Author: camerynmoore

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CALL OF THE DAY: being a real-life accomplice

The one call that I hated the most, over my nearly five years in phone work so far, involved a man calling in with his wife, and pressing her to get it on with me. I was so angry at him, for asking me to engage her in nonconsensual activity. I felt like an accomplice. This was real life; someone on the other end was actually being coerced into participation, someone was actually being directly, psychologically abused by their partner, and I was playing along. No other call has ever made me feel even half as sleazy.

Except this guy. He's a close second.

He's a regular when I'm around, he's always so excited the first time I get given his call when I come back from tour, and pretty reliably requests me when I'm consistently around in the evenings. I have no illusions that he, like all of my "seasonal regulars", is perfectly happy with whichever other PSO is handling his call when I'm not available—anyway, since my seasonal availability is self-imposed, I can hardly complain—but I am happy to hear his enthusiasm.

He fantasizes about his wife being a complete cock-hungry slut. (Side note: I kinda like it when guys fantasize about the women in their lives. I mean, in our mutual imagination they could do anything, and they're choosing their wives.) This guy's cuckolding thing is multi-layered: he likes watching her be greedy, he likes the idea of fucking her after a bunch of guys (and a dog) have come in her, and his calls always culminate with a worked-up rant about how loose her cunt is when he's inside her, partly because of how many dicks she's taking and partly, that's just the way her cunt is and that's how small his dick is, relatively speaking. She's loose and he's small, and he likes to see her finally filled up, the way he wishes that she would want it.

So far, so good. He wants his wife to be a slut. I imagine, though I have no stats, that this is probably pretty common. He has talked about taking pictures of her, too. She sometimes agrees to pose, but not always. He tells her that he is just jacking off to them, but I know better. I forget that I know what he does with the pictures, because he doesn't talk about them all the time, but then he mentions them and I remember. And then I feel the sleaze settle on my skin all over again.

He posts them on a fuck-my-wife site. Guys post up shots of their partners, with or without their partners' knowledge, and revel in other guys looking at and talking dirty about their partners. On one call he gave me the link and his log-in name so I could access the site and his photo collection; we sat there for 10 minutes and discussed his wife's body.

This time he mentioned that other guys sometimes posted pictures of printouts of his wife's picture with their come all over it. He also asked if my boyfriend has seen the pictures yet. Shit. I forgot that I said I might show these pictures to my lovers. Shit. I am a terrible liar. Not yet, I say, if I remember I will. Of course I will not show them. Of course I will say that I showed them, and they got so hard. And he will believe me because that is how much he wants images of his wife to be seen by strangers.

I need to remember, this could be all made up. His wife could fully approve of the way he's disseminating her naked images. She could be totally getting off alongside him, but somehow I don't think so. If his wife really doesn't know about this, I hope she finds out and rips him a new one. Hell, I hope she divorces him. In my book, this is a fully divorce-able offense; this is frying-pan-to-the-head territory.

As angry as I am about this betrayal, my anger is muddied a little by my witnessing it, by my complicity and implied approval. It feels a little awful. Unlike all the dead babies and hard-cock ponies and innocent little girls WHO DON'T ACTUALLY EXIST,  I think this woman does exist. I desperately hope that he's making her up, but I think she actually is alive and clueless and cooking dinner regularly for this man who loves her and fantasizes about her and has completely sacrificed her right to privacy to his satisfying wank. My job is to help him with that sacrifice.

Some days I don't like my job very much.

A Phone Whore Asks… (aka Who’s Got a Mailbag for ME)

I've done Ask A Phone Whore columns, where I dip into the virtual mailbag and answer your questions. (That mailbag is open, by the way; you can throw your questions my way anytime, either here or on Facebook.) But I gotta say, I've got a growing collection of my own questions to ponder as well. I don't think they can necessarily or definitively be answered. I mean, I might try in a future blog post. But mostly I just have these questions, and they burn, the mental equivalent of a post-fuck, unlubed asshole...

  • When a guy comes at the end of his 7-minute call, and then calls again 15 minutes later, for another seven minutes, and comes again... why do I feel like I failed? I mean, he requested me for the second call. He obviously got something out of it both times. Why do I take the situation to mean that I wasn't good enough to get all of the jizz out of him for the day? Isn't it more likely that he's a statistical outlier and just has a lot of come?



  • Why don't my regulars tip me around the winter holidays?
  • When I tell a caller to squeeze his own balls or stick his finger in his mouth after it's been in his own ass, or any other action that is most often performed by someone else as an act of power play... how can I tell that he's actually doing it? And why does it matter whether he is or isn't?
  • If all that I do for a caller is repeat the lines he feeds me ("tell me to fuck Mommy's ass") and say "uh-huh-oh-yeah"—standard phone-sex stereotype, in other words—what about my performance, in that limited range, is making the caller request me? Seriously, this guy is a complete no-brainer.
  • What is the ratio of guys fantasizing about being cuckolded to actual, consensually negotiated cuckolding? How does that ratio change when you throw sucking BBC into the mix?
  • A couple of weeks ago I packed two suitcases and my toiletry bag while on the phone with the horrible Extreme Top. I found the activity diffused his awfulness, and kept me from getting physically wrought up, the way that I do when I'm just lying on the bed to take his call. He didn't notice anything different. Yesterday I was just carefully disentangling my cell phone charger from my computer charger, trying to start getting ready to go out—he called, as is his wont, with an open call on a day when I was trying to be somewhere else soon—and he said, "What are you doing? I'll wait until you're finished." I didn't change my voice or lose track of the narrative or anything. What exactly, then, tipped him off that I was doing something else?

CALL OF THE DAY: Extreme Top, Live-Tweeted

Full disclosure: This was not actually live-tweeted. Extreme Top's stuff is too extreme for direct-to-Twitter channeling, and besides, live-tweeting an actual call from my perspective would be too difficult for me to stay on top of. HOWEVER, these are actual notes I jotted down from today's call, after I thought of live-tweeting at a moment of great irritation. I amused myself with the notes during the call. Afterward, though, I still cried tempestuously in the bathroom for five minutes. Fuck Extreme Top, man.

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoore
Live-tweeting a call from Extreme Top. Dispatch gave me 2 mins to prep. #GUH #liveextremetop

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoorev
'Tell me how Mommy makes your tits huge.' That pump must take so much electricity, running all night... #atleastitswhitenoise #liveextremetop

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoore
A policeman loans us his dog to fuck me in a store window. This is holiday spirit in phone sex. #ondisplay #preteenhohoho #cum #liveextremetop

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoore
It took a few seconds to click. 'Did you say you don't want a dildo? Why not?' Because I hate you & your dildos. #iwish #liveextremetop

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoore
First break, 'keep playing with yourself, I want to hear you in the other room.' Okay, daddy. #youwish #liveextremetop

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoore
'What were you thinking about?' I was thinking about that policeman. #notreally #tooloftheman #fuckthepolice #liveextremetop

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoore
'Tell me how you can’t wait for Mommy to punch-fuck your cunt, and then you can come.' #ohgoody #goodcopbadcop #cum #liveextremetop

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoore
'Mommy’s gonna have to stitch your cunt tighter now, so daddy can get a good tight fuck.' #poorplanning #whatahomemakerthough #liveextremetop

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoore
A rare ass-pounding with Daddy, of course it’s enough to make me come! #youwish #alltheholes #cum #liveextremetop

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoore
24 minutes in, 'breeding' comes up for the first time. Who’s gonna pop ‘em out for Daddy? #hewantsfive #sobadwithnames #liveextremetop

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoore
My cunt is gross and loose. #doesheknowwherebabiescomefrom #loosecuntFTW #notreally #liveextremetop

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoore
Training the 5 daughters to fluff for Mommy the fuckpig #householdchores #wetdryvac #liveextremetop

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoore
Do you know how much jizz it takes to fill a cereal bowl? Makes me come just thinking about it. #cum #nocumharderbitch #liveextremetop

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoore
35 minutes in, second break, as usual there's porn playing on the other end, right in my ear. #thatholeisofflimits #liveextremetop

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoore
Showing the girls how Daddy likes it. Tiffany, Thea, Stacy, Michelle, and Portia. #Portiaisabrat #liveextremetop

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoore
Showing the girls how Mommy likes it. Suck my stretched-out clit, sweetie, make me come. #cum #areyoukeepingtrack #liveextremetop

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoore
Tiffany is getting it on with her son Hunter. WTF with these specific names?! #badparentingishereditary #liveextremetop

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoore
Finally the N-word shows up. If anyone white uses that word around me, even in quotes, prepare to be punched. #GUHGUHGUH #liveextremetop

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoore
54 minutes in, third break. I don't know if he's taking a leak or reloading his nose or stirring the stew. #liveextremetop

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoore
They always last for a couple of minutes, I make noise the whole time in case he's listening. #hesnotcomingtoday #GUH #liveextremetop

Fed-Up Phone Whore    @camerynmoore
'Sorry, honey, I have to go. Happy Thanksgiving.' You, too. #notreally #ihateextremetop #liveextremetop

Blue balls and brats: coming back after a week off


Poor baby! I guess Rosie Palm will be tackling this by herself today...

Yesterday was my first day on the phone in a week. I didn't have a private place for phone work while I was in DC, so I just had to take the week off. It's not the longest I've been off the lines—my current record is approximately six weeks, when I was over in the UK this past summer on tour with my show—but to some of my clients, A WEEK IS FOREVER.

It is, right? When you really want something, especially something that for whatever reason seems silly to even complain about not having? When you want the newest iPhone, you don't NEED it, you just really, really want it, and the stores can't tell you when it's going to be in stock again, so just keep calling back? Or how about when a movie you've really been looking forward to is coming out in a week, and you can't really commiserate with your friends because it's a kids' movie and you're all grown-ups and they would laugh and laugh, so you just sit on your excitement and burn up from the inside?

Yeah. it seems silly to want and want these things, and to feel like a week is never going to be over. I mean, some people have been waiting a lot longer than a week to get a roof over their head in storm-tossed countries in Asia. We must acknowledge that our wants, for gadgets and entertainment and a hot dish of a particular kind of mac and cheese... for example. Ahem. These wants are very high up on Maslow's hierarchy. Pervy phone sex with your favorite operator, the one who knows everything you like, is right up there. Yep. There it is, as undeniable as it is silly.

And when you don't get that, when you're all revved up and tenting your pajama pants and you call in and Cameryn is NOT THERE, well, you might get especially cranky, because that's not just the desire for instant gratification talking, that is blue-ball-related desire for instant gratification.

(Even if you're one of the tease-and-denial guys, my not being there is not actually erotic. You want someone to KNOW that you're not going to get any, to have the possibility of release taken away...)

So, yeah. My boss tells me they get a little miffy when they ask and I'm not there. She hates it when I have to go, because she is down one older-woman talent and she has to deal with my regulars. When I come back on after these absences, she acts all nonchalant, but I know she's glad. My clients, though, they don't usually act as happy as they should. They usually take out their pissed-off-ness on me, a little bit. Like Bilingual Papi did yesterday. Bilingual Papi is one of my favorites; he seems to be a good and decent man. We had our usual butt-sex smorgasbord; he was so happy to be with me again. But even he lost it a little, during our post-coital cool-down.

"Where were you last week?"

I was traveling.

"Still? God, I hate it when you're not around."

I know, it's hard.

"You damn right, it's hard! Goddamn, I hate it when you're not there when I call!"

I know, papi. I'm sorry. (No, I'm not.)

"I want to be able to find you any time I call!"

And at that, I burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

You want me on retainer? And I kept laughing.

"What? Why are you laughing?"

Just... that would be easily a four-figure discussion. I don't think you're ready for that kind of commitment.

ASK A PHONE WHORE: do you ever get any female callers? (pt. 2, aka, why do you only get male callers?)

ASK A PHONE WHORE is a semi-regular feature, appearing whenever I get a good question. Anything you want to know about my phone work, ask away! Make sure to read through the archives here to see if I've already addressed your question in a previous post, or to see if I've written about something already and you have follow-up questions. I may set up a separate page here to solicit questions, or maybe just put a widget up, but for now I'll be running my mail bag over on Facebook.


Not really a long-term sustainable position...

Q: Do you ever get any female callers?

No. See here for part 1, in summary:


The underlying truth in this statement is the following:


The idea that men have a hard time getting it on seems to fly in the face of everything society tells us about men and sex: that they are bold in putting it out there, that they're always talking about it, that they have no problem swinging into a bar and asking for it.

But men can't really talk about it. Not really. Not authentically. All of the outlets women have created or co-opted for communicating with each other about what they really do, what they really want or fantasize about—support groups and online blogs and woman-positive sex toy stores and sexual activism and live theatre and just the fact that we are socialized to communicate more—none of that is available to straight men. Not without risk. Sometimes substantial.

Straight men might brag in the locker room, but I can't imagine starting off one of those bragging sessions with "Yeah, I got my girlfriend to peg my ass, it was so fucking hot!" They might be able to hit on a girl in a bar with their pussy-eating skills, but they might not be so forthcoming with the fact that ALL they want to do is eat pussy, or lick feet, or they really mostly like getting naked in order to pillow-talk or cuddle skin on skin. They don't have the same options that women do for casual exploration of same-sex physicality; guys, try making out on the dance floor of a mainstream meat-market type nightclub and see where that gets you. No, don't. I know where it'd get you: dragged out the side door and kicked in the ribs, or worse. Men can't even look sideways at a urinal without that threat looming over their heads.

I'm not saying this is true for all men. Some have managed to find communities and find copacetic lovers and create safe spaces for their authentic sexuality. Some men have taken a deep breath and spoken out, some men talk to their lovers, they have figured out what they want, and boldly put it out there. But most have not. For most men, there is very little room to move. They are balanced on a very narrow and precarious platform, the area of space that contains what men are allowed to want and fantasize about and go after, and if they step off of that in any public way, then they are screwed, and not in a good way.

This is why phone sex. This is why the extreme gender gap exists among clients for phone sex. Because most women have ways to explore their own sexualities, and most men do not. I cannot fix this problem, much as I want to, much as I feel it to be a grave inequity and seriously fucked up and actually a tragedy. I can only encourage men to tackle it themselves.

Men, for the love of all that is sacred and/or awesome in your sexual soul, please: GET ON THAT SHIT.

ASK A PHONE WHORE: Do you ever get any female callers?

ASK A PHONE WHORE is a semi-regular feature, appearing whenever I get a good question. Anything you want to know about my phone work, ask away! Make sure to read through the archives here to see if I've already addressed your question in a previous post, or to see if I've written about something already and you have follow-up questions. I may set up a separate page here to solicit questions, or maybe just put a widget up, but for now I'll be running my mail bag over on Facebook.

Q: Do you ever get any female callers?

No. I have a box full of caller index cards, 11 inches deep, and none of those cards has a female name on the top. Three times I have spoken with a woman on a call; on all three occasions, they were there because their husband or boyfriend had brought them into the call, and twice those calls were abnormally hideous, so those don't count in my book. I have heard anecdotally of women calling other PSOs, but those are exceptions that prove the rule: on the whole, women interested in sex with other women do not use phone sex lines.

Before you ask, gentlemen: nor is there any demand for male PSOs to talk with women.

Oh yes, I have some theories about why that is. Mind you, I'm not a psychologist or sexologist or sociologist or anything like that, but I have had four and half years of active duty, and three and a half of touring Phone Whore and discussing this question with audiences, so actually, my guess is at least as good as yours, if not better. I have so many educated guesses that I'm handling this question in two parts. (I might add a 2b if necessary.)

Before I get started, here is my one assumption about why men turn to phone sex:

They have sexual needs that, for whatever reason, they cannot get met. It could be a temporary lack, like, the wife is away for week, but in many cases we are talking about experiences or language or fantasies that they cannot get in their lives, and would like to explore.

I don't mean we all do, always, or that our fantasies or desires or what we might be lacking in our face-to-face sex are so different from men's, either in content or intensity. I mean, we have more outlets for exploring that stuff, and talking about it with others.

Let's face it, women have been pushing the envelope for decades around sexual awareness. I'm thinking of consciousness-raising groups in the 60s, and checking out each other's cervixes in the 70s. Activists are out there, raising a ruckus about enthusiastic consent. However much we are constricted in other ways, there is space in our world for women to ask questions, to try things out, to kiss other girls, to openly admire other women's bodies, to read Cosmo sex tips and avidly discuss them with our friends, or just talk with each other. Women are socialized to talk more freely about emotions and all that gooey inner stuff; we are given strokes for caretaking around relationships, and that includes sex.

Now, all of this may be considered girl talk or gossip, and therefore not taken seriously, or given research funding. We still tend to be the best (worst!) policers of each other's sexual behavior. There is a fairly set range of sexual talk and behavior that is acceptable, and any seemingly "free" or "liberated" behavior that we do in public is very, very difficult to disentangle from the problematic societal dynamics that support that behavior for reasons that may in fact be directly opposed to our own reasons for taking back our sex (i.e. girls kissing on girls in clubs to feel good, while guys will encourage that because they like to watch). But at least we have some channels for communicating with each other around sex, and exploring it. For whatever reasons, we have some latitude, and we have found and are finding ways to ways to move about in this space. We don't generally need to pay someone for that.

But men do. Stay tuned for the next installment for my reasons why.

CONFESSION: I’m tired of doing sissy cocksucker calls


I want a world where this is not a joke.

The dispatcher gives me his name and ID number. "You've never done him before. He wants a dominant girl in her 40s, and he's a cross-dresser." (When I say the dispatcher gives me "notes" for a new caller, this is typically how detailed the notes are, which is to say, not very.)
He's a cocksucker, right?
"Maybe, but it doesn't say that."
Wanna bet?

She didn't take the bet, but I would have won. When I finished describing myself in the usual blond Amazonian terms and then said, it doesn't really matter what my tits or ass look like, does it? he laughed and said, "no, Mistress". That was not a lucky guess on my part; that was a statistical certainty.

Don't get me wrong, I love doing the domme calls—I'm especially good at sliding from friendly, if assertive, to "on your knees, whore"—but I am ... I dunno, a little sad about how prevalent this trope is in my work. Like, is there no way to be a cocksucker in Phone Sex Land without the frilly panties and sloppy lipstick? And conversely, is there no male who enjoys the satiny caress of snug French-cut bikini panties AND wants to get under mine?

Particularly that last question. I can count on one hand (the other is stifling a yawn) the number of callers I have who want pretty panties and are hetero-erotic in the orientation of their submission. Yes, I know I'm only seeing part of the phone-sex-using population here. Specialized services are specialized; they are targeting the fem-dom chat rooms and seriously fine-tuning their SEO strategies and putting ads out on erotica sites that I wouldn't be able to find even in an hour on Google. The company I work for, on the other hand, advertises in pretty mainstream publications, places like Penthouse and Hustler, so in general we are going to get guys who are accessing the more "mainstream" versions of fantasies, which almost by definition are loaded with obvious hot buttons, clichéd imagery, and converging stereotypes.

That's fine, that's fine! Whatever floats your boat, really! I do not argue with other people's turn-ons, but when I get these calls, I sigh inside. Nearly every caller I get who cross-dresses sucks cock; nearly every cocksucker I get goes to sissy territory almost immediately. The Venn diagram is practically a circle, a spotlight illuminating the narrow path of masculinity that men navigate in our society. Even when they step off the pavement, they still don't have much room to move.

God, just once I would like to tell a lumberjack romance, or coax a pretty-boy cunt-licker into doing a fashion show for me before settling down between my legs. Give me something else to play with, guys! Give me hope that our imaginations have more room than that.

ASK A PHONE WHORE: Do you ever get attached?

ASK A PHONE WHORE is a semi-regular feature, appearing whenever I get a good question. Anything you want to know about my phone work, ask away! Make sure to read through the archives here to see if I've already addressed your question in a previous post, or to see if I've written about something already and you have follow-up questions. I may set up a separate page here to solicit questions, or maybe just put a widget up, but for now I'll be running my mail bag over on Facebook.

Q: Do you ever get attached to your clients?

Yes. Sometimes. Does that surprise you? It shouldn't. Let's go back to the restaurant and food-service analogies for a moment:

If you've ever worked as a server in a restaurant for longer than six months, you almost surely had favorite customers, who always requested to be sat in your section, who were nice and funny and/or smart (whichever you value) and always tipped well. They may have been particular in their food requests, but they could articulate their needs and didn't expect you to read their minds. When you saw them in the door, you were happy, not only because you knew that doing your job, at that table at least, was going to be easy, but also because you enjoyed their presence in your space, and felt some degree of authenticity and genuine pleasure in their company.

That is what I consider attachment: feeling something positive toward the client, beyond what they're requesting and paying you to provide them. And yes, I do get that with some of my phone clients. Thank god! I mean, I don't want to work with all assholes! And if someone is a good person and I work with them regularly, I will get attached!

I think sometimes people think of "getting attached" as a potential problem. Isn't this what happens in all the comedies that touch on phone sex? And the dramas, too, probably. This is how all the shit starts, right? If you meet someone you like, and you're talking sex with them, doesn't the intimacy and romantic entanglement, the inevitable falling in love, just overwhelm your judgment and sweep you off your sleep? Nope. That's only one kind of attachment, a kind that I have never experienced in the context of paid phone sex.

This question of whether I get attached kinda fits in the same category with a few other common questions that people ask: do I get off on calls? Do I ever burn out? It's all the same meta-question: how emotionally invested do I get, and/or how good are my boundaries?

And here's the meta-answer: I seem to be able to get enjoyment or feel empathy, you know, all of those good positive relationship emotions, without getting enmeshed or tired or so overwhelmed with desire that I forget what my job is and fling it out the window. I don't know whether that is really so hard to imagine, or if it's just that the popular (mis)understanding of phone sex has been colored by pop-culture portrayals of the work and the women who do it. Or maybe, in spite of how hypersexualized our society is, many people do get emotionally invested when they have sex, and don't really know how to handle that with one person at a time, let alone hundreds of people with cards in a file box. But so far, I seem to be able to interact positively with multiple people on multiple levels—personal and business and sexual—and not lose track of self.

I enjoy talking with Bilingual Papi and fantasize occasionally about what he looks like. I feel sad that I haven't heard from Larry in easily six or seven months, which means he's probably dead. Yes, these can be uncomfortable emotions sometimes, but I'm human and I have a large heart and I like to share it, in big and small ways. I will always be grateful to the clients who leave a little space in our relationships for that to happen.

CALL OF THE DAY: the case of the cuckold and the dry cunt

He's a cuckold, with the very common side order of forced bi action. Not a requesting-me regular, he and I have talked often enough that just his first name and last initial are enough of a trigger. That's enough to remember not only the story he likes, with his wife greedily servicing a bunch of men, but also to remember his wife's name: Courtney.

Her name is on his card, because he talks about her constantly, both during the scene and in the post-coital wind-down. In the scene, obviously, she can't get enough, going after all the cock she can stuff in her face. I've set up the cock buffet and she is going back for fourths and fifths. Out of the scene, in the real world, my caller tells me that she is actually very conservative, sexually. She has sex with him, but she's just not very "adventurous".

Let me hasten to point out that I don't think having simple tastes in bed is a bad thing. But I could understand including her in these particular fantasies if that is something he wishes would change a little. I was always sympathetic.

Until this most recent call. Or after this most recent call, rather. The call itself was standard issue: I was the boss lady and Courtney was my employee, and in order to save her job she had to suck off the entire board of directors at the company. He comes to pick her up, I lead him back to the board room, he acts shocked and horrified, blah blah blah.

After he came, my guy got into it again, how Courtney would really never do anything like that. She does have sex with him, he says, as often as he wants it, but "she's not that into it. Sometimes she's just dry. Do you know what to do about that?" And right there, my heart sinks a little. He's a younger man, she's a younger woman. Maybe she has problems with her pussy juice. Or maybe he's just forcing it on her when she's not ready. Ugh.

Well, I say, you definitely want to help her "get ready". I say this slowly and carefully; I don't want him to feel like I'm blaming him in any way. Like, her just being there and doing it only because you want to, that can't be very hot, for either one of you. Try more foreplay, you know, things that she likes.

"She doesn't really like anything."

Maybe you could try going a little deeper in that conversation.

"Maybe." He sounds skeptical.

And with that, I have lost all sympathy for this caller and his travails of being trapped in a marriage without adventure. If I were Courtney and he were sticking it in me dry, I'd probably be keeping the drawbridge up as much as possible myself.

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