I’m 60 years old, have a ba in Cultural Anthropology from Columbia University,and married for 25 years. I have a son in his last years of college who lives at home. He’s a 4.0 with a double major in English Literature and Religion. Men call me for an infinity of reasons. Of course, they call to masturbate. I call it “Executive Stress Relief.” It’s not sex; it’s a cocktail of testosterone, fueled by addiction to pornography,loneliness, and the need to hear a woman’s voice. I make twice the money I made in the corporate world. I work from home, the money transfers into my bank account daily.I’m Scheherezade: If I don’t tell stories that fascinate the Pasha,he will kill me in the morning.
“I never thought I would work in the phone sex industry. All those years doing customer service, my customers would comment on my sexy voice. I thought I was being professional, not sexy. This work is customer service. It’s just your customers leave with more than a smile.”
I got into phone sex because i thought: "Why not get pais for taking dirty, instead of doing it for free", It brings up my self-esteem so much, knowing guys are looking at my pics wanting to talk to me.Wanting me to take them to a whole other place, filling their fantasies... painting that picture in their mind for them.
“I am a straight male who speaks to women. They want me. They want me to talk to them, and to take them to another world. I’m good at it. I’m a pro. A ladies man. I speak to younger women. I speak to older women. I speak both Spanish and English. I have been thrown offers left and right. They want me to meet up and have my way with them, but I keep it only to phone conversations.”
“One of my most memorable calls was also one of the grossest. It was a fetish cat. A scat fetish. Most times I would aggravate the caller into hanging up by refusing to talk ‘shit’ with him, but this night I was feeling frisky. So I indulged in his request and gave him the shittiest call ever. I started out by telling him I was a vegan. After several minutes of conversation he gently asked if I could ‘go’ while we were on the phone, and I told him I could. He wanted to hear it coming out, farts and all. (So gross.) Then he wanted to eat it and clean me. While describing how soft and colorful it was, I told him there was a piece of asparagus that I apparently did not chew too well. Naturally, I asked him to get it for me. I cracked him up. He was laughing so hard, he had to hang up, because he couldn’t get back into our fantasy.”
