Friday f*ckbucket: the psychic version
After a few months out and about talking about phone sex at open mics, and a lot of time out on facebook, I think I’m developing some psychic abilities. I don’t like to mention it—I mean, some people already fidget a little when I tell them I’m a PSO, a psychic one might be a little Too Much—but for days like today, with a post due, it comes in handy. Because instead of waiting for the actual virtual f*ckbucket to fill up (I think I’m switching over to another platform for next week’s bucket, to make it easier to participate in), I can just reach my mind out to the PSYCHIC f*ckbucket and pick out the questions that I know people have been wondering. Don’t worry, I’m not good enough yet to know who was thinking which question, so you will retain your anonymity. (Except you, Scotty.)
I wonder if she recognizes my voice?
Never fear! I have spoken with close to 500 different men over the past nine months on the lines, and that is just too many for my aural memory to keep up. Besides, your appearance distracts me from listening well, because in my mind’s eye you’re all 6’2″, 190 pounds, and incredibly well hung. Men’s actual physical variety is a little disorienting after that.
What’s so special about her? I talk dirty with my boyfriend all the time!
What’s special about me is I don’t give it away like you do. I went out and found somebody who will pay me a decent percentage for doing it.
What’s your office like?
My office has good padding on the two walls near the desk, insulated with actual pillows and leftover professional-grade sound-attenuating foam, plus a good thick rug on the floor. However, a couple of months ago I got roommates who didn’t give a shit what kind of noise I was making up in my attic chambers, so I started to take calls from the easy chair in my room. I’ve got one of those old-style telephone end tables to hold my index card box, my dayplanner, and whatever non-phone-sex project I’m working on, and my laptop with the timer on it sits on the nearby dresser. I want to get a good ergonomic office chair and get back over to my office, though. Taking calls less than 8 feet away from the spot where I actually fuck might constitute blurry boundaries.
What’s the nastiest word or phrase you’ve ever said in a phone call?
Leaky-assed, cum-guzzling man whore. Or the n-word. It’s a toss-up.
Have you done all the things you talk about on the phone or in your stand-up?
Most. I mean, not move for move, but the general gist of things, yeah. As I say in my standard self-description on the phones, “I have been around the block a little bit.” I might add, however, that first-hand experience is not a requirement to do phone sex. A well-read individual, or perhaps one who spends a lot of time on youporn, would be able to get started, if he or she also did some supplementary reading on the boards or forums for whatever kinks or fetishes they were lacking knowledge in.
Which calls do you really enjoy taking?
The ones where I get to be sarcastic. It’s not so much a strain to stay in character.
Stay tuned early next week for the next f*ckbucket, with a new survey platform, and PRIZES, too!