Thursday, June 17, 2004

this is not the end. 

Awoke to a parking ticket for parking in front of my house this morning - $25 for not having a pass yet, despite the fact that my neighbor tried to get a pass last week and was informed that we need one on our street, only the one that adjoins. Fuckers. I wrote a letter and attached a copy of my pay stub showing that the address on the ticket matches mine.

Was also late for my day job because the boy wanted to fuck me before I left. Morning wood strikes again. Neither of us got off because it was so muggy and we could barely breathe, much less aggressively fuck. I tried riding him for a bit, then pulled him on top of me, while he furiously pumped away, until his asthma kicked in and we decided to smoke a joint and watch the cats wrestle instead.

The other night we had a fantastic romp in the neighborhood park - we had been sitting on a bench, smoking cigarettes near where the kids usually hang out smoking pot and drinking Jack and Cokes. I was wearing a skirt, and decided just to climb onto his lap so I could ride his lap. A few cars drove by, but didn't seem to notice, I suppose. There is a donut shop up the street, so I half-worried a cop might drive past, but luckily none did. I came, loud and hard, and then jumped off. My legs were tired and shaky, but he didn't seem to mind that he didn't get to finish, even though I joked that I had won the race.

I think the pothead porn we watched the other day, Seymour Butts and his girlfriend Alisha on some European road trip, may have implanted something in my brain. It is one of the few I've seen, and honestly, we got bored a few times... sitting on the couch, Sunday afternoon, reading the paper and half watching porn. We didn't even fuck that night, we both passed out early, if I recall correctly. Even so, things lately have been extra spicy, and it isn't a weird, gross thing, it's just h-o-t.


I recently found out that I had two client complaints in a three day period - and looking at my notes, I was able to figure out who done it. Bastards. Three minutes and click! I'm the asshole? Whatever. My supervisors have put me on probation, which will almost definitely lead to my termination in the near future, I'm afraid. Changes within the company are to blame, in my opinion, because of my association with a recently fired co-worker, who happens to be the girl who got me the job. She was unjustly fired for her participation in a recent magazine article, I believe, and the company has been cleaning house ever since. It's no suprise that I'd be next on the list. They blame my inconsistent ratings, which I think are total horseshit to begin with. Fuck 'em. Pretending to be raped, abused, ass-fucked, pissed and shit on, etc., for a year is more than enough, thank you.

Yes, I'm bitter. I think I have every right to be. I was told in training that guys complain all the time, trying to get free fucking phone sex. It's different for me, they said, because I have a consistently low score on something they've never really explained anyway.

It wouldn't really suck so much if I didn't need the extra income right now.

Wednesday, March 31, 2004

when i first started taking calls i had no restrictions. i honestly felt that i could disconnect enough in almost any situation and not let it effect me, but i don't think i feel that way now.

the receptionist sends me a caller - his notes say something about him being into underage girls, which generally means you'll do some kind of role play scenario where you're 15 or 16. she also told me that he is sort of shy about opening up, so you need to give him lots of reassurance, and that he tries to be respectful of your boundaries. okay. i prepare myself for a pretty average call, and instead i get a total mindfuck.

let me back up.

we were making small talk, and it was just going really really slowly because he was one of those "well, what turns you on?" guys that i fucking hate. i gave him the "im pretty open" talk, hoping this would get him to just tell me what he wants. role play? story? what'll it be? he gives me lots of vague responses, because he is afraid to just come out and say exactly what he wants. "i don't know, i guess i kinda like, uh, you know, uh... like maybe an underage fantasy, or uh... is that something that turns you on?" yeah right. i try to get him to give me an age, or at least an approximation, but instead of giving me a number, he asks what age would turn me on. come the fuck on, dude. i say 15, because thats a typical underage fantasy age. he asks if ive ever thought about girls younger than that, and i say, "what, like 14? 13?" he asks if that's okay, and it occurs to me that he wants me to tell him it's okay to have naughty thoughts about 13 year old girls and younger, even. the thing that fucked with me the most was that he made it seem like i was the one suggesting it, because he was manipulating me into doing so. he wanted me to be turned on by young girls and tell him what i would want to do to them, or why he should do to them. he was totally pretending to be this shy, nice guy, but in actuality, he was a total fucking creep.

what i want to know is, how is that being respectful of my boundaries? if you are making me feel guilty by trying to get me to tell you it's okay to have these thoughts, because you obviously feel guilty about it, that is not respect. manipulation does not equal respect. if you pretend to be really shy about opening up just so i feel like i have to constantly reassure you that it's okay to have your fantasy, that is not fucking respectful. i don't know why i'm the only one who gets that. maybe i'm not, but the fact that the receptionist didn't seem to understand why i was upset really pissed me off.

"this guy is more than underage - he wanted to go down to like, 11 year old kid, and i just won't go there."
"well, he'll only go there if you let him, he stays within your comfort level."

fuck that. he'll go there if he can trick you into thinking he's just shy and in need of constant reassurance that you're into it. she didn't see it that way, but to me, it was so obvious.

with this call, i feel like i am back to that nagging question - does accomodating and encouraging the fantasy help deter acting out in reality, or does it just encourage the fantasy? sometimes the answer is very obvious, because the guy will express the fact that he totally knows it is wrong to actually play out a situation like that. other times i hang up with this really icky feeling, and i just know that the guy has really done some sick-ass shit. in that case, i make sure to tell the receptionist that the guy needs a talking to, and that he's got some fantasy-reality issues that are completely fucked, but beyond that, what can i do?

Thursday, March 18, 2004

holidays are always unpredictable, as far as work flow goes. sometimes it can be super busy because everyone is out, getting drunk, getting horny, getting depressed, and wanting to get off. other times i guess it's difficult for guys to sneak off, get away from the family for a minute for some alone time, which i guess is why we get so many calls from guys about to drop the signal on their cellies.

last night i had a two girl call with this awesome girl i'm actually friends with in real life. i had been dreading that this would ever happen though, because it is one thing to do one with a girl i'll never actually meet, and another to do one with a girl i sit around and smoke pot with. two girl calls can be awkward for a number of reasons, like maybe one girl has been taking calls longer, one girl will want to take charge, you might talk over each other too much or your styles might not mesh well, or you could get along too well and leave the guy out completely. plus, you have to moan and say embarassing things to each other, and it's just a little weird for me. it's different when you are just one on one with a caller, but i can't help but feel i'm being critiqued when i've got another girl there. so i was a little nervous about having to do a 2gc with my friend, but it actually worked out really well, and was super entertaining to both of us. for starters, the guy was retarded, in the literal sense, so he didn't completely know what was going on anyway. also, his mom walked in on him during the 13 minute session, and asked him who he was talking to. twice. he was standing in his room, naked, jerking off, and told her that he was talking to his grandma. both times. my friend and i were nearly hysterical, and it took every ounce of will in my body to keep from roaring with laughter.

on a totally unrelated note - why do i get no feedback? seriously. i haven't updated in a bit, but still. no one has any thoughts? questions? comments? i can't help but feel like this isn't taken seriously because i'm not out on the street hooking or something. maybe it's because i'm not glamorizing sex or the industry, but instead deconstructing and analyzing? i don't know. i'm just trying to keep it real, you dig? but i'm interested in hearing what other people have to say. hit me up : dial-a-tart at excite dot com, okay?

Tuesday, February 24, 2004

[borrowed from nakedloftparty]
As a sex writer I've been granted access to a lot of state-of-the-art porn, the balance of it overwhelmingly anal. But assholes are bullshit: mere assfucking ain't enough anymore. Ready at any moment to plunge into rectal prolapse, the asshole now has to gape to proportions that would make a proctologist blush. Our barely-legal starlet is routinely expected to suck a cock clean after it emerges from her own--or someone else's--pooper. "I want to taste my shit juice off you cock," says one frenzied girl. "I want to gag off my own ass juice." (What young woman doesn't dream of this?) But even this is old-hat. The edgy performer now chokes down jism-enema after jism-enema expelled from the gaping maw of her playmate's incontinent sphincter. We've gone off the deep-end of unusual sexual practices, and there's some danger in this--not moral, but psychological; of expectations raised to the point that even a sphincter-ripping buttfuck seems bland. It's not the physical acts I worry about so much as the lack of context or conscience.

after reading this i could not help but think about a call i had last night. a regular, of sorts, in the sense that he calls the line all the fucking time, and none of the girls really like talking to him, and he gets so bored easily that he calls back every half hour trying to find someone to get him off. at some point last night it was my turn, and not suprisingly, i did not succeed. as soon as the receptionist gave me his name i let out a groan of disgust, and took a deep breath as she rattled off his comments... rape, torture, mutilation, possible murder fantasy, incest with whole family, beastiality, medical fantasy, humiliation for you, etc.

i tried to start off the call being up beat, enthusiastic, obliging, and just generally ready for anything. the problem is, this guy mumbles, gives me the impression that he is at least somewhat mentally retarded, and doesnt really give you any place to start. he randomly interrupts you with things like "so how many times did you fuck your dad?" or "when was the last time you were raped?" that sort of catches you offguard. last night he was in a foul mood and immediately started picking at me.

"do guys get turned on talking to you?"
yes, they do.
"well i dont."
"im sorry to hear that. what can i do to turn you on?"
"how do you turn on other guys?"
"well, that would depend on the caller, and what he gets turned on by. "
"[angrily]well, can you give me some examples?"
"examples of how i turn on other callers? sure. sometimes they like for me to tell them stories about my first time, or about an experience i had with a girl, or sometimes they have a specific fantasy they want me to act out, in which case they would tell me what that is, and id do it... that sort of thing, usually."

of course, this did not make him happy. he told me that he remembered previously talking to me and that he doesnt like me because i dont turn him on. "well, then why are you talking to me?" i couldnt help asking. "you were the only one available." i see. i tried to make the best of it, to start telling him a story, being descriptive, but he just cut me off and asked if i like to fuck. "of course i like to fuck. i love being bent over and having my little 18 year old pussy pounded by a fat, juicy cock." i pause for a minute, hear silence, then the dialtone.

i called into the office and the girl asked what happened, if he got off. "uh, no. he hung up on me." she didnt sound suprised, but i still felt bad because i know the call could have gone way better. i dont even know how these girls get into these fucked up conversations with him because he never really gets beyond asking me if i fuck my daddy despite the fact that ive told him several times that my family lives in a different state, which would make it hard to fuck/be raped by them all every night like he wants me to tell him happened.

a caller from georgia the other day talked to me for 45 minutes about fucking his sister and how her pussy was the best he has ever tasted. i tried not to think about stereotypes and block out the mental pictures that popped into my head depicting toothless hilljacks dropping their overalls to bend little sister over the nearest pitch fork, but for fuck's sake, this guy was the real deal. he was the embodiment of every southern stereotype ive ever heard, and i didnt know whether to laugh or vomit.

furthermore, the fact that these guys who are into incest seem to think that ALL of us were raped/molested at some point by at least one or more family member/teacher/coach/etc. is just completely fucked up. if you tell them that, in fact, you have never fucked your brother for fun AND he never raped you either, they are like, flabergasted as to why the hell not. i cant help but wonder if obliging these fantasies and changing your story to say that you were helps encourage these unrealistic ideas of what is and is not considered a normal upbringing. just because you are some sick fuck who grew up fucking his sister does not mean that everyone does this. just because your mom caught you masturbating and made you do it in front of her while smelling her hairy pussy does not mean that your wife should do that to your son while you watch and jerk off.

im not saying that its not ok to have fucked up fantasies, but when you start crossing lines of fantasy/reality and get to the point where you believe that everyone has actually fucked their dog, neighbor, and grandfather, there is probably something mentally wrong with you.

Monday, February 16, 2004

1. guys who are into panties are real into them, and end up knowing way more about them than i do. french cut, bikini, brazillian, string... if i wouldn't have spent xmas 2000 working at a bikini store, i'd probably know jack shit besides color and fabric.

2. i got the be a prison bitch the other day. i'm aware that this fantasy exists, but in the nine months that i've been taking calls, i've never encountered it... until last week. it was a nice change, but it was much harder to keep from laughing while saying things like, "warden marcus can put that rock hard cock anywhere he wants, cos i'm just his slutty little prison bitch!". oh yes indeed.

3. i have this regular who is all about rectal thermometers. his fantasy is the same every time, and i play a different character than my usual one with him, so i try to keep good notes for any and all details he might ask about... anyway, he's pretty predictable and i know that when it gets to the point in our conversation where i suggest using the rectal thermometer, no matter how well i enunciate it, he always asks, "the-th-the what?" in his creepy little hushed voice, so i will say it again, louder, and tell him what i do with it. it's the same every time, although recently he started adding treatment options for his "fever" including a shot to the asscheek. a shot of what, you might ask? i've got no fucking clue. i'm going to have to start studying medicine if this shit keeps up.

Wednesday, February 11, 2004

i was scheduled for a training session this weekend to improve my dominatrix skills, but mostly my trainer and i talked about current events and things happening in our daily lives. she said she felt confident, after listening to samples of my calls, that i know what i'm doing. i told her that i felt fairly comfortable with the dom stuff, with the exception of the romantic, sensual dom calls. i just don't understand them, and i loathe these guys. she completely understood, of course. she said that a lot of times, these guys are the ones who get bored with regular sex, see some feisty, bossy girl on some cheesy skinemax flick and think it's domination, so they want to try it and don't even know what they're getting into. i told her that it's pretty much the same for the regular callers too though, the romantic guys in general, i just don't connect with them well because i don't feel it, i just want to get the sex over with so they can hang up and leave me alone. she laughed and said she feels the same way most of the time, but somehow ends up getting all these romantic callers thinking they're her boyfriend anyway. they send her all sorts of presents and money and things and tell her constantly that they love her, and she despises them.

*it's the quiet ones you have to watch out for...

it's not that i'm some fucking saint, virginal girl who people don't expect to have sexual thoughts, it's just that i don't put it all out there. i don't dress provacatively on a daily basis, but i might for fun. i don't regularly walk up to boys in clubs and push them against the wall, shove my tongue down their throat while grabbing their cock with my hand. i think about that, and i have been known to do that sort of thing on occassion, it's just not in my daily mode of operation.

lately, though, i feel a change. it's not that i've become more slutty, perse, but it seems like the internal me and the external me have started to merge a bit. it's like i have been desensitized by saying dirty words and phrases, by telling men exactly what i want them to do and where to put what... i've learned how to string phrases together and to build stories from nothing and to be extremely descriptive, and all of this has helped me feel more confident in sexual situations. i feel a lot more open, sexually, than previously. this is mostly a good thing, except that i keep attracting these wimpy, shy boys who can't keep up. slutty boys think i'm going to be a walking-talking porno girl because for some reason, they automatically associate phone sex with porn star. just because i can tell you 20 different ways to make me cum and make excellent blow job/wet pussy noises does not mean that i will fuck all your friends and moan about being a dirty fucking whore while doing it. unless your friends are like, exceptionally fucking hot, or something.

Thursday, January 29, 2004

last night i had two calls with one of my favorite odd callers. he likes to make up hypothetical situations and asks lots of follow-up questions regarding my responses. i've never been one of those people who is good at thinking up questions for other people, but i love when someone fires them off at me. i'm not sure why this is, it's not as though i enjoy getting the third degree, i guess it just sort of has something to do with controlling my responses to my advantage. i don't think it ever really gets sexual, except for the fact that he gets turned on by bitchy, smart women, and i have no problem being that woman. well, girl. i have had periods where he calls back several times in a night, or several nights in a row, but i haven't heard from him in a while, so it was a nice suprise. he didn't have many things to ask this time though, mostly just rehashing old topics and responses. he likes being teased and gets sort of giddy trying to figure out if i'm being genuine or if i'm just fucking with him. he's big into making sure we're being "honest" with our answers and repeatedly asks if that is how we "really feel", if that's how we'd "really react".

page six reports SARAH Jessica Parker leaving a 50-cent tip at the Tiffany diner on West Fourth Street after tying up a table for a two-hour business meeting and ordering only soup

sjp, girl, please say it ain't so.

recently there was some debate on the upswing of sex blogs, or rather, sex industry blogs, and i found myself getting irritated and defensive. one poster made a big to do about "psuedo-feminist arty types" having some kind of disillusionment about the industry or using it as a means of not having to "get a real job". i suppose that stereotypes will change, but always exist, and there really isn't much i can do about that. what i can do is write about my experiences, because i CAN, and because i need the outlet. so what's the big deal? where, exactly, is the harm? i'm not fooling myself into thinking that my job is something that it isn't, especially because it isn't my full-time job. i'm quite familiar with the assumptions that go along with working in the sex industry, but i also know that every experience and every individual is different, and thus, takes something different from it. or gives it, as the case may be.

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