Solo/phone
                                          Reach Out and Touch Yourself
                     John is one of my favorite lovers. He's exciting and sexy and has
             a great sense of humor. We've been lovers and friends for well over a year,
             but I've never met him. I couldn't describe him to any of my friends, and
              only a few even know about him because not everyone would understand how
             I can have a lover I've never met. No, he is not a fantasy or an imaginary
                friend. He's a very real man who happens to live in Chicago while I
                                         live in New York.
                    I suppose that we don't really live that far apart -- especially in
              this age of jet airplanes -- and would have been able to meet by now if
              we wanted to. Maybe we're both afraid to meet each other -- afraid that
            we wouldn't click in person -- or maybe we prefer the lack of responsibility
            inherent in our present relationship. Whatever the subconscious reasons, if
             either of us has ever been in the other's city, we've just never been able
                         to arrange our schedules so we could get together.
                       And so our relationship has remained confined to the medium in
                                   which it began: the telephone.
                        John suggested we start a whole new campaign for AT aimed at
              long-distance lovers or phone pals like ourselves: low late-night rates,
            especially in the winter time. The heated conversations keep the ice off the
            equipment in the cold months, and the glowing yellow-orange lines created by
            all that hot talk can be used by pilots for navigation. The new slogan for 
                        the ads? "Reach out and touch yourself." What else?
                      How does someone go about getting a phone lover? I'm not really
               sure since I wasn't looking for what happened between John and me. For
             starters we're both very open to new and different things. Initially, John
                and I conversed on the phone in a business capacity that turned into
                                            friendship.
                    We both enjoy witty conversation and take every opportunity to make
            plays on words, especially in a sexual context. Along with the risque' jokes
              there was an almost tangible electricity, perhaps generated by our well-
           matched mentalities. Eventually the joking and teasing led to a suggestion of
           making love on the phone, and the mental attraction injected real possibility
                                         into our teasing.
                    I also felt safe talking to John -- he wasn't some stranger calling
            numbers at random (who might also have my address), and he wasn't going to 
            keep bugging me if the idea didn't go over. Besides, he has a sexy, melodic
            voice and I had wondered what kind of lover he would be. Is it so strange to
            be attracted to a man's voice, after all? I've listened to opera singers and
              jazz vocalists who've put me in the mood faster than a porn video could.
                     Our first time together, John did most of the work. I was sleeping
             soundly, tucked up against my pillows, when the phone rang. I answered it
                         sleepily, and vulnerably, as it later turned out.
                     "I just had a dream about you," John said in a whispery, breathy,
                                            eager voice.
                        "What was it?" I asked, giggling a little and shivering with
                                            excitement.
                    It was four o'clock in the morning, and the "noir gla'mour" of that
                        adventurous hour enhanced the novelty of the moment.
                     "I dreamed I was lying here in bed and you were there next to me,
               naked and so beautiful. It seemed so real, like I could reach out and
                                            touch you."
                                       "If I >wasvibrator. There were
               interruptions with that one, however. My cat likes the sound of the ,
           and he kept nuzzling my chin and purring, knocking the phone off my shoulder.
                    Then one night when I called John he had just put a porn film on his
            VCR. He described the action (a threesome) to me and we both got off. That 
             gave me the idea of copying one of my favorite porn films, "The Grafenburg
                                               Spot."
                    We watched the flick together, John in Chicago and me in New York, 
               and we had achieved our goal within the first ten minutes of the film.
                    Because of the distance provided by the telephone, maybe we're both
            more uninhibited than we might usually be. In any case, the relationship has
            led me to try other scenarios I previously wasn't much interested in. One of
            those was a threesome. One night -- inevitably -- there was a woman with him
               when I called. John put Cathy (he seems to like girls with cheerleader
             names -- Debbie, Cindy, Cathy) on his wireless phone. With all three of us
            describing the moves or giving orders, I listened intently and avidly while
                Jim and Cathy fucked each other passionately and I came feverishly.
                    Unfortunately, I felt a little lonely afterward since he had someone
            there to continue the good times with or cuddle up with after the connection
                           was broken, whereas I again had an empty bed.

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                     Another first was a threesome on my end. One evening I was at the
            apartment of one my closest friends. We had been drinking and talking about
             sex, as usual. In a fit of honesty I told her about my relationship with 
                                  John. She thought it was great.
                      We drank a little more and went on watching Paul Newman in some 
              movie. We kept wishing we had a man with us, and even tried to reach of
           couple of men we knew, but without success. Then I hit on the idea of phoning
                            John. He was all for it. I'm not surprised.
                    Tina and I sat on her kitchen floor (she had only one phone and it 
           was in the kitchen). We were naked and drunk and horny. The linoleum was cold
             and the room was dark. John's voice sounded extra resonant and sexier than
            ever. After the introduction was made, we giggled and waited for someone to
                                          start something.
                       Suddenly, Tina leaned over and sucked my nipple, very gently.
                                             "Oh!" I exclaimed.
                                      "What's the matter?" John asked.
                            "She's -- oh! She's sucking on my tit," I told him.
                                             "Do you like it?"
                                          "Actually, yes. Do you?"
                              "I love it. If you like it, what's the problem?"
                    "I don't know. I didn't expect it. I thought we were all just going 
                                      to masturbate together."
                                             "Relax. Enjoy it."
                                                  "Okay."
                                       "So tell me what she's doing."
                          "She's got her hand on my pussy. She's playing with me."
                                            "Does it feel good?"
                                         "Yes. Very good. Mmmmm.."
                                        "Do you think you'll come?"
                                              "I always come."
                                              "Are you horny?"
                                            "I'm always horny."
                                          "What's she doing now?"
                           "She's licking me. John, I've never done this before."
                                            "How does it feel?"
                                    "It feels good. I wish it were you."
                                          "Now what's happening?"
                     "Tina's licking my clit and finger-fucking me.. John I'm going to 
                                             come now."
                                  "Now you should reciprocate," John said.
                   He listened while I gasped in a paroxysm of pleasure. Tina raised her
                     head and kissed me on the lips so I could taste my juices.
                     Tentatively, I reached out and touched her pussy. It was wet and 
            warm, much like my own. Touching it was strangely familiar, but still I was
            unsure of what to do. Under John's guidance I brought Tina -- and him -- to
                       orgasm.  And Tina pushed me over the edge once again.
                    Then we started on the oral stuff. First I stood up while Tina -- at
            John's command -- parted my pussy lips and licked me up and down. Then she 
           lay down on the kitchen floor and I straddled her head. We went into a sixty-
            nine position with John telling me what to do and listening to the slurp of
           Tina's dripping cunt, which smelled similar to mine -- not too strong or fishy
             like girls I had stood near in the gym. I made her scream with pleasure so
           that John could hear her all the way in Chicago. She went to work on me with 
                              a vengeance and John shot off yet again.
                    Because the call was getting expensive we hung up and Tina and I sat
           on the linoleum, which was wet with sweat and love juices. We were both still
           very horny but not much interested in each other alone. John's aural presence
             had been the catalyst, and we were not inspired to proceed without another
                                          man's presence.
                   So we went to separate beds satisfied at how bold we had been and yet
                   not totally satisfied for lack of physical contact with a man.
                    I wonder if I'll ever find a New York lover as open and as much of a
                                         friend as John is.
                   I wonder if John will ever come to New York so that I can finally get
              under the covers with him and play submarine captain -- you know, up his
                                             periscope.
                     More than that, I wonder if John and I will have as good a time in
                person as we do over the phone. I know that I want to give it a try.
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