The Black TelephoneWhen I was a young boy, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember the polished, old case fastened t... the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box ... I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it.Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was “Information Please” and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please. I pumped jets of ropey globules onto the sides of the stone wall and had to fight hard to quell the noises escaping from deep inside me. I had never had an orgasm quite that intense.In time, all our orgasms subsided. They were still locked together, brother and sister, lying in a panting, sweaty pile. Then Paul pulled out of her and easing himself off the bed, went and stood by her face waiting expectantly. And as if on cue, she reached up and guided him into her mouth and began suckling him,. More

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