Random Rim Jobs
I swear. True story.I’m a Crazy Bitch
Posted on October 11, 2009At least that’s what a guy I didn’t want to fuck and a guy with whom I got into a fight on the 14 (Muni) say.
The guy I didn’t want to fuck: He responded to a Craig’s List ad I’d placed. I forget the content of the ad. What I recall is that he wanted to fuck right away. I wanted to meet and see how the chemistry was before I agreed/promised to fuck him. He became pushy, telling me when he had free time so we could fuck. It was annoying.
Eventually I agreed to meet him at Precita Park. I was there with Isis anyway; I wasn’t too inconvenienced. The guy was nice enough. He looked like a typical tattooed San Franciscan. We talked about our dogs; he had a puppy that he didn’t bring to the park. We had a pretty interesting conversation about gender, sexuality, and transgenderism.
We parted ways after I went to the post office to see if perhaps the phone sex company had paid me; they hadn’t. We shook hands upon parting. I texted him that I wouldn’t mind getting to know each other better over a drink or two. He texted me that he’d rather get to know me better at his place. Uh, ok.
He kept shooting down my “offers” to do something together other than fuck. I was still not sure if I even wanted to fuck the guy, but thought that over a few drinks there was the possibility I could be charmed by him.
Finally, he texted that he was, “Not much into dating. I’m a loner.” I informed him that I have no interest in a boyfriend, only to be taken out a bit before the fucking commences.
Taking someone out was something he reserved for people with whom he wanted a relationship; he held out on “that stuff” like some do with sex. He’s weird about doing “that stuff.” That’s fine, but I don’t share my pussy with people who are weird about doing “that stuff” and I expect to be treated with some respect.
I completely understand. Not my intentions to be disrespectful. I am just weird about that stuff.
I texted something along the lines of, “You must not get laid much.” It was a joke. I had most definitely already determined that I wouldn’t be fucking this guy.
He responded:
I have no problem getting laid. Also don’t take this the wrong way but sending a photo of a guy fucking you is hot but does not really ask for respect.
I told him that liking to fuck is not disrespectful and that he was uptight.
Nor does relating a story of picking a guy up from a bar and then fucking him with your friend. Again hot but not really beckoning respect. Just sayin not judgi
Of course he was judging me. He was all but saying that because I like to fuck and am not ashamed I don’t deserve the respect of being taken out for a drink. Asshole. By the way, I’m not sure to which story he was referring, but it does sound hot.
Wait. I thought this was about me just wanting to fuck you and play with you?
I informed him that there would be no fucking, ever.
Sorry to hear that. I am just being honest with you. Sorry if it is not what you are seeking. You are a pretty fascinating lady. Sorry it won’t work out.
This pissed me off. I am never seeking a guy who thinks I’m shitty because I like to fuck. I forget what I texted, but whatever it was must’ve gotten under his skin.
Or maybe its that I am not really interested enough in you to put forth any effort.
Nice, huh? I responded that I hoped it made him feel good to insult me.
Hah. I think you took the first jabs. Lose my number. You are crazy.
Perhaps he knew that being called crazy is something most ladies do not appreciate. I told him that I never insulted him, and that he can’t be both fascinated with and disinterested in me.
Nonetheless, I was not in the best of moods. The entire text exchange, above, took place while I was on the 14 Mission bus. I’d gotten a seat, which is a coup, and was minding my own business texting and listening to a podcast (Distorted View).
My headphones (earbuds, but I hate that term) were starting to fuck up. Most of what I was hearing was coming through to my right ear only. It was annoying. And this guy who was freaked out by female-to-male transsexuals because he felt he had to prove himself as a “man” was calling me crazy?
Then I heard something. The ass in the seat right behind me was listening to some shitty music. Without headphones. I turned my podcast off to be sure I was hearing what I thought I was hearing. I turned around and gave the guy a look.
A look that said, “You’re not playing music on the bus so everyone can hear, are you?” His sheepish look and subsequent stopping of the music said, “I know I shouldn’t be doing it but I really dig this song so I couldn’t help myself.”
But then he turned the music back on. I couldn’t fucking take it. I told him that no one wanted to hear his shitty music. We then got into a fight. He said I needed a boyfriend to fuck me so I wasn’t so bitchy. He said that if he were a girl he’d kick my ass. He took issue with the way I told him to stop playing his “music.”
I asserted that I shouldn’t have to had to ask him to do shit, that it’s fucking rude to play music on the bus so he shouldn’t fucking do it. Every time I turned back around he said either “bitch” or “fucking bitch” under his breath. His friend calmed him down. Another bus rider said something to him that sounded like it could have been supportive.
I realized that I was not going to get off the bus for several more blocks (our altercation happened around 11th Street and I didn’t need to get off until 3rd Street) and that this guy was sitting directly behind me. I was worried he’d fuck with my hair. I had ideas of spit wads in my hair until he got off the bus without another word to me.
What I found particularly comical was that he thought the only way I could get a proper fucking was to have a boyfriend. Silly, I get fucked way more than most women with boyfriends. If I had a boyfriend with whom I was (trying to be) monogamous I’d be much bitchier because I’d be looking to only one person to satisfy me.
That night I went to my favorite dive bar. Before I knew it a really cute guy was talking to me. He was so fucking cute. At one point he went to the bathroom and I was convinced he’d left. No way was someone that hot actually seriously flirting with me.
Only he came back. And we walked to my building. And we went to the roof of my building. And he came in my mouth. And he looked at me with that face.
Yeah, I’m a crazy bitch. A crazy bitch who fucks whom I want where I want when I want.
I swear. True story.
Phone Sex? (Part 2)
Posted on October 10, 2009[Continued from "Phone Sex? (Part 1)."]
Months later I emailed the phone sex company woman to inquire about working 
for her. Eventually I submitted a bio, a list of WILLs and WON’Ts, and photos. I used my real name and my real photos, including the one here.
My WILLs and WON’Ts weren’t honored at all, and I ended up role playing incest and age play despite my wishes. I found I actually didn’t mind so much because the men on the phone weren’t real to me, and I figured it was better they talk about their fantasies, which were for the most part out of the realm of possibility.
I did a little girl voice when my “brother” was fucking me and we feared getting caught by our parents. One guy told me that when he was younger he got into the trash after his mother banged some guy and ate the come out of the used condom. That guy worried me a bit because he also told me he thought his teen daughter was hot, but I had no clue where he was, who he was, or if he’d done any more than think about his daughter.
Some of the guys just wanted to hear me come, some were nervous. I kept records of the guys’ names, what we talked about, and how long the calls lasted. The latter because I wanted to make sure I was paid properly for my calls.
Once I was in the company’s chat room along with some other girls who were also available for calls when the creepy, nebbishy guy came in and in the chat room fired one of the girls. That was uncomfortable and very unprofessional.
One day I tried to log in but my password wouldn’t work. I IMd the dorky guy, I emailed him. I DMd the woman on Twitter. I received no responses at all. I checked the company Website. My bio and photos were gone, but my name and blog posts (of the “I’m hot and horny and want you to call” variety) were still up.
I DMd the woman and emailed the guy, asking both to remove my name and any of my writing from their site. She tweeted this, “Unprofessional- telling your boss to fuck off. Stupid- then expecting a quick response to demands. Especially when you SUCK on the phone.” I believe it was directed at me. Or maybe not.
I NEVER told anyone to fuck off, but when my repeated attempts to contact either owner of the company were ignored, and when it was obvious from the company’s Website that they no longer wished to utilize my services, I didn’t want my actual name, my actual face, or my actual written words anywhere near them.
Anything having to do with me was removed from their site. I checked back periodically and noticed that the number of girls available for calls was dwindling, and fast. There was a strange blog post on the company’s site that I can only describe as nutty: The nebbish wrote that several of the girls, myself included, were no longer associated with the company, that the company’s clients were “high minded assholes,” that some of the girls’ photos were not really them (which is common for phone sex), and that if the clients were “helping” out any of the girls they were being duped. [I would have a complete and direct quote if WordPress hadn't inexplicably deleted this story the first time I wrote it.]
The company is now down to one phone sex worker, the woman who owns the company.
I have not been paid at all.
I told a clean version of the story in my Examiner column.
I swear. True story.
3/8/90: A Diary Entry
Posted on October 09, 20099:37 pm
Tried calling Erica but she’s not home and Shannon’s mom said to try Amy’s. But Amy’s not home either. So I wonder where they are – probably went to see Juree. At least with both of them there Erica won’t do anything with Juree. At least I hope not. Today in the darkroom we sandwiched each other. When Amy was in the middle, Erica and I kissed over her shoulder and when I was in the middle they probably did. Maybe not though. Amy did bite my neck though. I told Shannon to promise not to drive down there so Amy probably did. I hope Amy didn’t tell her parents she was over here ’cause I totally ruined her alibi. Oh well. Erica told me about some lame dream she had when she was screwing around with Amy and I was watching wanting them to hurry up. Well, I just don’t know what to think. So I am just a geek who’s hopelessly devoted to a jerk who only says she cares about me. She plays stupid games and I’m really, really tired of it.
Do I Look Old?
Posted on October 08, 2009Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know the truth.
What I want to know is if you want to fuck me. Do you want your cock to pound into me? Do you want to shove your hand in my cunt? Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want me to smell you and breathe you in and want to tear you open? Do you want to make me want to eat you and chew your flesh? Do you want it? Do you want it?
You smell like nothing on purpose, right? You make me want to consume you and be you and live in you. And you smell so fucking sexy; like YOU.
You can do whatever you want to me. Push me. Push me harder. MAKE me. Make me. Please just know even though I know that’s unrealistic. Know what I need. Know it and make me not able to live without you.
But you can’t. No one can. But you can have a big cock. And you can be sweet. And you can make me miss you when you’re gone. You can make me want to not want to fuck anyone else, for a short time. You can make me think things are possible.
And I can, for a bit. Only, I know the truth. I’m best in short doses. Fuck and run. I talk too fucking much. But I want to suck and suck and lick and suck if you inspire that in me. If you don’t – eh.
I swear. True story.
You Like a Girl in Glasses? – w4m
Posted on October 07, 2009My glasses are broken. You can take me to an optometrist to get tested and fitted for a pair of glasses.
I look good in glasses.
Then we’ll see what you can do with/to my new frames.
It’s all true: My glasses are broken. They’ve been broken for a while. I use first aid tape to secure the left arm to the frame. It’s a pain in the fucking ass, and has been for a while.
They broke when I was getting in my friend’s car. They fell onto the ground and then I proceeded to step on them. Not smart. Thing is it’s difficult for me to see when I’m not wearing corrective lenses, so I couldn’t see to not step on them. I’m poor and have very expensive taste in eyeglass frames so I’ve not had the glasses replaced.
A few weeks prior to placing the above ad, I placed another Craig’s List Casual Encounters ad asking someone to fund a pedicure for me. That ad resulted in my my feet getting pampered on a nice guy’s dime. We may get together for drinks in the future, but so far that’s all we’ve done, get me a pedicure.
I was retaping my broken glasses – again – when I realized I could have a new pair. There are lots of guys who like girls in glasses, and not everyone is as poor as I. It doesn’t hurt to ask. I placed the above ad.
Of course I got several responses that were lame and silly. And I got a response from a guy I was already fucking (San Francisco’s so fucking small). So the night I placed the ad I took a cab to the guy’s hotel where we proceeded to fuck.
I spent the night with the guy in his hotel room. I don’t usually spend the night with him, as he has to work early, but I was hoping for some morning sex. Despite morning rustlings that included me rubbing my ass into his cock, he got up to get ready for work. Dammit.
When I got home I had an email from Craig’s List that indicated my ad, my innocuous ad, had been flagged and removed. According to the email, “Approximately 98% of postings removed are in violation of craigslist posting guidelines.” My ad didn’t even have swear words.
“If your posting was wrongly flagged down (2% of flagged ads are) please accept our apologies and feel free to repost.” I reposted the exact same ad. It was again flagged and removed.
What I find particularly comical is that many men have complained to me that there are no “real” women on Craig’s List, just a lot of bots and requests to go to pay sites. I’m a real woman, dammit! I really need new glasses, and getting glasses is as good a way to meet someone as any other.
I swear. True story.
3/5/90: A Diary Entry
Posted on October 06, 2009It’s a gorgeous day
I have no hair
I have no $
But I don’t care
My love life sucks
I don’t get it enough
I’m a nymphomaniac
It’s rea
Yes it’s tough
To be so cute
I’m just a lotta fun
I look great in my birthday suit
Let your imagination go
We can move real slow
8:18 pm
Spent last night with Erica. Today Amy came over. I trusted them alone together because Erica said it was no big deal when Amy kissed her week before last. She said she was just desperate because she hadn’t had sex or anything in a month. But today Shannon and I were in the bathroom trying to clean it and Amy and Erica went into Shannon’s mom’s room for some reason. So we couldn’t find them and then Shannon went into her mother’s room and after a bit the two of them came out too. But it was awful quiet and I’ve seen the say the both of them act around the other girlfriend. Amy acts like everything’s cool and Erica hangs even more. I was hugging Erica and she said I do a little more to show that Erica’s mine. I got angry because that wasn’t at all what I was trying to do, I was touching her because I like touching her. And then in the car on the way home from the mall, Erica was looking in the mirror and said, “I do have good lips.” Like someone had recently told her that. I know it wasn’t me so it was probably Amy, who said “Yeah, you do.” Do they think I’m so dumb? I’ve already seen it once and I don’t want to be as stupid as Juree was. Erica said again that she wants me to live with her but I really don’t know. I have serious doubts and I don’t know if she could really handle it. Talked to my mom today. She wanted to know when graduation is. [We all got our ears pierced today – all our right ears.] She also asked me what I want for graduation and I told her an apartment, like 1st and deposit so I can get in. I don’t know though. I’m going to call Shannon’s back later tonight and point-blank ask. I just have to hear her say it herself even though I already know the truth. Just for revenge I feel like getting Beth G. because we’ve all been drooling over her. Like I could though. Why does she have to keep doing this to me? Guess I could call now to get it over with, but Dad was expecting a call. She said Amy was over Saturday night and she said the only reason they didn’t to anything is because they’re both spineless. In other words, neither of them would make the first move. Ug. Aren’t I good enough? Lost the picture today – the one of Erica with scratch marks on her back from me – it flew out the car window going down the freeway. It was kind of neat though ’cause I was saying how I needed a place to put it.
Phone Sex? (Part 1)
Posted on October 05, 2009In early June 2009 a segment of HBO’s “Real Sex” was filmed in my apartment. I was also in the segment, the premise of which was offering phone sex as a way to augment one’s income in these tough economic times.
The woman who owned the phone sex company claimed she had made her living exclusively on her phone sex business for five years. They filmed her giving us – two underemployed sex workers, and me, an unemployed attorney who was stupidly doing sex work for free – a demonstration of what she did when she worked. She told us to us she sucked on glass dildos for blow job sounds, and used a Wartenberg wheel because pain can be heard in the voice. And she told us she actually masturbated and came when she talked to her clients.
When it came time to film a phone call to one of her clients she revealed that the tops of her thighs were absolutely covered with bruises. Production had to stop and the makeup artist had to be called in to try to cover the bruises. The makeup artist said it was going to take a long time to cover the extensive contusions, but she could do it.
Everyone tried to offer suggestions for how the scene of her masturbating could be filmed without the bruises showing. Finally, the stripper went to her car to get thigh-high stockings that would easily conceal the bruises.
I don’t like attention whores and as soon as I figure out they’re whoring, I try my darndest not to give them what they want.
But I didn’t notice what an attention whore the phone sex woman was and asked if the marks were from getting caned. Which of course they were. Maybe my need to show off that I knew what they were from overshadowed my need to not feed the hungry little attention-sucking monster.
She held up the whole fucking production because she couldn’t be polite enough to keep her body blemish-free for a fucking television appearance. I had just one little injury from the day before because I thought about how torn-up hands would look on tv.
The day before I was a bad cat mama. I put Joaquin in my neighbor’s place with their cat and dog. Joaquin and the dog get along and even play together. I totally forgot how nuts cats can be. Their cat terrorized Joaquin. He bit me through a towel before I realized that if I tried to pick him up I’d be shredded.
He had shit and pissed himself and he was growling and hissing constantly. I could not calm him down. It took me literally hours, some shredded shoe boxes, a moved bed, an emptied closet, and a plastic storage box to get him back home. Through the whole ordeal I did what I could to not get scratched or bit any more because it would have been unsightly on film.
I couldn’t comfort my sweet cat properly because I had the forethought to prevent unsightly marks on my hands and this greedy cunt couldn’t even abstain from some recreational beating. She reveled in the attention she got from inconveniencing an entire film crew. The production would have ended at least and hour earlier, and we would have eaten sooner, but for her inconsiderate behavior.
We finished the filming of the group scenes. Over lunch I asked her if she needed women to work for her company. She said yes, but didn’t have any business cards. Very professional.
Over lunch she also told me that the man with whom I’d had phone sex in front of the HBO cameras was her business partner. That was interesting. And he was also her her life partner. Uh, ok.
She told me that the calls we had heard during the filming were tame and clean compared to the kinds of calls that she usually does. In the first call the guy talked through a scenario in which he tied her to a bar stool and had a whole party of men fuck all her holes. It actually was really hot. During the call I just kept looking at my bar stools and imagining being bent over so a bunch of hard cocks to fuck me in my cunt and my ass and my throat. And I’d be covered with come. My nose would be running. My eyes would be watering. But I could fucking take a whole party of men with huge cocks. They’d spank me and slap my face and call me dirty names too.
Apparently that guy usually had his family dog fuck her in the scenarios. No thanks. I don’t get beastiality at all; just isn’t my thing.
But that guy wasn’t the one with whom I’d had phone sex, and who, I found out, was the phone sex company owner’s business and life partner. The company guy’s phone sex scenario involved him in a luxury box at a sports arena. Only he kept saying, “box girl,” about which I was confused. He knew I was someone with whom he’d never talked but he acted like I knew what the fuck he was talking about, which I didn’t most of the time.
And his voice was … odd. I don’t even know what kind of accent he had. He sounded like he had his mouth full of something. He also sounded like he was trying to use a cutesy, almost girl-like affect. It was bizarre. He sounded like a little, nebbishy, creepy guy. And old.
At the time of the call with him I didn’t know that he was the co-owner of the company, and I felt bad for the woman who had to have phone sex with him and pretend he was sexy in any way. When I found out the phone sex woman and the creepy phone guy were a couple I was a bit taken aback, but I hid my horror.
I swear. True story.
[Continued.]
