Are you coming to bed?
A few days ago a caller asked me what were my motivations, he wondered why I wasn’t appalled at what he called having been reduced to being a phone sex operator…personally, I wondered why he wasn’t appalled at having to call one.
1st of all folks, let me clarify that I enjoy what I do (in this fucked up economy, it pays the bills and I am not REDUCED to actually having to stand on a corner and sell ass to feed my kids) as some of you know I do it rather well. (smile). I believe that in anything that you do in life, you should always enjoy what it is that you do…otherwise you will not be successful at anything. “Trust me”, I said to him, “I haven’t been reduced, I’m just revisiting my past, now shut up and eat my motherfucking pussy!” And he did. (smile). At any rate, that motivated me to write about my motivations and past inspirations.
So first of all, I am a product of the 1970′s. As far as I can recall childhood was good, my family was well off, considered upper-middle class (now the middle class as an economic group is no more – thanks to Bush and DICK Cheney for fucking us all over really good). That’s a topic for another day, “How to FUCK Americans in the Ass dry and get away cleaner than a piece of unused tissue!”
Ok so when I was a pre-teen some time around 1985, I was rummaging through my dad’s things, a bunch of stuff from his college years at UCLA, and I came across this book with a picture of a girl getting fucked on the front cover, in spite of the big X written on the cover with a sharpie, what caught my eye was the perfect little oooh her mouth made as she was taking it. I wasn’t versed in sex at all, but I liked to read so I took and hid the book in my backpack. I didn’t know anything about sex, but I knew from looking at the picture that the book was a bad book because the girl had her pants down, and the guy’s pants were down to, and that was a big no, no.
I read the book secretly when my parents went to bed, when I came across words like cunt, jizz, and fuck, I pulled out the dictionary as I had been taught to do. (They don’t teach reading that way anymore – I’m not even sure they teach reading, or even if they teach – amazing how when the economy tanks the first people they get rid of are the teachers). I used this little 3×4 manila envelope, I’d also found in dad’s things…it had a nice smell like some kind of plant (old schoolers know what I’m talking about lol! Hint: before marijuana was packaged in little plastic baggies they used small manila envelopes – figured that out years later when I learned about marijuana), I used it as a book mark.
That little bitch was fucking everybody, I think the preacher even had a piece of that tail. LOL! I learned how to touch myself from reading that book, I used one of her episodes as an instruction manual, I would master the art of touching myself at age 19, that’s a story I will tell you all later. (blows a kiss). Once I was done reading the book, I’d learned a whole slew of new bad and nasty words I didn’t dare let come out of my mouth (back then parents whipped ass as discipline – we turned out better human beings in the long run). No sir, I sold the book to a boy at school for 5 bucks, more than likely he sold it for 10. It had only cost my dad $3 when he bought it years before in the late 60′s or early 70′s.
I kept my new repertoire of nasty and naughty words locked inside until my 18th birthday, when I went for my first “real” job interview in the lovely town of Hollywood, CA (as you can guess it was a job as a phone sex operator), I still didn’t really know anything about sex, but I had all the naughty stuff I’d learned from the little book. I would learn a bunch of new stuff to try from the raunchy group of intriguing colleagues at my new jobs in the big office.
Phone sex as an industry has changed, no longer are we sitting in offices squirming in our seat while our colleagues look on laughing at the newbie who has to keep running to the bathroom after every call. (blushes). Now, we are sensuous courtesans at home with the privacy to indulge all the nasty desires we discuss with you…we can spread our legs and touch ourselves in the comfort of home or get fucked by our lovers as you tell us your naughty fantasies! No, I have not been reduced, I have been liberated! (Snaps fingers) Back to reality, the little book motivated me to become a writer, though my writings are much more tame and romantic. But understand, that romance novels are seething with unspoken sex…that is the beauty of it all.
“He kissed her deeply as he buried himself within her and she lovingly accepted”
Is the same to me as what I’m really thinking as I write, “He kissed her deeply as he slammed his hard swollen cock into her wet pussy, she spread her legs wide like a a wanton whore and begged him to fuck her harder!” But that doesn’t sell books, so I must leave it to the imagination…add just a hint of drama and or mystery and voila! you’ve got a good reader as you lay beside your tired husband or boyfriend, who’s been working hard all day…so hard that his dick is tired too. Perhaps if you are lucky, you can catch the morning wood, but for now it’s books by Amanda Gordon, mother, novelist, and phone sex connoisseur.
Now call me so I can rub one off, all this talk about sex is making me sooo fucking horny.
