SweetSexyVicky: Confessions of an ALL TABOO Fetish Phone Sex Mistress

I gotta tell you– some guys ask for it and other guys, well they flat out demand it.

The “it” of which I speak is of course, a brutal internet smackdown wherein I let everyone know just how pathetically pedestrian and common their little fantasies of being forced to swallow mouthfuls of creamy nigger-dick jizz, all hot, thick, and fresh straight from the source really are.

wanna laugh? call donny at 219 306 3283— he works in a sam’s club in indiana cutting meat, and wishing he could suck meat all night long while he rubs his pathetically small cock. think Leatherface, only gayer and more retarded (and only after the black folk).

don’t want people reading this donny?? pay now fucktard.

I’m feeling like reading the Tao of Pooh or something, even though my tastes run more towards Eeyore. So here’s how I feel:

I’m just a little black rain cloud,
Hovering under a honey tree…
Only a little black rain cloud,
Pay no attention to me.

LOL.  Like I am trying to stick my hands in a honey jar and I don’t want anybody to catch me out.

I have a funny, sick feeling inside. My payment for the GRE sadly went through this morning (sadly because it’s Thanksgiving weekend, I paid them last Tuesday and it waited until today to go through… yammer yammer yammer)… and sadly because oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. That means I am going to have to go take it. Jesus Christ. I let myself get wrapped up in my own bullshit last week to avoid writing my paper and studying for the GRE. Now I have five days? To knuckle down and smarten up. Cuz I have a great big fucking exam to do.

One of the questions on UCI’s application is an essay prompt:

In an essay, discuss how your personal background informs your decision to pursue a graduate degree. Please include any educational, familial, cultural, economic, or social experiences, challenges, or opportunities relevant to your academic journey; how you might contribute to social or cultural diversity within your chosen field; and/or how you might serve educationally underrepresented segments of society with your degree.

I like “Please include any social experiences or opportunities relevant to your academic journey… how you might serve educationally underrepresented segments of society with your degree.”

Mwahaha.  Remember this summer when I had the interview and my first response to “what will you bring to the table?” was “dances”??? Yeah.

I totally would like to argue that being a phone sex operator has definitely shaped me as a person, intellectually as a thinker because I don’t just make snap judgements as I perhaps used to, and that I would be bringing a fairly diverse and brotastic view of things to society. Frankly, I am deeply interested in some of the work being done in critical theory on sexuality and mixed media, and I have a unique background which affords me a different view point on the entire thing. I am not going to though, because it’s just a different level of unprofessional.

*Giggle* I just remembered the penultimate night of my last lit class. I was bitching to the instructor about GREs and papers and such and somehow, I don’t quite remember how, horribly mutilated penises found its way into our discussion (it was a group of us) the teacher was saying he had seen the worst, I was begging to differ. We all walked in a mob down to his office to peruse this book which had the scary mutilated penis picture in it, but he couldn’t find it. Steve (a cutie Liberal Studies major who blows glass and wants to teach elementary school)(actually, in retrospect Steve looks a little like someone who sent me their picture recently… creepy) was saying that he’d seen a video on YouTube where a dude took a box cutter to his ballsack and pulled out his testes and had some chick suck them. Totally reminded me of every douchebag caller who has ever been into eunich-ization. (I made that word up because I can’t be bothered to look it up.) So anyways, I kind of nodded at Steve and the teacher and said that I knew lots of guys at work like that– that my favorite guy who likes that shit was Actaeon the dude who is into being a deer and getting hunted. The look my teacher shot me was… different to say the least. Quite amusing. However, that’s proof that there’s a place for admitting you’re a phone ho and then a place for avoiding admitting it at all costs, regardless of how fucking excellent the segue into talking about your clients may be.

Between studying for the GRE and writing a paper this coming week, I will be making new mp3s. I’ve been rather astonishingly verbose here on the blog so I may as well start recording it.

1. 1. 1. Finger fucking. Yeah, this is number one, it will always be number one.
   2. 2. Getting gagged with a cock.
   3. 3. Facial money-shot. Mwaah. love it.
   4. 4. Getting to use your face as a pillow, all kinds of tonguing and clean-up. Puss and Ass.
   5. 5. Penetration. With just about anything– I do mean anything. Call me and ask me for a list.

So let us refer to #1 and something which has been on my mind for awhile. People, you read my blog. How do I know, because you call me, laughing sometimes so hard you have tears in your eyes. You mention it in emails and conversations. Why don’t you leave a comment? Are your comments being eaten by my spam catcher, or do you not want people knowing you were here? (If the answer is B you should rethink your purchase of the www.sweetsexyvicky.com bumpersticker, or the SSV owns me Lapel pin you purchased, cuz really.)

Alright, referring to #1. Finger fucking. It is my favorite, for so many reasons. Maybe this is lame but, I think that a certain part of me will always feel that mind-boggling out-of-body feeling I felt the first time a guy slid his finger into me. It was like nothing I have ever felt before; so full of promise and dizzying arousal. I remember being crushed up against his van, looking up at the amber haze in the sky from the street lights and thrilling that the neighbors might see. His heavy high school ring caught and snagged on my pantyhose, ripping them to shreds and his stubby fingers impatiently tore aside my panties. I can remember this vague, completely out of oxygen feeling as I started to flow away on hormones and the way his body shuddered against mine as he whispered “you’re so wet” in shock against my lips. I swear for a moment I detached from my body and could see the two of us from a different vantage point. ((Of course, what I don’t mention was there I was, virginal me, grinding against him, moaning and trying with every muscle and fiber in my body to get him to touch me rougher, pinch me, something— even then I wasn’t fragile thing.))

Of course, when I start thinking about that I think about the night I was laid out, flat on my back with a certain boy between my legs, shoving his fingers inside of me while his lips grazed my knees and thighs and I struggled oh-so-hard not to make any noise. That’s followed up quickly by the delicious feel of damp fingertips pressing against my lips and mouth, the smell of the boy and myself, the taste… *sigh*

I forgot to finish up on the topic. What’s got me all excited about fingerfucking?

I’ve been exceptionally sensitive to people’s hands lately. I’ve been thinking about hands, sizing them up, and comparing them etc etc. See, while my first true experience with finger banging came somewhat lateish in life– I was born with a hand fetish. Mr. S in the 5th grade– whoa. He used his hands to gesture and indicate all sorts of things, and I was his ever-patient disciple, sitting quietly in the second row, eyes huge as they tracked his gloriously huge hands through the air. I remember he had one of those chalk holder things that was like a mechanical pencil, only for chalk. Ostensibly it was to keep your hands from getting all chalky, but he played with it, twisting it in between his fingers as he lectured so that his fingertips with their blunt, short-cut nails always had a fine dusting of chalk on them.

Then their was C, a boy in my grade who had the most magnificent thumbs. I could (and did) stare at his thumbs all day long. I would sit, all quiet and shy in the corner by the teacher’s desk and stare longingly at C’s hands. I used to imagine biting them and sucking on them– and yeah that was in the 7th grade. So shameful!!

I think my next post will be about my top five favorite boy body parts.

ttys!

I got the baddest, sweetest fucking hoodie ever. See, a certain someone said to me over dinner, “I was in Macy’s the other day and I thought of you.” I was mildly amused and astonished. Blah blah blah and a week later I have a Mark Ecko Boba Fett hoodie. Tell a lie– I have a Mark Ecko Boba Fett hoodie which I am giving to James for Christmas. Very cool– and now I want one for me too.

In honor of the hoodie I give you this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CwpCI7SqQc0

If you’ve seen Zack and Miri Make a Porno, you will recognize the song. If not, it still rocks so watch anyways.

I am so done with school at the moment. You know it’s bad when you are fantasizing about restraining professors with ball gags and fisting every stupid person who thinks that saying “misogyny” makes them fucking intelligent. You know what makes you intelligent? Separating yourself from the herd of sheep that believes that anything remotely unpleasant that is said about women is misogyny. Guess what, bitches?

Women are the cruelest, fucking evillest, vilest cunts I know. Not men. And calling a duck a duck is not being speciest or whatever the fuck hatred of ducks is. It’s just speaking the truth. Check it. Gah.

I am kind of all pent up so my post is all over the place. My friend loaned me The Libertine with Johnny Depp in it. I love this movie, I really do. It is just so… stimulating. I like calling a whore a whore and not having said whore be offended. I damn near came in my pants when the one whore kicks Wilmot out, saying that she’d rather he spill his load all over her face rather than leave her caring about him. I am in a dilemma like that right now, I totally emphasize.

The worst *in a good way* part of the movie is right at the beginning, when Wilmot and Elizabeth are in the carriage to London. He shoves his hand up under her skirt and fingers her while she tells him about how he kidnapped her. She grabs his hand to keep it there, she comes, he rubs his fingers across her lips and she sucks his fingers like the greedy bitch she is. Then the scene cuts to him standing in a street in London, delicately sniffing his fingers. It’s just so wrong that it’s beautiful.

So, because I am having troubles sleeping, I popped Closer in after that. Now, my absolute favorite scene in Closer is when Clive Owen is storming around the house after Julia Roberts admits her infidelity:

LARRY: Did you cum?
ANNA: Why are you doing this?
LARRY: ’cause I want to know.
ANNA: First he went down on me, and then we fucked.
LARRY: Who was where?
ANNA: I was on top, then he fucked me from behind.
LARRY: And that’s when you came the second time.
ANNA: Why is the sex so important?
LARRY: Because I’m a fucking caveman!
LARRY: Did you touch yourself while he fucked you?
ANNA: Yes.
LARRY: You wank for him.
ANNA: Sometimes.
LARRY: And he does.
ANNA: We do everything that people who have sex do!
LARRY: You enjoy sucking him off.
ANNA: Yes!
LARRY: You like his cock.
ANNA: I love his cock!
LARRY: You like him cumming in your face.
ANNA: Yes!
LARRY: What does it taste like?
ANNA: It tastes like you but sweeter!
LARRY: That’s the spirit. Thank you. Thank you for your honesty. Now fuck off and die, you fucked up slag.

That is just the best bit of dialogue in a play based movie ever I think. “It tastes like you but sweeter” is a horrible thing to say to a man.

I also love the way Portman plays Clive Owen in the strip club. All you tease and denial fans, go watch and admire. He keeps paying her to tell him her real name and all she says is “Thank you, it’s Jane” and he doesn’t believe her. So he keeps paying her like a dumbfuck.

An actual conversation betwixt myself and the security guard on campus:

V– do you ever get bored out here?
SG- sometimes, but I like watching people
V– ooh, I bet you could write a paper on the mating habits of Cal State Students, as observed in the parking area.
SG– blank look.
V– [explains what  I mean]
SG– Something about my ex wives
V– you don’t look old enough to have exes.
SG– baby girl, I am old enough to be your daddy.
V– I’m older than I look– I am 28.
SG– blink. Ok, maybe not quite. Maybe a young daddy, like 15?
V- but would you be a very good daddy?!
SG– it depends on what kind of daddy you’re looking for… a daddy daddy, or one to smack your ass.
V–I am the one that likes to do the spanking….
SG– oh really!! I don’t like being spanked unless its with a wet noodle or a tongue…
V– how on earth do you spank someone with your tongue?!
SG– it’s easier to show than tell…
V– Is that old line still working for you? It used to work great for me…

blah blah blah lots of flirting and spank talk. eventually would down to Voting for Obama etc etc etc.

Had dinner with friends, it was nice. I am sicker than a dog now (ha. shows you what a fucking ho I am, sick with the mange and flirting with the security guard. I had to leave my silly class because I was getting close to hallucinating….)

mmmmmmm Brandon, your Klingon photon metaphor made me heart sigh. Call me or something… I love it.

Oh, and peoples… all bets are off. I know whats up now bitches. maybe 

——

I just want to write this down real quick. Read this and pretend I am writing it to you

There is absolutely nothing like the feeling of your long, self-assured fingers sliding in and out of me, pushing into me, poking and prying into me and laying me bare under your direct gaze. Urging me closer to my own self fulfillment, plundering my secrets, devouring and savoring my darker, hidden corners. Quick with the flashy turn of wrist, slow to stroke my insides, you push and prod, hem and haw and balance me on the razor’s edge of orgasm, teasing me with your strong, capable hands. 

Hey my lovelies!

If you have talked to me recently you will have heard of my most recent sexual dilemma.  Or more like the most recent 2 dilemmas. (Dilemma 1 being the fact that James and I fucked around so hard Halloween night that my business now looks like I got myself fingered by Freddy-freaking-Kreuger)(dilemma 2 having to pertain to the following rant)

I am a girl. Ok, I am a girl who likes to think, likes to swear, loves to shop, be bossy, and put people in their places. I am a Dominant. That means that I have a dominant personality, I am an alpha female, I am in charge and I like being in charge.

It does not mean that I am dominating anyone. (Unless they ask for it). Domination takes 2 people, someone to be submissive and someone to be dominant. You cannot dominate someone if they do not let you. Likewise, you cannot be submissive or submit to someone if they do not realize that you are submitting to them.

For instance:

We are out to dinner and I tell you that you are buying, and you pay. I am just being a cow/bitch/rude person/myself. You actually agreeing with me is you agreeing with me, nothing in my demeanor forced you into saying yes, in fact you could have said no, but you didn’t. Likewise, I was not expecting you to say yes, therefore I was not dominating you because I did not have an expected positive outcome.

We are out to dinner and I tell you that you are paying and you are having the tilapia with macademia nut crust, white wine, and rice pilaf. I look you dead in the eye when I say it and I am serious. When you nod, you avert your glance and you are somewhat sexually aroused as you do as instructed. I know that you are sexually aroused and we are both aware of it. I am getting something from the exchange, beyond my meal.  I am dominating you and you are submitting to me.

There. I said it. I cannot dominate you without being aware that I am doing it and without you making a clear decision to submit to me. Furthermore, the kind of domination you are talking about is sexual in nature, and there has to be something to it. SO. 

If you want me to dominate you, slap your ass, boss you around, or otherwise– fucking ask me. Who knows what kind of reaction you will get.

If you want to be a tourist, then ask touristy questions.

’nuff said.

I am considering putting up a pool. guys, if you want to buy in to the pool you can contact me at sweetsexyvicky@gmail.com. The pool is to see what the hell is really happening. If we’ve talked, you know what I mean. If we haven’t, call me and get the low-down.

———————

mmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Michael, and by Michael I mean NAVYBOY. I am sorry to say that, you’ve been replaced. His name is Brandon, and for some reason, in my head he looks like superman. He’s now boyfriend #1 (yeah, he kind of kicked James to the curb, but only because he is fantastic and has enthusiasm).

How can you not fall in love with someone who accepts how badly you want to have Eli Roth’s baby?

speaking of…

Eli– you didn’t answer my email. I am heartbroken. We could live in czechoslovakia together making horror movies… I could play with props… we could fuck and be nasty and I could be your muse. Seriously, think about it. Please. xxxxx Vicky

FINALLY

people, go vote! Tomorrow is election day– utilize your citizenship!! and vote no on prop 8 if you live in california.

*sigh* I am not as good a secret keeper as I would like to think. I believe that maybe I am a trifle transparent. Who knows what a horrible poker player I must be? Seriously, in the last 2 weeks I have had classmates who are more than acquaintances but not necessarily friends pick up on something I considered secret. *shock*

YAM figured out which student I had had an interest in a couple of quarters ago– really quickly too, it was astounding. But, his reasoning was… less than sound. Liking star wars is not an immediate “I want to fuck you” but it is a requirement. Sorry, but I draw the line there. The only thing worse than someone not liking Star Wars is someone who prefers Star Trek. No wait. Preferring Star Trek over Star Wars is acceptable but preferring Survivor over either… I have to draw the line and turn away. Period. (They may as well eat babies boiled in birthwater… for all I care.)

And then my teacher-lady-nun friend guessed which of our classmates needs (in my opinion) a good, hard spanking. Preferably, while bent over a student desk, his nose scant inches away from one of his perfectly bland, obviously off-the-cuff papers, as he recited MLA format while I spanked him. Hard. With my leather paddle. SEE THIS VIDEO for a close approximation of what I mean. *gasp* I just watched it. I love that scene. …..

*snicker* Those of you who have been following recent posts will be highly amused to know that I have spoken to 2 Ricks this evening. This is highly amusing to me. And of course, while I was having dinner with YAM, slut was attempting to message me… slut shares his name with YAM– of course he does. Currently, slut is performing his “dildo tied to the leg of a desk” trick. I love that trick.

Finally, lucky me James is on his way home this weekend. I may be rendered incapable of talking… but I doubt it.

MY FRIEND… You know whO you are. James will most certainly be home this weekend. If you want to listen in, this would be a good time because honey, I am horny as all get out and you’ll be getting a pretty hot show.

I think that something is in retrograde or whatever. Because people from all aspects of my life are popping out of the woodwork like crazy-mad motherfuckers and it’s driving me nutball crazy. Seriously.

Let’s see… we have ex-boyfriends,  friends-with-benefits, good callers, bad callers, friends/fellow students lusted after in (mostly)complete silence{don’t play where you will end up having co-workers}, and finally… new people on all fronts. It’s enough to drive a woman fucking crazy. With mad, hot, hornball hormones. Seriously.

I started writing a giant dissertation on why violence can sometimes be sexy and how violence has been used in literature to display sexy goodness for hundreds (if not thousands) of years, but got sidetracked by my hormones. (And by the thought that this is a complete waste of time when I should be writing a paper a teacher will read and grade… not just read and spank to.)

For instance, I need to finish The Mabinogion today and write my paper on it. I also need to put the finishing touches on my paper about the Ulstermen. Oh, and go to French class… but I will wait and see when the midterm is and show up sometime before then. Maybe. (je n’aime pas francais! je deteste francais! je ne parle pas beaucoup francais!)

oh.

one last thing before I go. Jared Lynch left a comment:

jared | jaredfirebird26@aol.com | IP: 71.240.33.210

please take this down vicky

Jared, you know what you need to do to get stuff taken down from my website. You pestered me endlessly to get it up– so now you have to play by the rules to get it down. That’s just how it works. PAY ME. see, it’s very easy.

I am shameful! I can’t believe I have been sitting here waiting for calls and never thought to come here and say, “hey! I am back!”

I have bounced back admirably and have spent the last 4 days in a house chock full of very nice looking men (boyfriend included) for roughly 16 hours a day. It was a lot of fun, innuendos were flying at a rapid place and every so often one would hear boyfriend calling for me… but I was indisposed. *giggle*

Let me tell you it takes a LOT of time and effort to keep a houseful of men/boys very happy and lucky for me they were all of age (even if just barely). I could have gotten into a lot of trouble!!

———

In recent news, Thank you Scotty for my Kitchen-Aid mixer. I am planning on doing shameful things with it

I have a love hate relationship with summer storms and with air conditioning. See, they both mean rapidly and wildly vacillating temperatures which equals a rapidly sick Vicky.

It’s August– of 2008 no less. I don’t want to be sick.

Because next Monday, August 18, 2008 will be my 10th year anniversary as a phone ho. And I want to celebrate it in style– by taking as much phone cock as I can!!

Seriously, ten years as a phone sex operator (telecommunications representative). I started out at the fragile age of 18 years old, the summer after my freshman year of high school. My first week on the call room floor I flooded my panties every single call. By Thanksgiving I had determined that I would get a vibrator to smuggle into work (it was strictly against policy) so that I could get off already.

I mastered the art of the ‘no-touch’ orgasm. I did crazy shit too, like buy a crapload of books on sex and kinks and fetishes (ever the little researcher) and then I bought a micro cassette recorder. I bet you are asking why, right? Well, you try spending 8-12 hours on a call room floor with a bunch of phone ho’s and listening to their fake ass fucking orgasms. It’s enough to nauseate you. Screaming, wailing, panting, like some 50c porno booth stars. So, I coerced a friend to fuck me on tape and then fucked myself on tape as well, and listened to those 2 recordings OVER and OVER again.  Just to get the details right.

Do you know, I hold my breath when I get really close to cumming? I just stop breathing. It’s crazy. I also sound like a rabid Czechoslovakian wolfbear– or like one of the pig dog things from lord of the rings–uruk hai? I am not joking. It’s not pretty at all. It is kind of hot though, *wink*

I just realized, I have been recording myself fucking for a long time. hahaha. Shame on me.   I promise to have the BBC recordings and my livefucking recordings up for anyone to purchase at any time. A quick note, the shortest is about 18 minutes and the longest is 90, unedited.

See you soon,

Vicky