Tuesday, May 5, 2015
The clients have been letting you down, occasional reader. There have been no new and interesting callers lately, and frankly, I’m quite sick of it.
Where are my pervs? Where are my calls that are so amusing that I must run to splash it all over this terribly neglected blog?
It’s shameful, I tell you. Shameful.
Not all is lost, though. I come to you today with a recommendation for a brilliant little film I’ve just finished watching. It’s available on Netflix, the greatest invention since Betty White.
Hotline is a film by a guy who worked on 16 and Pregnant, and Teen Mom. This would be enough to turn me off from the film right away, but luckily, I didn’t find that out until I went looking for the information for this entry.
It centers around many different kinds of call lines. This ranges from suicide lines, teen homework lines, 911 dispatchers, and, of course, the inimitable phone strumpet lines.
We actually get two strumpets in this documentary. Tonya is the owner of her own line, who is just crazy enough to use her own name and picture in her advertising. I really believe that, even if I looked like Natalie Dormer, I would not never ever not ever use my picture to advertise my line. Maybe it’s just that I know what some of these guys think when they look at women. But I don’t want to run the risk of running into one of these people on the street.
No. No. No, really. No.
The other strumpet, Gypsy, I’m not certain what the deal is with her. I see her at a professional desk, then in her car taking a call on her cell. Which makes me jealous, as I can’t take calls while on my cell, and it would make things so much easier. I would be strumpeting on the beach with a mai tai in my hand.
I loved this entire movie, but obviously I was more interested in their parts. They both made some extremely great points, but I have to say. Both ladies talk about meeting their clients outside of the lines.
Not. No. Never. Nuh. Uh.
I have talked to some TRULY fantastic people. I have a gentleman who told me he loved me, and that after our first conversation together, he couldn’t bring himself to ask for me again because he was worried it would ruin the amazing talk we’d had the first time. And now he’s never called back, which makes me very sad, because he was kind of amazing, and everyone deserves to be adored.
Would I meet him in real life?
Not even if you paid me.
The idea of meeting one of the callers wigs me straight the hell out. Which is why the idea of using my actual name and picture to advertise would never occur to me.
Different strokes, and all that.
The movie is very enjoyable, I give it a solid 3 stars. Go check it out, it’s available on several different providers, but Netflix is my personal favorite.
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
This isn’t a site where a naughty vixen tells you about all her dirty phone sex calls, about her hot daddies who treat her oh, so good, and how moist she ends up just hearing his name.
Moist is the grossest word in the English language, it should be noted.
But for people looking for that kind of site, there are tons. And while some are just this side of the old Geocities websites, you will occasionally get someone who is a real wordsmith, who keeps you on your toes and maybe mildly titillated, if that’s your thing. Someone you believe.
I prefer the blogs that pull the veil away, but that’s just me.
Today while reading through a blog, I came across this article, and there was no way I could go without sharing it with anyone who might choose to read my blog.
What's the Deal with Phone Sex? by Gracie Passette. Hosted on a strumpet blog that touts itself as “Home of playful, modern pin-up women” (what’s not to love?), this is a brilliantly written article about the men who call into phone sex lines.
Three phone clients were interviewed for the article (curious if they got paid for the interview…what a hilarious turn about that would be), and their answers are plainly honest, and at times hilarious, but extremely interesting and insightful.
It should be noted that this website is intensely NSFW/NSFC. The ads on the right hand side alone could keep the NSA goggling for hours.
My favorite quote, that I think I’ll remember for quite some time:
I can’t really be a demon and take several women at a time — or find a demon with a dick and a tail to fuck me with. Pretending with multiple dildos and partners just couldn’t be as powerful as what we make-up on the phone.
This is something a strumpet needs to hear. Because we get those calls. The ones that will never be discussed on this blog, or in real life. And sometimes, we need to hear how the guys would never do or want what they ask for on the phones in real life, but in the fantasy world, they can be as nasty as they want to be.
Also, fucking a guy in the ass with my demon tail?
I’d really like to try that call.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
I’m starting to sound a bit like a broken record when it comes to talking about the Strumpet life.
Everything is very much the same, day in and day out. There’s few surprises anymore. And considering the kind of freaks who call the lines, that’s not really a positive thing. But at this point, almost four years into the game, it’s not shocking anymore.
I had a gentleman who wanted middle aged and dumb yesterday. This gave me pause, needless to say. I’ve had many a client tell me how fucking classy I am because I use big words with them (I assume that’s anything other than, “Oooh baby yeah big daddy”), but never any complaint that I’m just too damn intellectual.
Of course, then the gent got on the phone, and I completely understood why he would need someone with the IQ of a fifth grader. And he got mad at me for not talking enough. Sorry, dear, having to limit my vocabulary tends to limit my tongue.
There is a very short list of clients I would like to have some day. It varies, of course. One of them being, where are the men who want to feed their whores? I know this exists. But dammit. Every time I sit down with my breakfast/lunch/dinner, the phone rings, and by the time I’m done, the food is cold. Where are the clients who want to hear me eat? I will chow down on bacon just for you, baby. It’s all for you.
Hell, I miss the extremely old and confused client who loved to hear me smoke cigarettes. If I’ve gone too long without a call, I know all I have to do is step outside, light a cigarette, and away we go!
Also, I want a furry. I want a furry very much. Ever since that episode of CSI where furries were featured, I’ve been fascinated by this culture. It seems…odd, truth be told, to dress up in heavy costume to get your rocks off, but it’s something I have no understanding of. So while I now have a comprehensive understanding of men who want to fornicate with their maternal figures, I still can’t figure out why someone wants to get off with a giant squirrel.
Today, one of my items got bumped off the list. And I reacted like my dispatcher had just told me Collin Farrell was on the other line.
“I have a call for Bunny. It’s a woman.”
I’ve had women on my line twice, but never as the caller. One was a man who wanted me to tell him what to do with his girlfriend. I questioned heavily whether the female voice in the background was actually a girlfriend, or a porn movie. She didn’t really speak, only some moaning, which didn’t…really fit with where we were in our conversation. But maybe he was just doing a really good job.
The other was completely weird. It was very early in my Strumpeting, before I’d garnered enough experience to realize I should roll with this and see just how badly it could turn out. A client was on the phone when his alleged daughter-in-law came to the house. He started talking about what he wanted to do with her, and asked my permission to do so.
She didn’t sound unwilling, more eye-rolling than anything, as though this happens all the time, and she’s used to it. I don’t recall where the gentleman lives, but I suspect backwoods bumpkin action was in play. I was gobsmacked, and didn’t quite know where to take the call. It was a decent call, but I could’ve stretched it out more if I’d played along.
Today, I got my first, bona fide female client. And I squealed like a woman. My dispatcher was certain she had broken me, because I couldn’t stop giggling (yes, giggling) with glee.
I’ve wondered since the beginning if we got female clients. I’ve been told we do, but I’d never had one, so I assumed they didn’t want the mature sounding voice. (No mommy fucking daughters?) This one wanted late 20’s, early 30’s, which I can easily handle (just a little more upturn to the tone, since I actually am early 30’s). She also bought a small time frame, so I was disappointed I wasn’t going to get to really appreciate my lone female client.
She was adorable. Wanted to play with a woman, never had. She asked for a talker, but she did most of the work, I just went along for the ride. It was very quick, but brand spankin’ new. And I was left absolutely thrilled to finally knock off one of my Unicorn Clients.
BRING ON THE FURRIES.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
For all my blasé talk about playing games and pinning recipes while strumpeting, this is not an easy job.
Depending on how closely you’ve read the blog, this may sound amusing to you. Moaning and groaning and saying dirty words? Yeah, what’s curing cancer in comparison to that tough gig?
I acknowledge that mimicking gagging sounds is not rocket science. And sure, moaning and groaning and whispering, “Oh, god, you’re too big” could get the job done just fine, and I could collect my paycheck and keep my whining to myself.
But to be a good phone strumpet, to keep the boys rolling in and the dispatchers in your good graces, you have to have a bit extra. For one thing, you can’t exit the gate at full speed. If he grabs the rabbit too soon, you haven’t gotten your money’s worth.
Or, more accurately, you haven’t gotten your money. We’re paid by the minute, remember?
There’s a certain amount of finesse, too. Just because he calls you a cheap, dirty cocksucker doesn’t mean you have to be easy. I like to play with my food. Get the name, get the description. How else will you know he’s a 6”2 bodybuilder with a monster cock and rock hard abs?
Example of a client in need of finessing:
Client: ”Hey, baby. How YOU doin’?”
”Mmm, I’m doing amazing tonight. Who am I talking to?”
”Enh, that’s not important. How big are your tits?”
”Ha ha ha, mmm. They’re 36Cs. So, what do you look like?”
”Enh, average. How’s your pussy looking?”
I really hate these guys. Suck me, fuck me, get me off, and 60 seconds in, click.
Fuck you and your mother, if I had the ability to charge your credit card for a 40 minute call, I would just on principle.
Three years into this gig, and I’m still not an expert at it. Sometimes it’s easier than others. Once, when the client pushed past the details, I paused for about two seconds, and said, “Sooooo, you’re not going to tell me what you look like?”
Enter the Strumpet, shaming her clients into slowing down. Whatever gets the job done.
The point being, there’s a rhythm to strumpeting, and every Strumpet is different. There is no script. We may have our techniques down, but what works for John Mart will never work for John Singer. At least, I hope not. John Mart is no walk in the park.
This entry is about having my rhythm thrown off completely.
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
A dear friend called me to tell me I had slacked off on Strumpet updates. We’ll call her A, since she’s a preacher’s daughter. As a fallen former Catholic school girl, I feel the need for discretion here.
Things have been fairly status quo as of late. Same ol’ same ol’, though the Mommy Fuckers have finally upped their game, and have come out of the wood work.
Today, for example, my first and last call were complete polar opposites. First we had a 21-year old, who barely wanted to give me his name, he was so ready for his cock in my mouth. As I quietly giggled at Yon Casanova’s romancing skills (“Yeah, Mommy, bend over for me. Take this dick.”), I remembered why women tend to go for older men.
Then we had the 90-year old. Now, personally, if you’re still cranking it up at 90 years old, more power to you. Whether single through widowhood, divorce, or general skeeviness, if you’re still getting it up enough to call multiple phone strumpets a day, you deserve some respect. It’s very rad. I do wish you would buy a new hearing aid. Or at least replace the battery in the one you have.
I think my neighbors would appreciate it if you would, as well. I live in a heavily rented area, and I do warn new neighbors they may hear interesting sounds on occasion, but I don’t think anyone expects to hear screams of, “Yes. Please. Just squeeze it. Okay. OKAY. YES, THAT FEELS VERY NICE. VERY. NICE. YES.”
But said elderly gentleman leads me to a discussion of another type of client. Because he is an extremely respectful guy. Asked me up front what terminology I was most comfortable with, including asking for permission to use the word (gasp) “cunt”. He told the dispatcher straight up he wanted someone who likes to “make love”.
Yes, we have clients who want to make lurve.
I like to refer to this group as the Suitors. They call strumpets not just to get off, but to court us. Some guys call pitching tent, these guys call pitching woo.
Now, I love these guys. They tend not to be cheap fucks. They sign up for a good sized block of time up front, which means I can finesse them a shade. These guys genuinely want to get to know their strumpet, learn what makes us tick. Sexually, of course. Rarely do I get to discuss anything else.
Though early on, I did have a fantastic conversation with a client about late 80’s/early 90’s punk. It set me up for three years of disappointment in conversation skills with the gents.
Suitors are also great because they do the majority of the talking. They know exactly what they want to do to a woman, from the tips of her pedicured toes to the soft caresses of her hair. They just want soft moans of encouragement from their paramours, the soft, sweet gentle sounds of lurve making.
One disadvantage to the strumpet game is, we are not allowed to receive gifts. I know self-made strumpets who have received gifts, and some companies had it set it up to where ladies could be sent items from Amazon wishlists and the like. I don’t know if this still happens, and I can understand why my particular company frowns on it. Would you want one of these people gaining access to your home address?
Yes, sit with that a moment. I’ll wait.
However, I had one submissive suitor desperately begging me to let him buy me things. His loophole around the company rule was that he would give me his credit card number, and I could buy myself anything I wanted, as long as it made me happy.
I did poke around at my dispatcher and my boss, both of whom were decidedly clear on the NO front. Still. A diamond tiara would sure come in handy on some of these calls.
If ever I am feeling down about myself for even a moment, I need only to speak to a suitor. I am told how loved I am ad naseum. I have the most beautiful voice they’ve ever heard, which obviously means I am a beautiful person, with a beautiful soul.
A caller who requested a 30-year old spent the entire call throwing endearments at me. I was his “little sweetie”. His “baby girl”. His “sweet girl”. He “threw” me a kiss, complete with “mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah”s. And referred to my nethers as my “sweet little vagina.”
Okay, so he was more creeper than suitor, but you see the pattern here.
Others spend inordinate amounts of time describing how they would kiss me. In front of a fire. On a rug. In a cabin. While softly caressing my face. And dancing with me.
By the time he wanted to touch me anywhere below the waist, we had to run the credit card again.
Woo me, gents. Woo away.
Monday, September 9, 2013
There are as many euphemisms for “Penis” as there are actual peni in the world.
But you know what term is not acceptable to call your little tootsie roll?
You cannot refer to Junior down there as Thingie, and expect your Strumpet to not laugh at you.
Sorry ‘bout it.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
It’s a very disturbing thought to realize that the…different… kinds of people you hear about in this blog are actual real life human beings. Walking their dogs, buying their groceries, asking for your phone number.
You think you’ve met a perfectly decent guy. He’s attractive, witty, clever. Knows how to pick out the good apples in the produce section. You would never think to ask, “Hey, by any chance, have you ever fucked a sheep?”
What’s a person to do, in this day and age? You can find out so much about a person with one quick google search. Former girlfriends, criminal background, that weekend in Cabo they swore never to talk about again (It’s not gay if it’s in a threeway!).
But no one updates their status with, “Man, my grandma is looking so hot in that tankini. Mm hmm. Work it.”
So, I’ve come up with a not in the least sure fire way to gauge the level o’ pervert of your significant other, or potential significant other. We’ve all got a little freak in us, that’s what makes us special. But some people push it just a wee bit over the line.
Now, a few rules before we get started. One, this list is not solely for men. Women are huge perverts. Sometimes, women are more open about their proclivities than men are. I’ve sat in a room full of women who were discussing sexual escapades, vibrator size, excellent porn plots. Women can certainly out raunch the boys, don’t disregard that ever.
I have never gotten a solo female caller in my entire strumpet career. I had a couple on my line once. They sounded all of 21, and giggled the entire time. They do not qualify for this test.
Some of these words are seemingly perfectly innocent. Maybe they are. Maybe I’ve included them solely as filler, or just to fuck with your head. Maybe they’re not. The important thing is to gauge your partner’s response. Something that seems innocent to you may garner a surprising reaction. Pay attention.
If you are going to give this quiz to your significant other, you should be prepared to take it yourself. What’s good for the goose, and all that.
Now, seeing as how the number one rule of Word Association is, “First thing that comes to mind,” taking this quiz while reading it to someone else is a bit of a disadvantage to the other party. While they’re giving their word, you have time to think. Their answers may influence your own, changing the point of the exercise entirely.
Being the thoughtful, generous strumpet that I am, I am providing you with means to avoid this. Below the cut, you will find both the list of words, and a video of myself reading the words aloud, followed by a pause for both of you to provide your answers.
Please note: You must respond with the first thing that comes to mind. If the person hesitates before answering? It is not their first answer. Warning, warning.