CALL OF THE DAY: trans-fetish bullshit and banana bread
And the banana bread was saved…
Thank god for Extreme Sub. I mean, yes, he irritates the ever-loving crap out of me on numerous occasions, but without him I would never ever have a chance to say EXACTLY what I think to a caller.
Take today’s session, for example. I was baking banana bread, and of course Extreme Sub calls for a 30-minute session when my timer’s going to go off in 20. (This is some variation of Murphy’s Law for phone sex.) I debate going out and handing a note to my lover about when to remove the pans from the oven, but then I think, no. Extreme Sub will do whatever I tell him to, even if that is shut up for three minutes, I need to take care of something else more important than you.
I informed him that we were going to be interrupted, and that was just the way it was going to be, which he accepted with no fuss. I asked him where he was; for a change he was calling from home, instead of the office. (Maybe he was afraid of what other potentially public things I might make him do.)
Right, I said. What toys do you have?
“Nothing,” he said quietly.
What the fuck? When we first started talking, you told me you had dildos and butt plugs and everything.
“My wife threw them out.”
Plausible, but it didn’t really matter. I launched into him: what the fuck is wrong with you? You call me with no toys of any sort, and I’m supposed to do interesting things to you? You don’t have any rubber bands or phone cords or anything?
“That’s only at the office.”
Fuck, I said. Go get a fucking cup from the kitchen. He hesitated, and I raised my voice. Do it!
When he came back, I instructed him to piss in it. Go ahead, I said, I’ll wait. There was a pause of maybe 10 seconds, and he said, “I don’t think I can do it.”
Oh, I said, letting the disdain ooze out of my voice. You’re already hard, aren’t you?
“Yes,” he whispered.
You don’t have any toys, your ass is off limits, you can’t even take a leak on command, I snapped. What the fuck do you think you’re going to get today?
“I like to be surprised.”
I know you do, but I don’t, I said. I don’t like to be surprised at all. Next time you call, you’re going to call ahead and make an appointment, so that I know you’re coming and have time to plan our session.
At that point I noticed some background noise, like a movie playing on low. What are you watching? I asked.
“It’s a porno with two trannies,” he said. “I want to try sucking tranny cock sometime. Do you know any?”
Yes, I said, rolling my eyes.
“Could you set me up with them?”
NO, and I nearly yelled it. No way. I wouldn’t inflict you on them, even though you would richly deserve every inch of their stiletto heels through your fucking balls when you call them trannies. There was a shocked silence; I continued.
You know that most trans woman don’t like people calling them “trannies”?
“No, I didn’t know that,” he said. “What do they want to be called?”
I sighed loudly and scornfully. Just women, jeezus fuck. They’re just women. Now you strike me as the sort of guy who might be driven to actually go out and try to pick up trans women. I suggest you get it sorted on the nomenclature first, you asshole.
And then the timer went off and I went to check my banana bread. Just wait, I said. Just you fucking wait.
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