Just look at it rutting around, the dirty little thing.

You are quiet, standing still behind the stall door. Your heart–thud, thud, thud–is slamming against your rib cage, because you think you might really do it this time.

Will you tell her? If you do it, will you? You don’t know, you’re not sure. Because if you do it, all bets are off, everything changes.

You’ve talked with her about it time and again. She’s always laughed, told you that you didn’t have the balls. You’ve laughed with her, telling her that she’s probably right, that she knows you too well. She’s always seemed rather fond of you, and you like that. You want to believe that you mean more to her than the other guys.

The outer door opens. The sound of music, voices, laughter. Dying off as the door slowly swings shut. A crisp swoosh when it meets the doorjamb, then silence. The click of a lock being turned. Footsteps.

“Are you in here? Where are you?”

His voice is deep, husky. It thrills you.

And then he is opening the stall door. You swallow, your mouth is so dry. But you are lowering yourself to your knees. Oh yes, you’re going to do it this time.

***

Hi.

Well, hello, baby. Where have you been? I waited for your call last night. I missed you.

I, um, I was out. A friend was having a party, so I went, ended up staying late.

Did you have fun?

Michelle, I’ve got something to tell you.

Yeah? You can tell me anything, you know that.

I did it. I really did it.

Did what? Oh my fucking god! You mean …

I mean I sucked a cock last night. I did it for real.

Damn! Well, did you like it? Was it as good as our fantasies?

Well, Michelle, I don’t want to hurt your feelings. You’ve been a doll. I really like you.

But?

Well, the thing is, he’s coming over in a little bit. And, well …

Yes? Well, what?

I told the service before they connected us to cancel my account, that this is my last–

Cancel your account? What the fuck?

Michelle, this phone sex costs a lot. And this thing that is happening. It’s hot.

Fuck you!

I wanna see where it goes.

You’re a bastard.

Try to understand, Michelle. I have to pay him, and I can’t afford you both.

FUCKING FAG!

*click*

Hello? Hello? Michelle? FUCKING WHORE!

————————————————————–

by yours truly

xo, Angela

In some respects I suspect you’ve got a respectable side.
When pushed and pulled and pressured, you seldom run and hide,
But it’s for someone else’s benefit, not for what you wanna do
Until I realize that you’ve realized I’m gonna say these words to you.

Yeah, you don’t know what love is,
You do as you’re told.
Just as a child of ten might act,
But you’re far too old.
You’re not hopeless, or helpless,
And I hate to sound cold,
But you don’t know what love is,
You just do as you’re told.

I can see your man can’t help but win any problems that may arise,
But in his mind, there can be no sin if you never criticize.
You just keep on, repeating all those empty “I love you”s.
Until you see you deserve better, I’m gonna lay right into you.

Yeah, you don’t know what love is,
You just do as you’re told.
Just as a child of ten might act,
But you’re far too old.
You’re not hopeless, or helpless,
And I hate to sound cold,
But you don’t know what love is,
No you don’t know what love is,
No you don’t know what love is,
You just do as you’re told.
Yeah, do as you’re told
Yeah.

————————————————————————

Special thanks to Mr. S. who sent this to me. (After all, Mr. S., it is *our* story, isn’t it?)

What did the cuckoldress …

… say to the farmer?

(And just quite possibly gave him a boner.)

A chicken farmer goes to a local bar,  sits down next to a woman and orders a glass of champagne.

The woman perks up and says, “How about that? I just ordered a glass of champagne too!”

The farmer smiles and says, “Really? What a coincidence! This is a very special day for me, so I’m celebrating.  What about you?”

“This is a special day for me too.  So I’m also celebrating,” says the woman.

“What a coincidence,” says the farmer, “here we are, both drinking champagne, both at the same bar, both celebrating. This calls for a toast.”

As they clinked glasses the man asks, “What are you celebrating?”

“My husband and I have been trying for years to have a child and today my gynecologist told me that I am pregnant!”

“What a coincidence,” says the man. “I’m a chicken farmer and for years all of my hens were infertile, but today they are all laying fertilized eggs.”

“Well jolly good for you,” says the woman. “How did your chickens become fertile?”

“I used a different cock,” the farmer replies.

The woman smiles and says, “What a coincidence.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cuckold Phone Sex Goddesses

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cuckolding Queen Candy

BBC★ sissies ★ cuckies ★ small dick humiliation ★

1-800-863-5478
ext: 03503814

or click now

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mistress Eden

Strap On & Cuckold Humiliation

1-800-863-5478
ext: 0382808

Would Ya? Should Ya? Could Ya?

That’s gross.  Do you talk to a lot of perverts?

You do what?  How about a date?

Oh my God!   Does your family know what you do?

I have the perfect fantasy for you: Lactation!

 Do you get a lot of fetish calls?  You know, I have this thing for feet.

More or less, these are some of the predictable reactions I get when revealing my avocation to the un-ordained. While some (including myself) might argue that phone sex has gone at least somewhat mainstream in recent years, it is still not a topic you want to be bringing up at cocktail parties. From the sincerely curious to the smugly judgmental to the stupidly horny, assumptions are going to be made. Not that I can complain too loudly.  I’ve surely been boorish, myself, a time or two (ok, maybe three or four) to make unfounded assumptions. Yet, having experienced these ignorance-based reactions first hand, I cannot help but cringe when pushed into a corner by the overly-meddlesome.

When I abandoned my dream of graduate school (just temporarily,momma, I promise) and left behind my burgeoning corporate career to do phone sex (say it isn’t so, you wretched, wanton girl), my sister, bless her beautiful heart and bourgeois tendencies, bought me a mug, which on the outside wryly asks the question, “I went to school for years to learn to do THIS?”  And, beloved sister of mine, I do cherish that mug. Notwithstanding my office supply fetish, it proudly sits–next to my Rolodex–the container-of-choice for my ink pens, letter opener, markers, nail files, orange sticks and sundry miscellanea. I cherish it because it reflects the reverent humor, easy flexibility, mutual validation, and even quirky spirituality that is so integral to whom I am and what I do both personally and professionally.

With the advent of the Internet and attendant proliferation of independent PSOs (phone sex operators), the definition of good Phone Sex has become increasingly subjective.  Simultaneously, as our world hyper-rapidly expanded, erotica and pornography flourished, and the division between fantasy and reality blurred.  Both a blessing and a curse, it can be quite exhilarating, yet, confusing and even a cause for dissent amongst its practitioners.  Some like it hot, some like it cold.  It’s that kind of thing.

(On a side note, I would think that–if nothing else–the very nature of this non-monogamous and inexhaustible Internet would be self-instructive: There REALLY is room for everybody. We have more than enough do-gooder types [You know the profile: The hypocrite who swears he is pure as the driven snow; yet, he only cums when fucking his wife by imagining her being raped by a double-shlonged reindeer.] doing their best to legislate, control, constrain, and restrict this last vestige of true freedom of expression. Just remember this: When we protect and champion each other, we protect and champion ourselves.)

Now, where were we? Oh, yes! So you’re in the mood for some wicked merrymaking.  You’ve checked out the bathroom wall at the corner gas station, and though you could swear it used to be right there above the condom dispenser, there is no graffiti, “For a good time call Cocksucker Cathy.”   With  that avenue close, you decide to take the leap and call a Phone Sex Operator!

You want Phone Sex and you want it NOW! You want it? We got it! Hot phone sex, fantasy phone sex, domination phone sex, kinky phone sex, dirty phone sex, role-play phone sex, nasty phone sex, erotic phone sex, humiliation phone sex, tease & denial phone sex.

Phone Sex! Phone Sex! Phone Sex! … and even more Phone Sex!

How do you possibly weed through it all? How do you find the perfect first connection in all of that clutter? Well, brother, quite frankly, you don’t. You just say eeny meeny miney moe and take that leap of faith. After all, brother, how hard art thou? I’m a firm believer in going by the seat of your pants (or crotch of your pants) when things just need to get done (or you need to get done).

Basically, you are entering a marketplace as a consumer.  Just like you might, time and again, visit the grocery store until you find the perfect cookie, you may have to shop for a while before you find, HER, the Phone Sex Chick that blows your mind and load like no other can.  While that can be a royal pain in the butt, I guarantee that — until you find her –you will have lots of dirty fun along the way.  It’s  sort of like dating. It will cost you the price of a few burgers and shakes, but who’s counting dollars & dimes when you’re stealing some kisses and even copping a few feels along the way?  And the pay off is that sooner or later you’re gonna get lucky!

Ho, ho, ho …  oh so fucking lucky.

Take my word on it.

xo, Angela