But it was still only temporary. She made sure of that. She ordered me to stand beside the bed where her head was. Her tongue flicked out and laved the length of my limpness. Very quickly it was restored to its former glory. And when it was, she abruptly stopped.
“Now, you just remember to control yourself!” Leila instructed. “Kiss my breasts again. Both of them.”
I bent over and kissed her breasts.
“That’s not right. I can do it better myself. Watch and learn!” She cupped one breast and held it up to her mouth. Her tongue darted out and circled the tip, laving the aureole. Then it flicked back and forth, strumming the long nipple. “Now, you do it,” she ordered me.
I did it.
“Now, lower. Slowly.”
I kissed my way slowly down her body, licking the undersides of her breasts, running my lips over her flat belly, dipping into the deep well of her navel. Then I moved lower, nibbling at the top curls of her pubic triangle.
“Not yet,” Leila panted. “First my thighs. Kiss my thighs.”
I moved my mouth to the inner surfaces of her thighs. The rippling flesh was butter soft, quivering with the tension of the muscles underneath. I sought out those muscles and probed them with my tongue. Leila’s lower body abruptly jerked.
She turned over and lay flat on her belly. I kissed the backs of her burning thighs, and then nuzzled between them again. They parted, and I saw that the warm juices were beginning to flow. But when I touched the lips of the well, Leila abruptly closed her legs.
“First there!” She slapped her rosy, plump bottom.
I kissed one cheek and then the other one gently. First Leila responded by bouncing. Then she lay quivering like a taut bowstring.
“Bite it!” she gasped. “Not too hard.”
Gently I bit into the delectable flesh of her derriere. She moaned, a deep, long moan. I nibbled the other side. The flavor was a little like abalone meat-— sweet, with the faintest tang of salt.
Leila rolled over on her back again. “No more biting,” she gasped. Her thighs parted, and her pulsating mound of passion thrust upward. It was high and deeply cleft. Her clitoris nestled there like a hard, red, oily, quivering finger of invitation.
Forgetting myself, I swung my legs over her and started to mount. A sharp knee in my stomach brought me to my senses. It let me know that she was still calling the shots.
“Not yet. Play with me first,” Leila demanded.
I cupped the throbbing mound gently with my hand. Meanwhile, she contrived to get her foot between my legs, and her toes wriggled a complicated and maddening rhythm up and down the length of my penis. Now it was my turn to squirm.
“Tickle it!”
I chucked her clitty lightly.
“Ahh! That drives me crazy!”
Thanks to her educated toes, that went double for me.
“Deeper!” she commanded. “That’s it! All the way!” She wriggled frantically as three of my fingers disappeared to the third knuckle. The honey flowed freely now.
“Use your mouth! Your lips! Your tongue!” She caught one of her wildly bouncing breasts and sucked greedily at it.
I tongue-tipped her clitty. My lips pressed against the lips of her honeypot. I plunged into the well and drank deep of the nectar. . . . And all the time her maddening toes were tickling and squeezing and pinching, flicking the hot, moist head of my penis, tracing its rigid length, probing the fullness of the sac beneath. It was all I could do to keep from releasing my passion. The pressure was the greatest I’d ever felt.
Then, finally: “Now!” she cried. “Give it to me now!”
My head came up from between her feverish thighs like a bucking bronco. I flung her legs up on my shoulders and slammed down on her like I’d been shot from a cannon. The hell with Women’s Lib! I was in charge now! That’s the way it was! I had her doubled over like a folding cot. My weight was on her buttocks. I was as deep inside her as it was possible to get. And when I relaxed and thrust again, she half-screamed with the intensity of it. Long, deep, swirling circular movements—that was the rhythm I established. Her burning butt and clutching, syrupy honeypot followed suit. We kept it up for a long, ecstatic, passion-building time, and then . . .
The telephone rang!
We both froze for a moment. Then, without moving anything except the one arm, Leila reached out and answered it. “Hello?”
She listened and then handed it to me. “Yeah?” I growled into the mouthpiece.
“Mr. Victor?” It was Charles Putnam. “I want to congratulate you on a job well done. You’ll be happy to hear that phone service has just been restored around the country.”
“I’m not happy,” I told him.
“I beg your pardon?” When I didn’t say anything, Putnam continued. “A job well done,” he said, “which brings me to my reason for calling. . . .”
“Get off the phone!” Leila hissed angrily. “That’s an order!”
“I do hope I haven’t caught you at an inopportune moment,” Putnam said.
“Hoping won’t help,” I sighed.
“Get off!” she snarled.
“The thing is, Mr. Victor, I’m afraid I’m in need of your services once again.”
Leila dug her nails into my rear end.
“Not a chance,” I told him.
“You don’t understand, Mr. Victor. Your country needs you.”
I held the receiver away from me and leaned down to calm Leila with a kiss. Her teeth almost tore off my lower lip.
“Your country needs you,” Putnam was repeating.
Violently, Leila was moving under me again. I realized that I was in imminent danger of being left behind. Quickly I started to move with her rhythm.
“Your country needs you.”
I stopped. I leaned over the side of the bed and located the cord leading from the wall to the telephone. I yanked it with all my strength. When it came loose from the wall, I hurled the telephone, cord and all, out the window. And then I turned my full attention back to Leila.
I slammed down on her hard two or three times to reassert my dominance. Then I rolled like a corkscrew, and her fiery bottom and honeyed joy tunnel rotated with me. Soon we were back on the crest again. And then . . .
Our mutual release lasted a long time. A long, long time! It should have left us exhausted. It didn’t. Within ten minutes we were fondling one another again. Why not? We had plenty of time. And there weren’t going to be any interruptions now. Tom Swift, you see, wasn’t all wrong.
There are advantages to not having a telephone!
Notes
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Nathan Hale (June 6, 1755 – September 22, 1776) was an American soldier and spy for the Continental Army during the American Revolutionary War. He volunteered for an intelligence-gathering mission in New York City but was captured by the British and executed. Hale has long been considered an American hero and, in 1985, he was officially designated the state hero of Connecticut.
[←2 ]
Mary Frances "Debbie" Reynolds (April 1, 1932 – December 28, 2016) was an American actress, singer, businesswoman, film historian, humanitarian. She was nominated for the Golden Globe Award for Most Promising Newcomer for her portrayal of Helen Kane in the 1950 film Three Little Words, and her breakout role was her first leading role, as Kathy Selden in Singin' in the Rain (1952).
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80 kilograms
[←4 ]
AT&T Corp., originally the American Telephone and Telegraph Company provides voice, video, data, and Internet telecommunications and professional services to businesses, consumers, and government agencies. During its long history, AT&T was at times the world's largest telephone company, the world's largest cable television operator. In 2005, AT&T was purchased by Baby Bell and former subsidiary SBC Communications. Its name was changed to AT&T Inc.