I love this tip sheet directed at clients of escorts, on how to be a good john. It’s rarely going to be seen by the people who really need to see it, but I’m glad it’s out there. Kinda helps remind us that we are worthy enough to keep these boundaries in mind, you know?

My phone sex tip sheet is going to be a little different on the surface–it’s such a different line of work, after all–but you can see that the take-away idea is the same: I’m a skilled worker, doing my best to get you off. Respect me.

Okay, so how do you respect me? Here are some good starting points:

DON’T TRY TO GET OFF TALKING TO THE DISPATCHER. That is not in her job description. She is going to be irritated, and believe me, you want to keep her on your side.

ANSWER THE PHONE PROMPTLY. Unless your wife just walked in or you are finishing up that enema, don’t make my call go to answer machine. I know you’re ready. We just talked to you. Oh, and next time? Finish the enema first and then call.

DON’T CALL IN WONDERING WHERE WE ARE. I don’t think this is a double standard; it’s just an occasional glitch in any service industry. Occasionally calls can run over (see below), or we have to run take a leak between calls, anything can happen. Wait for a bit before you call out the SWAT team, otherwise you’re just tying up your phone line and ours.

SAY WHAT YOU REALLY WANT. I think 70 percent of the time wasted in phone sex is because the caller can’t just spit it out. If it’s your thing to have to have the truth forced out of you, as part of a humiliation sequence, that’s all right (the dispatcher already told us). Otherwise, say it. We have mad listening skills and intuition, and the tropes are pretty obvious, but we AREN’T psychic.

DON’T ASK TO MEET ME. It’s never going to happen. Other girls have done it? Fine, you should ask for them next time. Oh, wait, you can’t. ‘CUZ THEY WERE FIRED.

DON’T PUSH TIME LIMITS. If you are using a service that sells blocks of time, we will tell you when there are 2-3 minutes left. In my experience, that is plenty of time to wring it out. And don’t get pissy when we hang up at a minute over. We get in trouble for this shit, okay? And it backs things up for other callers (see above).

SAY THANK YOU AND GOODBYE. Maybe you’re of the opinion that you’re paying for this call, and you can be a rude bastard if you want. That’s fine. I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to the guys who want to know they’re getting quality attention from their PSO. Seriously, fellas. Three words make me feel more human, and that means I’m going to feel more invested in the encounter. You’ll sense the difference next time, trust me.

Hey, my PSO people! Got any other tips for callers using phone sex services? Drop ‘em here!

3 Comments | In: Adult Ed., The More You Know! | tags: how to phone sex, Phone Sex, phone sex etiquette. | #

Today I write of another kink that I knew very little about before joining the lines. It’s these guys who fantasize about their wives or girlfriends getting boffed by other, better-hung fellows (or in the case of one of my regulars, a buffed-out dyke with a supersize strap-on).

I’m not going to deal with the 101 of cuckolding, because Dan Savage covers it nicely here and wikipedia goes into great detail also. For myself, after extensive reading of overwrought cuck fic and a couple of afternoons laughing at the bad acting at those interracial hot-wife sites (no links to that, that’s what google is for), this is where I’m at:

WTF.

I’m just not much closer to emotionally comprehending the turn-on. Sure, I had my theories, but the chart is starting to sprawl as my cuck-callers keep adding phrases and scenes and images to the mess: imagining your conservative wife letting loose with some horse-dicked stranger, in a way that she doesn’t with you. Smelling that distinct lust-must smell in the conjugal bed. Her getting knocked up and not by you. Being the clean-up boy as your reward (oh, homosex overtones, I never get enough of you). Watching her exit the restaurant with her boyfriend on the eve of your anniversary dinner, leaving you with the tab, defizzed champagne, and a melting tiramisu. A call I took last week made me cry, when one cuckold fantasizer asked me, “what will it feel like when my wife falls in love?”

This stuff is CHARGED. Last night I took a call where the hardest spot of resistance for the caller was when I told him, the husband, that he needed to open the door for my lover and welcome him into the house. He resisted, he was shocked and appalled, but he didn’t hang up, which is why I spent some time needling him about it. “Don’t you love me? Don’t you want to see me happy?” I asked, throwing an extra pout into my voice. “I can’t do it,” he kept saying. “It’s so humiliating.”

We ended up arguing for nearly 10 minutes, because here we were, 60 minutes into the call, and we had already imagined him taking the guest bedroom, right next to the master bedroom and hearing me get my brains fucked out. So what was it about opening the door and offering a drink to my lover that was so much harder? “He’s been in our bed before, you know.” “I know. But I can’t just welcome him in like that.” In the end, we negotiated–a cream pie in exchange for opening the door and being respectful–but over my head the lightbulb didn’t just go on; there were 200 of them flashing all around. Jeezus christ, I thought, all that psychological symbolism is right on. It’s like a porno and horror film all mixed together.

Whatever you do, cuckold, (don’t) open that door. After that, it’s all over but dessert.

6 Comments | In: Definitions, Kink-tastic, The More You Know! | tags: cream pie, cuckold. | #