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[DIARY ARCHIVES]
Sunday
- December 23, 2001
Want Some Candy Little Girl?
I have to confess my
favorite calls are the dirty old men. I don't know why. Maybe
because an intrinsic part of being a phone slut is the playful
enjoyment of being a tease. Maybe because it falls in line with
my personal fantasies and fetishes. Or maybe I'm just a sick
twisted fuck. All possible.
But, I've had an increased number of dirty old men calling
around these holidays. All loners and bachelors. Men with too
much money and too little affection in their lives.
The funny thing about these guys is that they start out so shy.
They will call and huff and puff a little into the phone and
then hang up on you. I so totally fucking hate that. But once
I've spoken with them a few times and cooed at them sweetly,
they come around. They start to walk to chit chat a little
before the seduction. And they say "thank you" and
"goodbye" after.
It's fun to peddle these guys in reverse. They start out using
you like a hooker and end up calling to talk. I begin being
labeled as a "cum guzzling whore" and somewhere along
the line turn into "sweetheart." The transformation is
a blast.
I don't know much about these 50-somethings. I wonder a lot
about what kind of crabapples they must embody to be at a stage
in life where they have to pay to have a phone slut be
affectionate to them - for it to be a gesture they so embrace.
And I think about those first phone calls. About how they were
expecting and ready for a female voice to use as a receptacle
for their grunted lust. But, how eagerly they veered off in
favor of the terms of endearment.
I once took a phone call from a dirty old man who just had a
fantasy about fucking the brains out of some young, hot
cheerleader. I was his neighbor girl and he lured me into the
house and just fucked me like the cock-hungry whore I was
(aren't we all?). At the end of his slam-bam-thank you-batgirl
routine, I casually whispered "good-bye sweetie" (I'm
southern - "sweetie" is a staple of conversation). He
did a complete double-take.
What did you call me?
Sweetie.
And then he just fell quiet for a moment and hung up. Not a
fucking clue what to think about the experience. Since then, he
calls regularly. Only he's much less carnivorous in his
fantasies. It is not so much about devouring me as it is
"come sit on my lap, little girl, and let me touch
you" - which I suppose could be considered more sinister by
some due to the increased level of intimacy we share.
I don't know. On the surface there is nothing more
straightforward than a dirty old man. But, they're so much fun.
Maybe I've just always wanted Santa to creep into my room to
deliver more than toys.
Ho Ho Ho
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