Tag Archives: phone

Phone Sex

As promised, I’m going to break the ceiling open on phone sex operators, defy the code of cumming and share with you a few of my experiences.  But first a little backstory.

I get paid by 15 min. increments.  If they “get off” sooner, I still get the same amount.  I’m proud of the fact that I’ve ended calls after 3 minutes.  More than once.  I’m that good.  The quickie calls usually don’t say goodbye, they just hang up.  Not quite the reaction you’re looking for when someone is shooting a load because of you, but still.  It works.

My handle is “Dawn”.  Only slightly slutty if you look at the picture of a nubile young woman in a thong and no bra.  “Dawn” is laying with her ass in the air on a white bed and looking back at the camera.  At YOU, disgusting phone sex guy.  While there are 50+ of us on at any given time only three show real photos.  The rest of us fall under the category “some of the pictures are simulations”. 

For a guy not to know that I probably don’t look like dear “Dawn” is ridiculous.  I don’t make enough money doing it to afford the professional photographer and all the airbrushing that would be needed.  Some of them told me they whack off to my picture.   Which picture, which year?

Most of the guys ask what I really look like.  Those are the ones I start out liking.  It gives me a chance to revisit Lynn 1999.  “I’m 5’9”, I weigh 135 lbs and I have lots of long, dark curly hair, very blue eyes and pink lips that don’t need lipstick.  

“Very nice.  Is your cunt wet?”

Now let me introduce you to Lynn 2014.  Um, somewhere along the line, I dropped an inch and added a few around my waist.  Eyes are still blue but it’s hard to see them behind glasses.  And in terms of the long, dark curly hair, it still exists with the help of Greg, my stylist.

“Yeah baby, is your dick hard?”

Here’s the neat thing about Lynn 2014.  I know stories.  Lots of stories.  And while I can’t really use many of my own,  (they aren’t depraved enough for these sick fucks), I have a good and disgusting imagination.  Also Lynn 2014 has an incredibly deep and sexy voice thanks to years of drinking scotch. 

Moral of the story, you can get “Dawn” everyday, no matter what year it is.

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I’ve been dumped, officially dumped, maybe six times.  Usually the guy just stops calling or writing and fades away.  But recently, I was bonafide DUMPED.  Don’t worry, #72 and I are still together.  The offending party was my pen pal.  The one on Death Row.  I’m not sure what is worse, that I was writing a guy on Death Row or that he dumped me.  But last week, he did.

Let me back track.  On a whim, under a pseudonym, I set up a virtual mailbox that has a physical address.  They receive the letters, scan them and send them to my alias email.  Easy, right?  Don’t worry, I’m protected.  That said, we’d been exchanging letters and emails for about two months.  It’s been strange but satisfying.  I wanted to know how prisoners really feel about doing time and also, see for myself if these guy are animals or just products of a bad childhood.  According to the things I read about his crime on the internet, #08596007 was both.

His history of being a crack dealer isn’t the worst of it.  #08596007 murdered multiple people; including stabbing a young woman 82 times while her baby daughter crawled around on the floor in the next room. Finding this out about him didn’t end it for us.  No, I was doing some kind of perverse research for who knows what.  HE dumped ME because I wouldn’t give him my cell number.

I have a very nice speaking voice and am open to breathing heavy on the phone if requested.  I also think having a guy jerk off on the other end of the line is a compliment.  But this just felt gross.  I’m no prude, but knowing a guy was pulling his pud thinking about me in an 8×8 cell isn’t a turn on.  Him being an ex-crack dealer and murderer, I should have known we weren’t going to discuss the meaning of life but still, I didn’t want to be his whack off material and I definitely wasn’t going to give him my real number.  

I keep thinking about that idea of, “You are judged by the company you keep.”  It made me think, I don’t normally associate with mass murderers, even ones that send me birthday cards (Yes, he did that).   Sure I got some good intel on the difference between the “fed” and “state” pens.  I now know they don’t get special meals on holidays and only limited access to cable.   But by keeping my cell phone number to myself, my experiment with writeaprisoner.com is over.  I will delete my virtual mailbox and call it a day.  Besides, I’ve got someone who’s playing with my REAL box and he got me a birthday card, too.

Moral of the story, it’s better to be stabbed with a dick than a knife.


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