So … what are you wearing?”An awkward pause. Geez, I had fucked it up already! What a phone sex cliche! Everyone knows that “What are you wearing?” is the “come here often?” of phone sex. My girlfriend and I were off to a … dry start.
“You wanna know?” she replied, coyly, but with a hint of do-you-realize-what-you’re-getting-yourself-into. Having seen her mandatory attire before she departed Berkeley, I actually knew full well what she was wearing. Verbally disrobing her via phone sex was going to require as much verbal stamina as it would sexual imagination: She was at a conservative religious seminar in the Catskills.
“You know what I’m gonna do to you when you get back?” I asked, trying to find a jumping off point. So far our abysmally flaccid conversation was like that game on “Whose Line Is It, Anyway?” where you can only reply to questions with more questions.
“No … tell me,” she replied, in low and smoky seduction. It was time to take the plunge.
On a cellular plan with no roaming charges, I came prepared (who needs a rubber when you have free nights and weekends?). I saw her, in my mind’s eye, sitting there expectantly on a desk in one of her deserted classrooms late at night. I untied her hair and let it drop below her shoulders. Now it was on.
I unbuttoned her sweater, taking care to breathe warmly on the upper part of her neck, still mostly covered by a frilly blouse. With still four more layers of modesty to sift through up top, I turned my attention downward.
Mm-mm, that thick floor-length monochrome skirt would turn many a lustful eye! I put my hands around her waist and pulled her against me. We passionately locked lips, tongues intertwined, as I found the band of her skirt and slipped my thumbs underneath. The skirt made its way to the floor, revealing the white slip underneath. Just three more lower-half garments to go until the Promised Land!
Seriously, it was like Russian nesting dolls. Beneath the sweater and blouse were a long-sleeved shirt and a camisole before a bra finally marked the final stage. The skirt and slip hid a pair of tights (which tear easily, so I spoke carefully), which eventually gave way to some sexy lace panties that she had been covertly wearing. It was awfully fun, but I must say, the anticipation was torturous, worse than Salome’s dance of the seven veils (King Herod never knew he had it so good).
My lover returned the favor of removing my clothing for me (an altogether straightforward task, but she performed it with titillating deftness), and we proceeded, naturally, to go all the way. I assure you that I can last many, many hours on the phone, especially with all those free minutes.
I was certainly delighted when my girlfriend returned home from the secluded green hills of New York. The long-awaited physical fulfillment of our fantasy was greatly enhanced by what turned out to be weeks-long telephonic foreplay. In fact, there was even a little more foreplay, as she made me watch a demonstration of what her phone’s vibrate function is really for.
So, how do you deal the absence of someone whom you’re used to spending every day with? If the separation is temporary, as in my situation, filthy minds and filthy mouths can fill a void that even “One Night in Paris” can’t remedy. You may even wonder, as I did, how couples tolerated long distances before the invention of the telephone. It’s no mystery why “telegraph sex” never caught on (di-di-dit dit dah-di-di-dah, oh baby!).