My First Two Weeks.

As many calls as I have taken and as many people as I have talked to, I have run into an issue. My persona (Robin) and I are far too similar. I seem to be putting too much of myself into her, and it is sort of disallowing me to make the necessary separation between her and I. Mostly because I know they really do need to be two different people. Especially now. And she needs to be more free form and versatile. Basically what I need to start doing is creating her, reading into her, making her a character more than a real person. My issue is there is already a lot of lying going on. How much am I going to want to keep track of?

One of the girls suggested researching who your parents might be. Then creating a whole 'nother back story based on that. Another suggested still keeping your same life and stories, but changing names, places and other things. I seem to keep drawing a blank when it comes to things like this. I don't know what the issue is, but I'm having it and it's starting to frustrate me. My "new girl" freshness is starting to wear a tad, and I don't know how to keep it going... Mostly I think I was making so much money because I was in the room that rings first.


See, there are 5 rooms in this house that girls can utilize. Every one of them has some sort of bed, a desk and a computer. There are really only 4 because the managers share one room together. Every room has a different phone like. The Villa (named because it has a very pretty tapestry/curtain set hanging with a little Tuscan Villa on it) rings first. The Office (where the managers) rings second. Then the Garden (named for the wicker furniture set that *used* to be there) then the Dungeon (the best sound proofing in the house) and both of those are downstairs in the basement. Then finally back upstairs to the Palace (named for the pretty 4 post wrought iron bed that used to be in there and the pretty little chandelier that hangs) rings last. Every girl has a different preference and every girl has a different way of making money.


The thing I hate most about being in the Villa is the fact that it rings first. I get a high call volume, sure, mostly because guys will hear my voice first and I guess they sort of think "Well, this works." Unfortunately, most of those calls are prankers. I fucking hate these nasty little brats. Calling from all over the country, obviously underage and just tying up the line. Then of course there are the hangups. The guys who call and ask you things like "And you touch your pussy for me?" and then don't do a call. Or guys that aren't supposed to call and just fuck with everyone's time and money. 


I'm slowly starting to realize how this job isn't anything like what I thought it would be. It really is a job, like anyone else has. Yes, I get to hear men cum over the phone, or have long elaborate calls with lots of detail and lots of talking. Yes, I get to fuck around on the internet most of the day, but who doesn't when you're stuck at a desk for 8, 10 or even 12 hours. When the phones are silent, I have to find other ways to occupy my time. So hopefully I will get back into this blogging thing again. 


I haven't really found a sound and safe way to blog about the calls I have. Mostly because I usually update this from home (I'm at work now and realized it's been like two fucking weeks... sorry) and by the time I get home, I have forgotten every detail. I have a highlight reel, I might start posting that. I have a few entries I still need to write, mostly because one call last Sunday blew my mind. It will not be for the faint of heart or any guy who loves and cherishes his dick. ;)


Until then,
Stay Sexxxy!
Robin

50 Shades of Vanilla.

I've been involved with the BDSM community for a few years now and there are few things that really shock me anymore, at least with this aspect. I have heard of elaborate playrooms and dungeons. Scenes that involved toasters, riding crops and a disturbing amount of produce. So imagine my surprise and delight when I heard of a mainstream novel describing a Dom/sub relationship. I thought "Oh man, this is gonna be amazing. Sexy and dark and just too good to stop reading."


Ugh. I am Jack's Lack of Surprise. The writing is actually pretty good. Comes off a little fanfictionish, but still pretty good. The plot (yes, there is one. It's not just meaningless sex for like a bajillion pages) is deep and meaningful and very poignant to an issue that is a real problem for some within this kinky community. I read it for the sex. For ideas about my bio for this freaking job. Which I still need to update on here... But this book really made me think a lot about who I was when I was going to a local sex club almost once a week. It was fun. It was painful. It was sexy. Most of all, I could let my brain shut down and become a sexy animal that lurked in the darkness. An insatiable sub that was always "Yes, Sir." and "Please, Sir." I'm sure that this might shock many, but it was me.


The rope burn mingled with the rug burn. The tender, raw flesh from the cat of nine or the paddle always ached in a way that would make me smile. Even now, I find a small smile of remembrance crossing my lips from all those nights waiting to be played with and hearing screams and the echoes of screams from the different rooms. The sex in these books was relatively vanilla compared to the steel cages and tables, the suspension play and the toys. Lord almighty, the toys. Now, I'm not talking vibrators or dildos, though there were plenty. I'm talking about mundane things like kebob skewers and pet grooming mitts. Or the one time I was blind folded and my brain was tricked into thinking my nipple was getting pierced again. It didn't in reality, but holy shit. It was a convincing mind fuck.


That's really what I loved about the scene. That's what I loved about being involved, that it was just (borrowing a phrase from the book) kinky fuckery but it was delectable mind fuckery. The way that having one word phrases and moans fall out of my mouth together instead of all this silly "talk about our feelings" crap that goes on now. "Yes", "Please", and "More" were pretty much the only words I was allowed to say, unless I really couldn't take it and had to safe word out. The amount of stories I have makes me wonder why I let myself lapse out of this lifestyle. What makes me miss it more is the desire to feel again. Feel that mind blowing, rip apart your fucking mind and soul, so intense you can't even make a sound kind of orgasm again. That orgasm where your whole body will pulse and shiver after because it feels like every single nerve in your body just came at the same time.


Now, going into working purely on the phone, it's going to be hard to find any semblance of that. What I've realized over the few days of shadowing that I did that this really is a one way street in the way of pleasure. Although I do get pleasure from taking their money. And I will every time.


With all these memories now swimming in my brain, I believe that it is time for a hot bath and bed. Bed with my boyfriend. Who is a vibrator. ;)


Until next time,
Stay sexxy!

My (pretty much complete) Bio.

Updated: 6/11/12

Likes:  BDSM, girl on girl, sucking cock, hard pounding, role playing, being submissive, voyeurism

Well, hello there. I’m so glad you found me because I have been aching for a man lately. An older, mature man who can teach me and please me at the same time. I'm Robin. Although, I’m usually only naughty behind closed doors, I love being a dirty little secret, being a lady in public but a slut once the door closes behind me. I may be only 23, but I have been pleasing men and women since I was much younger, and I have no plans of stopping which is why I am so excited to be a new addition here at _________. I am the kind of girl that will be happily waiting in nothing but an apron with a hot meal, a stiff drink, and a slow and sensual blowjob to calm you after a hard day. I'll even offer a massage, if that will get you to reciprocate the favor.

I have had many women in my life, and let me be honest. I love eating pussy about as much as I love sucking cock and trust me when I say, I love sucking cock. What I love about it is the passion I am bringing to another person, plus the feeling of fingers tangled into my hair pushing and pulling me closer to make them cum. I also love the sounds, they’re so different from normal sex sounds. There’s something so much more intimate and sexy when there is a thick cock almost down my throat. My moans sound deeper and so do yours. And yet, there is something so amazing about being with another woman. I love making a woman moan even more. Interested in a threesome, or a more-some? I am! I always am! The sound of multiple people having orgasms is like a symphony of pleasure, and it’s one that I am always willing to attend. Dressed in my finest birthday suit, of course. Or if you prefer, some sexy or silky lingerie? Maybe slink it up with a fine pair of sky high heels just showing off my perfect ass? I’ll dress up as fancy as you like it, or I can just be in bed with nothing on but a smile.

I love being told what to do, being tied up or down, and being teased to the point of begging. I love being bent over and being spanked while getting pounded deep. I also enjoy being gagged, especially with my own panties. I will do anything I can to please you, because that’s what I love to do. I love to worship men like gods. Have you ever heard of shibari? If not, I would be happy to tell you all about this seductive art of rope tying. I find it to be the sexiest negligee a woman can wear, a teddy made of rope and knots. I love the feeling of rope burn and rug burn, especially when it lasts. Walking around in the day to day, feeling my clothes brush against my tender skin makes me shiver and smile. The sting of skin on skin is also something I can't get enough of, and I have learned that only silky fabrics can soothe hard-spanked ass or thighs.

I love a sense of danger as well. The possibility of getting caught is so exciting to me, that I love having sex in unexpected places.  I will admit to having sex in public bathrooms and in the backseat of a car in hopes that someone would stumble upon us and see me moaning and writhing in pleasure. I would love to see someone through a window masturbating as I was getting close to orgasm myself. Seeing something like that would push me over the edge. It's also a fantasy of mine to have someone catch me being completely taken advantage of and want to join us. Maybe I'll have to try having some afternoon delight in the park, surely someone would catch me there... I'm getting excited just thinking about it!

Do you have a fantasy? Nailing the cheerleader behind the bleachers? Having your nurse or doctor give you a more thorough check up? Being ordered to stay after class for private tutoring or discipline? I can do all that, and so much more. Maybe we could be fucking wildly on your desk, and your secretary comes in and wants to join.  I also love trying new things. I know that roleplay can run far and wide, and I want to explore them all. I’m sure there is a lot out there that I haven’t heard of and I am more than willing to learn. I’ve been very good at learning in the past. I take direction very well and love learning to please above everything. I’m getting excited already thinking about the things you could teach me.

I am so excited to talk to you, trust me. You can get a hold of me online and on the phone. Would you like to see how excited I am when you call? Purchase a pair of my panties, and I’m sure you’ll be satisfied. I know I always end up satisfied. I can't wait until you get me on the phone, I'm sure we can do horrible things to each other.

Until then,

xoRobin

Sex and Love

Sex and Love are two very different things. Most days, I spend my time wondering where all this sex is going to end up. In college, promiscuity wasn't hard. It was easy getting the one night stands, it was easier to more or less forget the person that I had sex with. Sex, especially in this day and age, is something so standard and common. It seems so casual that it's easier to have sex to get to know someone than it is to go out on a date. I look back at past relationships and I see how often they started with sex. How few dates I have actually ever been on. How I've made an ass of myself when ever anyone actually showed real affection instead of just lust. It seems like sex is just easier. Love can be messy and complicated. Love can leave you completely destroyed if it goes wrong. As time ticks on, as every birthday passes, as I see more and more people I know getting married and starting families, my mind always wanders back to the same question; Will it ever happen to me? 


I've been in love several times, but it always seems to slowly crawl to the end. You can always feel the end of a relationship. Being around your significant other starts to feel... distant, strange, almost broken. It feels like all the sudden, there is an ocean filling up between you, and neither of you have a way to cross it and reconnect. I wonder how other people deal with it. The distance. How do people that have been together 5, 10, even 15 years not feel that? Will I ever not feel that way? 


I have been blaming my location lately for my lack of romantic relationships. Especially since the last one, who ate my heart and shit it back out. Maybe, that is not the case. To be completely honest, I don't have an answer. I  have had several sexual partners since my last relationship, but nothing usually more than one night and if they were longer, I fucked it all up pretty quick. Who knows, maybe I'm at that age where relationships are "over rated". I don't think that's true. After being single for about a year, there is one thing I have realized. It really, really, really sucks to fall asleep alone every night. It sucks to rely on batteries for your only sexual contact. Most of all, knowing that all my friends are in couples, I am fucking sick and tired of being a third wheel. Or being cancelled on for the S.O. Or just realizing that when I want to go out, I'm usually going out alone. Because most of my friends are in couples, or wanting to be, or have kids, I usually go to movies alone. I go out for food alone. I go shopping alone. I spend pretty much every day alone. It's nice, sometimes. I don't think people who realize that there is always someone around realize how being alone can slowly turn you into someone different. The person I was a year ago is different than the person I am now. I know that happens to everyone, but this is a drastic feeling.


Even when all these thoughts and feelings get me down, I have to force myself to push through. Keep thinking, Maybe Someday. You know what they say though... Someday never seems to come. 


Anyway, stay sexy, lovelies!

Sex is offensive?

I went to the local watering hole last night and as I walked in, my BFF was almost screaming to get my attention. Now, my promiscuity is not a secret but most of the people I've slept with are. It's better that way, for their reputation as well as my own. I would estimate that in my 23 (almost 24) years, the number of sexual partners I have had well outnumber my own age. How did this happen? You may ask. Well, I contribute it to a lot of different combinations of drugs and alcohol. Plus, desperate drunk lonely bar guys are almost easier picking than the women.


Anyway, my BFF is calling me over and pointing at her phone. Apparently, someone we know that lives a town or so over but still comes in to drink, is a registered sex offender. For incest. Now, he's a perfectly sweet guy albeit a little strange. And he's a registered sex offender. For incest. That I slept with over 2 years ago. The drink almost slipped from my hand, and I could taste bile bubbling up to the back of my throat. 


Now, every girl has a list. Just like every guy has a list. It's called a "fuck-it list" if I remember the vernacular. What most guys don't know is every girl has a "please, god, never let it happen" list. This includes most of the horrible things that generally happen to women (fictional or otherwise) in dark alleys or sweaty late nights in high school. I'm sure if guys have a list like this, the only thing that would be on there is "Don't get fucked in the ass." Unless you're a gay guy. Or you like it that way. Who knows, everybody likes their coffee a different way. Fucking a sex offender? That is definitely on the "Please, god" list. It would be different if I knew before, but as someone who has a highly infectious STD that will never ever go away, I know what it's like when you tell someone before compared to after. If he had told me before, like 80% of the people I hit on, I would have walked away. No matter my level of attraction or lust. Finding out after, it's a whole different ball game. Thank god I've always been up front and honest, even if I have whispered their name in hopes I passed it on.


Does this really stop me? Will this slow me down? Probably not. Considering I don't get much anymore, ie- that stubborn 80%, I will keep flirting, hitting on, trying to seduce and occasionally succeed until I can't anymore. Or until I find that guy that every girl is looking for. Or the girl that every girl is looking for. The one that makes you happy beyond it all. Sex offender guy? He wasn't passionate in the bed room, and it was awkward and slightly uncomfortable. Sex should be something you live for, something that makes you vanish into the other person. Not something you tolerate. Ever.


Until next time, lovelies.
Stay Sexy!

Ah, of course. The Explanation.

So I feel like this all deserves a little explanation. I can't really say much... working for a place like this is like working for the CIA. I could tell you, but then I would probably get fired. So anonymity is going to be the total name of the game. 

What I can say is this: I'm 23 years old. I have a bachelors degree in bologna (of arts) from a liberal arts college. I have worked in exactly three careers: Janitorial, Theatrical and Medical. I ended up being fired from most of these positions, mostly with a sour taste left in my mouth. And not the good kind. So I started for looking for a job.

At first, I was looking for something that I could make more than $10 dollars an hour. That was laughable at the very least. The last job I held, I was an in home care taker for the developmentally disabled. The woman I took care of was in a wheel chair and would insult the living hell out of me. When I met her, the first time, I had shoulder length pink hair. She called me a dyke and wouldn't let me touch her... at all. So after ruining my hair a few more times with other colors, we finally settled on brown and she just went on to calling me such lovely titles as "fat bitch", "ho bag", "fucktard" and other such sweet nothings that left me wanting to punch something small and cute, just to ruin it. To be verbally abused for at least 8 hours a day, I got paid less than $10 bucks. I didn't last there long. I was "forced to resign", which anyone knows is a fancy way of getting fired without being able to collect unemployment, in January of 2012. I have been looking for work ever since, and it hasn't been easy. In this world, especially the smallish town I am blogging out of, no employer wants to spend the money to train you when they can easily find someone who already has the experience. Meaning my experience is limited to being abused by those who either honestly don't know better or cannot control themselves. No fucking way. Not again.

I applied to fast food joints. No response. Medical billing. No response. Medical receptionist. No response. A maid. No response. There was one place I could go... but in all honesty, since my BFF's boyfriend works there, I really didn't want to work there. I mean, he's a great guy, but that type of work, that type of environment and it was hard enough on our friendship when we were working for the same company on the same team with that same cold woman in the wheelchair. I couldn't imagine if all the sudden, I started spending more time with him than her. Talking to him instead of her. Anyway, that's not what this blog is about. Point is, I was running out of options. And then like a messenger from the heavens on a cloudy day, came my friend saying where she worked. 

We were at the local watering hole, and I was halfway through my second double tequila seven, lamenting about my joblessness. She pulled me close and said, "I can get you a job." Of course my tipsy eyes turn into dinner plates and go "No way. What do you do?" She looked around and pulled in a little closer, "I'm a phone sex operator."

All the sudden my brain whirls at a million miles an hour, which was kind of disorienting with the tequila lubricating the spin. A sex phone operator... I thought. I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO DO THAT.

Now, I wish I could tell you that it was all the tequila talking. I wish I could also tell you that I'm a 5'7" blonde, with blue eyes, D cups and weigh like 110. Both of those are lies. Don't get me wrong, I get my own booty on my own. When I was growing up, actresses were glamorous. Porn stars were infamous. Sex is the ultimate form of abandon, the ultimate form of degradation, the ultimate form of love. Whatever your definition, I'm sure people like Jenna Jameson and Carmen Electra pop into your head faster when sex is mentioned than Penelope Cruz or Cameron Diaz. I thought I would be such an awesome porn star if I could get the chance, but porn is no place for chubby girls. There was, of course, a second option. Cyberslut. You could look like whatever you described and no one was the wiser. Then I found the phone was the same way. I could do this.

So I called the number, I set up an interview and I met one of the owners of a company. Who just happened to be a chubby girl like me. As much as I was ready for this, I forgot about the enticement aspect of the job. I have to get these guys to want to call me, and apparently it's over the internet. I'm going out of town next weekend, so I can't start until June anyway, but I have homework. Not only do I have to write a graphically written bio about "myself" but I have to pick a new name and "model" to post on the site to entice these men. I have to go from being a jaded, sarcastic, cool chick, to the non-moody, perfect girl next door. So basically, what I am doing right now is writing a bio about myself and my sexuality (what I like and what I don't) and looking at porn to find a woman that I would like to represent in their imagination.

The only problem I've been having right now, at least with finding a model, is what my soon-to-be-new boss told me in my interview.

"If you're short, find someone short. You don't know what it's like to be tall and have sex. Same goes with boobs. You have small boobs, find someone who also has small boobs. You can't fake it, at least not realistically if you don't know what it's like."

So how am I supposed to phone with guys as a 150lb girl pretending to be 110lb?

I can write dirty things about myself. I can pretend to be into things I'm really not. I can get you off to the best of my cyber and phone ability. How am I supposed to pretend that fundamentally I'm someone else?

I knew this job would challenge me. I knew it would be mentally and emotionally taxing. I am hoping that this one hurtle alone will bring me an amount of strength that I have been missing for a long time. I'm not trying to get over an ex, or abuse, or sexual rejection. It's just sort of... odd. Maybe I'll be able to describe it as it comes.

Well... that's all for tonight. 

Keep it sexy, guys!