It's a hot and sweaty lesbian scene, worthy of really good video equipment and a decent soundtrack. My lover has come back after a long time away, and I pounce on her as soon as she walks through the door. We tussle and tongue-kiss—she especially likes doing that after she's licked my ass—hump each other's hips and ride that double-ended dildo hard until Wendy comes.
There are no doors in this apartment, so I'm half expecting it when my billet host walks out into the room and asks, with some disbelief, "That's wasn't a female caller, was it?"
No! No, no, no! That was just one of my gender-flipping dudes!
I only have two of these clients, off the top of my head, where they want to do the call as a woman. These men are not panty-boys, not forced-bi faggots, not mutant freaks of a genetic sissification experiment (I had that call once), but just BAM, they're women. One of them, of course, is my surfer dude. He likes jumping in with both feet and both hands, getting seriously sweaty and demanding on my ass. (He is also one of my few callers who plays with power switching very well, explicitly negotiating when he wants to hand off power...) The other caller in this category of two likes to play a 16-year-old slut, whom I am training or pimping out in some unspecified but authoritative adult role. I had both of these calls this morning, in fairly rapid succession, and it got me thinking about what they might be playing with when they completely and utterly flip their gender.
I have repeatedly stated in public that I have no female callers, so my host's confusion was understandable. These gender-flippers want me to completely stay in that space with them for the entire call—although they both can take a minute or two to negotiate the exact details of what is going to happen—so to the eavesdropping ear, I definitely am talking to a woman. To my ear, I am talking to a man.
The difference between the scene unfolding in my head and the dick getting hard in his hand, it's not that important in the long run. What happens in your head is the best part of sex anyway, in my opinion, and what you do in there to dress it up is entirely each person's affair.
I guess I just wonder what makes these two callers different from all the rest, who want humiliation or punishment, who want to know about the process of grinding themselves down from men into pseudo-women. My gender-flippers don't seem to have anything attached to the journey of becoming a woman, in this harsh land of fantasy. They don't want to spend time on that trip. They just want to be there now, drop in and tune out and settle down to having every woman-loving person in a 10-mile radius fall desperately in lust and then getting that pussy seriously pounded.
In phone sex land, that's what every woman wants.