Better the second time around

 

I generally like to find post-appropriate pictures to use for my blog entries. This is not always easy, and I’ve had to google some very colorful word salad before. However, in the time spent not Strumpeting, I discovered Pinterest, and really came to realize that Ecards, on the whole, express my thoughts much more clearly than I ever could. I cannot guarantee I won’t use them for every post from now on. I’ll try to control myself.

It has been a month (and eight days) since my return to Strumpeting. And it has been quite a surprising month, at that. The clients have managed to throw me for a loop time and time again, much to the enjoyment of my friends and coworkers from the boring job. There are so many good stories, and so many things I want to tell you, I barely know where to start.

One of the best things since I’ve been back is how many amusing calls there have been. Now, for the most part, phone strumpeting is a laugh riot. It’s impossible to do this job without laughing at at least one fantasy a week. And that’s a gross underestimate. These fantasies, the "sexy talk” from the clients, the noises they make when they come. Oh, god, the noises. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times, I love you, mute button.

Shockingly, I have not had a lot of Mommy Fuckers. I know, I’m as shocked as you are. I anticipated my first call back to start off with my usual greeting of, “Hi, Mommy.” Wonders never cease, I think I’ve only gotten three or four in this entire month. Now, the flip side of that is, I get the even odder callers. Odder than someone who takes the term “motherfucker” literally? But how can this be, you may ask?

Let’s talk about Vomit Guy. Vomit Guy doesn’t get a cutesy John name, like all the other clients. He doesn’t actually need one. He is Vomit Guy. There is no other. Well, I’m positive there are others out there, please don’t give them my phone number. As you might have guessed, Vomit Guy has a certain fetish. He really, really enjoys it when his lover is sick. And not just, “Oh, swoon, I have the vapors.”

No, no. Darling VG’s (and he really is darling, he’s a very nice client) needs are far more basic. Give him your flu strains, your food poisoned, your hungover. He loves you all equally. He wants to hear the dulcet tones of you regurgitating all over him. And afterwards, he wants you to turn around and kiss him. He used the word “chunky” once.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever made yourself throw up. That’s a personal choice between you and your stylist. But if you’ve ever heard someone throw up, you know that this is potentially the worst sound a human being can make. For a lot of us, simply hearing the sound of someone dry heaving can send us running for the bathroom.

I don’t think the noises I make actually sound like vomiting. It sounds more like I’m drowning, actually. I have yet to find a sure fire way to mimic the noise, for one main reason: Making noises that sound like you’re vomiting can actually lead to vomiting.

I’ve scratched my floors to shreds stomping down my heels for clients, slapped my hands together until the skin was raw to simulate spanking myself, and “screamed” like I was being anally raped with a maglite, but I draw the line at actually going full on bulimic for my clients.

Not getting mommy fuckers means I got Vomit Guy twice in two days. Made me feel special.

Also, another reverse of the mommy fuckers is the Big Babies. And I don’t mean babies like, they cry about their small penis. I mean, where’s my binky and I think I need a fresh diaper.

These guys are beyond my strumpet skills. I still cannot figure out exactly what is the turn on in this scenario. I try, I really try, to understand my clients’ fetishes. We all have weird kinks. I’m hoping desperately for a furry one day. I’ll dress up as a giant squirrel, let’s yiff. Come to think of it, next time a client says, “I don’t know, what do you want to do?”, I may try this. I’ll report back my findings.

But where is the turn on in being diapered? They don’t even ask that I remove the diaper and perform naughty baby sexual I can’t even finish this sentence. It’s just, change me. Powder me. Put me in a pretty floral bonnet and send me on my way.

And they don’t call me mommy. I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.