What? Did you think Phone Sex Goddesses don’t get emails? I’m here to tell you that we not only get emails, we get fuckin’ awesome emails. Well, at least I know I do.
Then again, I kinda-sorta have a theory that there’s a direct link between brains and kink. So why wouldn’t my guys send brilliant, funny, inspiring, insightful, cute and/or sweet emails? And while I do get plenty of Phone Sex -specific (What’s a FemDom Hand Job & Do you do Giantess fantasies? & When is the best time to call you? & Will you castrate me? & I will call again soon. etc.) emails, ll Phone Sex Operators get those. I’m talkin’ smokin smart & fab emails from my cream-of-the-crop Phone Sex Callers.
That said, anybody who sends me email knows that it’s rare you get a response. Because, although I read each and every one (oh, yes I do!) — I’m a very busy girl. Really, really. And if I took the time to answer every email with the "proper" attention it deserved, well, I’d never get anything else done. As in anything else like Erotic Chatting about Dirty Things over the phone. As in Phone Sex.
And I do keep them, each and every one. From my SECRET file ….
It’s always nice to be thought of:
Hey-
I was out with friends, one of them being a therapist; and I thought to myself, "I know someone who provides therapeutic value using nothing but her wits and voice."
And then when walking in the woods, this little bit of poesy came into my head and I thought you would appreciate it:.
The drops on the leaves
Slid down the canopies
I smiled as I heard the trees
Rain down a round of sylvan applause.
—
Love, Mr. H
Morning after (a three hour) Phone Sex Call:
Good morning, good friend and confidante and muse and lover and "one to whom I can say almost anything" and political transformer (of *me*) and fellow book-lover and theatre buff … and more and more and more. Have a great day!
I guess I, ahem, inspired him:
Dear Angela-
When I was strolling down the street the other day, this is the thought I had:
It all boiled down to this:
She wanted my body,
and I am
a slut.
—
Who knows where it came from, or where it’s going, but that rang a bell inside me, so I thought I’d share it with you.
Your Pal, Mr. D.
After a sing-a-long during a Phone Sex Call:
Do you know about the original ‘The Lion Sleeps Tonight‘ and the the neat history on how the poor Zulu that wrote the song got peanuts for the hit?
Oh, Mr. B. You’re such a naughty one:
I’m thinking of auctioning off my next orgasm since it will be two-plus weeks for me. I didnt’ even do any edging. Since climaxes usually give me migraines, this one ought to be a doozy!!! I’ve got to be able to find SOME sadists around who would like a piece of that, right? All are welcome to play. However, contest results are final (and sticky).
After he’d sent me a pic of his very erect penis:
My recent email to you, which prompted a "no comment" response:
_____A. tickled you pink ‘cuz you can’t wait to frame it next to your Obama poster.
_____B. mildly amused you ‘cuz it just confirmed your opinion of all men.
_____C. mildly irritated you ‘cuz you really don’t want to get this unsolicited crap from me especially.
_____D. really pissed you off.
Pencil down, Ms. St. Lawrence. You are, by the way, guaranteed an A+, but we can talk about that later in my office.
Mr. J sent me this cute Joke:
A little old lady, well into her eighties, slowly enters the front door of a sex shop. Obviously very unstable on her feet, she wobbles we way across the store to the counter. Finally arriving at the counter and grabbing it for support, she stutters to the sales clerk: "Dddooo youuuu hhhave dddddiilllldosss?"
The clerk, politely trying not to burst out laughing, replies: “Yes we do have dildos. Actually we carry many different models."
The old woman then asks: “Dddddoooo yyyouuuu ccaarrryy aaa pppinkk vvvibbbratttinginging onnee, tttenn inchessss lllong aaandd aabboutt ttwoo inchesss ththiickk…aaand runns by bbaatteries?"
The clerk responds, “Yes we do.”
She asks: ” Ddddooo yyoooouuuu kknnnoooww hhhowww tttooo ttturrrnnn ttthe ssonoooffabbitch offffff?”
For my Poetry Jones from PQS
Angie:
Thought you’d like this one:
Fixation
by Ron Padgett
It’s not that hard to climb up
on a cross and have nails driven
into your hands and feet.
Of course it would hurt, but
if your mind were strong enough
you wouldn’t notice. You
would notice how much farther
you can see up here, how
there’s even a breeze
that cools your leaking blood.
The hills with olive groves fold in
to other hills with roads and huts,
flocks of sheep on a distant rise.
So what do you think, Angie? How many people will "get it"?
A little bit of devotion is always nice:
Miss Angela:
I hope you remember speaking with me a few nights ago. Having never experienced anything like that encounter, I’ve since been reading Zen Fetish and Blistered Lips. I knew you were special as soon as we’d exchanged a few words and wanted to learn more. In reading all that you’ve written (what I’ve gotten to so far), I’m in total awe. Now I understand I was truly, for the first time ever, in the hands of a TRUE Goddess.
I want you to know that I’ll be calling again soon, very soon.
I can’t get you out of my head. But I’m sure you’re very well aware of that.
Sincerely, Slave J.Z
Okay, I think that’s quite enough for today. I hope you enjoyed kicking the email tires with me, because I have a bunch more, which we will get to at a later date. Of course they are all hidden away nicely in my SECRET Phone Sex Email File, where they will stay and many more will be added before we do this again.
In the mean time, check out Ron Padgett’s website HERE.
And PQS? Sadly, I don’t think a lot of people will "get it." But I do, you do, most of my readers do. And I’m absolutely positive that Vanilla Savant will get it. He thinks like we do. What say you, Vanilla Savant? Anybody else?
To Slave JZ: Of course I remember you. Don’t you even think for a moment that I wouldn’t. You just might be capable of earning highly-coveted title of "Favored Slave." We’ll have to see how this all works out, won’t we?
xo, Angela
On the farm lived a chicken and a horse, both of whom loved to play together. One day the two were playing, when the horse fell into a bog and began to sink. Scared for his life, the horse whinnied for the chicken
