God rest ye, merry cuckold!

I wear a lot of hats doing this work–girlfriend, mommy, counselor, sexologist–sometimes all in one call. But this week I got handed another role, one that my eight months of phone sex, and all my years of interpersonal experience and sexual exploration, couldn’t prepare me for. For a few frightening moments I was at a loss.

A caller asked me for help with his Christmas shopping.

It was B., of course, who recently gave me my first encounter with tease and denial. He calls me every week or so,  spinning out a labyrinthine tale of cuckoldry that any soap opera writer would give their studio parking spot to dream up. Because why? It would keep them in business for decades. I’m hoping to still be hearing about this when B.’s as-yet-unborn kids who clearly aren’t his are scouting out colleges and hitting him up for outrageous allowances.

In this week’s episode, B. called and said, straight out the gate, “I need your help.” (Duh duh duhhhh!) For a split second I thought, oh god, it all turned out to be real and his wife Deanne is asking for separation and he needs a sofa to crash on while she and her dominant bull lover Jamal work out living arrangements. Nothing so simple. B. said Deanne had just texted him at work, telling him to get presents for Jamal and Joellen, her lesbian lover. Which raises that perennial holiday question:

What do you get for the guy who already has everything, including an irresistible BBC and your wife?

I’ll be honest, the part of my head that goes “real or ridiculous?” whirred for a couple of frantic seconds. But then my PSO-mind clicked back on, and I sat back and started pulling out from B. what he knew about the recipients of his flamboyantly humble cuckold gifts. Of course, what he “knows” is all sexual–he doesn’t know Joellen’s favorite color, but he knows her bra size and how many strap-ons she keeps in her travel suitcase. And Jamal, what does he like? “Beer and your wife,” I answered my own question while thinking out loud.

In the end, we decided that he should get Joellen a nice, domme-ish black leather halter top (in my mind, she’s a slightly femme dyke-on-bike). And Jamal is going to be given a his-and-hers set of subtle, chain-mail collars, for him to make B. and Deanne wear at his pleasure . I figured Jamal would appreciate the symbolism behind it; I mean, B. sure did.

For that added weight of verisimilitude, I gave B. some sites to look at for submissive-type jewelry, and told him sternly that if he wanted the collars to get there in time he would have to have them overnighted (extra expense and therefore humiliation!). As a finishing touch, I instructed him to take his wedding band and his wife’s as well (she hasn’t been wearing it for months), and bring them along with the collars to a jeweler, and have their wedding bands attached to the collars as the connecting loop for the leashes.

I was kinda proud of that last bit.


** Edited 12/24/12: THANKS FOR READING, AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS! Give the gift that keep giving by pitching in some funds to get me and my solo play Phone Whore to the 2013 Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Read all about it and DONATE at the Indiegogo page HERE.

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