There's nothing more a teen boy wants than the house to himself so he can, well, ya know. It's one thing to risk it when others are home but when the coast is clear you can really enjoy, well, ya know.
It was the story of Gabe's life growing up -- especially in a home with two parents and three sibilings. Privacy was hard to, ahem, come by. Oy.
Before the days of readily accessible porn, there were something called “party lines.” If dirty magazines were getting old – and just too crusty – for you, sometimes the verbal stimulation was enough to get you off.
That’s what it was like for Gabe, who, as a teenager, had his own phone line in his parents’ house. With dial-up internet a massive buzzkill for porn viewing and dirty magazines difficult to hide, Gabey discovered ads for phone-sex lines in the back of his brother’s fitness magazines.
Sneaking some peeks at the magazines, the Gabester jotted down phone numbers from the ads depicting really fit people. Most certainly it would be those hotties on the other end of the phone, right? (Dream on.) And in a house with little to no privacy, the opportunity wouldn’t present itself very often to make the toll call and talk dirty to an anonymous voice on the other end. Unless everyone was gone and there was no chance someone could come home unexpectedly, the only option would be in the middle of the night when everyone was asleep.
Gabe had his own bedroom on the main floor of the family house. It was at the back of the house while his parents’ room was at the front. His three brothers shared two bedrooms in the basement. With the house falling silent one horny night, Gabe decided the coast was clear to unzip and dial for some bedtime relief.
Confident in the fact that he had his own phone line and nobody could pick up an extension to listen in, Gabe felt it was a foolproof plan. After all, the phone bill came in his name and nobody would see he was paying upwards of $5 per minute to call “party lines.”
When making the long-distance call, partiers were met with a menu of options for what they'd desire on the other end: single guys, single gals, younger guys, older guys, older gals, younger gals, etc. The call would connect you to some random voice, usually asking or saying the same thing. “What are you wearing? How old are you? What are you doing now?” It was enough, back then, for people to get off since the concept was relatively new. (Remember, this was long before high-speed internet, social media and hookup apps.)
Having spent several weekend nights on party lines, Gabe formed somewhat of an addiction to phone sex. Truthfully, it was the safest form of sex for a 16 year old. More importantly, it could happen without anyone knowing. Or, could it?
As he arrived home from school one day, Gabe was confronted by his mom. She said she got a call from the phone company about his bill. True, the phone line was in his name and he paid the bill, but because he was a minor it was still attached to the homeowner(s): his parents. She said they alerted her that his phone bill was over $200 in long distance charges. It wasn’t going unpaid, they just wanted to make her aware of the cost. (Seems a little intrusive, doesn’t it? The bill is getting paid so why would a company say, “Hey, you sure you wanna be giving us all this money?")
Gabe said it was a chat line to talk and meet people. He maintained that he had a job and was being responsible with bill payments so it was no big deal. He said his mom told him to stop with the calls because she’d be monitoring his bill going forward. He noted that opening his mail was a federal crime and he would use his phone line to call the cops on her. (Yeah, even at 16 nobody was gonna fuck with Gabe's hormones – unless it was, you know, on a phone-sex line…)
The next weekend, when the house was quiet and it was time to make his weekly dick dial, Gabe used his cordless phone and started hitting the prompts. Unbeknownst to him, Mom had creeped to his bedroom door and could hear the beep of the numbers being pressed. Almost immediately, the door flung open and she confronted her horny phone fucker. Thankfully, he wasn’t already, uh, engaged in a conversation so she didn’t witness anything traumatizing playing out as he went hands-free—well, with the phone, at least.
She demanded he stop making the calls or else she’d cut off his phone line. That was when he said, “Fine, I’ll just go out and have sex with random people instead.”
And with that one line, Mom's party-line protests were over.