💾 Archived View for gemini.spam.works › mirrors › textfiles › stories › telefone.txt captured on 2020-10-31 at 01:59:35.
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The screen fades up from black, to show a dark, rainswept street. Centre screen is an old-fashioned telephone booth, the kind made out of red-painted wood paneling, lit by a single neon street lamp. From down the street approaches a girl, about twenty years old, long black hair, wearing a leather jacket, a black leather miniskirt, and knee-length leather boots. The only sounds are her bootheels clacking and the faint whisper of her stocking-clad thighs brushing against each other in the quietness. The camera tracks her legs, following the glint of blue light off the curves of leather-clad thighs as she moves. She walks up to the telephone booth, opens the door, enters. Inside the booth, we see her pick up the receiver. It is one of the late-1970's sort, the one shaped like a banana with large round ear- and mouth-pieces at either end. This is rather unusual, as the coin-box of the phone itself also sports one of those cylindrical mouthpieces common on telephones from the early 1930's, and is introduced as a deliberate anomaly. She taps the handset hook, listening at the receiver. Apparently, she hears no dialtone, as she slams the coin-box of the phone with the palm of her hand. The booth rattles with the blow, and then, in the quiet that follows, the door locks itself with a noticeable click. Her eyes narrow slightly. She turns to examine the door, and then hears a buzz from the handset. She raises her eyes in exasperation, then turns back to the phone. She puts a coin in the slot, and dials a five-digit number. A laugh emanates from the handset, and suddenly, the mouthpiece set into the coin-box elongates, thrusting itself into her open mouth. The end expands, forcing her mouth open, expands further, until it's so big that she can't get it out of her mouth. She slams the handset against the side of the coinbox, and it tears itself out of her grasp, winding its spiral cord around her arms, binding them to her sides. The handset then spins artfully, and dives up the back of her skirt. In a closeup of her face, we see her eyes widen, hear her cries muffled by the mouthpiece jammed into her mouth. The handset lifts the back of her skirt up, revealing her behind, and then slowly forces itself between her buttocks, and up her ass, ear-piece first. Her behind moves violently from side to side (yet always remaining in shot) as she tries to avoid it, but the handset wriggles all the way in up to the mouthpiece, accompanied by her screams. In a closeup of her face, her eyes widen further, and her body is pushed up rhythmically with the thrusts of the handset. (A brief shot shows her legs waving about as the thrusts lift her off the ground). Her screams are now more or less just bestial grunts, as the speed of the thrusts increases to a sort of climax, where the coinbox buzzes, her cheeks suddenly bulge and the mouthpiece stuck in her mouth pops out, spurting white fluid over her face. She spews almost a pint of this stuff out, coughing and choking, and falls against the coin box, from which comes a `ding' sound, and a clink as her coin is refunded. The mouthpiece set into the coinbox hangs down limply, fluid dripping from the end.