promised me.”

“Which promise do you want first?”

“The one about you eating my pussy.”

He took my hand and led me to my bedroom. I laid down on the bed, and he began to strip my tiny red panties off of me. I stretched my long legs straight up vertically, as my panties skimmed past my knees, ankles, and feet.

Vince stretched out face-down on my bed, and his tongue began to lick around the edges of my trembling pussy lips. He planted a big, adoring kiss right on my enflamed clit, before his very skilled tongue slithered into my moist love cavern.

I instinctively wrapped my long legs around his neck, slowly rubbing my feet all over his muscular shoulder blades.

As he kissed and licked my inner walls, my quivering G-spot, and my throbbing clit, my feet and ankles began to rub his shoulders faster and faster. My happy little purrs and moans were getting steadily louder, too.

And then he sucked my clit into his mouth. I could barely breathe, and I think my heart stopped for a second.

And as he sucked my clit harder and harder, I went the opposite way. From barely breathing and almost no discernable heartbeat, I started breathing heavily like Darth Vader, and my heartbeat was pounding in my ears about five thousand times a second.

And then his tongue glided onto my G-spot, then danced on my clit.

My thighs squeezed his ears. My ass lifted of the bed. I trembled from head to toe. I let out a very loud “Ohhhhhh!” And then I poured a few gallons of warm, sticky love goo into his mouth. He eagerly drank it all up.

“Turn around,” I whispered. “I need to suck you.”

“You need to suck me? You mean you want to suck me?”

“No, I need to suck you. If I don’t, I think I may just go crazy.”

“Well,” Vince laughed. “For the sake of your sanity.” And with that, he stretched out on top of me in sixty-nine position, and his full ten inches slowly, gently eased down into my cock-hungry mouth from above. Mmm, so good!

After he emptied his balls down my throat, I cuddled up under his arm, he held me adoringly, and we both dozed off.

About ninety minutes later, I awoke again. And I realized that my pussy had not yet been stuffed full of that wonderful hard cock of his.

“Fuck me back to sleep, baby?” I whispered lustily.

“Of course, Justy. Anything for you.”

I felt sssoooo happy when his cock head was pressing on my cervix, while his come-swollen balls knocked against my moist pussy lips. Mmm! This was pure heaven for me.

After I drenched his deeply buried cock in my girl-come, he drew back. Then he slammed into me, throbbing powerfully. When his balls once more knocked against my tight entrance, he exploded deep into me. I could actually feel his big swollen balls shrink a little as they emptied into me.

And then we both fell asleep in each other’s arms.

When we awoke for work at 6:30 A.M., I asked him if waking him at three A.M. make me a crazy bitch.

Vince laughed. “No, it makes you a sweet, sexy, wonderful woman, with an endless capacity to be loving. And that makes me a very lucky man, that you make late night booty calls to me.”

“I’m the lucky one,” I smiled. “That you drive over at a moment’s notice, whenever I need to be fucked. Even if it’s at three o’clock in the morning!”

I told him about the two teenage boys. “Do you think they will ever grow up and get a clue?” I laughed.

“I hope not,” Vince smiled. “Idiots like that need to be removed from the gene pool.”

I smiled and kissed Vince hard, my tongue dancing in his mouth. “I love that you think like me. And that our conversation had a lot better outcome than those teenagers.”

Vince smiled and kissed me.

After we slowly, erotically dressed each other, we drove off to our respective jobs, with big happy smiles completely lighting up both of our faces, and nary a “bitch” exchanged between us.

I can’t stop thinking about the marked contrast in the two conversations, and in their results. And I feel so lucky that I’m the woman for whom the three A.M. booty call to my boyfriend went so much better. I hope that poor abused and neglected teenage girl, whoever she is, someday finds the sexual happiness that I know, with her very own Vince.