Jul 15, 2007

Phone Whore

I was a phone whore.

My wife at the time (now ex) suggested that I become a phone sex operator. I don't know why she did this -- it was completely out of character for her -- unless it might have been to give me an outlet for my sexual deviance. Maybe if I got off on the phone sex enough I'd leave her the hell alone and stop "bothering" her with the need for any kind of love and/or affection.

Regardless of her intention, I looked into it and found a job. Male phone sex operators are fairly rare and with good reason.

The way it worked was that I set up a schedule with an agency. They would forward calls during a certain time period to my home phone (this was in an era before cell phones were as popular) and I would get an automated operator asking if I was available to take a call. If so, I accepted and was connected.

Usually, the callers were on a "party line" which had all of two people on it -- the caller and me. Getting a one-on-one call was a rarity, most likely because they cost more. The cheap bastards...

Guys who called the "party line" probably expected to eavesdrop on an ongoing male orgy. What they got was me. A bored twentysomething who had never had a bisexual experience (at that time) and would rather have been watching a movie than trying to extract a conversation. Barely any of the guys that called were willing to talk. They were, however, willing to listen. I would try to get a response from them -- a "hello" even -- and, if that didn't work, I'd start riffing by myself. Thinking of all the things that a male phone whore should/would/could say. I pretended like I was watching a man-on-man film and would describe the action or I'd put myself into the situation. I'd describe the last guy I picked up at a rest stop and fucked. Something, anything, to fill the time.

I started calling other phone sex lines to see how the operators handled it. They all had an unfair advantage, though, as I actually talked to them. A talking customer is definitely a lot easier than a mute one. Even if the talk is crazy. Listening is a lot simpler than making shit up when you're not in the mood.

I noticed that I was putting more money on my credit cards than I was making at my phone sex job. I was becoming an addict. It was a bizarre situation. I was getting the attention that I craved from my wife but I was paying for it -- and not getting paid for it.

In the three months that I worked for the phone sex line, I only had one good customer. He called me up and spoke to me! He was wearing panties and that was one thing I could actually relate to. Alas, I managed to "talk him off" too fast. He orgasmed after only a few minutes of chat, thus becoming my first and only client to cum from my voice (that I was aware of). This gave me great satisfaction but made all of the other calls pale in comparison. Where were the panty boys when I was sitting, listening to white noise on the phone line imagining some guy on the other end with his cock out, disappointed in the lack of action.

I still frequent phone sex lines -- I have one particular operator that I find incredibly arousing with her vast imagination. A few times I've talked her into allowing me to be the operator while she's the listener. That's been fun. It's not something I can, or want to, do often but, with the right person, it can be a highly charged experience.

1 comment:

Angela St. Lawrence said...

Hey...I resemble that remark. At least I hope I do.

Love, Angela