“Well, yes, But with a difference. Thanks to Tom, I had the know-how to get real superkicks, to turn myself on around the world.”
“Around the world?”
“Around the world is quite a trip!” Phoebe’s eyes, a smoldering green now, were half-shut, and her breathing was quickening. “Do you know what ‘around the world’ is?”
“I think I do.”
“I mean in phone tripping.”
“I guess not. Tell me,” I requested.
“Did Liberty tell you about my M.F.-er?”
“A little bit.”
“With one exception, it was the most highly developed device of its kind in the World.” Phoebe spoke as if she were describing a particularly well-endowed lover.
“The exception being Tom Swift’s gadget,” I guessed.
“That’s right. And I couldn’t have built it without knowing the things he taught me during our affair. But let me tell you about mine. I could program it right into most any telephone company computer and operate from there.” Phoebe spoke in a low, throaty voice, and her fingertips moved back and forth over one of the high peaks of her thin, white peasant blouse. “It had acoustical coupling capability.” She ran her small, sharp tongue insinuatingly over her full, pouting lips. “And multiple-line-tie performance.” Her slim hips started to writhe slowly. “The frequency accuracy fell within four-hundredths of one percent.” One of her knees rose and fell rhythmically, rubbing one flushed, bare thigh against the other. “And it operated on less than one-hundredth of one-percent variation decibel-wise.” The outline of the cleft mound under her leather hot pants was pulsing visibly. “High-precision op-amps.” she moaned, “designed to function with negligible variation in temperatures from forty-five degrees below zero to one hundred and thirty degrees above. And that’s Centigrade!” Her face was pink and covered with a thin film of perspiration. “Do you know What that means?” she panted.
I confessed that I didn’t.
“It means I didn’t have to rely on toll-free-loop-arounds to get my jollies. I was into the big time! I could stack tandems—five, ten, twenty at a time—all the way around the World!” Her hand crept to her lap and stroked the soft leather over the throbbing mound as she recalled the thrills.
“Stacking tandems. How does that work? What’s the big kick?”
“Oh, you just don’t know!” Phoebe’s voice managed to sound both raunchy and exalted at the same time. “See, I’d use my super M.F.-er to dial into the local exchange, go through the computer, and seize a tandem.” Her eyes were closed now. She was reliving the experience as she described it. “I’d route the tandem into a trunk line to Boston. Beep!” She imitated the sound, bouncing on the couch a little to show how it affected her. “From Boston I’d trip to Nova Scotia. Beep-b-r-r-r-z-z-z-beep!” She palmed both her breasts, her fingers digging into the blouse material to squeeze them hard, conveying the Nova Scotia thrill to me. “Then across the Big Pond by cable to London. Glu-glu-glub-beep!” She raised her knees, the feet on the edge of the couch, and opened and closed her legs. “London to Athens to Algiers to Salisbury, Rhodesia. Beep-buzz-ding-ding-ding-va-va-va-beep!” She raised up off the couch and punctuated the strange sounds with a series of slaps to her plump, brazenly protruding rear end. “From Salisbury to Brazil to Mexico City to Frisco. Beep-cli-cli-cli-click-dub-a-dub-beep!” Her nails clawed their way up and down the length of her body. “Then from Frisco back home. All those tandems piled up! Do you know what that sounds like? Do you know What it feels like? The phone rings. Br-r-r-i-i-ing! You pick it up and you hear all those tandems beeping and buzzing and crackling in the background. All the way around the world! Fantastic! And then you say something into the first phone. Loud! Because the echo is unbelievable. There’s maybe a thirty-second wait. And then you hear your own voice speaking in your ear from the second phone! WOW!” Phoebe was writhing with remembered excitement.
“What would you say to yourself?” I wondered.
“By the time the connection was through, I’d be pretty excited. . . . All those tandems stacked up and turning me on! . . . But I’d want to prolong it, so I’d start off easy. Then, thirty seconds later—can you imagine what that’s like?--my own voice murmuring in my ear after traveling around the world! ‘Do you want to be naughty tonight, baby?’ Indescribable!” Phoebe pulled the blouse free from the waistband of the leather hot pants and reached under it with both hands. “ ‘Feel them, baby? Those hands reaching all the way around the world to fondle your soft, hot, panting breasts! Feel them!’ ” The blouse rippled like waves in a high sea as her hands played with her breasts under it. “I’d hear my voice telling me to ‘Kiss those soft, pink nipples,’ and I would.” And she did, pulling her breasts free from the peasant blouse and bending her head to capture the tips, each in turn, between her moistened lips.
I noted that Liberty had described Phoebe’s breasts accurately. They were large, cone-shaped, and widely separated. Although she was obviously quite aroused, the pink nipples remained soft, blending into the white breast flesh with no aureoles to set them off.
“And then,” Phoebe continued, “with all those stacked up tandems beeping and crackling and buzzing, all the way around the world, I’d hear myself saying ‘Suck them hard! Tongue them!’ and ‘Feel your soft belly’ and ‘Stroke your feverish, quivering thighs!’ And my hands would move down . . . down . . .” Now Phoebe opened her belt, unbuttoned the leather hot pants, and reached deep inside them. “Buzz! Crackle! Beep! . . . ‘That’s it! Touch yourself, baby! Feel-that hot, wet, oily, stiff clitty!’ ” The hot pants were down around Phoebe’s ankles now. She’d been wearing no panties underneath them. A triangle of fine, red down pointed to the duel going on between her middle finger and her aroused clitoris. “All the way around the world,” she panted, “the voice of love from Phoebe to Phoebe, saying ‘All the way now! Hard! Thick! Ram it home!’ Three of her fingers disappeared to the third knuckles, and she bounced frantically up and down on the couch.
It was more than I could take. I wrenched my pants and Jockey shorts off with one violent motion. I dived on top of her. My mouth enveloped hers, wide open, my tongue stabbing halfway down her throat. One of my hands spread over a bare breast, soft as butter, pink nipple fluttering like a feather in my palm. My other hand reached down and yanked her hand away. Stiff and hot as a burning poker, filled to bursting, I plunged into the pulsating maw!
I missed. . . .
It was one of those foolish moments. I figured that in my excitement I’d just gauged it wrong. But a second lunge also sliced thin air. Slowly, it percolated that Phoebe wasn’t cooperating.
“What’s the matter?” I demanded.
“No!” she said firmly, both hands guarding the entrance to her still-steaming oven of love.
“Why not?”
“I’m not that kind of a girl.”
I blinked, bewildered.
“It may seem old-fashioned,” she said, “but I simply do not believe that a girl should have premarital relations.”
“You mean you’re a . . . ?”
“A virgin. That’s right.”
“But all that sexy phone-tripping stuff . . .”
“Strictly long distance. No physical contact,” she reminded me primly.
“But Tom Swift . . .”
“I told you, we never even met. And even right now my feelings about him are ambivalent. I hate him for this mess he’s got me in, but like I said before, I can’t bring myself to be unfaithful to him. Not even over the phone, let alone in person.”
“Oh yeah?” Rejected, I was getting mad. “What about you and Liberty?”