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    Saturday and dateless, Secret pranced naked, fresh from the shower and wringing wet. She admired her nubile figure in the dressing mirror, pleased by the sheen upon her body. Dark footprints soaked the carpet where she stepped. Water droplets fell like female rain. Sparkling gems of fluid that parachuted from her body in silent groans of despair at losing touch with her warmth. Luckier drops clung in the black web of her groin; translucent beads that jiggled erotically and caressed her flesh. Secret felt clean.

    Boomer thumped his tail and panted happily nearby. He leapt with her, trying to participate in her joy. Secret giggled when his wet nose chilled her ribs or thighs. Gasped surprise when it poked dangerously close to her crotch.

    "Boomer!" she scolded, dropping to one knee to confront him face to face.

    "Boomer, stop it. Sit still!"

    Boomer licked her face. Obeyed.

    She towelled herself dry.

    Secret stood and threw wide the closet doors. Surveyed her wardrobe. Fussed over what to wear for the evening. She picked out a short skirt and a fishnet bikini bra. Summer thongs for her bare feet. Threw the ensemble on the bed and left Boomer to sit while she dried her hair.

    Secret was young. Nineteen. A college student. Determined to pay her own way through school and doing nicely. Grades were good. Sophomore classes no harder than the first year. Art History major and a walk-on position on the gymnastics squad. She'd loved the acrobatic freedom of the above-the-floor disciplines as a girl, but had suffered heavily through a voluptuous puberty and now excelled only on the floor exercises. Her early boyish shape had betrayed her and ripened swiftly into adolescence. Her hips had rounded along with her flat chest. She'd matured sexually too, moving from pre-adolescent masturbation to athletic couplings with any boy she chose.

    Like so many girls that become women so fast, Secret made mistakes--or was taken advantage of. She was deemed a little too easy and then labeled slutty when one boy had bragged to his friends about the incredible blowjob she had given him after a party. He never told them that she had done it out of sympathy when he couldn't become erect. The other girls whispered the dirty deed around and taunted her.

    'Secret's got a secret!' they'd hissed behind her back.

    They'd titter and giggle evilly whenever Secret applied lipstick. Some teased, "Fixing a smear?" or, "Who's wearing the rest of it?" or "It doesn't go that far in your mouth, Secret."

    Secret ignored them. A pretty girl, already isolated.


    Dry, Secret slipped on her thongs. She pulled her skirt up over her ankles, calves, and thighs, settling it snugly on her hips. She sprinkled a flowery perfume around her bellybutton. Secret pulled on the bra. Adjusted her breasts. The fishnet was her favorite. Black, with generous gaps between the thick threads. Her nipples both poked through, but tightly. She had to take hold of herself between long nails that were sharp. Secret pulled her nipples through and took her time lighting the candles and incense before dousing the lights. Boomer followed her around, sniffing at the sulfur of the matches and the smoke wisps pouring off the incense.

    Secret felt her excitement stir the moment she looked at the telephone. It was time to log in.

    The receiver bleeped rapidly through the auto-dial sequence and Secret adjusted the headset. She was a very animated speaker. Her hands helped her form words and feelings when she spoke. So she had bought a cordless headset for her phone and loved it. Light, unobtrusive, and crystal clear in her ear. A thin microphone curling along her jaw and coming to a perforated point near her unpainted lips.

    Secret paced, waiting for the receptionist to answer.

    "Phone Phantasy Hotline, this is Ginger," the voice said in Secret's ear.

    "Hi Ginger, this is Secret. Can please you put me in the queue?"

    Ginger took Secret's phone number, an ID code for billing, and verified a shift length. With equal precision and coolness, they worked through a short list of sexual topics that Secret would not talk about. Secret knew she could make a great deal more money if she were willing to take callers requesting bisexual girls, but Secret just couldn't carry it off.

    She froze up when her callers broached lesbian issues. The burden of conversation was always on the fantasy- girl, but Secret stuttered and went blank in her imagination every time girl-girl talk came up. Her mind and body were virgin to the touch of other women and Secret couldn't draw upon any past experience. She froze. And she certainly couldn't handle calls from other women looking for phone partners.

    Ginger processed the login and put Secret in the queue. They said goodbye, Ginger hung up, and Secret listened to the quiet on-hold music while she waited for a caller to come through. Boomer wandered over and she scratched absently behind his ears. He lay down at her feet and rested his massive head on his paws. Boomer was a huge, lovable mutt. Parts Shepherd, Lab, Greyhound and St. Bernard. Gentle as a kitten, but territorial and protective, and his sheer size and physical presence gave Secret a sense of security in the solitude of her apartment.

    Secret then let the great animal sleep and cleaned up her loft while she waited for a caller to appear on the line.


    The first call was a breather that wouldn't give a name. So Secret described for him an impossibly gorgeous woman. She made herself taller and the details of her anatomy seemed to quicken his breath. Secret dwelled on breasts of vast measurements for him. Nipples that stuck out inches and quivered when aroused. Mouth-lips and vaginal-lips that hungered for a penis. His penis.

    The breather got off swiftly and hung up.

    Two minutes. Not much, but a start.


    Secret took three more "minute-men" and wondered if the whole night would be like this. They usually were. Lonely guys, horny and a-social, picking out the Phantasy number from the glossy magazine they had been trying to masturbate over. Secret felt sorry for them. Genuinely sympathetic. Like that first blowjob back in high school. She helped them, and got paid for it.

    Then she got a weirdo that wanted to tie her up and rape her. She sat down next to Boomer and petted him while the weirdo did his thing in her ear. He went for over ten minutes. Then he hung up and Secret breathed a sigh of relief. The longer calls upped her averages and therefore her pay, but she didn't like the weirdos and the things they said to her.


    "Hi, this is Secret, who's this?"


    "Hi Bob! I'm so glad you called me tonight! What would you like to talk about?"

    "Um, do you like oral sex?"

    "Like it? Oh, Bob," she could husk seductively. "I LOVE oral sex! Will you let me go down on you Bob?"

    "Uh, yeah, sure."

    Secret slurped and sucked into the phone. She made kissing sounds and smacked her lips.

    Bob grunted and hung up.

    More breathers. More minutemen. More Bobs. Bobs were the easiest. Secret ate Bobs like they were candy bon- bons. They had never had a blowjob in their lives and Secret knew it instinctively. They had seen them in magazines or maybe in erotic movies, but they had never had one. So secret gave them the next best thing.


    "Secret? What a pretty name."


    "My dick is a foot long."

    "Oooh, that's so big!"

    "You want it?"

    "Yes! Can I touch it? Please?"

    "Suck it."

    "Oh, you knew that's just what I wanted to do, didn't you?"

    "Yeah, now I'm gonna fuck you."

    "Oh, be gentle. I'm so tight," whining.

    "Here it comes. All 12 inches."

    "Unnhh... ohhh..." and so on.

    "Ok, bitch, now I'm gonna fuck your ass. All 12 inches."

    "Oh, in my little ass? All that meat?"

    "Yeah. Bend over, bitch. Here come's all my 12 inches."

    "Ok, I'll bend over this nice soft couch here, ok? Then you--OH MY! You're so huge!"

    Game over. Click.


    Secret wandered around in the candlelight. She went over to her bedside table and opened a drawer. She withdrew her favorite dildo toys and some lubricants. Body oils, flavored creams, an arsenal of personal pleasures. She arrayed them on the pillow and sat down. Her shift was half over and she despaired of getting a satisfying call. The stultifying sense of frustration was an uncomfortable itch within her. She could always masturbate in the end, but she looked forward to giving one lucky caller the real thing if only he could pull her into his fantasy with beautiful words, unselfish words.

    She dabbed a flavored balm on her nipples and shivered. Not yet. She denied herself and the shift went on into the night.



    "Yes, lover?"

    "What are you wearing?"

    "My legs are tan and bare under my miniskirt. I have a see-through bra on my 38-DDs and I'm not wearing any panties."

    "Awesome," real excitement.

    "Thanks, lover. How about you? What have you got on?"

    "Uh, nothing."

    "Perfect," whisper. "Is it hard?"

    "Is what hard?"

    "Oh don't tease! Is it all big?"


    "You know," shy.

    "Say it, Secret."

    "Your... your... your thing. Your organ," shyer.

    "My what?" breathing heavily.

    "C'mon, you know," blushing in her voice.

    "Say it," almost there.

    "Your, um, member?" girlish.

    "My what?" unable to speak.

    "Your, penis? Your," a touch of the virginal, near tears, "Cock? Your cock? Is your cock all hard? Is your cock all big and hard?"

    Sounds of male climax. Click.


    More Bobs.

    More foot-longs.

    A weirdo.

    Some breathers.



    "Yes, gorgeous?"

    "Do you give head?"

    "Oh, absolutely! If you tell Secret what your erection looks like, she'll tell you what her mouth wants to do with it."

    "Um," silence.

    "What's wrong, honey? Isn't it hard yet? I can fix that," naughtily.

    "Oh, uh, no. It's hard alright. That's not it."

    "Then what? Are you shy? C'mon, let me have it right between my lips, hon. You can even cum in my mouth."

    "Sounds great, Secret. But it's being sucked already."


    "Yeah, um, my wife is deep-throating me and I think she needs your sweet lips on her pussy. We've got you on speaker-phone and she's listening too. So just tell her what you're going to do with her cunt and that'd be great."

    Secret instantly paled. She blushed brightly. Froze. Hung up. Paced in dismay.


    Then she got four more lesbian requests in a row and she had to call Ginger back.

    "Oh, c'mon, Secret. Give it a chance," Ginger said. "I can keep you in calls all night if you'll do girl- girl."

    "I know, but I just can't," Secret fretted.

    "You're such a ninny, do you know that?"


    "But you're stickin' to your guns? No lesbian stuff? Are you sure?"

    "Yeah," biting her nails.

    "OK. I'll keep them away from you. Sorry."

    "That's ok, Ginger."


    Bobs. Breathers. Foot-longs.


    Secret fed Boomer and stroked his fur thoughtfully while he ate. Would a lesbian fantasy really be so hard to do? Secret often masturbated in front of her mirror. She liked to watch the reflection of her body in the candle-lit glass. Was it that much different than loving her own body? How often had she longed to suckle her own breasts? Tried to bring them close enough to reach with her outstretched tongue? How many times had she been unable to climax from mere fingering and lusted for the ability to take her own mouth and eat herself out? Maybe if she sat before her mirror and made love to herself she could provide a narrative to a caller seeking lesbian sex.


    Foot-longs. Breathers. And Bobs.


    Secret satisfied dozens of anonymous erections and was pacing furiously as the last half-hour of her shift began. Boomer sensed her agitation and whined, swishing his tail. Secret looked at the sexual aids on her bed and knew she wanted some hard cock. The next caller was going to get to hear her come for real if he was willing to stay on the line. She moved to the bed and picked out a small but hard dildo and began to oil it up.

    The phone line clicked mechanically, startling her where she sat.

    "Hello, this is Secret. What's your name?"


    Secret froze.

    "Hello?" the sweet voice said. "Are you there?"

    The voice was a contralto and rich, with the silken undertone of cigarettes. Thirtyish? Fortyish? Mature, anyway. And Secret had no illusions that this might be a weirdo guy playing at being a woman. There were those who could carry it off in certain timbres for a while, but not in this particular voice.

    "You're a woman," Secret said stupidly.

    A quiet laugh fluttered in Secret's ear, "Yes, I am. Is that ok?"

    Secret set aside the glistening dildo and placed her hands in her lap like a teenager nearly caught with her fingers in her pants by the teacher.

    "Who were you trying to reach?" Secret asked.

    "Ah, I asked for a--is this the fantasy line?" some hesitation.

    Secret considered saying no. That would end it.

    "Yes, this is the Phantasy Phone Hotline. Did you want to speak with a guy?" Secret asked.

    "No, I asked for a woman. Aren't you her?"

    Secret said, "That's ok. It's just that I only do guys."

    "Oh," the disappointment touched Secret and she felt tactless.

    "But we can talk," she found herself saying. "If you like."

    "Yes, I'd like that. What'd you say your name was?"



    "Yes. With a name like mine, you don't have to make one up."

    "You really do have a sweet voice, Secret. How old are you?"



    "Is that ok?"

    "It's perfect, Secret. You're just what I'm looking for."

    Secret felt deeply flattered and terrified at the same time. She said, "Ann? Are you sure? I mean, ah, I've never been with a woman."

    The laughter was rich and warm and amused.

    "Are you serious? Did you get that line in a porno movie?"

    Secret didn't know what that meant. She said so.

    Ann replied, "I'm sorry, Secret. That's such a cliche, though. I thought you were trying to seduce me."


    "No, no, I'm sorry. I understand," Ann soothed. "So you aren't a lesbian?"

    "No," Secret admitted.

    "Neither am I."

    Secret flushed in embarrassment.

    "You're not?"

    "No," Ann said. "I'm bisexual."

    Secret was a moment understanding the distinction. She absorbed this in awkward silence.

    "I'm not bisexual either," Secret eventually offered.

    "That's fine."

    In the silence that followed, Secret wondered where this was going. She decided to go through with the call as best she could.

    She got up and kicked off a thong, which woke Boomer. He lifted his large head, but dropped it again; slept again.


    "Yeah, I'm here," she answered.

    "Can I ask you something?"

    "You want to know what I look like?" Secret actually considered giving an accurate description.

    "Yes I would, but can you tell me what you do first? When you're not answering phones, that is."

    "Well, I'm an actress. I mean, I wanna be one. An actress, that is."

    "So, you're really pretty then?"

    "You have to be pretty nowadays. It takes more than talent now."


    Ann said, "So what do you look like?"

    Secret looked at herself in the mirror and described what she saw. Hair, eye color, height, weight, she tossed the words off nervously as she looked herself over. She was improvising, offering innocent, non- sexual details to fill the time.

    Ann interrupted. "That's really detailed. Did you write that down?"

    "Oh no, I'm ad-libbing."

    "Wow, I thought you would be reading from a script..."

    "Oh no, I have little bios written up for different kinds of callers, but I almost always give my own physical stuff. It's easier. Shall I describe my body for you?" Secret felt silly the instant the words left her mouth.

    "Maybe later. But for now though, I'd like to ask you about your first sexual experiences. Is that ok?"

    Secret thought momentarily and said, "I used to work in an office setting, but I only work from home now. It's too embarrassing for me to do this when there's a room full of people who can hear me."

    "What?" Ann wondered loudly. "No, no, I meant your early experiences in the flesh, not on the phone."

    Secret had unhooked her skirt and it fell to the floor like flower petals. She scooted across the bed and sat herself directly in front of the mirror and imagined what it would be like if the reflection came to life and ravaged her.

    "Oh," Secret said. "OK."

    "Great. So can you tell me if you began masturbating before you had your first boy? I mean, you do masturbate, don't you, Secret?"

    The fishnet bra stayed on. Secret liked the nettish feel of it on her breasts.

    "Yeah, I masturbate. I started that when I was thirteen or fourteen? Years before boys." She felt ok with the question. Girl talk.

    "Did you put your fingers inside?"

    "Well, no, not at first. I think I was taking a bath and got carried away with a bar of soap or something. Just rubbing, you know?"

    The miles and miles of distance between them gave Secret a sense of confidence. She could do this. The woman's voice was perfect and clear in Secret's ear, but she was far away, too.

    "Did you come that first time?"

    "I don't think so. I got scared and stopped before it happened. I didn't know what was happening, you know?"

    "Yeah. Me too," Ann confided. "But you tried again?"

    "That night. In bed. I used my hands between my legs. I didn't know what was going to happen, but it felt so wonderful that I kept rubbing. I found my little clit and realized that was where the good feelings were coming from." Secret found that she had risen from her place on the bed and was pacing, gesticulating with both hands, trying to express herself through the line.

    "Did you come?"

    "Yes!" Secret laughed. "It was like nothing I'd ever felt! It felt soft and sorta crampy? You know? It scared me; when the orgasm first hit me I squealed out loud like I'd just wet my pants or something! I was so surprised!"

    "Oh, I know exactly what you mean," Ann said.

    "I think I quit right away that first night, but I think I did it every night after that. Except for my period."

    "Exactly. Me too," Ann said. "Can you remember when you started using your finger inside?"

    "Oh, sure," this was easy. "Me and my girlfriends were talking about boys and we were talking about what it would be like to be with one. In bed."


    "Well, one of the older girls told us she had done it. I think she was lying, but anyway, she told us about penises and erections and fucking. So that night I ended up poking my pinky into my vagina to see what it was like. To be with a guy, you know?"


    "That was the first time."

    "Did it hurt? I mean, were you very tight?"

    "Yes, very tight. I still am tight. But it was ok. I did it a lot. Fingering, that is. It was fun to fantasize about boys and finger-fuck myself. I learned how to come that way too."

    "Lucky girl," Ann said.

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    Who wouldn't dream to see this happen?

    Feb 27 2007 15:05
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