A day in the life of a phone sex operator

by Sedona Day




“What are you wearing?” they invariably ask. I’m sure they’d choke on their spit if I told them the truth: flannel shirt, sweater, long johns, sweat pants, and fuzzy socks.

The life of a phone sex operator

In order to keep with my phone sex persona, I usually say something like, “Oh, I’m just lounging around in my red, silk robe. I’m totally naked underneath. Don’t you just love how silk makes a woman’s nipples stand out?”

Yawn...

But that usually gets them going.

Such is a day in the life of a phone sex operator. We are phone actresses, nothing more and nothing less. Unfortunately, in our puritanical society, I usually have to keep what I do for a living a closely guarded secret. If you’re in the adult business, you just don’t admit to such a thing in “polite society.”

I’m always amazed that actors and actresses can do steamy, nude sex scenes, and they’re not looked down upon. Yet we in the phone sex business don’t get naked (sweat pants and flannel are our friends!), and we certainly don’t physically touch someone. We may touch someone emotionally and mentally, but that’s all the touching we do.

A sexy skill set

In order to be a good phone sex operator, we need incredible story-telling abilities, as well as acting abilities. Depending on the niche, we may also have to fake orgasms on cue. I don’t know why most men believe we actually do orgasm with them -- I guess they think women get turned on in 75 seconds with a stranger. Or maybe they believe our phone is somehow hooked up to a vaginal device that vibrates every time the phone rings.

Many phone sex callers are just lonely, single men who want more of a connection than pornography gives them. They want to flirt a little bit and then orgasm with someone. Then there are other phone sex callers who just want to bark out a few orders, breathe heavy, grunt, and hang up.

Starting out

I was nervous when I started as a phone sex operator. My first caller sounded lonely, so that put me at ease. By his voice, I’d say he was in his sixties and a little cantankerous. He was a good ol’ Southern boy who immediately asked me if I could give him my home phone number, instead of having to pay for phone sex. I have no idea why he thought I’d give away phone sex for free, especially within only 90 seconds of “knowing” him.

I’ve noticed a pattern among phone sex callers, though. They seem to think the world revolves around their dangling parts and that their almighty erection is holy. Everything that spews forth from the holy phallus is somehow manna from heaven. But I digress...

This good ol’ boy’s fantasies revolved around my sweaty workout clothes, then he wanted to hear my pee. I had read in the past that some men are in to that, so I wasn’t speechless, although I silently giggled. Fortunately, the place where I took this call was in my kitchen, which also had a half bathroom off to the side. I took some bottled water out of the refrigerator and poured it into the toilet. It made a loud peeing sound. I felt pretty proud of myself for thinking on my feet like that. I don’t orgasm on cue, and I certainly don’t pee on cue!

While I’ve had thousands of calls since this good ol’ boy’s one and only call, I’ll probably always remember him. He was my first -- the one who popped my phone sex cherry.

I’ve learned a lot over the last few years of being in the phone sex industry -- about myself, sexuality, and men. Dealing so closely with other people’s bizarre sexuality can take its toll on a person, and I’m no exception. I often have to take a step back and laugh. Sex is funny, if you really think about it, and I’ve had quite a few laughs doing "phone boning."