This is how the conversation went about eight or so years ago.
Me; I’ve thought of another website (I’m always coming up with ideas for websites, inventions, or storylines for films that I‘ll never write)
Him; (without a flicker of genuine interest) Yeah?
Me; On line diaries. People can log on anonymously and write personal stuff for the world to read.
Him; It will never catch on…
Well it did, and I didn’t. In fact, I completely forgot I suggested it until a few days ago when I found it written down in one of my old diaries. Forgotten so much so, that I am a latecomer to blogging itself. I’ve clicked on a few links before, but they were mainly of nothing that really grabbed my attention and roused my curiosity. Until someone gave me a link to Belle de Jour.
I’m almost ashamed to say I never heard of her until the series came out, but that’s what happens when you leave a life of a certain type behind. No one I know now, apart from my close family, know of my previous life as a whore, so no one is likely to make the connection that I would be interested in such a blog.
Anyway, I digress, as they say.
From Belles blog, and her links to other blogs, and their links to other blogs, and links from those blogs to other blogs, and so on, I am hooked.
Good innit!
Its fascinating to read about what happened in someone else’s day. We get to laugh at a conversation that otherwise we would never have been privy to, we get to wonder about how a complete strangers second date is going that evening as we do the washing up, and we get to give suggest to someone where exactly in the miniature doll of their horrid boss to stick that sharp pin.
I think I’m becoming a blogaddict!
Thursday 27 November 2008
Wednesday 19 November 2008
I'm Baking A Cake In The Shape Of A Penis...
Not very regular lately, in my updates, am I?
Tonight, here I sit, on the couch with my laptop, headset on, waiting for the calls to come in. They are, but few and far between tonight. I need to change my intros. I have quite a few regulars, but I expect they are getting sick of hearing the same old shit every night.
But how to set the scene, I wonder?
The key is to be inventive, but honest, I think. None of this ‘I’m wearing high heels and stockings’ shit. They know I’m not sitting at home dressed up for them, waiting patiently for their call. I do, however, talk about wearing S&S, what I like to wear when I go out. (If I was to go out, which I hardly ever do, but I don‘t admit to that- oh no, I often attend sex parties don‘t you know)
Maybe I should say I’m doing the ironing, or baking, something homely. Baking in an apron and nothing else? Laying my boobs, one at a time, into the scales to measure the weight instead of the bra size? Oops, now they’re all covered in flour, you’ll have to dust it off for me as my hands are doughy…
Or I could be hovering, and get up to unspeakable things with the hoover- with it switched off of course. I wouldn’t want to give myself a DIY hysterectomy or anything. Besides, how am I supposed to hear the pleasurable moans of the caller if I have the hoover on, eh? That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it, although, if I opt for that one, I better leave the hoover out, because there’s always some smartarse that wants me to prove I really am doing what I say, then gets snotty if I cant or wont prove it.
Now- that I don’t get. The callers who ask me a question, then say ‘I don’t believe you’ each time I answer.
Well what’s the bloody point then? If you don’t just go with the flow and get into the fantasy of phone sex, then why call? I think sometimes the callers really do forget they have called a hotline and are paying £1.50 a minute to talk to me.
Most of the time I don’t care, but it is quite irritating, trying to play a scene, and the other participant keeps jumping out of character, so to speak. It’s hard to do a good job. Yeah, I try appeasing them, and wooing them into playing the game, but sometimes I just lay it on the line and say ‘look, if you’re not going to believe me, when I tell you I’m playing with myself/got long blonde hair and big boobs/am on all fours… then would you like to speak to another girl?’. Mostly that makes the caller fall into line with what is required and play along. And you know what, I laugh quietly to myself as I sit there in my leggings, sloppy tee shirt and old slippers, faking sex noises.
Does that make me a bad person? I say no.
Tonight, here I sit, on the couch with my laptop, headset on, waiting for the calls to come in. They are, but few and far between tonight. I need to change my intros. I have quite a few regulars, but I expect they are getting sick of hearing the same old shit every night.
But how to set the scene, I wonder?
The key is to be inventive, but honest, I think. None of this ‘I’m wearing high heels and stockings’ shit. They know I’m not sitting at home dressed up for them, waiting patiently for their call. I do, however, talk about wearing S&S, what I like to wear when I go out. (If I was to go out, which I hardly ever do, but I don‘t admit to that- oh no, I often attend sex parties don‘t you know)
Maybe I should say I’m doing the ironing, or baking, something homely. Baking in an apron and nothing else? Laying my boobs, one at a time, into the scales to measure the weight instead of the bra size? Oops, now they’re all covered in flour, you’ll have to dust it off for me as my hands are doughy…
Or I could be hovering, and get up to unspeakable things with the hoover- with it switched off of course. I wouldn’t want to give myself a DIY hysterectomy or anything. Besides, how am I supposed to hear the pleasurable moans of the caller if I have the hoover on, eh? That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it, although, if I opt for that one, I better leave the hoover out, because there’s always some smartarse that wants me to prove I really am doing what I say, then gets snotty if I cant or wont prove it.
Now- that I don’t get. The callers who ask me a question, then say ‘I don’t believe you’ each time I answer.
Well what’s the bloody point then? If you don’t just go with the flow and get into the fantasy of phone sex, then why call? I think sometimes the callers really do forget they have called a hotline and are paying £1.50 a minute to talk to me.
Most of the time I don’t care, but it is quite irritating, trying to play a scene, and the other participant keeps jumping out of character, so to speak. It’s hard to do a good job. Yeah, I try appeasing them, and wooing them into playing the game, but sometimes I just lay it on the line and say ‘look, if you’re not going to believe me, when I tell you I’m playing with myself/got long blonde hair and big boobs/am on all fours… then would you like to speak to another girl?’. Mostly that makes the caller fall into line with what is required and play along. And you know what, I laugh quietly to myself as I sit there in my leggings, sloppy tee shirt and old slippers, faking sex noises.
Does that make me a bad person? I say no.
Tuesday 21 October 2008
The Dave Phenomenon explained?
Ah, hello.
At home at work. Just doing the usual. A lot of Dave’s again lately. How come this is the latest name being used as an alias? Is their choice influenced by Dave TV?
Are they secretly wanking off as they watch Jeremy Clarkson in the continuous back to back episodes of Top Gear? I suppose they are re-runs, so he is younger and slimmer, and we all know most men secretly like a bit of dick but just aren’t man enough to admit it.
Which reminds me, I heard a good joke the other day
Knock Knock
Who’s there?
Jeremy Clarkson
Fuck off!
Well, I thought it was funny.
Oh, oh, did I tell you about the strangest request I’ve had yet? Hmm, maybe I should keep it for the book eh.
* * *
Its a few days later now- I’ve had a lot to do lately and it’s interfered with my work. Things should settle down by this time next week so I can start writing properly and working hard again. I’m keen to get cracking and earn some decent pennies as well as continue with my book.
I’ve been rather slack with the book. So many ideas in my head all bumping into each other, mingling, sharing more tales. It’s like there’s a reunion party of whores and druggies in my head and they’re all getting out of it and not making any sense.
Bastards didn’t invite me!
Well, it’s late. I have lots to do tomorrow so I must get some sleep.
Oh- one more caller…
I’m on the phone as I type. This bloke is going on about his big, fat nipples.
Is that supposed to turn me on? Ugh.
Of course I’m telling him I love them.
Damn, - lost him. Turns out he wanted to be my transsexual bitch. He could have just said so at the beginning. Saved a lot of time and would have prevented my mind from running away with me and picturing a man with obscenely fat nipples, when in fact he just meant breasts.
Now I have to go to sleep and try not to dream about fat nipples.
At home at work. Just doing the usual. A lot of Dave’s again lately. How come this is the latest name being used as an alias? Is their choice influenced by Dave TV?
Are they secretly wanking off as they watch Jeremy Clarkson in the continuous back to back episodes of Top Gear? I suppose they are re-runs, so he is younger and slimmer, and we all know most men secretly like a bit of dick but just aren’t man enough to admit it.
Which reminds me, I heard a good joke the other day
Knock Knock
Who’s there?
Jeremy Clarkson
Fuck off!
Well, I thought it was funny.
Oh, oh, did I tell you about the strangest request I’ve had yet? Hmm, maybe I should keep it for the book eh.
* * *
Its a few days later now- I’ve had a lot to do lately and it’s interfered with my work. Things should settle down by this time next week so I can start writing properly and working hard again. I’m keen to get cracking and earn some decent pennies as well as continue with my book.
I’ve been rather slack with the book. So many ideas in my head all bumping into each other, mingling, sharing more tales. It’s like there’s a reunion party of whores and druggies in my head and they’re all getting out of it and not making any sense.
Bastards didn’t invite me!
Well, it’s late. I have lots to do tomorrow so I must get some sleep.
Oh- one more caller…
I’m on the phone as I type. This bloke is going on about his big, fat nipples.
Is that supposed to turn me on? Ugh.
Of course I’m telling him I love them.
Damn, - lost him. Turns out he wanted to be my transsexual bitch. He could have just said so at the beginning. Saved a lot of time and would have prevented my mind from running away with me and picturing a man with obscenely fat nipples, when in fact he just meant breasts.
Now I have to go to sleep and try not to dream about fat nipples.
Wednesday 6 August 2008
Okay,from now on, just 'phone sex job...
So, once again I’ve left it a long time between entries. Time seems to just fly right now. I've had a busy spell of six months or so and even tho it’s good to be busy, I’m also friggin knackered.
The Telephones are quiet right now. It school holidays which stops those stay at home dads (whether they be working or dole bludging) from calling. Usually this can be balanced out by less Operators logging on, as they have the kids abou they obviously can’t take calls, however, this week has been a washout for me so I’ve been taking it easy, catching up on sleep and other things. Been doing some reading of other blogs. Fugly Horse of the Day is one of my faves, Go Fugly!
Working on the phones can get to me sometimes, so it’s good to have a break. You have to take the kind of shit you wouldn’t take if you weren’t getting paid for it. Just their manners really, or lack of them.
It’s a bit like prostitution. You pretend to like the sex, you pretend to like the conversation, you pretend to like the person, but the reality is, you rarely like all of those three aspects on one job, so you fake one, if not two of them. Sometimes all three. But you walk away with a wad of money and a secret smile, and it’s all so exciting.
Well, it was when I started out in 1984.
I admit, I said it, the thing that all newcomers say; “I’m only going to do it for a year or so, to get a decent amount of money together to…” and all the Old Pro’s said the stock reply “You’ll get addicted to the money you know, we all do. You’ll be doing it for a lot longer than a year”
Not me, I thought. Then, 15 years later I was in London, still doing it. Okay the scenery had changed, the earnings were higher but it was still earned the same way-on my back.
What I miss most, apart from the money, is the massages. I used to get most clients to give me some form of massage and some were bloody good at it. I’m convinced to this day that is how I stayed so supple and never suffered from aches and pains, despite having a tough workout regime. It’s important to stay fit and fuckable if you are going to ask people to pay for the privilege.
Actually, who am I trying to kid. I miss a lot of it. I miss the companionship between the girls, as well as the competitiveness. I miss the fancy dinners, I miss the 3 day parties, I miss London in general I think, although the reality check of going back to live there stops me in my tracks.
Forty-Two and on the game in London? No thanks. I could be tempted to do a bit of escorting via an agency out here, and bloody hell, the way my finances look at the mo I just might have to, but I couldn’t face being one of those sad hags at the night clubs in London. Besides, it’s all changed. No doubt there would be one or two old souls I’d recognise from the West End (Ax, you old devil, where are you now, eh?) but I love my life right now.
Altho I wish I would get up off my arse and write that bloody book! The beginning is great, but I just cant seem to take it anywhere right now.
Then there’s the autobiography about how to fuck up your life. It’s why I never get around to writing about it here because I’m trying to write a book about it and I cant be arsed adapting it for the internet. I thought I could, hence the title of this blog. But sod it, I can’t. There, I’ve said it. Laid it to rest. Now I can crack on and tell you other shit and keep the book separate.
It’s bloody hard tho, when I’m logged on the phone and dickheads wanting telephone sex keep interrupting me!
Oh well, tis my job, I spose. Better crack on…
The Telephones are quiet right now. It school holidays which stops those stay at home dads (whether they be working or dole bludging) from calling. Usually this can be balanced out by less Operators logging on, as they have the kids abou they obviously can’t take calls, however, this week has been a washout for me so I’ve been taking it easy, catching up on sleep and other things. Been doing some reading of other blogs. Fugly Horse of the Day is one of my faves, Go Fugly!
Working on the phones can get to me sometimes, so it’s good to have a break. You have to take the kind of shit you wouldn’t take if you weren’t getting paid for it. Just their manners really, or lack of them.
It’s a bit like prostitution. You pretend to like the sex, you pretend to like the conversation, you pretend to like the person, but the reality is, you rarely like all of those three aspects on one job, so you fake one, if not two of them. Sometimes all three. But you walk away with a wad of money and a secret smile, and it’s all so exciting.
Well, it was when I started out in 1984.
I admit, I said it, the thing that all newcomers say; “I’m only going to do it for a year or so, to get a decent amount of money together to…” and all the Old Pro’s said the stock reply “You’ll get addicted to the money you know, we all do. You’ll be doing it for a lot longer than a year”
Not me, I thought. Then, 15 years later I was in London, still doing it. Okay the scenery had changed, the earnings were higher but it was still earned the same way-on my back.
What I miss most, apart from the money, is the massages. I used to get most clients to give me some form of massage and some were bloody good at it. I’m convinced to this day that is how I stayed so supple and never suffered from aches and pains, despite having a tough workout regime. It’s important to stay fit and fuckable if you are going to ask people to pay for the privilege.
Actually, who am I trying to kid. I miss a lot of it. I miss the companionship between the girls, as well as the competitiveness. I miss the fancy dinners, I miss the 3 day parties, I miss London in general I think, although the reality check of going back to live there stops me in my tracks.
Forty-Two and on the game in London? No thanks. I could be tempted to do a bit of escorting via an agency out here, and bloody hell, the way my finances look at the mo I just might have to, but I couldn’t face being one of those sad hags at the night clubs in London. Besides, it’s all changed. No doubt there would be one or two old souls I’d recognise from the West End (Ax, you old devil, where are you now, eh?) but I love my life right now.
Altho I wish I would get up off my arse and write that bloody book! The beginning is great, but I just cant seem to take it anywhere right now.
Then there’s the autobiography about how to fuck up your life. It’s why I never get around to writing about it here because I’m trying to write a book about it and I cant be arsed adapting it for the internet. I thought I could, hence the title of this blog. But sod it, I can’t. There, I’ve said it. Laid it to rest. Now I can crack on and tell you other shit and keep the book separate.
It’s bloody hard tho, when I’m logged on the phone and dickheads wanting telephone sex keep interrupting me!
Oh well, tis my job, I spose. Better crack on…
Friday 18 July 2008
Oooooh. Click.
Here we go with those crazy cycles again. All the bum lovers have been calling over the last few days. These callers want to have their faces smothered by a big ol' arse lol.
Oh dear, whats the world coming to.
Just had a caller who wanted to be shat on (oh, that lot are out and about too). In his scenario he wanted me to roll around in the poo with him. Er- dont think so mate- if I was doing submissive things I'd be on the submissive line, you dickhead.
He got really annoyed and tried to get control of the situation, but the funny thing is, he called the domination line so I can tell him to fuck off as much as I damn want. A lot of the subs get a bit mouthy, as they like it when I repremand them, but this guy was just getting uptight and trying to be mean to me, so I just kept laughing at him. Whats even more amusing, is he never thought to end the conversation by hanging up. Oh no, he'd rather keep talking and pay £1.50per minute to be told what a twat he is, and then I got bored and hung up on him before it occured to him.
Sometimes I love my job. It's a bit of stress release you know.
Anyways, I haven't been keeping this up to date lately as I have had life get in the way a little. Nothing I can really write about here, nothing that would interest you, probably. I'm sure you lot are far more interested in hearing about the men (and ladies, and couples) who call the phone sex chat lines.
Yep ladies call too. Most of them are quite sexy sounding, and just want to hear a dirty story to help them come before they fall off to sleep. Pretty much like the men, really. But in general, most of the girls are politer and at I've yet to talk to one that want to be shat or, or have her face smothered by a big hairy arse. Most just want some good hard sex with a stranger type quickie. I cant deny I get a bit horny myself when the girls call. It's not unknown for me to have a genuine phone sex session. Bt theyd never know. You know why? because us girls are just as ruthless as the men. The female callers rarely say thank you and good bye either. They hang up immediately after, just like the men do. I try to make excuses for them, like being girlies they may be a bit embarressed and not know what to say, but the reality is, they just wanted to get thier rocks off and get to sleep.
Oh- one day I will get around to those instructions on how to fuck up yor life. One day. Till then, just keep practising.
xx
Oh dear, whats the world coming to.
Just had a caller who wanted to be shat on (oh, that lot are out and about too). In his scenario he wanted me to roll around in the poo with him. Er- dont think so mate- if I was doing submissive things I'd be on the submissive line, you dickhead.
He got really annoyed and tried to get control of the situation, but the funny thing is, he called the domination line so I can tell him to fuck off as much as I damn want. A lot of the subs get a bit mouthy, as they like it when I repremand them, but this guy was just getting uptight and trying to be mean to me, so I just kept laughing at him. Whats even more amusing, is he never thought to end the conversation by hanging up. Oh no, he'd rather keep talking and pay £1.50per minute to be told what a twat he is, and then I got bored and hung up on him before it occured to him.
Sometimes I love my job. It's a bit of stress release you know.
Anyways, I haven't been keeping this up to date lately as I have had life get in the way a little. Nothing I can really write about here, nothing that would interest you, probably. I'm sure you lot are far more interested in hearing about the men (and ladies, and couples) who call the phone sex chat lines.
Yep ladies call too. Most of them are quite sexy sounding, and just want to hear a dirty story to help them come before they fall off to sleep. Pretty much like the men, really. But in general, most of the girls are politer and at I've yet to talk to one that want to be shat or, or have her face smothered by a big hairy arse. Most just want some good hard sex with a stranger type quickie. I cant deny I get a bit horny myself when the girls call. It's not unknown for me to have a genuine phone sex session. Bt theyd never know. You know why? because us girls are just as ruthless as the men. The female callers rarely say thank you and good bye either. They hang up immediately after, just like the men do. I try to make excuses for them, like being girlies they may be a bit embarressed and not know what to say, but the reality is, they just wanted to get thier rocks off and get to sleep.
Oh- one day I will get around to those instructions on how to fuck up yor life. One day. Till then, just keep practising.
xx
Sunday 22 June 2008
Lazy Sunday...
A Lazy Sunday today. Went to a small village Rose Show. I wish I had taken a couple from my garden (I mean my proper garden not my Lady Garden), just to join in the village fun.
We also had a Devonshire Cream Tea. Was a bit rubbish, I'm sorry to say. The scones were too crumbly to spread the jam on and the tea was so insipidly weak and foul I coldn't drink it. And they obviously dont rinse their dishes as I could tase soap suds. Ugh.
Did a bit of work on the phones, am on the phone now. All the callers seem to be watching porn tonight. This guy I'm talking to right now is fantasising about his girlfriend being a dirty slut and him being a worthless peice of and not being able to satisfy her cos his dick is so small.
Ah, young love, so romantic.
We also had a Devonshire Cream Tea. Was a bit rubbish, I'm sorry to say. The scones were too crumbly to spread the jam on and the tea was so insipidly weak and foul I coldn't drink it. And they obviously dont rinse their dishes as I could tase soap suds. Ugh.
Did a bit of work on the phones, am on the phone now. All the callers seem to be watching porn tonight. This guy I'm talking to right now is fantasising about his girlfriend being a dirty slut and him being a worthless peice of and not being able to satisfy her cos his dick is so small.
Ah, young love, so romantic.
Saturday 21 June 2008
Back from not being here...
I know, I know, its been a while. I’ve had a crap couple of weeks. My old dog had to be PTS and it took me a while to get back on track. I did try working, but wasn’t in the mood to put up with faking it to shitheads. I did one call and it went as follows;
Me; Hello, how are you
Him; I’m horny and I have my mine inch cock in my hand.
Me; Oh, fuck off you twat.
And I slammed the phone down. Fuck ‘em, I just couldn’t be bothered.
But now, I’ve eased myself back into it this week, and by next week I shall be full time again.
I’ve also decided I have to get cracking and tell you more about my life, how I fucked it up and ended up as a telephone whore. And the fun I had doing it along the way.
More later, I’m on the chatlines right now, taking calls as I secretly type.
Which I shouldn’t do as I don’t pay proper attention to what they’re saying. Then I find myself lost in whatever the scenario is and I wonder ‘where the hell are we up to now’ as I start talking about oral when he's talking about anal. He must think I'm some sort of contortionist lol
Me; Hello, how are you
Him; I’m horny and I have my mine inch cock in my hand.
Me; Oh, fuck off you twat.
And I slammed the phone down. Fuck ‘em, I just couldn’t be bothered.
But now, I’ve eased myself back into it this week, and by next week I shall be full time again.
I’ve also decided I have to get cracking and tell you more about my life, how I fucked it up and ended up as a telephone whore. And the fun I had doing it along the way.
More later, I’m on the chatlines right now, taking calls as I secretly type.
Which I shouldn’t do as I don’t pay proper attention to what they’re saying. Then I find myself lost in whatever the scenario is and I wonder ‘where the hell are we up to now’ as I start talking about oral when he's talking about anal. He must think I'm some sort of contortionist lol
Friday 6 June 2008
Thursday 5 June 2008
I've gone right off chocolate since doing this job...
Pass the sick bag its poo eaters night. They are all at it tonight. I told you they come in waves didn’t I?
What the hell is wrong with these people? I mean, what’s the kick? It seems to be different for different callers. One bloke likes me to be so filthy, it makes him dry retch. Honestly. The sound of him retching almost makes me gag in return but I’d never give him the satisfaction.
Its like he wants to be grossed out to the point of being sick. I am sure he has been a couple of times. Its gross, I tell you, gross!
Some callers love it as a domination theme and want the whole toilet slave scenario, licking out the toilet, being locked in the bathroom and having all my dinner guests use their filthy toilet mouth to crap in.
Then there are the callers that seem to think it’s a declaration of love. He loves me so much he is willing to eat my turds. Including those corn and carroty ones.
There has to be a gap in the market for greeting cards related to this subject, surely?
What the hell is wrong with these people? I mean, what’s the kick? It seems to be different for different callers. One bloke likes me to be so filthy, it makes him dry retch. Honestly. The sound of him retching almost makes me gag in return but I’d never give him the satisfaction.
Its like he wants to be grossed out to the point of being sick. I am sure he has been a couple of times. Its gross, I tell you, gross!
Some callers love it as a domination theme and want the whole toilet slave scenario, licking out the toilet, being locked in the bathroom and having all my dinner guests use their filthy toilet mouth to crap in.
Then there are the callers that seem to think it’s a declaration of love. He loves me so much he is willing to eat my turds. Including those corn and carroty ones.
There has to be a gap in the market for greeting cards related to this subject, surely?
(on the front of card)
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I love you so much
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I love you so much
(on the inside)
I want to chow down on your poo
I want to chow down on your poo
(the pic on the inside is of a man in a tux holding out a plate with one hand and holding a knife & fork in the other)
Wednesday 4 June 2008
Be a man, admit it...
Good Morning Avid Blog Readers.
I never got a chance to write more last night, the phones turned out to be busy and all that stopping and starting when I write does my head in. Good for the callers who want domination tho as I can talk in my irritated voice and have a real crack at them
“Why are you pissing me about” I said to one guy after he had annoyed me for long enough “Why aren’t you man enough to admit you like getting dressed up like a slut and being fucked up the arse” then I made him yell out “I’m a man but I fantasize about sucking cock. I must be a sissy slut” lol Oh the power, its great. I hope he had near neighbours and they heard him. Wanker.
Honestly, I have no sympathy for these blokes who ring up, wanting to fantasize about bi or homosexuality. The caller usually starts off being all tough, talking pussy and tits, but then he’ll say ‘what would your boyfriend do if he caught us’ and then I know that what he really wants is to get on his knees and kiss a big dick. But these men don’t want to be responsible for their desires, so in their fantasy, I am the one who forces them to do it. It then becomes out of their control, so it must mean they are not ‘gay‘. Twats, honestly. Makes me laugh as it’s mostly the cockney geezers, or city types. It’s hardly ever the Oxbridge wankers, they always seem at ease with their sexual desires. Gee, I wonder why?
I don’t do serious domination- not yet anyway. I am trying to work up to it. I just find some of it a bit weird, psychologically. Oh, I know, people say ‘but it’s just as fantasy…’ and sure enough, the few times I have done it the blokes have cum, then stepped completely away from the fantasy an been ‘normal’ again. In fact, subs are the few callers who actually have the manners to say thanks and goodbye. Their mothers would be proud.
But I wonder, what makes someone want to be told to stick an egg up their backside, and cluck like a chicken? Or put a belt round their neck like a collar, get on all fours and run round yapping like a fox terrier? Believe me it happens, I’ve made them do it lol
I spose tho, what do I really care? They can cluck like a chicken and bark like a dog as much as they want, it pays my wages!
Another short(ish) blog tonight. It’s now 6.15 am and I have been up all night on the phones so I need to get a few hours sleep so I can cope with the rest of the day.
At least the sky looks clear today. It’s been pissing down in England lately- I want some sun!
Later folks xx
I never got a chance to write more last night, the phones turned out to be busy and all that stopping and starting when I write does my head in. Good for the callers who want domination tho as I can talk in my irritated voice and have a real crack at them
“Why are you pissing me about” I said to one guy after he had annoyed me for long enough “Why aren’t you man enough to admit you like getting dressed up like a slut and being fucked up the arse” then I made him yell out “I’m a man but I fantasize about sucking cock. I must be a sissy slut” lol Oh the power, its great. I hope he had near neighbours and they heard him. Wanker.
Honestly, I have no sympathy for these blokes who ring up, wanting to fantasize about bi or homosexuality. The caller usually starts off being all tough, talking pussy and tits, but then he’ll say ‘what would your boyfriend do if he caught us’ and then I know that what he really wants is to get on his knees and kiss a big dick. But these men don’t want to be responsible for their desires, so in their fantasy, I am the one who forces them to do it. It then becomes out of their control, so it must mean they are not ‘gay‘. Twats, honestly. Makes me laugh as it’s mostly the cockney geezers, or city types. It’s hardly ever the Oxbridge wankers, they always seem at ease with their sexual desires. Gee, I wonder why?
I don’t do serious domination- not yet anyway. I am trying to work up to it. I just find some of it a bit weird, psychologically. Oh, I know, people say ‘but it’s just as fantasy…’ and sure enough, the few times I have done it the blokes have cum, then stepped completely away from the fantasy an been ‘normal’ again. In fact, subs are the few callers who actually have the manners to say thanks and goodbye. Their mothers would be proud.
But I wonder, what makes someone want to be told to stick an egg up their backside, and cluck like a chicken? Or put a belt round their neck like a collar, get on all fours and run round yapping like a fox terrier? Believe me it happens, I’ve made them do it lol
I spose tho, what do I really care? They can cluck like a chicken and bark like a dog as much as they want, it pays my wages!
Another short(ish) blog tonight. It’s now 6.15 am and I have been up all night on the phones so I need to get a few hours sleep so I can cope with the rest of the day.
At least the sky looks clear today. It’s been pissing down in England lately- I want some sun!
Later folks xx
Tuesday 3 June 2008
Tonight I learnt I can be ruder here...
Good evening Avid Blog Readers. I’m back on the sex chat lines tonight as I type. It will be a slow entry tho, as my headset has broken down so I have to hold the bloody phone with one hand, which means I cant type as I talk. I’m on the desk computer anyway and the keyboards noisy so I wouldn’t be able to get away with it anyhow. I have to pretend to be having orgasms here lol.
Blogging is new to me, so I’ve been reading a few others to see how its done. I have been a holding back a little as I wasn’t sure about the content, and just how raunchy I was allowed to be, but after reading a blog from a woman and her explicit description of her sex life (sorry ABR’s, I didn’t save it so I cant link you there lol) I figured that it’s okay to be somewhat more descriptive about my job(s) and my past experiences as a totally whacked out London Party Girl in the 1990’s.
Lets start with tonight’s callers. Fuck me what a bunch of losers tonight, so far.
It seems to be dickhead night tonight on the phones. Funny how things go in cycles. What is it that makes 5 blokes, all called Dave (or if their name isn’t Dave, what is it that makes them choose Dave as a pseudonym?) and all be weak sounding voices and all want to be dominated in some way? It’s like my own fucking Groundhog Day, I tell you.
Well, sometimes I love doing the domination and humiliation calls. I just let vent to this silly pratt who one minute tells me he has a small cock and wants me to humiliate him, the next he is trying to tell me he’s gonna fuck me!
“What?!” I said, “what makes you think you are coming anywhere near me with that tiny little prick, you pathetic little shit”.
Ah, feels so good to let it all out and rant a caller every now and then. And get paid for it.
Okay, I’m gonna post this now, short and sweet as it is. I’ll be back later to do more, but I have to nip downstairs to watch a film with my mum. Back soon xx
Blogging is new to me, so I’ve been reading a few others to see how its done. I have been a holding back a little as I wasn’t sure about the content, and just how raunchy I was allowed to be, but after reading a blog from a woman and her explicit description of her sex life (sorry ABR’s, I didn’t save it so I cant link you there lol) I figured that it’s okay to be somewhat more descriptive about my job(s) and my past experiences as a totally whacked out London Party Girl in the 1990’s.
Lets start with tonight’s callers. Fuck me what a bunch of losers tonight, so far.
It seems to be dickhead night tonight on the phones. Funny how things go in cycles. What is it that makes 5 blokes, all called Dave (or if their name isn’t Dave, what is it that makes them choose Dave as a pseudonym?) and all be weak sounding voices and all want to be dominated in some way? It’s like my own fucking Groundhog Day, I tell you.
Well, sometimes I love doing the domination and humiliation calls. I just let vent to this silly pratt who one minute tells me he has a small cock and wants me to humiliate him, the next he is trying to tell me he’s gonna fuck me!
“What?!” I said, “what makes you think you are coming anywhere near me with that tiny little prick, you pathetic little shit”.
Ah, feels so good to let it all out and rant a caller every now and then. And get paid for it.
Okay, I’m gonna post this now, short and sweet as it is. I’ll be back later to do more, but I have to nip downstairs to watch a film with my mum. Back soon xx
Sunday 1 June 2008
No phone talk tonight, yay!
The great thing about tonight is its Sunday and I don’t have to work on the phones tonight. Yay! I don’t have to pretend to be interested in the sexual wants and needs of the men in today’s society. Because I really don’t give a shit. I’ve had so much sex in my life I couldn’t care less if I never see another penis again.
Well, I say that. Maybe I’m being a bit hasty. I’d quite like to get out there again and have some more sex. I just feel too old lol, it’s been a while, and not sure I want some stranger to see my overgrown, unkempt Lady Garden lol.
Anyway, the rotten thing about tonight was I had to do my dishwashing job at the local pub. Bummer eh, having to wash dishes. Oh well, beggars cant be choosers as they say.
And right now I’m a beggar, practically. I used to earn decent money, but it all went on maintenance of me (hair, nails, sexy clothes etc) so I never saved any or did the sensible thing and bought a house. No, I spent it, and drank it and drugged it all away. Now I live in the country, get paid to talk dirty on the phone (and its not as high paid as you’d think either) and wash dishes in the local pub a couple of nights a week.
I am seriously pissed off with myself for getting into this situation. I really have to up my game on the phone and start making my calls last longer and try harder to fake it better. I know I can do it. Other than that, the only way out I can see is to go back to escort work, but alas alack, this time as an older woman. OMG how bloody tragic is that. I’ll be one of those sad old birds that we youngsters used to pity and sometimes laugh at. Oh well, I’ve had worse, so long as the money is good enough. I hate the thought of returning to it, but if I do, at least I am sensible now and will use the money wisely (save it and wait for the bottom to drop out of the property market then buy buy buy!) Well, that’s after I’ve paid off the debts.
Last time I really fucked up. I started to party and it went downhill from there. I had a good time doing it though hehe.
When I came to London from The Other Side Of The World, I had already been an escort for about 6 years and was doing okay, but still fucked up by having a boyfriend who lived off me- for some stupid, ignorant, immature reason I seemed to think that was a cool lifestyle. What an idiot.
Once here in London, I wanted to get into escorting as it was all I knew.
Well, not true actually. I had been horse riding since the age of eight and was pretty good, all I needed was the right tuition to enable me to make a decent career out of it, but I had got used to a lazy lifestyle. For a start, I no longer did early mornings unless I was on my way home from a club. (that’s sure is a funny feeling you know, walking down Oxford St, at 8.30am, wearing a tight black evening dress and shiny shoes, make up a little worn and obviously quite pissed. Everyone else dressed in suits, looking at the Dirty-Stop-Outs. Tut tut)
I also wanted to experience true city life. I had lived in cities before, but they were small fry compared to London, New York etc and I wanted, needed, to have it. I did have the opportunity to train with a top trainer but I opted out of having the luxury of a single bed in a room shared with three others and a lousy £80 per week as a ‘working pupil’. I now know it was a big mistake as who knows where I’d be today if I had grabbed that opportunity. Possibly preparing for the Olympics? (altho I wouldn’t go to bloody China, I’d boycott ‘em) But certainly not on my back hooking for the next twenty years, I’d say.
So I decided to stay in London where, whilst I was checking out escort agencies, I discovered the crazy world of hostessing and that was it, I was hooked.
That’s all for tonight, more later. Have to get me beauty sleep. Nite Nite.
Well, I say that. Maybe I’m being a bit hasty. I’d quite like to get out there again and have some more sex. I just feel too old lol, it’s been a while, and not sure I want some stranger to see my overgrown, unkempt Lady Garden lol.
Anyway, the rotten thing about tonight was I had to do my dishwashing job at the local pub. Bummer eh, having to wash dishes. Oh well, beggars cant be choosers as they say.
And right now I’m a beggar, practically. I used to earn decent money, but it all went on maintenance of me (hair, nails, sexy clothes etc) so I never saved any or did the sensible thing and bought a house. No, I spent it, and drank it and drugged it all away. Now I live in the country, get paid to talk dirty on the phone (and its not as high paid as you’d think either) and wash dishes in the local pub a couple of nights a week.
I am seriously pissed off with myself for getting into this situation. I really have to up my game on the phone and start making my calls last longer and try harder to fake it better. I know I can do it. Other than that, the only way out I can see is to go back to escort work, but alas alack, this time as an older woman. OMG how bloody tragic is that. I’ll be one of those sad old birds that we youngsters used to pity and sometimes laugh at. Oh well, I’ve had worse, so long as the money is good enough. I hate the thought of returning to it, but if I do, at least I am sensible now and will use the money wisely (save it and wait for the bottom to drop out of the property market then buy buy buy!) Well, that’s after I’ve paid off the debts.
Last time I really fucked up. I started to party and it went downhill from there. I had a good time doing it though hehe.
When I came to London from The Other Side Of The World, I had already been an escort for about 6 years and was doing okay, but still fucked up by having a boyfriend who lived off me- for some stupid, ignorant, immature reason I seemed to think that was a cool lifestyle. What an idiot.
Once here in London, I wanted to get into escorting as it was all I knew.
Well, not true actually. I had been horse riding since the age of eight and was pretty good, all I needed was the right tuition to enable me to make a decent career out of it, but I had got used to a lazy lifestyle. For a start, I no longer did early mornings unless I was on my way home from a club. (that’s sure is a funny feeling you know, walking down Oxford St, at 8.30am, wearing a tight black evening dress and shiny shoes, make up a little worn and obviously quite pissed. Everyone else dressed in suits, looking at the Dirty-Stop-Outs. Tut tut)
I also wanted to experience true city life. I had lived in cities before, but they were small fry compared to London, New York etc and I wanted, needed, to have it. I did have the opportunity to train with a top trainer but I opted out of having the luxury of a single bed in a room shared with three others and a lousy £80 per week as a ‘working pupil’. I now know it was a big mistake as who knows where I’d be today if I had grabbed that opportunity. Possibly preparing for the Olympics? (altho I wouldn’t go to bloody China, I’d boycott ‘em) But certainly not on my back hooking for the next twenty years, I’d say.
So I decided to stay in London where, whilst I was checking out escort agencies, I discovered the crazy world of hostessing and that was it, I was hooked.
That’s all for tonight, more later. Have to get me beauty sleep. Nite Nite.
Friday 30 May 2008
On the Phone Again, with a grunter...
Hello hello, tis late again in this part of the world (just outside London).
I’m back on the dreaded phone again, wishing I hadn’t fucked up my life and having to do this. What a sodding travesty huh. 42 years old and having to speak dirty on the phone to pay the bills. And its the middle of the night as well.
You should hear this guy who’s calling now, he’s drunk and just grunting, “ughm…ughm…ughm” over and over no matter what I say. He’s like a saddo character in drama of a long suffering wife whose husband doesn’t know how to fuck lol
But I tell you, it’s been an eye opener this job. I’ve worked in the sex industry before, well, practically all my adult life actually, and thought I knew men. But OMG! Phone sex is a completely new phenomenon. It gives the caller complete anonymity so he can be completely honest about his fantasies and desires and to be honest I have been shocked. And I’m and old bird and I don’t shock that easy.
This caller is still grunting. It’s been 14 minutes now. I’m thankful for my laptop as I can type silently.
I think it should be law that all girls have to do six months telephone sex when they turn 18, so they can discover what men are really like. What’s always struck me as funny is the way they hang up as soon as they have come! I spose it reflects how men would like to be if they could get away with it in society; not even a thank you and good bye, just withdrawing and leaving. Well careful the door doesn’t smack you on the arse on the way out, dickhead, is what we ladies would be thinking eh. That and thank god, now I can make myself come.
OMG, 19 mins and counting and the grunter is still going! Ughm…ughm…ughm. Will he ever stop? I bet our time runs out before he orgasms. Oh well, methinks it is something he is used to lol
Well, Avid Blog Readers, I am going to post this, then log of the phone and go to sleep. I still haven’t told you the steps of how to fuck up your life yet have I? I’ll start next post, I’m only just getting warmed up to having a blog and structuring my ramblings so they make sense.
Back later xx
PS. He’s still grunting! 37mins and counting…
I’m back on the dreaded phone again, wishing I hadn’t fucked up my life and having to do this. What a sodding travesty huh. 42 years old and having to speak dirty on the phone to pay the bills. And its the middle of the night as well.
You should hear this guy who’s calling now, he’s drunk and just grunting, “ughm…ughm…ughm” over and over no matter what I say. He’s like a saddo character in drama of a long suffering wife whose husband doesn’t know how to fuck lol
But I tell you, it’s been an eye opener this job. I’ve worked in the sex industry before, well, practically all my adult life actually, and thought I knew men. But OMG! Phone sex is a completely new phenomenon. It gives the caller complete anonymity so he can be completely honest about his fantasies and desires and to be honest I have been shocked. And I’m and old bird and I don’t shock that easy.
This caller is still grunting. It’s been 14 minutes now. I’m thankful for my laptop as I can type silently.
I think it should be law that all girls have to do six months telephone sex when they turn 18, so they can discover what men are really like. What’s always struck me as funny is the way they hang up as soon as they have come! I spose it reflects how men would like to be if they could get away with it in society; not even a thank you and good bye, just withdrawing and leaving. Well careful the door doesn’t smack you on the arse on the way out, dickhead, is what we ladies would be thinking eh. That and thank god, now I can make myself come.
OMG, 19 mins and counting and the grunter is still going! Ughm…ughm…ughm. Will he ever stop? I bet our time runs out before he orgasms. Oh well, methinks it is something he is used to lol
Well, Avid Blog Readers, I am going to post this, then log of the phone and go to sleep. I still haven’t told you the steps of how to fuck up your life yet have I? I’ll start next post, I’m only just getting warmed up to having a blog and structuring my ramblings so they make sense.
Back later xx
PS. He’s still grunting! 37mins and counting…
Thursday 29 May 2008
Well here I am, sitting in bed, on the laptop, wishing I could sleep. But I cant. I have to earn some money taking to dickheads on the phone, convincing them I am the horniest nympho they will ever have the pleasure of not meeting.
I had to come to bed as its cold and I cant put the heating on because the dog starts panting and the callers can hear him. I've tried to convince them its my sexy lesbian friend panting for some hot girl on girl fun but dog gave the game away by barking cos he wanted to go outside.
Okay, this is a short entry as the phones are really busy and these damned callers are interrupting my flow. I've been trying to write for about half an hour and I have to keep deleting. I should be pleased, I need the cash, but its a pain in the arse. Funny, thats what the caller is telling me right now as I'm describing what I'm doing to him with a strap on!
Back later x
I had to come to bed as its cold and I cant put the heating on because the dog starts panting and the callers can hear him. I've tried to convince them its my sexy lesbian friend panting for some hot girl on girl fun but dog gave the game away by barking cos he wanted to go outside.
Okay, this is a short entry as the phones are really busy and these damned callers are interrupting my flow. I've been trying to write for about half an hour and I have to keep deleting. I should be pleased, I need the cash, but its a pain in the arse. Funny, thats what the caller is telling me right now as I'm describing what I'm doing to him with a strap on!
Back later x
Well, here I sit, writing a diary for the first time in years. Where do I start? I could start at the beginning but that would be a bloody big first post.
So I'll start now and work backwards, as I seem to have done most things in my life pretty much backwards anyway.
Well, as you probably guessed by the title I'm 42 and I've pretty much fucked up my life one way or the other. Right now, to earn a living I what is known as a PSO...thats Phone Sex Operator to the uninitiated.
I'm on a call right now so typing very slowly and quietly so the caller doesn't hear me lol its harder than you think to talk about one subject and type something different. I've already typed 'pussy' twice lol
Okay, he's gone now. I can type freely for a mo, altho I expect the phone will ring again soon.
Well, its a way to make a living, and it sure beats mucking out shitty stables which is what I've done for a good deal of my life. Oh, and waitressing. Oh, and good ol fashioned whoring. Oh there's so much to tell!
But it will have to wait. Being new to this, it took me ages to set up and I need coffee and a softer seat so I shall retire to the comfy area and maybe write a bit more later on, if the callers ever give me a moments peace...
So I'll start now and work backwards, as I seem to have done most things in my life pretty much backwards anyway.
Well, as you probably guessed by the title I'm 42 and I've pretty much fucked up my life one way or the other. Right now, to earn a living I what is known as a PSO...thats Phone Sex Operator to the uninitiated.
I'm on a call right now so typing very slowly and quietly so the caller doesn't hear me lol its harder than you think to talk about one subject and type something different. I've already typed 'pussy' twice lol
Okay, he's gone now. I can type freely for a mo, altho I expect the phone will ring again soon.
Well, its a way to make a living, and it sure beats mucking out shitty stables which is what I've done for a good deal of my life. Oh, and waitressing. Oh, and good ol fashioned whoring. Oh there's so much to tell!
But it will have to wait. Being new to this, it took me ages to set up and I need coffee and a softer seat so I shall retire to the comfy area and maybe write a bit more later on, if the callers ever give me a moments peace...
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