Work has been crazy slow lately. My wonderful regulars, blessed crackheads, and loyal Mommy fuckers all seem to be saving their pennies. Damn economy.
So let’s take some time out to talk about the guys who seem to make up the majority of my clientele lately. It’s not about their kinks, or their nasty little fantasies. It’s about every woman’s favorite turn-on, the stamina.
Now, for my readers who deal with a real life vagina on a regular basis (no, sweetie, not that one), stamina is key. It’s not about size, width, girth, cut, uncut, lean to the left, lean to the right, crooked, chicken skin, whatever. It's about how long you last. It’s not the motion in the ocean, it’s how long you’re rowing.
Women do not need a man who can pound away for four hours straight. Don’t get me wrong, that’s quite enjoyable once in awhile. But seriously, there are just too many negatives in this scenario. Ignoring leg cramps and carpet burn, that does start to chafe after awhile. But if you are a Little Squirt, might I recommend you look into getting assistance? Because if you’re already rolling off before she’s agreed emphatically even once, you’re not going to get much action later.
Now, I do not expect my clients to strap on the cock ring for our conversations. I understand that it is not about me, it’s about you and that gorgeous steady you call Lefty. But please understand, you want to leave your Strumpet satisfied. Find a good Strumpet that sounds genuinely pleased when you get her on the phone, and you have a Voice for life. Or the length of her employment.
I’m not expecting every call to last for hours and hours. Not every client is going to be like John Mart, who chose to use his time most recently watching a movie with me. The Illusionist is excellent, incidentally. Honestly, if you can last me two minutes, thirty seconds, I’ll be perfectly content.
I can usually tell when a LS is coming up, because my dispatchers are hauling ass to get the call to me. These guys are so ramped up, just hearing my ladies say, “And the name on the card you’ll be using?” has them clenching. These guys get me on the phone, and before I can say, “Hi, my name is Strumpet,” they’re telling me to blow them. The record is 56 seconds, but I’m quite positive someone will beat that.
Then there’s the Oopsers. We all know these guys. “Oh, my gosh, you are sooooo good. I never come this fast!” I have a little tip for you guys. There are notes about each and every one of you. The Strumpet keeps her own records, plus there are just the notes that are kept for the new girls to warn them what’s coming up. When I hang up the phone, and tell Prima that John Smith lasted “one goddamn minute and 14 goddamn seconds”, she laughs and informs me that may be a record for him.
We always know. Don’t try to cover it up, sweetie. I’m going to laugh at you when I hang up the phone anyway, don’t exacerbate it. Own your little problem, and call your doctor about Cialis before you try to pick up that 70 year old you’ve been panting over at the supermarket.
Keep your Strumpet happy, gentleman. Slap me, spank me, order me around, but for the love of all that is cordless, stay on my phone. Because if I look at my records and see you’re a Little Squirt, I am not even going to try.
Oh. This entry is done. Damn. I never finish this early. I…you guys just got me so excited to talk to you, and…damn. I…um, yeah, I gotta go bye.
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