I actually have three blog drafts written, but sadly I lost energy for them halfway through, and by the time I went back to them, I’d lost my train of thought.
But it’s a fresh year, and it’s time to get back on the Strumpet Horse and ride once more.
Side note: In Strumpet Heaven, there are no phones.
It’s been roughly six months since I last updated this blog. The calls haven’t stopped, naturally. But sad to say, they’re getting very status quo. I’m still getting more Mommy Fuckers than anyone else. They all have fun names for their man meat, and they all want to stick it somewhere.
I’ve mentioned before on this blog that I despise dealing with clients who have absolutely no idea what they want, short of “Uh…fuckin’.” Yes, but what kind of fucking, sweetheart? “I dunno. Whatever you want.”
This infuriates me. Who calls a sex line at random? No one. They all had something that got the tootsie roll hard. I don’t need a long, drawn-out scenario. Those are nice, of course, but even if all you give me is a blurry water color, this at least gives me a moderate springboard to get the ball rolling and your balls…well, you get the idea.
I have made clients pay for this bit of laziness. It’s a good life lesson for them, in fact. The first time I told someone I was inviting over my lady friend with the 7 inch cock and told him to bend over, he backpedaled so fast I think he tripped over himself.
Now, sometimes I truly do not want to deal with their respective fantasies. The least fun, of course, involves rape. Whether that be the rape of me, the housewife/sexy neighbor/60 year old grandmother, or the rape of someone I snatch and bring home and instruct him in what to do to her. The age issue with the latter scenario is never. ever. pleasant.
But that falls under the category of the stories I don’t share.
It is very rare that I found someone’s fantasy fun. Off the top of my head, I can only think of one client who, when he calls, I kick back and don’t bother pulling up the idiotic Facebook games I play to keep my eyes from closing.
I have a regular client who we’ll call John B. Mail.
Now, the funny thing about Mr. Mail’s fantasy is that, if my first call ever received had been his request, I would’ve found it completely disturbing. But after all this time, that which is disturbing to Susie Q. Public is old news to me.
John Mail wants to be forced to get off to what he most wants. But unlike my average, “Oh, baby, make me fuck a guy/eat my own cum/slam this broomstick a little further up”, he wants to be extorted.
Essentially, his Strumpet is someone he knows in real life, and who has rocked his world up one side and down the other via phone sex. She is the only one who knows his kinky desire to bang his mother (of course) and she loves it when he calls her Mommy.
But it’s wrong! It’s sick, and disgusting, and he just can’t do it anymore. So he stops calling her. He gets a girlfriend, and gets his life straight, and completely and utterly forgets about his Mommy lady.
Buuuuuuuuuut, Momma don’t play that. She has gotten quite accustomed to playing with John, and she is not about to give that up.
I’ve spoken to him maybe a dozen times. Each time, the scenario is a little different. Sometimes it’s not about forcing him into it with threats. Sometimes it’s starting the conversation in an upbeat voice, and slowly dropping it decibel by decibel until I’m full-fledged Strumpet voice, and he’s all a-quiver.
The common theme is slipping the word “Mommy” into the conversation. And not in an obvious way. Because that’s the key word that gets him stuttering and stammering and pretending to try to get off the phone with me.
There’s actually no emphatic agreement on my part. I don’t have to describe stroked cocks or wet snatches. This client turns me into the epitome of a Phone Actress. I get to come up with insane scenarios, and put this voice of mine to its best use.
I live for this client. He makes doing the calls fun.
Plus the payoff? When he comes, he sounds like he’s being stabbed to death. It is so funny, the mute button has to come into play. And he always thanks me and tells me what a good job I’ve done.
Even Strumpets needs a gold star once in awhile.
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