My First YouTube Video: First Thoughts on Control

I just posted my first YouTube video!

The title is "First Thoughts on Control - Recognizing Abuse and Encouraging Negotiation" and it's aimed at people interested in control play in the bedroom. I do not think I have necessarily original thoughts on BDSM subjects, but I believe that every voice helps when it comes to encouraging safety and sanity, even in the context of for-pay BDSM over the phone.

I have more a generic intro "Hello World" video that I should post first, but upon re-watching it, I need to add one significant thought to it before I post it, and I've already stalled on posting these long enough (I recorded it 10 days ago). So I pulled on my big girl panties and pretended like it's okay to do things out of sequence.

(That screaming you hear? Several of my more particular Inner Voices throwing fits about posting things out of sequence...)

If it gets yanked from YouTube for being adult content, that's fine, I'll upload it elsewhere and re-do the link here, but for now, this embedded player should work (fingers crossed...):



If the embedded player doesn't work, here's the link instead: First Thoughts on Control - Recognizing Abuse and Encouraging Negotiation

Although the video does not reflect me in phone-sex / sexy-time mode, it does reflect me being all reflective and thoughtful, so for those of you who get turned on smart thoughts from smart people, you're welcome!

(many thanks to Domme Kyaa for posting her Philosophy of a Fem Domme series, which was the original inspiration for me to do these - I can't find the original links anymore, but the one linked is representative of her work)

Tell Me You Love Me

I just realized, just this moment, that there is a phrase I utter in my fantasies, in my mind, all the time, that I can hear echoing in my head as the prelude to almost any self-arousal, and as an essential part of any masturbation, but I have never uttered it during phone sex:

tell me you love me

Late at night, when I start getting sleepy and snuggly, and I take a deep breath and listen to my body, those words echo through my mind before I know where they will lead, but they set the stage.

tell me you love me

I worry about being manipulative, even though I know sometimes I am, by the nature of the business. But I have lines I try to draw: I never ask anyone to refill their account after the one-minute warning (except for the one guy who asks me if I want you to come back, and I know you do it because you like to hear me beg). If I hear the one-minute warning and I know you're close, I'll push instead of slowing down, even knowing that if you climax, you're more likely to hang up and send me a thank-you note than you are to refill your account.

tell me you love me

Over the weekend, I built a ridiculously intense connection with a caller and told him it sounded like he was telling me he loved me, but there were a million ways for him to sluff off my comment, and I knew he was smart enough to navigate beyond that if he chose to.

tell me you love me

But it's different than the phrase I hear in my head. That one, it is direct, unsluffable. It's needy. It's desperate. It's manipulative. I could never say those words to someone unless I trusted them deeply to hold their own power, emotionally, to not let me coerce them, to only tell me if it's the truth.

tell me you love me

Sometimes the emotion behind someone else's words can hit me square in the chest, or in the gut, or make my head spin, or make my mouth water. It is irrational that I would crave for someone to tell me they love me when I logically find the word to be meaningless without further definition. And yet, the origins of a thousand orgasms are in these words for me:

tell me you love me

... and I don't know why. I've started writing probably a dozen stories with that as the first line, and I get lost in them, unfinished, because they never seem worthy enough to fill in the possibilities the phrase creates.

I won't do it. I won't say those words to you. Not over the phone, not when you're paying for the call. You're there for your pleasure and entertainment, I couldn't ask that of you.

But if you tell me to say them, tell me I can, I will,

Tell me you love me.

But if those words tumble out of my mouth, and you respond, I'll warn you now, I don't know what my response will be, other than ... intense.

 

In Celebration of the Male Submissive

from malesubmissionart.com

I have been reading a conversation on the web about male submissives, which almost led to a blog post title of "Heartbreak and the Male Submissive" but I decided, instead, to celebrate, in addition to empathizing.

It started with @maymaym (the guy behind the visual-celebration-of-male-submission site: http://malesubmissionart.com/) posting a link to this incredibly well-written piece discussing how often members of the BDSM scene devalue male submissives, even while valuing female dominants: http://www.labcoatlingerie.com/2011/08/09/the-cost-of-devaluing-male-submission-one-token/ This particular conversation goes back further on the internet, but that's where I joined it.

Then tonight, maymay posted a related link, from KinkInExile, who had responded to Professor Chaos, with something equally well-written, about being a geek female dominant who breaks stereotypes and has a hard time finding a male submissive partner, here: http://kinkinexile.wordpress.com/2011/09/01/what-she-said/

Since I just linked to other posts which may cause track backs here, I need to give a bit of context for who I am, why I am joining this conversation, and why I feel qualified to empathize with and celebrate male submission.

For most of my 30s, I was a polyamorous submissive, and marginally active in the BDSM scene in Austin. Professionally, I was a data analyst who became an IT Manager. So I am a geek, I love geeks, I love managing geeks, and I have fucked many an awesome geek. Also, I'm a leader outside of the bedroom.

Then I came down with a rare neurological vertigo which debilitated me from doing IT work, and I became a phone sex operator to pay the bills. I swear this is relevant, please hang with me for a few more paragraphs.

I started professional phone sex, naturally enough, with a listing as a submissive woman, but kept getting calls from clever submissive men who had discovered via trial-and-error that convincing a submissive woman to top you can sometimes turn out pretty well, because they tend to be empathetic.

As with any supply and demand situation, when the demand (for female domination) outstrips the free supply (and it does), a for-pay market is created. I was stunned to discover how many male submissives felt unable to get their needs met in the flesh for free, despite the best efforts of many of them to join kink groups and form healthy femdom/malesub relationships.

And many of the for-pay options in the web cam and phone sex world involve women who project a message of "I rule, you suck" which (a) perpetuates anti-male-submissive bias and (b) is a giant turnoff for many smart male submissives.

I was heartbroken. I am heartbroken. It pisses me off and makes me sad.

As a natural leader who found tremendous release in sexual submission myself, I have deep empathy for those who seek the delicious miles-away-from-the-rest-of-my-life of subspace. I get why it's awesome fun to float along on the waves of someone else's decisions. Plus, as a sensation slut and a pain slut, I understand those tendencies when they pop up for men, too.

So I put on my learning cap, discovered the phrase "service top" (a dominant whose pleasure comes primarily from enjoying their partner's pleasure), and set out to be the best dominant female I could be.

Guess who now has a full-fledged fetish for hearing men beg? Me.

Guess who has had so many delicious orgasms while dominating men over the phone that now the image of a man's hands with rope around them gets me instantly thumpy? Me, me, me, me, me. Seriously. Yum. I can't help it. I accidentally conditioned myself to be a switch.

And guess who is now considering collaring a service submissive? Me.

(By the way, never break the news to someone that you are considering collaring them in a public blog post. I mean, I never would. Pffff. That's ridiculous. That would leave him to sweat for hours wondering if it was really him I was talking about, even though he would know it was, and let his emotions build up to a fever pitch before he gets to talk to me, and who would want that, right?)

To be fair, I had switchy tendencies back in my slut days, too - I had spanked and flogged men, I had fucked several guys with strap-ons (not necessarily submissive, but often so), I had been the de facto leader in threesomes, and I had taken control of many an erotic activity without asking permission to do so.

Also, I'm pretty damn good at topping from the bottom if I do say so myself. Was that a scene negotiation, or a carefully laid path of stuff I'm dying for you to do to me? Both.

The anonymity of paid phone sex can facilitate confessions on a deeply intimate level. I have heard the struggles of many who swim against the cultural currents of male machismo and the expectations for male domination, and I have felt empathy in my gut, as strongly as I have felt empathy with women who have been molested or raped. I get it. I care.

I know male submissives who have been abused by selfish, untrustworthy, unsafe women masquerading as Dominas. And I know male submissives who have been enraptured by safe, sane, consensual play, and longstanding loving relationships. The play itself isn't the problem - the problem is when abusive people hide behind a facade of play to perpetrate abuse.

I know male submissives who have been devalued or rejected by BDSM communities. And I know male submissives who have been honored, valued, respected members of BDSM communities. The scene itself isn't the problem - the problem is when insensitive or abusive people hide behind a facade of majority orientation to be insensitive or abusive.

Every voice that speaks out in celebration of male submissives helps the conversation. Tonight, the urge to join the conversation overwhelmed me. I had to join.

I know I'm suspect because I do this for pay. And I get why that makes me suspect. I know I can't lead this conversation because I'm commercial.

But I also know that KinkInExile asks, "Where are the [dominant women] that _like_ sex, and respect their partners?" and I wanted to answer her: I see them. They're out there. I see them growing up, branching out. I see KinkInExile, and I see Professor Chaos, and I see subcommunities on reddit having intelligent conversations about guys who want to bend over for their girlfriends, or be tied up, or experiment with control, or experiment with pain.

I see the women in polyamorous relationships who switch in their primary partners, who then offer caring responsible professional domination services to a few close friends as a part-time day job while the kids are at school. Seriously, I took a workshop from two women in Austin who fit that description.

And I personally know five women who considered themselves sexually submissive before becoming web cam / phone sex operators, who got talked into topping and figured out we fucking *love* it. That's offline, off the phones, talking amongst ourselves, behind the curtain, women who care about our callers, admitting to each other how much we enjoy controlling men sexually. No, we don't necessarily love every kink that comes our way, but we have found some form(s) of control play irresistibly sexy.

I believe we are in an age of unprecendented plurality, where ideas are ever-easier to access. The way to help more women get in touch with their inner loving dominant is for dominant women to continue to talk about their pleasure, in whatever forums you have, with honesty and openness, as best as you can.

Ideas spread. They may spread slowly, but imagine how much greater the chances are now of forming a healthy femdom/malesub relationship than even just 20 years ago. I remember 1991 - I was 21 - and how little information I had available to me. My mind boggles.

KinkInExile also asks, "And yet what does it mean for me in this world that the person I want to play with most, that beautiful strong geeky smart sexually submissive man, comes wounded because the world got to him before I had a chance?"

And I reply, "Thank goodness you're there for him, to help him find healing, when you find him (or them)." Oh, and also, there are metric fuck-tons of them out there, I promise. Have you been to reddit?

In the meantime, the way to help more men accept their submissive tendencies, and for more communities to value male submission more highly, is for submissive men to continue to talk about their pleasure, in whatever forums you have, with honesty and openness, as best as you can.

I'm so so so so so sorry that it's so so so so so fucking hard for you. I really am.

So that's the heartbreak.

Here is the celebration:

I love the way a man's breath catches when my voice slows a bit, and I tell him to put his hands behind his back.

I love male groans of pleasure mixed with pain.

I love looking into a man's eyes and seeing absolute trust that although I may hurt him, I will not harm him; although I may cause him pain, I will not cause him damage, and I would rather cut off my own hand than betray such a trust.

I love feeling the rush of power when a man is begging to be allowed to have an orgasm, and the exquisite suffering when I tell him, "no, darling, not yet."

I love seeing a man deep-throat a dildo, and then glow with pride when I tell him that was well done.

I love hearing the guttural sounds a man makes when he is fucking himself in the ass because I told him to.

I love, love, love, love, love, more than I can express, the sound of relief and gratitude in a man's voice when we have experienced pleasure together at my direction.

And I love, love, love, love, love, more than I can express, how badass it makes me feel to dominate a man to the point where I get to hear that relief and gratitude. Those of you who have let me feel that way, thank you.

Sugar Daddy Musings

In theory, developing an in-person relationship with a new lover with Sugar Daddy energy would be perfect for me. My husband and I are openly non-monogamous, he often travels for work, and I have bills to pay and love to share.

So earlier this week, I found a few "dating" sites specifically designed for Sugar Daddies/Mommas to find Sugar Babies (also of both sexes - hooray for GLBTQ progress) and signed up for the two with the most interesting combination of features.

After a brief flurry of activity, this letter arrived in my brain: 

Dear Galiana in 2011,

Remember when you developed a fantastic long-distance BDSM relationship with a Dom over about six months, met him in person, it was awesome, then tried to quickly replicate it via an online kink site, and it ended in disappointment?

Remember when you developed a fantastic long-distance flirting relationship with a bi girl / straight guy couple over about six months, met them in person, it was awesome, then tried to quickly replicate it via an online swingers site, and it ended in disappointment?

So even though rumor has it that you might or might not have recently developed a fantastic long-distance lover relationship with a gentleman with Sugar Daddy tendencies over about six months of having phone sex with him, met him in person, and it was awesome, perhaps you have already learned the lesson that you cannot replicate such relationships quickly via online sites.

Do us a favor and skip the disappointment.

Love, Galiana from 2003

Don't get me wrong: I have had success in developing relationships with lovers from online sites. But it takes time, and energy, and patience, and the emotional fortitude to keep up your hope and hold fast to your standards. Add in my bizarre circumstances (I'm married, I'm a phone sex worker, I have vertigo...), and it starts to feel ... well ... it feels like a job.

And you know what? I have a job already, thank you very much. A job I love. Honestly, Galiana, the last thing you need is to be distracting yourself by having to politely turn away dozens of men who can't read or write complete sentences. If I wanted to do that, I would answer my email on my OK Cupid profile, which states I'm not looking, but I still get email (I set it up to be see callers' profiles to help them with their listings - I'm a damn fine profile coach if I do say so myself).

But just like with other dating / hookup sites, the majority of people on the Sugar Daddy sites are of average intelligence. It makes sense mathematically - the majority is average - that's not cruel, that's just the math (well, it might be the mean... heh, nerd joke).

I will not be a good long-term match with someone of average intelligence. So in order to find a good match, I need to take the time to sift through the majority to uncover the gold, which is less than 1% by volume. Hmmm, in that metaphor, the majority is dirt, and I'm not comfortable with that, because all people have value, but I can't quickly think of a better metaphor at the moment. But just to be clear: nobody is dirt, even if I don't happen to want to fuck them. 

I'm picky. I know. I need a someone who is smart, funny, honest, free of STDs, willing to use condoms, committed to usually doing the right thing (however it's defined for him), understanding of my circumstances, patient with my limits, has Sugar Daddy tendencies, and is filled head to toe with insatiable lust for me. Quite a combo.

Also, frankly, the whole dynamic still freaks me out, because it feels like I would be whoring myself out if I evaluated a potential partner based on how much of a girlfriend allowance he could give me. I mean, it would be whoring myself out. That's clear to me. And it doesn't fit me right, like a new shoe with a pointed toe in the wrong shape: it pinches me, and I want to take it off and walk around in my hippie free love bare feet again.

Maybe I'll return to the idea some time when I feel like I have an extra hour or two per day to sift. That day is clearly not today, because this afternoon, I'm going to the airport to pick up my smart, funny, honest, STD-free, do-the-right-thing, compassionate, patient, generous, lusty husband, and that makes me the luckiest girl in the world already.

See ya tomorrow :)

Lover Experience

In the midst of sorting through my pictures from September's photo shoot, I found one that I hadn't focused on before, but now it's my current favorite picture of myself:

First of all, that babydoll has a bra strap around back, so dang, my boobs look amazingly perky for DDs (did I mention that I got fitted for a bra and found out that I'm a DD, not a D like I thought? Crazy.)

Then the soft purple fabric, with the soft scarf-looking headband, and the flowing gypsy-ish earrings, and my flowing gypsy-ish wavy hair ... all together, it's a soft look physically.

But the real attraction for me is my expression: I look as if I am enjoying the company of whoever I am looking at, as if I am open to them, kind, relaxed, and happy.

I've been thinking lately about the term "Girlfriend Experience" (GFE), and whether or not it fits me. As a married, openly non-monogamous woman, I don't consider myself to be in the market for a boyfriend, which, to me, connotates someone that I'm considering as a potential life partner. A boyfriend/life partner has to share chores, help me when I need heavy stuff moved, and listen to me kvetch when I'm moody... the daily things of life.

I care if my boyfriend/life partner can consistently reinforce training with my dogs, how he behaves towards customer service people in public, whether or not he likes hosting parties, if he likes to travel, and what he chooses to do with his money. Details. Encumbrances. And in many cases, hassles. My husband has to be a good fit for all that crap, poor guy, and that's what I would need from someone to call him my boyfriend, too.

But a lover... well, that's different, isn't it?

I had a conversation with my current lover (also married and openly non-monogamous) when we starting about what we wanted to be for each other. We came up with the concept of an amusement park: lots of fun choices of activities, plenty of delightful options to explore, and no trace of the concerns of daily life. We are an escape for each other. I protect my ability to feel sexy when I'm with him by (mostly) shielding him from my unsexy anxieties about logistics and uncertainties and insecurities and disappointments. When I'm with him, we're just fun and good and happy and sexy together. And it feeds both of us.

So what I think I want on the phones with callers is not a girlfriend experience where you would have to help me with all the annoying hassles of life.

I want a lover experience.

I want to be an escape from your daily grind. A new setting. A different mood. A space in which you are free to be any version of yourself you wish to be, and free to discover which version of me responds to you in that way. Permission to luxuriate in your desires and focus on the pounding of your heart when you touch my skin and hear me sigh.

I once had a crazy-luxurious massage combined with a moisturizing salt scrub, washed off by four overhead shower heads, and followed by heavenly-smelling lotion. I got to shed dead skin, release muscle tension, and replace stress and dullness with relaxation and health.

I want to be that: the sexual equivalent of a day-spa-salt-scrub-massage-shower for those who call me.

So why did I combine that picture with this discussion about offering a lover experience? Because that picture, to me, looks like how I feel as a lover. Calm, relaxed, kind, open, confident, attentive, enjoying your company, and fully aware that you're probably missing all of that because you're distracted by my boobs.

/grin

It's totally okay. They're awesome.

So kick off your shoes, lover. Come on in. Let's play.

Words, Lies, and Sighs

"The words you choose, they way they tumble out of your mouth, I can feel them hitting me, and they feel like truth." - a phone sex caller

"Words are what we make up, but those sighs, those are the truth." - another phone sex caller, a few days later

Yes.

Seriously, I have the best job in the world. Not only do I get paid to masturbate while relishing someone else's sexual energy, usually several times per day, but also, in post-coital pillow talk, sometimes people say the most interesting things. (Physical + Mental + Emotional) * Stimulation = Win

Oh yeah, I just turned something intensely sexy into algebra. Wow. I can't decide whether to feel mortified or victorious.

But back to the topic at hand... Words, and truth, and sighs, and lies.

Last night, I was role playing a "seduction" scene which had an element of blackmail in it. I said a few things, which, if taken out of context, would be horrifying, like "HR would never believe you that you didn't want me" and "I'm paying you right now to bury your face in my pussy, so eat it like the whore that you are." You can probably figure out the scenario.

I would never, ever, even for a moment, in my real life consider finding anything sexy at all about non-consensual sex. In fact, it turns my stomach. And yet, role playing this scenario with him, I was struggling not to rush the scene so I could freaking come already because ohmygod was I turned on.

The words were lies. But the energy hurling the words at him was raw, unadulterated truth.

But that first caller, we'll call him X, the one who said my words hit him... we had gotten to this place of slow, deep sensuality, a luscious, wandering exploration. He would touch me some place new, and I would find myself asking, "X?" and then he would pause, and I could hear his ragged breath, and he would reply, "Galiana?" and I would have to pause to let the shivers of delight run their course at the way he said my name, and then I would ask him for the next thing my body was dying for him to do. Every word was raw, unadulterated truth.

I remember reading CS Lewis' "The Screwtape Letters" in high school. In case you don't know it, the premise is a senior devil who is writing letters to his nephew, a junior demon, coaching him how best to ensnare and corrupt humanity. In one passage, he described captured souls as if they were wines in glass bottles: most people had bland colorless souls, but the best of them, the truly tortured and hateful, they swirled in agony, with tendrils of delicious regret and rage that you could feel churning in your gut after consuming them.

I think about that mental picture often, of the ribbons of someone else's being reaching toward me, and I relish the exquisite satisfaction of intertwining them with my own, and letting mine reach back and feed him. 

I think I just called myself evil. Or at best, vampiric. But no, because the interaction is two-way with me, and mutually energizing, so that makes me merely naughty at worst. Right?

My callers were both wrong, and they were both right. I think the intention is the truth. Call it energy, intention, emotion, passion, whatever, but that is the thing that is true. And that truth, when it's all flowing exactly right, is what I love. /lick lips

Dear Kink Academy: Pick Me!

Dear Kink Academy,

I learned about you today, and I am thrilled to have found you. And I want to be one of your Student Bloggers!

I have been personally kinky for nine years, but my participation in the greater kink community tended to ebb and flow with the rhythm of other life commitments, similar to many amateur kinksters, I'm sure.

Then in July 2010, I became a phone sex worker. And BAM! I'm now smack in the middle of the biggest kink-o-rama I could imagine! Although I started with a phone sex listing that was fairly simple (sex-positive, plus open to being submissive for BDSM play), I have gotten requests for:

• cross-dressing
• feminization
• humiliation
• erotic hypnosis
• cuckolding 
• gang bangs
• bondage
• spanking
• cock-and-ball torture (CBT)
• and role plays of a bazillion types, including the most popular: 
• damsel in distress
• naughty neighbor
• robot / android 
• student / professor

... and the list of activities go on and on and on, as evidenced by the 82 blog posts I have so far with the tag "caller".

I am thrilled to have found Kink Academy as a place to get new ideas, learn safety tips, and watch experienced kinksters sharing the things they love.

And, in the spirit of openness and honesty, I will also confess that I would love to eventually contribute as a faculty member for you (if we know each other long enough, if you want me to, if all goes well, if lawd willin' an' the creek don't rise, and any other if-based caveats you wish to add...). I might have a topic or two in me about using phone sex or web cams to spice up a long-distance relationship!

But back to the second-semester job at hand. It will be easy for me to put a Kink Academy eduction to use with my callers in a few ways:

1. When someone requests a new kink I don't know much about, I can (hopefully) fake it without putting them in danger (for example, I would never fake a CBT call without knowing what I was talking about), then go to Kink Academy to learn more, and then offer the caller a new level of understanding. I think most customers would be thrilled to get an email saying "I watched this video about your kink, and I have new ideas for our next call!" 
2. I can take classes for kinks I know I get calls for - three obvious examples I'll be soaking in are "Chastity", "Edge Play", and "Foot Fetish". In any given week, I will put those to use. 
3. I can attend classes for kinks I don't know much about yet, and "advertise" for those types of calls by blogging about what I've learned and inviting interested callers to test-drive me to see how I do!

I try to blog every day, so blogging once per week about what I'm learning at Kink Academy should be simple. In fact, it's kind of a win-win no-brainer for me... I watch a class and leave comments, and take notes on what I learned, wait for the next relevant call to use the techniques and ideas from the class, and then follow up with the caller's response. The blog posts would write themselves. It sort of feels like it's cheating, but I'm fine with being easy! 

I know my readers will appreciate glimpses into what I learn. I often hear from callers who read my blog that they are fascinated to learn about the variety of kinky conversations I have, and they appreciate the exposure and information. Kink Academy knowledge could only add to that enjoyment.

Whether or not I am chosen to be one of your Student Bloggers, I'm sure I'll be sending knowledge-hungry kinksters your way.

(but seriously, pick me! pick me!)

Galiana

P.S. FYI for regular blog readers: How did I find out about this? I've been happily following Mistress Magick on Twitter -- @Mistress_Magick and http://www.male-service.com/ - who seems to have a great pulse on kink education. She also is fantastic at using Twitter to reinforce the obedience of Her sissies and servant-men-in-training... Anyway, She had the link in Her Twitter feed. Thank You, Mistress!

I Love Fucking

I love fucking.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I also love complicated role plays where my mind is just as engaged as my body. And I love spicing up sexual energy with the delicious flavor of power exchange through domination or hypnosis. And yes, absolutely, I love enhancing the hormonal mix of sex by tossing in some adrenaline-boosting pain or struggling.

But I feel like I've talked so much lately about my specializations that I've been neglecting to mention that I simply really. love. fucking.

I love being slammed against a door to close it, before I'm even all the way inside, pinned against it, and finger-fucked to orgasm while I'm holding on to broad, strong shoulders.

I love riding a man slowly, grinding into him, finding all the luscious spots that this particular cock hits inside me.

I love resting my pussy after a mind-shattering orgasm by taking hot, stiff flesh into my mouth and humming with pleasure at the taste of my wetness coating it.

I love luxuriating under exploring hands and mouth from someone taking his time to enjoy each spot and each moan.

I love being fucked from behind against the bathroom counter, facing the mirror, so I can see the animal lust in his face.

I love the scent and feel and taste of a woman's body under my lips and fingertips and strap-on...

Hmmm. Maybe I didn't get enough calls today, which forced me into reading one too many blog stories about gangbangs and hotwives. And maybe watching teaser clips for blowjob videos wasn't the best way to cool down...

The DADT of Phone Sex

DADT = Don't Ask, Don't Tell. The military is phasing one out, but today's blog post will be about the phone sex version. Or at least Galiana's phone sex version.

I don't want to know if you regret calling me the moment after you climax. I won't ask, and please don't tell me.

I like to pretend that all my callers have personal freedom to make sexual choices, and a personal entertainment budget, and when you can afford to call, and when "talking with Galiana" is at the top of the list of what sounds entertaining, you choose to spend your hard-earned money on a call with me, talking about whatever feels most entertaining to you, with no guilt involved.

Let me be clear and specific: I love talking honestly and openly about your life situation, and if money problems come up in those conversations, that's fine. And if you're in a situation with your significant other where you're not telling her about your phone sex habits, that's fine too. I don't mind you saying things like "I haven't called because money's been tight." Sharing intimate life details is fantastic. Sharing your remorse at talking with me is not.

So, if, the moment after you have an orgasm, especially an orgasm that I poured a good deal of time and energy and heart and soul into helping you achieve... if, in that moment, you are filled with sorrow for having called me, it does not help you in the long run to share that information with me.

For one thing, it makes me a little gun-shy about your next call, as if I should be asking you, "Are you sure you can afford to be talking with me?" or "Are you sure you won't feel guilty?" And let's be honest, it's highly unlikely that "someone nagging me about how I choose to spend my money and time" is high on your list of kinks. I mean, if it is, great, your kink is okay, and I can work with it, but I don't think that's what most of you want.

And what response should I have? "I'm sorry you chose to do something you would regret later" seems patronizing. "I'm sorry you chose to involve me in something that feels you with remorse" seems selfish. "I'm sorry your brain empties when your balls fill up" is just mean (although it's a little funny). "Have you considered addiction counseling?" is invasive. "Please don't tell me that again" is unsympathetic and awkward, and only adds to the problem. "I'm sorry you feel that way" is about the closest I can come to being both polite and respectful, but it seems dismissive and unhelpful.

Lastly, you chose to call me, and I did my best to give you great service, and then you're ending the call with dissatisfaction ... about an issue which is clearly not my fault, and clearly out of my control to change. What do you get from telling me you wish you hadn't called? Should I feel bad about all the good work and good energy I just shared with you? Should I not try so hard to make you feel good? Should I try to talk you out of calling me? I don't see the benefit for you, and there is certainly no benefit for me.

I vote that you take responsibility for your decisions, even the ones you make when you're in too-overloaded-by-lust-to-think-straight mode. I get it that the sex hormones which flood your brain are real, and that you do physiologically change the moment after you climax. I'm not trying to minimize that. I've been there, and said and done things I regret later plenty of times. I'm not asking you not to feel it, I'm just asking you not to share it with me right at that moment.

... unless you're "The Wanker", or someone else who, like him, is turned on by your own guilt or remorse. The Wanker finds it deeply erotic to talk about post-climax guilt as part of the overall humiliation of being a wanker. But he has a humiliation fetish, so it makes perfect sense, and he talks about it before he climaxes, not after. Everyone without a humiliation fetish, please see the preceding paragraphs.

This concludes my public service announcement of the day. May you enjoy all the sex you have and regret nothing!

Upsetting Trend

I've had five callers in the past few days do something really upsetting: I've been logged in, available for calls, and they've let me know they wanted to talk with me via email while I've been away from my computer. All five have ended up missing the chance to talk altogether.

When I'm logged in to the system and available for calls, THAT RIGHT THEN is the perfect time to call me. It doesn't matter if I'm away from my computer, I'll still have the phone with me. If I'm helping with dinner, or bring the dogs inside from our muddy back yard, or sorting through paperwork, or reading a friend's script draft, the phone is the best way to reach me, which is why I'm logged in.

I'm very good at managing my logins. If it is not a good time to call, I will log out. If I'm logged in, it is a great time to call. I promise.

I can't tell you how many times someone has been "setting up for a call" and someone else has called instead, and the original caller has said, "I wish I had just called you." Yes. Please. Just call. 

If you want to set something up via email, then call me for 1 minute to say "Could you check your email?" and I will happily go to my computer, read the scene you have imagined for us, and let you know that I'm in the right head space for you to call me back. However, the very real risk exists that someone else will zoom in and catch me first. You're a blog reader! I'd rather talk with you! I promise!

So seriously, please, don't miss the moment altogether by waiting for me to answer email! Zoikes!

The Funny Things

Funny little things have changed for me since being a phone sex worker.

I was having a slow-motion flirty exchange with someone on a Reddit thread (at the blistering speed of 1-2 messages per day), which moved to private messages, and I found myself unsatisfied with flirting via written words; I wanted to hear his voice. That is completely opposite of my urges since I started flirting on the internet in 2002 - I have said before that I learn all I need to know from email / chat exchanges, so it was startling to me to have dissatisfaction with his writing as a communication medium.

My people-watching has completely changed for the naughtier. I've always made up stories for strangers to amuse myself, but they used to be primarily stories about jobs, hobbies, or the tenor of their personal relationships. Now I tend to picture the men around me cross-dressed, or the women pegging the men with a strap-on, or the women elaborately bound and gagged and flogged and subjected to forced orgasms with Hitachi wands. I always pictured some people sexually, but now it's pretty much every adult, and the range of things I imagine has dramatically widened and gotten kinkier.

I am very, very careful about my signatures now. Although my family knows what I do, and I've shared a few rated-PG-versions of work stories which I knew would amuse them, I'm fairly sure they don't want their emails signed, "Love, Galiana". I often sign phone-sex emails, "XOXO, G", which is also how I often sign off-phone emails, just with a different initial, so now I'm even more paranoid before hitting "send" than I was when I was a consultant.

(side note: I've long been confused about what to call myself. My family and friends from school know me by my nickname, which is approximately the same level of cute-sie-ness as if I went by "Gallie". When I started tech consulting at age 25 and was billing out at $100 / hour, I thought it was bad enough to have someone show up who looked 17 (I've always looked young), but to also have a cute name seemed uncomfortably unprofessional, so I went by my birth name, starting in 1995. So for 15 years, I have regularly started phone calls with the equivalent of: "Hey, it's Galiana. I mean, Gallie. I mean, I'm sorry, apparently I don't know who I am...")

And last but not least, my brain-to-mouth filter is deeply weakened. I am a little terrified of being around mixed-generation family over the holidays. On the phones, I push myself to the right emotional state, and then to say whatever comes to my mind. Often, with less verbal callers (or when they lose their ability to speak),  I end up in a nice, fluid, uninterrupted stream of naughty descriptions tumbling out of my mouth with slowly increasing speed and intensity. There is no place for filtering; there is only feeling and speaking, and coming.

Dear Santa: For Christmas, All I want is to make it through all my family visits without making anyone spit-take in horror. Love, Galiana

My Least Favorite Thing

My least favorite thing about phone sex is when someone hangs up suddenly without even saying "Thanks! Bye!" or "Gotta go!" or "Whoa! Later... " At least then I know the call ended intentionally.

I don't mind if you don't cuddle after you climax - if I've provided the service you came to get (pun intended), you should feel free to hang up. Or if there's a life interruption, go! You should never feel badly about ending the call.

(Side Note: Of course, if you stay for afterglow or pillow talk, I love it. A lot. It makes me irrationally happy. But I'm okay without it.)

The problem is that sudden unexpected breaks without even a "Bye!" give me angst, of the was-that-the-system-or-was-that-him variety, and I can't figure out whether or not to let go of the energy of the call. If you're likely to call back, I want to be in the same place. If not, I want to clear out and move on to the next task.

I won't block you if you sudden-hang-up on me, but it is my least favorite thing.

Honestly Orally Fixated, Part B

I did an early blog post about being honestly orally fixated. But then I attended a phone sex "job interview" where my oral skills were called into question, and I realized as I was explaining my "qualifications" that I should add this information to the blogged explanations of my oral cravings.

The un-sexy part: (dental phobias? skip this paragraph) I have at least a $15,000 mouth because I had two childhood oral traumas where I knocked out baby teeth, one teen oral trauma that broke one of my front teeth (it's half-fake), five oral surgeries, and braces for two and a half years in high school.

The really un-sexy part: (dental phobics skip this paragraph too) One of my surgeries was because my adult incisors were up in the roof of my mouth, and they weren't coming down to push my baby incisors out. So they removed my baby incisors, cut a path from my adult incisors to where my adult incisors should be, attached a gold chain to my adult incisors, and then slowly tugged them into position by feeding the chain through my braces. Every time I got my braces tightened, I thought my head was going to cave in from the pain for up to a week afterward.

The bizarre outcome: I figured out that it helped relieve the pain when I pressed firmly on the roof of my mouth with my tongue or my fingers, so I did that constantly during my pain weeks. The release from pain was so comforting that it developed into a Pavlovian trigger to make me feel better, even when my mouth didn't hurt, whether I was in physical pain, emotional pain, mild discomfort, whatever... I still to this day smush the roof of my mouth to relax or comfort myself.

The sexy outcome: It's not just my tongue; anything pressing on the roof of my mouth relaxes me and makes me feel safe and comforted and happy. Like fingers. Or certain kinds of gags. Or cocks. Mmmmm, dick therapy. Delish.

The straight-A perfectionist at work: When my first true love and I started heading to third base (my first time, not his), I went to the nearby university library and researched blow jobs. I don't know what human sexuality textbooks I read, but I remember feeling like I had enough information to try it. My offer was accepted immediately, with great gratitude, and his response was, "You have to have done this before."

The theater major at work: The theater kids were a progressive lot, including sitting around in mixed-gender groups trading sex tips. I remember a horror story of a bad blow job, and my response of, "I hope I never did that to anyone" being answered by two guys simultaneously saying, "No, you're great." They high-fived and everyone laughed at me while I turned horrifically red and died a little (it was common knowledge I'd dated both of them, but ... wow).

HOLY CRAP: For my birthday that year, those same two guys both gave me a vibrator as a joint gift... and yet, I'm such a dumbass... I never realized before right now, this second, that I probably could have talked them into having a male-female-male three-way with me. I am deeply filled with sorrow and regret. And very. Dirty. Mental pictures. /blink /blink

In conclusion: (so I can go finish writing and go masturbate to the images in my head...) Mr. Interviewer, I totally deserve the job of delivering your next fellatio, because I am well-researched, well-experienced, and uniquely well-built orally to not only please you, but also have a hell of a good time doing it. Thank you very much.

Limits

I just realized that I can list my limits here on my blog and link to that from my listings. I don't want to list my off-limits activities in my listings, because then people searching for those things find me!

The list of what I don't find sexy to talk about lines up fairly well with NiteFlirt's Terms of Service (from the Adult Content Policy). So here are the things that I will not discuss over the phone, and a little explanation about them:

• Bestiality: a hard limit of mine personally - no sex with animals, period. I have no sexy response to it.
• Incest: also a hard limit of mine personally - no sex with family, period. For me, that extends to things like stealing mom/sister's panties, too - I have no sexy response. I don't mind using "Sugar Daddy" or "Daddy-O" or other sentimental mid-century phrases, and I love fantasies about older nurturing partners, but no actual family relationships in my role plays.
  
• Sexual Age Play: I won't role play sexual activity with those younger than 18, or discuss people younger than 18 in a sexual manner. (Although my personal limit is 16, I understand the need for 18 on NiteFlirt, but the thought of younger than 16 disturbs me). Edit: OOPS this sounds like I would have real-life sex with a 16-year-old which... ugh... noooooo - real teens have not been attractive to me for years - my cougar limit in life is about 24. What I mean is: I would be okay in my personal life role-playing a sexy 16-year-old cheerleader or something. However, on the phone, I'll only do sexual role-play down to 18. Non-sexual conversation has no age limits for me.
  
• Sex with graphic violence: that's from the terms of service, and it's vague. My definition: if you're saying you're really doing it, I would never encourage you to cut or pierce or penetrate or injure yourself in any way that runs a significant risk of requiring medical attention. Bruises and well-spanked asses and sore nipples and teeth marks are all fine. Knife play leaving shallow surface scratches is okay, but that's my edge.
• Death: not specified by NiteFlirt, but I think of it as an extension of "graphic violence". Not only does that mean I won't role play either of us killing each other, but it also means I won't help you have an orgasm if you're driving. Pull over, then we'll play, because I'm firmly against you dying while we're on the phone.
• Sex with degradation: so vague as to be useless. I would never launch into humiliation without being asked to provide it, but when it's consensual, I'm fine with it. I categorize name-calling and being mean as "humiliation" not "degradation". However, I won't do any kind of meanness based on race, because (a) I'd be horrible at it and (b) racial inequality pisses me off too much to be sexy for me. 
• Rape sex: harder to define than it seems like it would be. On a personal level, I enjoy playing with "consensual non-consent", where we consensually talk about begging to stop or struggling. Heck, the raw physicality of struggling can be invigorating, even if there's no emotional resistance. I wouldn't do a straight-up rape fantasy, but there are a lot of variations of reluctance and coercion that I'm willing to play with. Discussion required.
  
• Excretory functions / bodily fluids / adult baby diapering: clarified as urine or feces. Adult baby diapering is not sexy for me. Feces are a big turn-off for me, which is a little weird because I do anal and rimming (in life and on the phone - they are allowed), but I need it all to be clean, and when it isn't, I clean up with a shower. I'm personally neutral about urine. I do not understand why these are against terms of service - they seem like preferences to me, and it's hard to imagine them being illegal, but obviously NiteFlirt needs to cover their ass about something.
• Fisting: baffling to me personally. You can have four fingers in someone but not five? What? I have zero problem with this personally. 
• Other content which may be judged as obscene: clearly a "cover your ass" clause. Useless. 

In my personal life, I say: I don't do kids, family, animals, pee, poop, anything requiring medical assistance to recover from, or death.

If you have a question about something that's not clear-cut, drop me an email or call to ask. I'm happy to read your specifics and let you know honestly if I can accommodate without killing my sexy mood. 

Allowed and Encouraged: (font changed to green to indicate yes please!) Here's a non-exhaustive list of things I enjoy talking about that some people might find off-limits: cunnilingus, fellatio, rimming, anal sex, anal toys including strap-ons, vaginal toys, spanking, clamps, paddles, flogging, crops, cuffs, restraints, foot fetish activities, stocking fetish activities, feminization, bimbo role play, cross-dressing, lingerie fetish activities, glory holes, being my servant, cuckolding, cream pies, chastity, tease and denial, guided masturbation both ways, domination and submission both ways, me watching you on cam, big black cock fetish role plays, and humiliation (discussion required to ensure I take it in the right direction). Oh, and the basics: sex! I genuinely love the thrill of a hard cock in a wet pussy in any position I can imagine! 

Simple enough: Off-limits topics are in black, in the bullet list. Topics within my limits are in green in the previous paragraph. I hope this clarifies!

PO Box Motivation

I turned off my Amazon Wish List when i realized that not all third party vendors respect privacy as they should, as I blogged about here.

I haven't gotten a PO Box yet... ummm... because I'm lazy? I don't have a better answer than that.

But I'd totally get a PO Box for this: a t-shirt from the "It Gets Better" project (to combat bullying and show support for LGBTQ youth). The shirts are given for a $30 donation, which goes to support "It Gets Better", but also the Trevor Project 24/7 suicide hotline, two of my favorite causes. 

https://secure.itgetsbetterproject.com/page/contribute/t-shirt

If I don't get a volunteer in the next week or so, I'll do it on my own. But I thought I'd share in case someone else wants to help me get my lazy ass moving (or in case you know other supporters who'd love a t-shirt!).

Teased Until Greedy

Well, tonight I seem to have lost my damn mind.

I had a series of calls... And you know what? Good for me - any problem that starts with "I had a series of calls" is a good problem to have.

But... I had a series of calls where the caller either wanted to be teased, wanted to tease me, or wanted to talk about sexy things. But did not want to have sex. Or wanted to, but didn't make it there before they came. Like 5 of them in a row.

When I was on the phone with the last one, I got an email from a switch saying he'd stick around a while to see if I got un-busy, but did I want to play tonight maybe? And did I want to top or sub or just be lazy and explore? I got off the call, read that email, and wrote him back immediately. And ... honestly... now I'm horribly embarrassed... BEGGED him to call me and top me and fuck the everliving shit out of me, PLEASE OH PLEASE OH PLEASE. I think what I actually said was, "Inner Slut is driving the bus and nobody else will even get close to the controls until she gets what she needs. Hard. Fast. Deep. And dirty."

Thankfully, he was still around. Thankfully, he was in the mood to indulge me. Thankfully, he fucked the everliving shit out of me indeed. After we were done, I had to log out for a while to catch my breath and recover.

I feel like maybe I should have paid him... /blush

Help Me Help You

Not to be too terribly immodest, but ... I do some parts of my job pretty well. I take decent notes. I'm honest about everything that doesn't invade my privacy. And I think I have a readable, entertaining blog that answers a few common questions, and gives people a way to keep connected even if they can't call me.

However, I am not good at reading minds.

I mean, I'm pretty good with taking hints and pushing past those into the next logical step. But if you tell me you just want to hear me get off, I will not intuitively guess that you like to wear women's silky panties and be fucked with my strap-on. If you tell me you want to masturbate with me in charge, I will not immediately intuit that you want me to take you to a glory hole to kneel on a dirty floor and suck a big black cock.

The possibilities are too endless. It may seem obvious in your head what is enticing and sexually charged, but chances are good that on the day you call, one person wanted to face fuck me and someone else wanted to be teased until they begged to come.

And about ass play: many guys are turned off by the thought of playing with asses - their own, or anyone else's. It is clearly in my best interest not to turn off my callers, so I tend to not bring it up. But if you have butt plugs and buzzy toys and dildos prepped and you're hoping to use them, or dying to rim me, I'm up for that. I'm just unlikely to propose it unless I know that's what you want.

You may wonder if your fantasy is over my limits. It might be. But it is the wrong approach to try to ease into it by suggesting things that inch towards your goal. That's just being manipulative. Instead, tell me what you want, and if I'm not willing to meet you there, I'm absolutely willing to talk openly about what else we may have in common.

(Well, okay, except for the guy who wanted to be forced to smoke crack and super-glue shut the opening of his penis while having diarrhea... That one was too many incompatibilities at once to bother starting up the conversation. Yes, that was an actual request. Thankfully, those types of extremely incompatible requests happen less than 1% of the time. I don't let bad eggs worry me. Oh, and speaking of eggs... no, no, no, never mind, you don't want to know.)

As long as we're talking about the potentially awkward, let's just hit it all, shall we? Budget. Let's not make this difficult. If you only have 10 minutes, tell me, and I can push you harder faster deeper, and enjoy it. If you want to stretch it out and spend the better part of an afternoon coming three times over a couple of hours, by all means, let me know. And if I'm so bold as to ask how long we have, don't be embarrassed to tell me. Honesty only helps both of us.

I unconsciously make dozens of tiny choices on the fly with every conversation: pace, volume, pitch, breathing, level of dirty talk, emotional intensity, my intellectual abilities, and how quickly I climax (a blessing of control for which I am forever grateful). Any of those can be adjusted at any time if something isn't working, as long as I'm aware that a change that needs to be made.

You won't hurt my feelings. You'll just make it more fun.

So please, tell me what you want.

Happy Quarter Anniversary!

Today I have been a phone sex operator (PSO) for three months. Happy Quarter Anniversary!

My husband and I have a tradition at milestones (anniversaries, birthdays, holidays): we go to dinner someplace yummy and quiet-ish, and each answer a few questions. We've had wonderful conversations that way, so I'm going to continue the tradition here. Feel free to ask other questions if you have them.

What is your favorite memory (from being a PSO these past three months)?
There's no way to pick only one. If you go to my blog and click on the "fave" label, so far there are 31 entries! But if I break into categories, I can come up with a few memorable standouts.

Fave introduction: "Perv Card" saying "After reading your feedback, I'd be a dumbass not to call you."

Fave subject change: "Doc Cupid" starting the conversation all toppy and growly, and when he had me tied down and teased and confused and begging, asking me, "What were your SAT scores?" (read my listing if that doesn't make sense)  

Fave role play: Cat-burglar-ing into a safe and being caught by "Agent Jones." I held my own in our witty banter, and came up with a couple of nice twists on my own. That may have been the conversation where I finally believed I could do this job.

Fave nickname: "Gravely Moon" - his voice is all rough and like gravel when we're in a role play, and the first time we played, he described the moonlight pouring in the window. Since then, no matter where the scene is theoretically set, once we start playing, it always fades to moonlight.

Fave bad guess: When "Sweet and Slow" got on cam for me, and he looked utterly different than I had imagined. Yummy.


Fave nickname change: When I realized "Dirty Reader" - who loves dirty words and dirty thoughts and having me read my dirty blog entries to him out loud - needed to be re-nicknamed as "The Omnivore", because he finds something sexy about almost every type of woman on earth. His list of things we must talk about some day would probably take 24 hours of phone time to complete.

Fave switch: "Mistress Slut", a cross-dressing switch, who hopefully didn't realize that I was terrified at the thought of switching and being his/her Mistress for a change. S/he was gracious enough to shower me with praise, which built my confidence to start taking Mistress calls for real.

Fave feedback: Although we all know I live for feedback, the thing that has stuck with me was when "True Sighs" called me brave. "Chilled Haiku" and "Dirty Reader" and "Gravely Moon" all asked me later if it was them who had called me brave, because they had thought it, too. Thanks guys /sniffle

If you could change anything, what would you change (from being a PSO these past three months)? 

I wish I'd understood from the beginning only to get on the phones when I am feeling strong and sexy and rested - the calls I took when I was feeling otherwise were draining, and clearly not my best effort. 

What have you learned about yourself (by being a PSO these past three months)? 

This list may be as long as favorites. In addition to all gents mentioned above, "Inception Guy" and "Bored Banker" and "Unique Snowflake" especially helped me explore myself, either by pushing my imagination, playing with my boundaries, or toying with spaces where I was not entirely comfortable. And "Butt Slut" and "The Wanker" engaged me in meta-conversations about my job which helped me put all kinds of thoughts and feelings into words. 

A few years ago, a newly divorcing friend wanted to find a fuck buddy, but she was insecure about her small breasts, the fact she has kids, and her hippie vegetarian lifestyle. I bet her $100 that I couldn't afford to lose that if she put up a sex-positive, completely honest ad for a month, she would be so overwhelmed with offers that she'd have to take down her listing. Two weeks later, she called and said she had never felt more desirable in her life. "I'm funny, I'm smart, I have a great smile, I have a delicious body... You don't have to pay up, thank you!" 

I kind of feel like that. Like each caller has given me a different mirror, a new chance to examine myself. I'm more creative sexually than I'd given myself credit for. I'm better able to bring my leadership / bossy / dominating skills into the bedroom than I'd given myself credit for. My self-confidence and playful enjoyment of sex can show through in pictures in ways that I could not have imagined; I assumed my average-or-larger body size would distract, but no, it turns out that plenty of you can see my mischief just fine. And, it turns out, you're awfully fond of my boobs.  

But most of all, I've proven that I can work again. The... It... I... Wow. It means a lot to me (background story here).

What do you hope for the next three months as a PSO?

Overall, I hope I get as many smart, fun, creative, emotionally honest, sex-positive calls as I can handle, while magically never frustrating anyone when I am busy. Protectively, I hope I continue to take good care of myself physically and emotionally. Socially, I hope I continue to connect well with a few new callers each week - I enjoy meeting new people as well as deepening existing relationships. As a writer, I hope I continue to stay fascinated by the incredible stories I have the privilege to collect and co-create, and that I continue to be inspired to write them down. 

Emotionally, I hope I continue to explore the different sides of me that show up in the mirrors that you hold up, that I never take them for granted, and that I find ways to celebrate all of them. 

How would you summarize your first three months as a PSO?

By the numbers: I have talked with more than 250 unique callers, spent more than 150 hours on the phone, sent more than 1500 emails, revised my listings a combination of 75 times across 10 categories, and had two listings hit the front page as high as position #5 (maybe only late at night on a Wednesday, but still... it happened). 

By my heart: I feel sexier, more powerful, and more sure of myself than I ever have. I feel like I have dozens of lovers, which makes me feel naughty and delicious. I feel intensely grateful for my success thus far. I'm looking forward to a festive holiday season with all my new friends. 

I love my new job. So much. Thank you for letting me do it!

What I Want: Lust for Me

Welcome to the third episode in the narcissistic "What I Want" series. First, honesty. Second, a vivid imagination. Third, today's installment: Lust for Me. I mean, as long as I'm being narcissistic, I might as well go all out, right?

This week I've had fewer calls (as expected after so much time off Sept 16-25), but some calls I've gotten have been lovely, luscious, lingering, longer conversations, which I have enjoyed tremendously. I do limit certain types of intense calls to just an hour, as I explained in this blog post, but the ones this week have had periods of intensity mixed with meandering relaxation, so I've managed to keep afloat and keep going quite happily.

I thought about these enjoyable calls, and how to turn them into a blog post. The "What I Want" series was a natural fit, because I want to attract people like these guys: "The Wanker" and "True Sighs" and "Other Cucked" and "The Omnivore" (fka 'Dirty Reader' until I saw his tumblr page and realized he finds almost every woman on earth sexy as hell).

They have several commonalities: they all lust after a wide variety of types of women, which I think shows imagination and open-mindedness and a sex-positive attitude. Keep up the good work, and spread the message of the sexiness of non-models, far and wide! And they have all used phone sex for a while, so they know what they like in a phone sex provider.

And they each have a specific attraction to me:

• The Wanker loves that I have a husband and lover, but no desire to procreate - he finds my high sex drive appealing in and of itself. 
• True Sighs loves that my imagination isn't bound by reality-based physics or images - we find ourselves wandering about in mythological archetypes and transforming into M.C.Escher-esque configurations. 
• Other Cucked loves that I understand the practical and emotional benefits of his traditional marriage, but also understand the hypnotic appeal of "other" - we talk about the power-exchange dynamics of dominance and submission, and the mesmerizing appeal of being cuckolded by big black cocks. 
• The Omnivore loves my vivid descriptions and understanding of the complexity of human emotions - he feeds me naughty ideas and then listens, entranced and engorged, as I flesh them out by describing what each participant feels physically, and the often-conflicting emotions that pleasure can cause. 

They all come to me with their lust, which is often primarily fueled by lust for other people, but they want me to add to their experience in some specific way. Somehow, it makes a difference to them that it is me on the phone. They enjoy my insights, my descriptions, my honest confessions of what turns me on.

I don't want exclusivity, but I do enjoy specificity. Whenever I enjoy a conversation, there was always something specific in the dynamic with that exact person, some thought or feeling or image I never would have experienced with anyone else. Every partner has a different dynamic.

So what I want is people who recognize the uniqueness of our dynamic, and who choose to appreciate our co-creation.

It Gets Better

Today I've been grateful for the "It Gets Better" movements that are springing up in support of LGBT teens who are being bullied for their sexual preferences. I don't want this to be a political blog, but it doesn't seem political to me to want completely different outcomes for these bright young lives.

I talk to smart, articulate, fun men almost every day who enjoy dressing in women's clothing, or crave the feeling of a big thick cock in their mouth (I'd never blame anyone for that), or who are contemplating telling their macho jock friends they have a boyfriend. It's a pleasure. Sometimes, it even feels like a bit of an honor to share their secrets, and to wish them well in becoming the person they feel they are meant to be.

The Trevor Hotline at 1-866-488-7386 is just one of dozens of resources available, that I hope people use when they need it. And, like every suicide and domestic abuse hotline, I hope someday, nobody needs to use it at all.