TRUE CONFESSION: I masturbated once while doing a call



People have asked me before, have I ever, you know, enjoyed myself while doing a call, and I say that I haven’t. Well, that’s a lie. I masturbated once. It totally worked, at least for a little bit. And sadly, it was with Extreme Top.

I KNOW. What the fuck was I thinking?

In my defense, it was VERY early on in my phone work career, maybe within two months after starting, and I hadn’t learned good boundaries yet. Some of Extreme Top’s mid-range S&M narratives kinda fit in with my own personal pain preferences—when he first started with me, he hadn’t really gotten that hardcore yet, easing me into it, I guess—and it was a warm summer night, and I was like, fuck it, why not? I jacked off, and got off twice, sweating there on the floor of the office, knowing full well that my slightly disapproving roommate was downstairs, but in the moment I wasn’t able to keep the noise down, because he wanted to hear me.

I gave him my actual coming noises, twice. When he wanted to hear me come a third time, I realized my mistake and started faking it. By the time he wanted a fourth, fifth, tenth orgasm, with no abatement in the noise level or perceived intensity, I was, like, fuuuuuuuuck.

Since then I have never, ever been even tempted to indulge while on call. As I tell people asking this question, the odds of finding someone whose fantasies intersect or overlap enough with mine to be interesting… these odds are very, very high. So there’s that. And I’ve learned that I get to keep my own sexuality, my actual sexuality. I’m a good enough actress that I don’t have to use my real expressions of turn-on to get the point across. As a last resort, the final check, I remind myself about that one stupid orgasmic experience with Extreme Top and all the fallout from that, and any tentative buds of libido are promptly, witheringly nipped.

“The fallout.” Look, it’s not terrible. It’s just … hard. I give him pretty much exactly what I actually do during an orgasm, loud and rasping and “daddy daddy daddy”, and pretending like I need to catch my breath, the works. He knows how it sounds, and it’s too late in the game for me to change it, or take it easy. I’ve learned to milk the recovery time, just so I don’t have to talk to him for a little bit longer. This has the side effect of making him think that oh, yeah, his talking really sends me, and further cements his loyalty to me, which is, as you might imagine, a very mixed blessing.

I keep forgetting how invested Extreme Top is in this idea that he’s got me on a string and can pull it to make me come hard, any time he wants. I keep forgetting. But then he’ll say something like he did last night:

Your come is so pure, you can play whatever games you want, but when you come, there’s a certain sound you make, it’s so true, and I love it.

He really meant it. He is really and truly convinced that I come for him all the time, hard, like that, whenever he tells me. He is the sort of person who thinks that strippers date him because they think he hot, not because he buys them expensive shit. Of course he thinks that HE is making the phone sex operator come.

The level of delusion makes me laugh and laugh and laugh. The fact that my illusion is that strong is almost enough to make up for the fact that I have to keep it up.


I write because I need to. You support me because you can.



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