Smooch Slut

mmmmmmmwuh!

I love kissing. I love it a lot. It's so intimate, so easy to slide into a place of wanting this moment to last forever. The taste, the scents, the touch. Feeling someone respond to the slightest of movements, matching pressure, exploring.

And when it's someone new, it's a huge rush to initiate sexual contact for the first time. I'm pretty sure I can tell whether or not I'd enjoy having sex with someone based on three minutes or less of kissing. And I'm irrationally happy for a couple of days after I kiss someone new.

I'm a bit of a smooch slut. The day I left for college, I'd kissed 36 people (and by kissing I mean making out long enough to have a sense of how someone uses their tongue). Most of my friends had kissed that many people too. It was common to make out with your date to a party or a formal and not expect anything to come of it. I didn't realize until later that most people's high school cultures aren't that open. Lucky me!

I slowed down significantly in college and my 20s (kissees 37-48), had a big rush in my early 30s with a few in my late 30s as well (kissees 49-78), and then had another smoochsplosion, especially since I moved here in October: 10 people (kissees 79-88).

I love being a slut.

A few weeks ago, I had an incredibly fun kissing experience. I visited family in Houston with an extra day in Chicago afterward. I got to chatting with an attractive Australian before my Chicago flight. I texted my husband I was probably going to smooch an Aussie to calm my nerves before the flight, and he texted back, "Have fun, mile-high girl."

Although we didn't kiss that day, I managed to tell him I was a phone sex operator, which opened up fascinating conversations for us. After the flight, there was a lovely hug, and I told him I'd be in town unaccompanied the next day between 1 and 5 pm, and although I'd likely still seem drunk from the vertigo, did he want to meet me for coffee?

Coffee turned into hanging out at the Chicago Cultural Center, which I hear is beautiful, but I wouldn't know, because we only saw the cafe. We holed away on comfortable lounges in the back and talked about life for our little stolen hours instead of seeing the glass domes and artwork. Silly me.

He hasn't explored his dominant side as much as he'd like to, but he thinks if he did, he'd focus on tying up a woman and pleasing her orally until she begged for him to stop. "Why yes, I think it's possible for you to get involved with kinkster/BDSM groups and find women to take you up on that. No, I promise, I'm not lying." Silly Aussie.

Our time was drawing to a close, my head had settled down a bit, and I told him I thought we should kiss. He seemed genuinely surprised, but happily receptive, so with my body shielding us from the other cafe patrons, we did. There it was, the thrill of a new connection, the fun of learning another's responses. It didn't even take one minute, much less three, to know that the next time we're in the same city, I'm bringing silk ties and finding a bed and a couple of hours of privacy. He was my 88th.

When I told my local in-person lover about the Aussie, he replied, "The kissing fairy strikes again! Good for you!" and then told me about research he'd read about the positive hormones dumped into your system when you kiss a new partner. He's wonderful.

I've only had sex with my husband and my in-person lover since we moved here, but I've kissed 5 men and 3 women, including the Aussie, my photographer, and my husband's live-in girlfriend. My husband and I now have standing permission to kiss whomever we wish at scene / play parties. I briefly contemplated throwing a party to get me from 89 to 100 (call it a Dirty Dozen party), but I think I prefer to let my numbers rise organically.

I think my most memorable necking session was in my early 30s, during my post-divorce rampage. I had met this guy online, and we realized via chat that we wanted totally different things from a relationship, but we had good buddy chemistry, so we kept in touch over a couple of months via lazy, friendly chatting. He hadn't gotten laid since his divorce, and I was crazy horny one evening, so I said, "We should break your celibacy streak to take the pressure off your dates, y'know. As a favor for them." He laughed at me and invited me over with a "Why the hell not?".

And yet, even with that introduction to the evening, knowing I was there to fuck him, he still insisted on starting on the couch and making out with our clothes on, like teenagers in the living room, for at least 30 minutes. Probably 45. I was in heaven. I remember the sex only vaguely, but I remember the kissing as if it were yesterday because it went long enough to make me hyper-aware of every movement: the skin on my cheek sensitive from his 5 o'clock shadow, the way his fingertips traced the hollow of my neck, the feeling of his tongue enjoying my lips...

I think it's fair to say that for anybody I had connected well with via phone sex, I would at least be willing to kiss them in person, for at least three minutes. I'm looking forward to someone taking me up on that some day. Maybe you'll be my #100!

Impregnating Galiana

I'm WHAT?!?

From an animal, biological perspective, it makes sense that people fantasize about getting a woman pregnant. The sex drive was created for creation, after all. Planting your seed deep inside to start a new life with your imprint... it's a primal urge.

In case you're wondering, no, I don't have kids. As far as I know, I've never been pregnant. I have, however, used dozens of pregnancy tests when circumstances were theoretically right to make the plus sign, but I always got a minus. In reality, since I got vertigo, I'm grateful it never happened. Kids are wiggly buggers.

But in fantasy, none of the potential disadvantages of a pregnancy surface: no child support, no lifetime of contact with a crazy baby mama, and no midnight grocery store runs for pickles and ice cream for an "irritable walrus", as my best friend described herself while pregnant.

Galiana. Honestly. Do you even try to turn people on anymore? Or does the whole world only exist to amuse you? /sigh

Oh, don't worry. The fantasy turns me on tremendously. And I know I'm not alone.

Of course, I'm never on the pill. And you know I hate the condoms we use as much as you do, so you get an idea that if you tease me and get me really close to orgasm, you may be able to talk me out of it when I'm fuck-crazed.

Or I'm extraordinarily drunk and horny and one thing leads to another and you mean to pull out, but then I'm begging you to come inside me... and really, then, whose fault is it exactly?

Or it's my wedding day, and you sneak into the church in that quiet hour before the ceremony begins, and you catch me alone, and I reluctantly admit I'm hoping to get knocked up tonight on my wedding night with my new husband. This is exactly why I hadn't invited you to the wedding, you bastard, because I never could say no to you, especially at this time of the month...

Often, though, it's not about the scenario or the role play. If I know you have the fantasy urge to multiply with impunity, even if the rest of our time together has nothing to do with getting me pregnant, I can beg you to "fuck a baby into me" and ka-boom! The intensity of our orgasms go through the roof, knowing the future will change forever when we climax.

And then, the delicious changes in my body... /grin

ExtraLunchMoney texting

I totally always look like this when I'm texting

I finally have a way to offer texting-for-pay now! I'm so excited!

Short Version: Go here, sign up, text me! http://www.extralunchmoney.com/user/Galiana/#phone/?ref_user=Galiana


Longer Version:

I got a very sweet note from Eric, the tech guy at ExtraLunchMoney.com (hereafter possibly referred to as ELM), complimenting me on the quality of my blog, and inviting me to sign up to offer texts if I want a new way to earn money between calls.

I was suspicious, because all the text-for-pay setups I've seen have seemed like either they put the buyer or the provider in a horrible position to encourage abusing the other. But not this one - the way I understand it, it's super clever!

The buyer pays 3 credits (about 3 dollars, depending on how many you buy) to establish a month-long "connection" with a provider. That connection creates temporary phone numbers for both of them, allowing them to anonymously text back and forth without exchanging real numbers (ELM has my number - ELM has your number - we don't have each other's numbers, just like NiteFlirt). The numbers only work for text messages (no phone calls, no SMS pictures), so it's as simple as texting can get - just texting.

But here are the two smart ideas which work together brilliantly:

1. The buyer is only charged for texts they send.

2. A seller is only allowed to send 5 texts after a buyer sends 1.

It's so clever.

It avoids problems I've seen with other text-for-pay configurations: When you charge per seller action, charges can get out of control quickly, which is practically begging for chargebacks and refund requests. If you charge per buyer action with no limit to seller actions, the buyer can get tons of response for an unfairly small amount of compensation... or tons of whining spam.

This seems like a nice balance, where I can reserve one text for a few days later, but I can't inundate a buyer who just wanted to chat that one night.The buyer has control of the conversation by being able to stop any time, especially if I'm being stingy with my return texts.

I love that the connection lasts a month, so it encourages lazy-sexy ongoing story-building.

The seller sets the rate, as with most independent platforms. I'm starting with the minimum: 0.1 credit per text (about 10 cents! what a bargain!), but I might raise my price... although it is fantastic to think of expanding my working hours in a way that feels so simple to me.

Texting is a funny thing in terms of timing - sure, there are uninterruptible moments (like when I'm on a phone sex call, or getting adjusted by my chiropractor, or driving), but there are a ton of moments when I can text that I can't take a phone call (grocery store! just waking up! dog park!). I would love to fill those moments with sexy exchanges!

And I find sexy texting very energizing and fun. It's a bit less immediate pressure than being on a phone call, because I can ponder my response if I wish. And it's not quite as constant, so I can sext for a long time. Yay.

It seems suuuuuper fun to me. I'm listed as a "Virgin Seller" because I just set up. I can't wait to see who pops my cherry!

P.S. To other phone sex operators: ELM totally cool with you listing competitive sites (like NiteFlirt listings or your other cam listings or your blog), and their 60% payout rate seems reasonable to me for such a complicated service. Feel free to drop me a note to ask how it's going if you're curious. Please, though, if you do sign up, use the link above so I get referral credit - thanks!

I have been deeply enjoying time with callers who have made appointments with me. I'm sure I'll log back in for The Whole World again some day, but in the meantime, a few of my recent favorite fantasies:

I'm in the Witness Protection Program and he's my favorite bodyguard, one of the only people I can be honest with. When I get to go out of the house, I have to wear a high-tech realistic mask that alters my features so I'm unrecognizable, but I can't let anyone touch me in it or they'd realize I'm in a mask. This is a terrible fate for someone who is used to getting a lot of attention from men, so I tend to go out, flirt with guys, get myself all riled up, come home, and masturbate. But tonight, maybe, if I ask him reeeeeeeally nicely, maybe he'd finally fuck me this time instead.

We're college buddies, drinking at a friend's housesitting gig, and he's desperately in love with me but doesn't have the courage to tell me. When I pass out, he realizes he can push aside my clothing, painstakingly slowly, to see the flesh underneath. What would I say if I woke up to see his hard cock in his hand?

I'm shyly eager to please my new boyfriend by going along with his ever-more-outrageous suggestions of how to turn him on, discovering new turnons for myself along the way, but I assume the whispers of me being with multiple guys at once in front of him has just been dirty talk. When he tells me to keep sucking his cock no matter what happens, the rustling behind me couldn't possibly mean I'm about to get spit-roasted for real, could it?

And one of my favorite tease / guided masturbation callers caught up with me, and I couldn't stop myself from using him like a sex toy after bringing him close enough to the edge to be begging already. Does it make it trickier not to come when I'm grinding myself onto you? Awww. I'm sorry, darling. That sounds hard. Now hold still while I climax...

But some of you are holding out. There are balls to smack, superheroes to overcome with trickery and hypno-dust, next door neighbors to seduce, and malfunctioning fembots to be tested. I know there are.

Plus, people, c'mon, I have toys! And you want to tell me how to use them on myself! Well, someone does, I'm certain of it.

It's great to be back.

The Camera Adds

Back in December 2011, I took one too many anti-vertigo medicines after getting dizzy after shooting a custom video, so I decided it would be a fantastic time to wax philosophical on camera. Most of what I shot that evening was unsuitable for viewing by anyone other than my Recycle Bin, but this one was pretty funny.

I was getting frustrated at how disproportional I looked when I was in any position other than sitting, leaning forward, with my elbows resting on my knees. So I talked about other positions and showed just exactly how unflattering some other angles are.

But there are a couple of nice moments where I hit good angles and I look deliciously curvy instead of freakishly out of proportion. Also, the little grey cami + undies look cute.

Camera Adds by GalianaChance

Today I wanted to test embedding videos that are potentially more risque than YouTube allows, so I posted this one, and now I'm sharing it with you to ask you to be my guinea pigs. Let me know if it doesn't work? Thanks!

Please enjoy me making a dork of myself...

Clearly Not Busy Enough

You guys are totally not keeping me busy enough with appointments, as evidenced by:

I just re-wrote my Where To Start page. I think it's easier to navigate, and it now includes posts from the second year of my blog as well as the first. What a clever idea! I should have thought of it... you know... all along the way. Oh, well. At least it's updated now.

Okay, okay, okay, I admit it. Maybe it's not entirely your fault, because maybe I rewrote it as part of putting together a book proposal to pitch selections from my blog (plus imaginary new material I haven't written yet) to literary agents. But it would be totally irrational to be working on that now, since the biggest conference in publishing was this week and they're all going to be catching up for a month afterward, and I have approximately a bazmillion more logical things to do, and I should have been asleep two hours ago because tomorrow I have big huge giant plans.

Still. I blame you.

You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.
Oh wait, you probably would.
FYI: that's my Feeldoe

If you can forgive me for being an irrational dork, please drop by my updated Where To Start page, and lemme know what you think!

Writing While Pondering

(Warning: this blog post contains irrational capitalization and emphasis, because apparently that's What Needs to Happen Today as if my thoughts are the titles of published articles, or as if I were writing in the 19th century. I assume the urge for caps case will fade, but apparently I couldn't write today without it.)

I don't feel quite THIS helpless today,
but it certainly conveys a need, doesn't it?
Plus, I love my boobs in this picture.

I've been traveling for two weeks (decadent of me... the last hurrah from my windfalls from March), visiting family in Houston (which was comforting and nourishing as always), and seeing a friend in a show in Chicago (I am ashamed that I only seem to support the arts when I know participants, but I guess it's better than never supporting the arts). It was an absurd amount of travel for someone with motion sickness issues.

My mode of operation on the trips was, "Fuck It, I'll Probably Be Fine". Practically speaking, that means I didn't save any energy for tomorrow's activities, instead choosing to recover when needed. It was the equivalent of asking for forgiveness rather than permission between me and my Inner Energy Tank. I did indeed need some recovery times, but I think the anti-worrying approach served me fairly well overall. We'll see if it leads to me working more often (/fingers crossed)

So now I'm back at home, with no injury-level back pain anymore (yay!), with some good fuel in my tank of sexy energy (yay!) and ready to Start Taking Calls (yay!). Exciting!

In theory.

I mean, that's what should be happening, right? It should be my top priority, right? Getting back in the game? Kicking off my summer with a bang of being available 50+ hours / week like in the good ol' days when I first started? Enjoying the luscious boost of energy of being discovered by someone new?

In theory, yes. Absolutely. In theory.

In reality, I'm scattered. And I'm not sure why.

I can easily justify some of the tasks I'm choosing to do today while decisively Not Taking Calls: updating bills and budgets, going grocery shopping, taking out trash and recycling, washing travel clothes, that research favor I promised my friend weeks ago, updating my blog. These are urgent things, necessary things, easy to justify, easy enough to do.

But for 2 hours after I woke up, I did things I cannot justify: Looking up literary agents who represent both erotica and non-fiction to propose a book including some of my more popular blog posts. Researching hosting providers for podcasts. Playing with backgrounds and lighting in case I want to do a video Q&A podcast.

Hmmm. These activities are suspiciously not the same as Taking Calls. These activities are suspiciously not helping move me toward Taking Calls. No, these activities sound like a to-do list for someone who does not want to be Taking Calls at all. Interesting.

It seems that I am now officially Writing While Pondering. Hopefully it's not as dangerous as Dialing While Drunk, but my audience is theoretically larger than one phone call, so it could be even more catastrophic. I'll pretend it'll work out all right. Can you please bear with me while I try to figure out what's going on in my sometimes-non-linear-and-irrational mind? Thanks.

What would have made far more sense: answering the dozens of NiteFlirt emails which have now grown into a Massive Reminder of My Failures In Life so overwhelming that I pretend they're not there. That would get me back in touch with callers I know I love...

But scattered in my NiteFlirt emails are reminders I may not entirely enthusiastic about. Either they are coworkers who send me customer mailings which can drive me into feeling inadequate because I compare myself to Every Single Thing I Am Not Currently Doing, or they are callers who ask me to do things I don't yet feel the energy to do.

(By the way, none of the customers I'm currently avoiding read my blog. Even though it sounds like a lie, I really do like all my blog readers. I think I find it much easier to have energy I for people when I think they might care about me as a person, and not just as a service provider. And let's be honest, at this point, my blog has so little phone sex in it that the only readers I have left are people interested in me as a person, right?)

I have said many times that it is far easier to take a call with someone I know than it is to log on for The Whole World. Logging on blind, not knowing who will call or what they may want... that takes guts. Courage. Self-assurance. Energy. That is, I think, the hardest thing about my job: being ready to answer the phone for The Whole Wide World With All Its Craziness. And courage, self-assurance, and guts are probably in a bit of short supply at the moment after three months of trying not to pressure myself while recovering from a seriously unpleasant back injury.

I'm not quite ready yet to convert humiliation aimed at me into erotic energy. I'm not quite ready yet to make up multiple stories in a row about how I accidentally shrink and swallow someone while the caller remains silent, withholding his responses while I spin tales into a feedback-less abyss. I'm not quite ready yet to hang up on someone for violating the terms of service, my personal limits, and my overall interest in interacting with humanity by blurting out, "And then I bring in a horse to fuck you, and you're all tied up, so you can't stop me!"

I just... can't quite get there yet.

(Thankfully, the day the horse call actually happened, I was in a great mood - I laughed out loud and hung up, then mocked the caller to my husband. The phrase "And then you fuck a horse!" said with a raspy, nasally East Coast voice, is still a common source of laughter in our home.)

(FYI: In general, I don't resent people who have fantasies about taboo subjects, but I need those to be respectfully negotiated to ensure I am on board. If I am not on board, the caller needs to find someone else who is. Taboo subjects sprung on me mid-fantasy, clearly hoping for a shocked response, deserve a good *hahahaha*click*.)

(Also, for the record, being non-consensually tied up and violated by a horse is not a fantasy I am willing to participate in. My apologies and regrets to all you nice guys stuck with unpleasant fantasies you would rather not have. I wish you luck in your search, I do, and sometimes I can be a taboo girl, and some taboos I genuinely love, but not that particular one.)

Okay, so I'm not quite ready to take on The Whole Big Bad Crazy World quite yet. That's understandable, right? Yes. Yes, it it is. It's understandable. My Inner Therapist can deliver that message with a lot of sincerity: It is absolutely understandable to be not quite ready to take on The Whole Big Bad Crazy World.

You know what I think I need to get my head back in the game? Appointments with callers I know and love.

Well. That was simple. Why exactly did it take me all this time to reach that conclusion? No idea. It seems so blatantly obvious now. Share a few luscious orgasms with people I trust -- easy!

So if you've been waiting on me to return, please email me. And please include a few date/times that you would like to talk, and what you'd like to talk about, and I'll make a time for us to hang out. I won't even require a 30-minute minimum to make an appointment - let's say for the next 2 weeks. Other than my chiropractor, and other people taking me up on this offer, I have no time commitments.

Also, if we have never spoken yet, but you've been looking for me, drop me an email describing what you want to talk about - it would be fantastic to have a Fun New Caller Boost if we share things in the center of my Lust Landscape, like... ummm... You guiding my masturbation. Or you describing what you'd like to do to me to make me come. Or you begging to be allowed to climax while I masturbate and tell you keep holding on.

Well, now, all of a sudden, I'm short of breath and wondering where my fresh batteries are. That is lovely indeed.

I'm sure after a dozen or so calls, I'll wonder what the hell my problem was, and fall back into a routine of availability again. I look forward to it, in fact. Very much. I don't like feeling vaguely afraid. It doesn't suit me. I'm more of a Grab Life By The Horns and Don't Let the Crazy People Get You Down kind of a gal. I look forward to being so again very soon.