via Stupid Sticks

I guess no matter how you say it — classy or crude — there are soooo many men who crave a good ass fucking.  You can bet that this conversation (which I wrote, so read it) takes place in many homes on a fairly regular basis. 

~~~ Strap On & Anal Phone Sex ~~~

Shemale Phone Sex and Cam with Nitrilla (a favorite with my callers)

Listen to the Italian Princess‘s Strap On Audio Recording

Big Muscle Mike will fuck you rough and fill you up

Get your butt plug out for Adventurous Lillith

Mistress Eva Lordes will train your ass with her Strap On

__________________________________________________________

And when you’ve gotten up your nerve (because a select demographic of you want to … and I know you do) to call one of these Phone Sex Super Stars and Phone Sex Super Studs?  Do make sure to call me with all the dirty details. 

xo, Angela

ps.  I won’t be working tomorrow, as I’m off for a day of gambling.  Keep your fingers and toes crossed.  If I win big, I’ll run one heck of a special.

Did you get this email?  Just so you know ….

Okay … so I’m kinda sorta cranky.  But you have to admit — even you REAL men, GOOD men, SMART men — that SOME men just are an embarrassment to your gender.  Come on, you know it’s true.  So for the sake of good fun and to concurrently aid in shaking off my bitchiness, I’ve come up with a short list.  It could be a long list, so count your blessings.  I’ll refrain from emasculating the obvious —  Bill Clinton who gets a boner every time he passes a trailer park or John Ascroft who apparently gets a stiffie for aluminum nipples.

There’s plenty of others who’ve been rubbing me the wrong way … and when a FemDom Goddess (wink) gets irritated she just starts thinking evil thoughts about what she’d like to do or see be done to the offenders!  On a day like this I think the world itself would be a better place if a certain segment of its inhabitants were just finally, once-and-for-all, forced into panties with a butt plug shoved up their ass for good measure.  Going so far as to cuckold all of them, though, would be problematic:  If we cuckold all of them,  who would we cuckold them with?  Hmmm …  Seems the fantasy is NOT reality, after all.  Who knew?

Anyway this all started the other day when Rick Sanchez showed up at CNN in his regular time slot.  Say what you want about the election, it got me interested in THE NEWS.  Before Obama I was your typical twenty-something wannabe Princess type, worrying more about my pedicures and the perfect seasonal purse (never did find a good white one this summer) than the political landscape.  So — all in all — it’s been a rather good thing  … except the television is on around here a lot more than it used to be, as CNN — rather than classical rock — is now the background noise to my days.

But when Sanchez shows up, well, he is so weigtless and artificial that I’ve gotten to where I actually turn off  or at least mute the TV.  What in the hell is he doing?  Twittering and Face Booking and reading user comments … there’s just no substance here!

Then there’s the guy who sent me this email yesterday:  My best friend is Mr. X.  I masturbate to him all the time and he has no idea. I love talking about him via email and giving out REAL information about him.  Now I ask you readers, is that creepy or what?  Who does this asshole think he is to give out real info about anybody he knows, regardless of whether he jerks off to thoughts of them or not?  Particularly to a PSO, whom he knows nothing about.  And you can bet this email was copy and pasted into to dozen of emails and sent to dozens of girls.  Bleh.  If anything, he should give me his own real info, so I can tell Mr. X (and, yeah, I substituted the Mr. X for the real name), and everyone you know, what a loser pervert you are.

Wes Hayden, the cowboy contender on this year’s The Bachelorette, certainly deserves to have his fucking rights taken away.  Maybe even some enforced chastity.  If you weren’t watching (now that I TiVo, there’s a little too much of what I normally wouldn’t watch being recorded), Wes was one smooth talker (and country singer) who admitted openly that he was really there to promote his career.  And while his motives have since been debated ad nauseum all over the net, he did at least hint on more than one occasion that he already had a longterm girlfriend waiting back in Texas.  What a dirtbag!  And he was so smarmy … singing and twanging his acoustic guitar (geetar?) under Jillian’s balcony ala Romeo and Juliet.   Which might have been at least somewhat charming if he had any serious talent, rather than just being able to carry a tune.  Oh, and apparently, he’ll do anything for a buck.

Of course, I’ve just got to include the boorish and doltish Jon Gosselin, of Jon and Kate Plus 8, who abandoned his not-so happy-nest to trip the light fantastic with other D List not-so-super stars while schtupping  his (now ex) wife’s doctor’s daughter.  Maybe he thinks the earrings make up for his rude and crude (not to mention very public) behavior; I think he’s a loser putz of a man.  Yes, Kate was bossy and overbearing.  But when you have a puerile, self-centered numbskull who can’t hold a job for a husband, you really don’t have much of a choice.  I mean, after all, someone has to wear the pants!  A&E really needs to get around to changing the name of that show.  Possibly to Kate Plus 8?  Better yet and more accurately:  Kate Minus Wimp-Ass Whiner Boy Plus Eight.  And good for her and the kids because now they really will live happily ever after.  Good riddance to rubbish and dead weight.

And one more.  Just one more to cuckold.  At least for today.  You see I was sneaking down the book aisle at my grocery store the other day, even though I promised myself that I’d steer clear of all things hardback and paperback until I at least read at least ten of the hundred or so books I have piled here and there.  … and there.    and maybe there.  I didn’t buy a book, but I was amazed at what I saw among the hardbacks.  Which was UNMASKED:  THE FINAL YEARS OF MICHAEL JACKSON, by Ian Halperin.  Shame on him!  Could he get that book out fast enough after MJ died?  Talk about cashing in.  SCUM!  I checked out this poor-excuse-for-a-writer (he writes exposes … bleh!) at Amazon and … surprise!  The book only gets two out of five stars.  Goody.  And you can bet I would cuckold his ass.

Ahhhhh  … I feel much better now.

xo, Angela

Five Star CUCKOLD PHONE SEX:

Cindy Supreme

Saucy Housewife

Dr. Joy

Texas Bell

Beauty

Tony Hoagland

When the medication she was taking
caused tiny vessels in her face to break,
leaving faint but permanent blue stitches in her cheeks,
my sister said she knew she would
never be beautiful again.

After all those years
of watching her reflection in the mirror,
sucking in her stomach and standing straight,
she said it was a relief,
being done with beauty,

but I could see her pause inside that moment
as the knowledge spread across her face
with a fine distress, sucking
the peach out of her lips,
making her cute nose seem, for the first time,
a little knobby.

I’m probably the only one in the whole world
who actually remembers the year in high school
she perfected the art
of being a dumb blond,

spending recess on the breezeway by the physics lab,
tossing her hair and laughing that canary trill
which was her specialty,

while some football player named Johnny
with a pained expression in his eyes
wrapped his thick finger over and over again
in the bedspring of one of those pale curls.

Or how she spent the next decade of her life
auditioning a series of tall men,
looking for just one with the kind
of attention span she could count on.

Then one day her time of prettiness
was over, done, finito,
and all those other beautiful women
in the magazines and on the streets
just kept on being beautiful
everywhere you looked,

walking in that kind of elegant, disinterested trance
in which you sense they always seem to have one hand
touching the secret place
that keeps their beauty safe,
inhaling and exhaling the perfume of it—

It was spring. Season when the young
buttercups and daisies climb up on the
mulched bodies of their forebears
to wave their flags in the parade.

My sister just stood still for thirty seconds,
amazed by what was happening,
then shrugged and tossed her shaggy head
as if she was throwing something out,

something she had carried a long ways,
but had no use for anymore,
now that it had no use for her.
That, too, was beautiful.
__________________________________

I dunno, maybe you think the poem is inappropriate for a Phone Sex blog.  But this is also my personal blog and I don’t really see the everyday me (lover of words and poetry) very separate from my Phone Sex Goddess persona, and … well … this piece touched me deeply.  I did cry.  Maybe you will too. 

You can read a biography of the poet here, find him on Wikipedia here,  and read an interview here.

xo, Angela

… and thanks,  PQS.

****BTW … I will be working later today.  I have a session with my trainer and a few errands to run.  After that, you can call for Hot Kinky Phone Sex HERE!

****And if you want your ass kicked by the best call Domina Stern HERE!

****And if you want to pay for your strokes call Mistress Sherry Elizabeth HERE!