Author: camerynmoore

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CALL OF THE DAY: cuckolds and cooking tips

No jokes about limp noodles, please.

No jokes about limp noodles, please.

This caller of mine is moderately infamous by now, simply because his call from six winters ago is the one I dredge up whenever someone asks me, "What's the weirdest call you've ever done?" They're expecting some freaky-deaky hentai fetish extravaganza, and I give them a lecture about how "weird" is totally a judgmental word. Then I lay this guy's call on them, a call that came in a week before Christmas, in which all he wanted to do was fret about what gifts to give his wife, and her lesbian ex-lover Joellen, and the big black dude named Jamal whom Joellen had passed his wife off to when Joellen had gotten her fill. According to my records, we spend four 15-minute conversations hashing this all out.

The guy is a master of the oddly specific, is my point.

We did a lot of those kinds of sessions during my first couple of years, when he would call up for 15 minutes, and then we wouldn't get to an orgasm yet, and I would ask him if he wanted to come, and he would say, "that's up to you, mistress." He was going to have to report the calls and any orgasms to his wife, he said, and I assumed the more he spent on the calls without coming, the more derision his wife would heap on him. But I figured derision was part of what he was after, and even if there was no cuckolding-yet-submissive wife, he was still getting some humiliation from being so supposedly dominated over the phone that he would keep spending money, so I would take him up on it, testing to see how many more calls I could get out of him that day.

Most times I chickened out at around four calls, letting him come at the end of that one while I spun him out a story about how he would have to clean out his wife's pussy after she got home from Jamal's. (Jamal. Really. Oddly specific, yet totally predictable.) There may have been a few times where I tried for a fifth, but he either got interrupted—uh oh, the wife's home!—or just had reached the limit of his budget for the day.

Since then, our calls have been much less frequent. He's one of the customers who would have been solidly "mine" had my schedule been more consistent. Touring does a number on my availability: dropping from 16 hours a day on call, seven days a week, to five hours or fewer, six days a week, means my net has bigger holes in it, and many of those I previously caught have slipped right through. I checked this guy's card before writing this and the pattern is obvious: all banging up until my first summer on tour, and then once or twice a year since.

I think he remembers me? I sure as fuck remember him. His voice is very mild and unassuming, and the players in his cuckold soap opera remain the same (though Joellen has drifted away, it's all about Jamal now, and his increasing dominance over the caller's wife).

And as always, his attention to detail is a bit staggering. In the call I took with him last week, he was talking about the dinner that he had made recently for his wife and Jamal. (Domestic servitude seems to be part of the humiliation package for him, although he does say that he is a good cook with a moderate amount of pride.) He made Jamal's favorite dish, chicken alfredo, with salad and a good wine and everything, but then … Jamal just didn't show up when he said he would.

"He was three hours late," said my caller. "The alfredo sauce had to be reheated."

That's no good for alfredo sauce, I said.

"No, but I knew a couple of tricks to fix it."

Oddly specific, right?


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Smut Slams and narrative perspective and hosting when the floor drops through

I'm gonna find a way through this wall...

I'm gonna find a way through this wall...

So, it's a little over a week since the first-ever Atlanta Smut Slam (a big shout-out to Write Club ATL for helping make it so awesome) and a little less than a week before the first-ever DC Smut Slam (link to FB event page). I am taking this narrow little window—less a window and more an arrow slit—as a good time to refresh my attention to the ethics of hosting this show.

Ethics and dirty stories. Those are not words that maybe go together, but they have to, for me, because even though the Atlanta show smashed box-office records for the Slam, it was stellar, the Fuckbucket was full... for all that, one story caught me by surprise, and now I'm examining entire chunks of Smut Slam protocol to accommodate it.

Honestly, I feel fortunate to still be in a space where I can be surprised, surprise being one of those awesome but usually awkward moments for learning. Two years ago I would have gladly dispensed with more learning moments; two years ago I was still writhing from a public protocol fuck-up; hell, I hadn't even healed from that properly until this year. Even now I feel like, oh god, learning to host, especially for an open-mic event, is the PITS, because you're not just fumbling or falling and then getting off the stage, you are anchoring the stage for other people and your fuck-up has the potential to destabilize everybody else, including the audience.

Nowadays I feel pretty good about hosting. I've gotten positive feedback from various sources, audiences and tellers and judges alike, and was starting to feel comfortable in it. Not phoning it in, just maybe I was getting a little too sure? Everyone was on the same page, we all understood what was going on, we understood the rules, and the bit about consensuality, especially that bit, that was just obvious, right?

It sure seemed like it. Since the first Smut Slam in February 2011, we've never had anything told from a Smut Slam stage that veered very close to consent issues at all. Okay, there have been a few tales of drunk/blackout sex over the years, told from the point of view of the person blacking out, but that's it. (Maybe that, too, is a little grey? I know I sure get uncomfortable hearing tales of blackout sex, no matter from whose point of view.) So, all the fine print about consent was moot. Everyone got it. Except that wasn't true last week, when someone told a story that was about their first sexual experience as a very under-aged minor, and how they pursued an adult to get that experience.

<sigh> Even when I write this, I am reminded of other rules of Smut Slam: "what is told at Smut Slam, stays at Smut Slam" and "if it's not your story, it's not your story to tell." I will not tell the story in question, but I had to give at least the general outlines, for you to understand why I am even getting worked up about this.

Current US law says that consent is absolutely not possible at that age, but the teller clearly saw herself as consenting. We certainly can discuss that, how the perspective makes all the difference. If someone had gotten up and told the story from the point of view of the adult man in this scenario, my path would have clearer—interrupt the goddamn story and try to recover the show—though no less challenging to implement. Her story was from the other side, and childhood expressions of sexuality are tricky, tricky beasts.

This is the discussion that I steeled myself to unfold, immediately after the slam and in the days since. I hashed it out a little with the Atlanta judges panel; they mostly came down on the side of, "well, that's the risk of an open mic. Audiences need to take care of themselves." Still feeling uncertain, I checked in with my friend and colleague Dave Pickering (of the awesome storytelling series Stand-Up Tragedy). Dave said more clarity on the rules might help, and then if I felt I should, I could cut short the story with a burst of music or something. "I think if you spell out the rules and someone breaks them you are absolutely allowed to interrupt," he said. But he notes, "It's tricky as that's her experience. And it's kind of not for us to deny it. Clearly the dude involved was acting heinously but her experience and desire shouldn't be invalidated."

I was grateful to hear from Dave and other hosting friends about their struggles with this sort of thing, but in the end, it all comes down to the lines that I decide to draw around this, which may (almost certainly will) change again. For now, I'm going to figure out a way to tell audiences that subject matter might come up that is challenging, and try to say it in a way that doesn't drag the energy down. I'm going to write the rules out a little more clearly, with regard to what consent actually means for Smut Slam (no stories involving sexual contact with animals or minors, unless it's consensual between two minors). I'm going to get these clarified rules out everywhere, and emphasize them at the point when people put their names in the bucket. I will even have a piece of music ready in the horrible horrible event that I decide I need to "pull the plug."

Most importantly, I'm going to prepare myself to provide audience aftercare. I do it for Phone Whore all the time, in the form of a post-show Q&A; surely there is some way to do it here, to bring up problematic spots after the fact, in a way that doesn't drag down the energy. I need to be ready for anything with the Smut Slam, because it is an open mic, and that will always be the challenge with open mics: People bring what they bring. It is not all cut and dried, black and white.

Sometimes there is grey.


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TERRIBLE SEX TIPS: 17 Sexy Phrases GUARANTEED To Get Him All Hot And Bothered

I love how your cock feels in....uh... hang on, I lost my line...

I love how your cock feels in....uh... hang on, I lost my line...

Disclosure: I have recently begun teaching Intimacy Improv, a workshop to get people feeling more comfortable with dirty talk and role play. The guy who wrote this week's really terrible tips on dirty talk, this is the largest part of what his online tutorials are about.

But I don't think of him as a competitor. First of all, he's way more famous than I am already. He's got his videos and his approach, and there are apparently enough people in the world to believe that dirty talk is all about the objectively right words, delivered in the right way, that he will have enthusiastic takers for his wares until the end of time. What do those eager students get? Weak-sauce, gender-stereotype suggestions like this:

"Having a large repertoire of dirty phrases that you can use on your man is important if you want to keep things exciting in the bedroom (and outside the bedroom) as well as keeping him faithful."

Sir, could you not just have left this with "keeping things exciting"? Because the closing three words in that sentence—"keeping him faithful"—deliver an ominous subtext: Be dirty so he doesn't get bored. It will be your fault if he cheats on you, your fault for not being enough of a pervert. Gah. And describing dirty talk as something that you "use on your man" makes it sound like a tool for manipulating someone, not a toy with which to engage your partner in verbal play.

"There is just no point in learning the words if you don't know how to use them properly," says the author. Properly. Ah. This is gonna be good.

How You Talk Dirty
"When talking dirty to your man, you are going to find that you have a lot more success at turning your man on and building sexual tension if you do it confidently. So the next time you talk dirty to your man, make sure to speak slowly and clearly in a way that accentuates the meaning of the actual words."

Slow and clear. That's the way I deliver fem-domme stuff on the phone, that's definitely how you play confident. But that's not necessarily the way I would ever utter stuff in person, and when someone is talking to dirty to me, I want them to talk the way that they're feeling. I want to struggle to hear their whisper. I want their voice low and growly, or trembling and falling away because it is so damn good. As for myself, maybe (probably!) I want to play the little girl. Maybe I am teasing more than telling. Maybe well-modulated is a shitty substitute for how you really feel.

"The last thing you want to do is stutter the words or say them incredibly fast or in a weird tone. My advice is to practice these dirty talking phrases a few times to yourself before you actually use them on your man."

Pro tip: For most people who aren't actors, rehearsing phrases just ends up making them sound rehearsed.

"So now that I have talked a little bit about using dirty talk in a way that is most effective, it's time to learn some dirty talking phrases!"

Hear that? Get your notebook out and write these down. Study them on the bus. Post them near your mirror. Record the lines into a recorder, and listen to them until you fall asleep at night. Maybe make some flashcards? You're learning a whole new language, sweetheart.

Dirty phrases to turn him on in bed:
•    You feel so good on top of me.
  (or underneath me)
•    Just hearing you breathe in my ear sends shivers down my spine.
   (TOO LOUD, TOO LOUD, GODDAMN, move your mouth away from my ear.)
•    I love just touching your body. It feels incredible.
   (It feels edible. NOMNOMNOM)
•    I wish we could just stay in bed forever.
   (Wasting away, trapped by our lust...)
•    Just like that!
(No, not that, the thing you did five seconds ago. No, the thing with the vibrations... sigh. No. Just keep going.)

•    Faster!
   (Why is slower not on this list?)
•    I love being your little minx in the bedroom.
(No one uses the word "minx" anymore except burlesquers and sex advice columnists. Update with "bitch", it means the same thing. What, is that TOO bold?)
•    I want to taste you.
   (So edible...)
•    Keep doing that.
•    You're going to put me over the edge.
   (Sorry, all I hear is the line from Shrek: "I'M A DONKEY ON THE EDGE!")
•    You're making me too turned on.
(Too turned on, what does that even mean? Too turned on for what? Too turned on to drive a car? Too turned on to accurately calculate the value of pi to 100 places? Finish the goddamn sentence to be both sexier and more vivid. Bonus for non sequitors.)

Dirty talking phrases to build sexual tension:
"When you're not in bed, you can use dirty talk much more subtly and discreetly to build sexual tension and also keep your man thinking about you (for hours and hours) rather than just instantly turning him on like with you would using the previous dirty talk phrases."

It's as easy as flipping on a light switch, apparently! (I will leave the dim-bulb comparison as a side note.)

•    I can't wait until we're alone, I've got a special surprise for you!
   (I got a tattoo!)
•    Seeing you in those jeans is making me want to jump you.
•    If we weren't out in public, I would be doing some very naughty things to you right now!
  (Naughty. You are not eight. Unless that's your game, in which case, go for it.)
•    I wish we could just leave this party/movie theatre/concert and go somewhere private. I am just too horny!
   (You can leave! Fuck social expectations! Find a broom closet!)
•    Don't look at me like that, you know it turns me on.
   (It's the googly-eye glasses, god, so fucking hot.)   
•    You know I wore this skirt/these jeans just for you.
   (Just kidding, it's laundry day.)

<head in hands>

This is exactly the stuff that I hate about the public perceptions of what "dirty talk" is, the very reason I stopped TEACHING workshops for a few years. I got tired of dealing with people's misguided expectations; they wanted to learn a formula or phrasebook for dirty talk, something that worked on everyone. I didn't know exactly what to offer instead, but I knew that wasn't right. Phone-sex operators, who are working with quantities of dirty-talk partners daily, even we don't have scripts for dirty talk, because that would be ridiculous. Men are people, and people are individuals.

So no, I don't see the author as a competitor. More like a philosophical arch-nemesis.


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