Among the men I am fortunate to sexually liaise with are interesting, intelligent, creative types. One of my clients who I regularly enjoy phone sex with is in this category and he thanked me by sending me his account of a recent session.  I find it very erotic.  He has given me permission to share it. 

I guess I consider myself on a bit of a mission to normalise society’s ideas about men who buy sex or phone sex. As well as phone sex itself.  Millions of couples who are separated by distance have phone sex with each other.  I am trying to provide a service for those who choose to participate with me which is different from the $2.99 a minute options.  People can see my photos or book me in real life, they know I am a real person with body, mind and spirit as depicted in my blog.

Wake up phone sex is a particular favourite of mine.

Somewhere, in an unknown bedroom in an unseen town, a woman lies asleep. Hair the colour of glowing embers cascades over her pillow, her face partly concealed behind the careless tangles. Dawn light seeps through the curtains, caressing her body and nudging her into wakefulness.

Under the covers, she is naked. She always sleeps that way, relishing the feel of crisp sheets against her skin. Her sexuality is palpable. It is her trusted and treasured companion, intimately familiar and secure, to which she returns again and again. At the same time, it remains mysterious and seductive, an endless source of wonder: always new sensations to explore, new ways to tease and be teased by her lovers, with subtle nuances to flavour every orgasm. She savours the drowsy warmth of her bed, biding her time. Reaching down with one hand, her fingers begin to wander.

For this particular morning, we have invented a new game: the wake-up call. At the agreed time, my phone chimes to her text: “Ring me”. Returning the call, her familiar voice greets me: soft, gentle, alluring. But not immediately sexy, like a modern-day Lauren Bacall – her eroticism comes more from what she likes to talk about than how she says it. What she is thinking of; where she is touching herself; how she is responding. As a flame-haired teenage siren embracing her newly-discovered carnality, taunting the boys with her curves, smuggling them home, leading them to her bedroom, teaching them how to undress her, guiding their fingers to her wetness, straddling them. I tease her about her obvious delight in male arousal: is there anything she wouldn’t try? “Any way and every way”, she laughs. She loves using her feet, all the better while wearing black stockings. Or her tongue, or her fingers, or her breasts. “I’d take you in my ear, if I could”, she sighs.

Later, we say goodbye, each of us now deliciously awake, utterly relaxed. The dream-like world of telephone sex: fantasies shared, fantasies realised. Our love-making may be imagined, defined only by our words and imagery, but our shared sensations and our memories of what has passed between us are real. In days to come we will return to this space; and perhaps, one day, we will meet. She is only a phone call away.