The Phone Connection

I had been divorced a couple of years and had been seeing a married woman for most of that time. When it became apparent that she wanted to stay married, I began looking for other relationships, although I continued to see her.

In those days before the internet, many people met through a telephone connection that was popular in major cities. Women were able to put a three minute recording on the computer for free. Men paid a small fee and were able to place an ad or to listen to (and respond to) the ads placed by women. There was nothing to go on but the information given by the female and the sound of her voice.

I had had one date with a woman who had a fantastic voice. After responding to her ad and leaving her a voice message, she called me. We talked several times before we were actually able to meet. She was a bit embarrassed to tell me where she worked, but it turned out that she worked in the sex industry, answering the 1-900 calls. That fact made me hotter than a Roman candle halfway through its cycle.

When we actually met, she was a very nice lady. However, the reality was so different from my fantasy. How many of the callers would have wanted a refund if they found out that the hot, sexy 6 foot tall, 36-D, 27, 36 blonde was actually a five-footer shaped amazingly like a basketball. It was an enjoyable evening but did not lead to anything more.

One night, I got a callback from the other side of the metro area. After we had talked for about half an hour, I told Nancy, "Look, I've GOT to meet you, and I know this is crazy. I lay down early and am in bed, but if it's not too late for you, I'll get up, get dressed, and drive to your side of town just to meet you for coffee."

I was somewhat surprised when she agreed. I dressed and drove across town, a trip that took about an hour. When I arrived at the Waffle House, she was standing outside. The timing was perfect. She had just parked and got out of her car as I was pulling into the lot. I had to drive to the far end of the lot and back into one of the most distant parking spaces due to the number of cars. She was only about five feet tall, with a pleasant face and a body that looked sexy, even beneath her heavy winter coat. I looked down at her attractive face and said, "I have to tell you. Now that I see you, I'm relieved."

She laughed and said, "Me too." Once inside, we were shocked to find that every table and every stool were filled. We discussed briefly whether to go elsewhere or whether to get coffee and go to my car. By then, it was nearing 9:30, and in that part of town, there weren't many places that would be open, at least not places conducive to a conversation being held. We got coffee and moved to my car.

It was early December, and the night was cooling rapidly. As we walked toward my car, our breath condensed before us, creating a mini fog in front of both faces as we walked. Once in the car, we began to tell our stories and to get to know each other.

The temperature continued to drop. I would run the car for a few minutes at a time, but the combination of hot coffee and the moisture from our breath seemed to keep the windows fogged, no matter how much the heater and defroster ran. After ten minutes or so of conversation, I said, "You know, one of the things that's awkward about this type of meeting is whether or not we're going to kiss. Do you want to go ahead and kiss and get that awkwardness out of the way?"

She laughed and said, "Sure." That first kiss was like an orchestrated performance. Our lips met. The lips moved, increasing and decreasing pressure. Our mouths separated for two or three seconds and then rejoined. By the third or fourth kiss, we were tongue kissing, with tongues touching lips and touching tongues. She slid back into the seat in full submission to my kisses. She made both her lips and her body fully available.

Taking a chance, I took the palm of my left hand and let it touch her right breast. The touch was so slight that only the nipple could have felt pressure, but she was totally aware of what I was doing. She continued to kiss passionately and to receive whatever I chose to do and unbuttoned her jacket. I slipped my hand inside her jacket and cupped her breast, squeezing very gently, and then I began running my index finger back and forth across the nipple. She pushed her head backward and raised her jaw farther, increasing the pressure on my lips. I could feel her breathing increase.

This was the first time we had ever met, but I knew that this lady was hot. The windows were steamed more than ever now, and it wasn't just the coffee. I began to tug at her sweater, quickly pulling it out from the jeans where she had it tucked. Not only did she not resist, but when I began to move to her back, she also leaned forward to make it easier for me to get the sweater untucked.

I twisted in the seat and slipped my right hand behind her back. With my left hand slipping beneath her sweater and pulling her into my lips, I resumed fondling her left breast. Deftly, my right hand moved upward to the snaps on her bra. I guess I had too much experience in unhooking those things, as the snaps released their hold immediately. Nancy seemed to be kissing me with even more passion than before.

The thought ran through my mind, "My God, girl. Her I am playing with you like I own you, and you're enjoying every second of it." Truthfully, though, I was too. Now that the breasts were free, my left hand began to explore the naked flesh. Her breasts were appropriate to her body, maybe even a little fuller than might be expected. They were also firm, not sagging at all, but providing a perfect handful.

As I lightly tweaked the nipple of her right breast, I heard her utter a sound that was half like a moan and half like a protracted, "Mmm." It was then that I lifted the sweater to expose her breasts. They were firm and perfectly shaped. The fullness I had perceived through touch was verified by sight. The fogged windows provided the perfect screen from any prying eyes, however, our end of the parking lot must have been used by the employees, as no one entered the cars on either side of us. Still, however, the risk and danger of being seen—or worse, caught by an officer—made the encounter even more stimulating.

My mouth immediately went to work on her exposed breasts. Sucking one and tweaking the other, then resuming the kissing, then going to the other breast, I knew that her passion was rising as much as mine was. Two or three times I had to shift my penis because the restriction of my pants was beginning to cause pain. I knew that she saw, and I think it pleased her that she was turning me on to that degree.

I let her sweater drop of its own and resumed the passionate kisses of a few minutes earlier. While still kissing, I slipped my left hand onto her left leg and rubbed along the top of her thigh for a few times before slipping it between her knees. As I massaged her inner thigh just above her knees, she parted her knees slightly to give me more access. I wanted to move immediately to her crotch, but I paced myself, rubbing up and down on the inner thigh, slowly working my way up her leg.

When I reached the top of her leg, I did not practice the gentle rubbing I had used on her nipples, but I deliberately placed my palm against her mound and pushed my fingers solidly against the bottom of her body, covering her entire pussy. I then brought my fingers inward, cupping and pressing into her. After she had become accustomed to my hand being there and pressing, I began to rub back and forth, making sure to provide pressure on her clit. Her lips parted, and she kissed me with even more passion.

Knowing that my right hand is stronger, I shifted in my seat, placing the index and middle fingers of my right hand over her clit and vagina and reaching my left hand beneath my arm and pulling up her sweater again so as to resume massaging her left nipple. I made very rapid up and down movements, mimicking, to the best of my ability, the actions of a vibrator. That lasted about two minutes, and she raised her head up and pulled her arms around. Without a word, she loosened her belt, unbuttoned the single button on her jeans and unzipped them. It was obvious that she wanted my hand inside her jeans.

I complied with her unspoken wishes, and Nancy leaned back, breathing even harder and assuring that the windows would remain frosted. Although I was touching her womanhood and feeling her growing wetness, the jeans tremendously restricted the movement of my hand. I could barely maneuver to reach her vagina, but I inserted a finger and massaged the g-spot a couple of times. I must have rubbed her and fingered her for a full five minutes when she cried out, "Damn! I can't take any more of this."

I thought that was the end of our passion and was sorely disappointed. I removed my hand from the delightful target it had found. To my surprise, however, Nancy did not close her pants and buckle her belt. Instead, she lifted her hips of the seat and grabbed her pants on each side, just behind the midpoint. With a quick tug, she lowered her pants to her knees and opened her knees as far as they would go without actually removing the jeans. That made the situation even more risky, but at that point, we were both thinking with hormones rather than brains.

I know that women nowdays like to be shaved, but back then, everyone went natural, and in the obscurity of the car, the lights from the inside of the Waffle House bathed the inside of the car with ample light for me to see her bush clearly. It wasn't just the outline that I saw, I could see individual hairs, and that beautiful crop of neatly trimmed pubic hair was incredibly erotic, and even though I wouldn't have thought it possible, I found myself getting even harder.

I continued to stimulate her receptive womanhood and to play with one nipple until she gasped and grabbed my hand. I suggested a motel, but she said that it wasn't a good idea. She pulled her still-wet panties onto an even wetter pussy. While she did, I sneaked a sniff of her juices on my finger and thought intensely of how wonderful it would be to be inside her.

Pants again secured, Nancy said to me, "Unzip your pants." I complied, and she went down on me with the most suction I have ever experienced. As she moved up and down on me, the car began to rock. Unfortunately, my fear of exposure overcame my passion. Given the job I held, I could be terminated on a morals clause if we were caught in this situation. I finally told her that I didn't think I could do anything because of my fear of being caught by the police, and truthfully, that car couldn't have been rocking more if I had been parked with a kangaroo on speed.

Our foreplay did not bear fruition until about two and a half weeks later. We arranged to spend the night together in a motel on her side of town. As it was nearing Christmas, I had brought her a luxurious robe. She unwrapped the box and tried the robe on. It fit perfectly. What happened after that might have appeared to be a reward for the gift, but it was a natural followup to the meeting earlier.

Nancy loved sex and enjoyed our every encounter. I was surprised to find, however, that she preferred climaxing during oral sex, rather than traditional sex. I had presumed that no woman who didn't have to fear pregnancy and was willing to engage in intercourse would prefer to have a man climax in her mouth. Nancy, however, loved the taste of semen. Even though I had had a vasectomy years earlier, I was still driven by the basic male drive to reproduce. I loved every aspect of sex, but I had no greater pleasure than to climax deep inside a woman's vagina.

One day, Nancy was at my house, and we were in bed. We began to engage in foreplay, and she took me into her mouth. Just like that night at Waffle House, the fact that I was in her mouth excited her, and her breathing became more rapid and shallower. The movement of her head became more rapid. This time, however, I did not pull out of her mouth and seek the willing depths of her wet pussy. I held back as long as I possibly could and told her, "I'm about to cum." That message excited her, and she pushed me into her mouth farther than ever before. I could feel the back of her throat striking the head of my penis. After I exploded in her mouth, she sucked long and hard before she withdrew her lips from my failing member. There was no need for her to wipe her mouth or to lick her lips. She had swallowed every drop.

She looked up at me and as she peered deep into my eyes, she said sweetly with her cum scented mouth, "Thank you. I know you did that for me." And it was true. I would have preferred by far to have exploded inside her body, sending semen into her vagina, cervix, and even her womb, but I wanted to satisfy HER in exchange for all the times she had satisfied me so intensely.

The only other time I came inside her mouth was on our only trip to a nudist resort. I thought she would be shy, but when the car stopped, she stepped out and started undressing in the parking lot. When I expressed my pleasure and my surprise, she said, "In for an inch, in for a mile." We lay on a blanket, sunning and drinking moderately for a couple of hours. Then we went up one of the two nature trails.

She told me that she was getting very aroused, but I told her that we couldn't have sex there because we would get kicked out if we got caught. We went a short distance into the woods on the nature trail and came to a wooden bench. It was cut from a tree trunk and had no back. I placed a towel across it and had her sit down. I sat in front of her, both of us facing the activity area now some distance below us.

As we were both nude, I reached behind my back between her legs and began to finger her clit and to make some insertions inside her. I was in the perfect position to curl my index and middle fingers inside her and to reach her G-spot. In no time at all, she leaned over onto my back, putting her face against me and digging into my shoulders with both hands. I could feel her muscles tremble as the waves of orgasm rolled through her body.

"I wish I could satisfy you," she said. I knew the risk, but the whole time we had been on the trail, there had been no other traffic. I had her turn around, and I got on the other side of her and straddled the bench. Her job was to make sure no one came down the hill behind me and caught us. My job was to make sure that no one came up the hill and caught us. It's probably good that no one came, because I'm not sure that either one of use was doing a very good job as guards.

I didn't have to tell her when the moment was arising. She could tell from the movements of my body, from my breathing, and from my pulling her closer to me. Just as she had done before, she drained me completely, not only bringing me to orgasm but also sucking every drop out of me. This time, she didn't thank me, but as I withdrew my now limp and useless tool from her mouth, she made a little ceremonial wipe of her lips, and smiling the whole time, said, "That was GOOD."

The only thing that made the day more memorable was that when we started to leave, I wanted to go wash the sunscreen off. The shower at that facility had two walls. The other two were open air, separated from the outside by two rails about the size of 2x4's. There was no privacy wall. Since it was a nudist resort, everyone was seeing everyone's naked body anyway. A little water didn't seem to be important.

However, as I showered alone, a woman about my age walked into the shower looking for someone else. Just as she came in, and apologized for the intrusion, she spotted him in the distance. However, while I continued to shower, we carried on a conversation for three or four minutes. There's just something powerfully erotic about having a woman who is a total stranger walk stark naked into the shower with you and start up a conversation while facing you unashamed. As we drove home that afternoon, I was double satisfied with the day.

Nancy told me that she had tremendously enjoyed the nudist resort. She even tried to get her daughter to go there with us, but without success. When she told me that, I almost came in my pants. Both of her daughters were grown and were incredibly beautiful, but since the response from the daughter was negative, I never got to enjoy a mother-daughter outing. Nancy did, however, begin to sunbath nude in her enclosed patio at the back of her apartment. I asked her if the upstairs neighbors on each side couldn't see her. Her response was, "I don't care." She had become a convert to nudism.

In the passing of time, my allergy to cigarette smoke increased, and Nancy noticed that I had trouble when we began kissing. Finally she told me that she couldn't stop smoking and she knew that the tobacco on her breath and her tongue were causing me to stifle gags. I had tried to cover it, but she noticed. So, although the sex had been wonderful, her addiction and my allergies caused us to go separate ways. Still, I will never forget the sexual adventures and the beautiful body that I enjoyed because of a phone connection.