SweetSexyVicky: Confessions of an ALL TABOO Fetish Phone Sex Mistress

So National Novel Writing Month is coming up in a few days, help sponsor me! My novel is all about– you guessed it, a nasty little phone whore who has been doing phonesex since she was a teenager. Sound like anyone you know? The sponsorship is 100% tax deductible– I don’t see any of the money myself. If you follow the link from the images above or here:  SPONSOR ME you can check it out. My goal states $250, but I am hoping for $350 so I can bring a guest. (People who raise $250 get to go to a banquet). Every one who donates even a TINY bit ($2 or more) will get free minutes, a picture, access to my novel as it’s being written, and a custom thank you mp3.

Really, the deal couldn’t be sweeter, could it?

I LOVE WHEN THEY PAY!

Driver’s license, social, banking details, facebook…

and then he pays to get it down. Some days I love my job.

Your ass is mine

Yeah so He works for Bristol Glen Retirement Home, His mom doesn’t know he is a straight freak, and his girlfriend needs better cock. Her name is Toni Marie Moran and you can call her at 201 841 5577, or email at madina3333@aol.com

Oh, his cell is 973 570 6957 and….

Finally, Stephen, you should know better…

You know that song by those guys? Savage Garden?

“On the telephone line I am anyone,
I am anything I want to be.
I could be a super model or Norman Mailer
And you wouldn’t know the difference
On the telephone line I am any height
I am any age I want to be
I could be a caped crusader
A space invader
And you wouldn’t know the difference
or would you?”

That song came out right around the time I first started doing phonesex. It is actually (The chorus notwithstanding) a pretty accurate representation of Santa Monica. It’s a nice place to visit (for a couple of hours) but I wouldn’t want to live there.
Tomorrow I am going to lunch at Ye Olde King’s Head Pub with my friend from school. I will be wearing my new shoes seen below.

What do you think?

I love that song

as usual, click for an upclose pic. I think they highlight the scrollwork on my tattoo magnificently… and they are super easy to walk in and make my legs look fabulous.

Some very IMPORTANT anniversaries are coming up!
First, February 19: This installation of Confessions of a NetWhore celebrates its 2nd year!
March 2005: 4 years of blogging Confessions of a NetWhore!
Jan 9: (only 1 month ago) my seventh year on Niteflirt.
~*~*~*~*~
now, some girls might say, “I’ve had an account for 7 years but I only started taking calls two weeks ago.” I laugh in the face of that. My feedback laughs with me. I love my job, it’s a vocation for me, not a paycheck. Sadly, I am a straight-ho and love knowing that what I could give away for free and some silly girls do already, I get paid for. It gives me a tingle.

So this morning I had a call from a guy Coprophage. Nod. His name is Kirk. Nod. His username is not what it used to be, but I am pretty sure he is up there with my longest callers–ever. We used to talk when I lived in my apartment (2001-2003) and then off an on now that I live in my house. He’s a filthy fucker, loves everything copro- a nasty little shit loving bastard.

I decided to look up his name “coprophage” in the OEFD (Otherwise known as the OEFUCKINGD or the Oxford English Dictionary. Perhaps it should be OFED but it doesn’t sound right, so OEFD it is).

Good luck translating this or even being interested if you don’t have the hots for dictionaries…

before a vowel copr-, combining form of Greek {kappa}{goacu}{pi}{rho}{omicron}{fsigma} dung, as in co{sm}præmia [Gr. {alpha}{iasperfrown}{mu}{alpha} blood], blood-poisoning from the fæces in case of costiveness; hence co{sm}præmic a. {sm}copragogue [Gr. {alenis}{gamma}{omega}{gamma}-{goacu}{fsigma} carrying away], a purging medicine. co{sm}premesis [Gr. {elenisacu}{mu}{epsilon}{sigma}{iota}{fsigma} vomiting], stercoraceous vomiting. copro{sm}lalia [ad. Fr. coprolalie (G. de la Tourette in Archives de Neurologie, 1885, IX. 19; Gr. {lambda}{alpha}{lambda}{giacu}{alpha} talk, prattle], the use of obscene language by reason of insanity or for sexual gratification. copro{sm}mania [-MANIA], an obsession with fæces; hence copro{sm}maniac. {sm}coprophil, {sm}coprophile [-PHIL, -PHILE], one who is attracted to filth. copro{sm}philia, co{sm}prophily [Gr. {phi}{iota}{lambda}{giacu}{alpha} affection], marked attention to defecation and to excreta. copro{sm}philic a., having or pertaining to an interest in excrement. co{sm}prophilous a. [Gr. {phi}{giacu}{lambda}-{omicron}{fsigma} loving], fond of dung; feeding or (spec. of fungi) growing upon dung. copro{sm}phobia [-PHOBIA], an abnormal repugnance toward fæces. {dag}co{sm}prophory [med.L. coprophoria, Gr. -{phi}{omicron}{rho}{iota}{alpha} carrying], purgation (Bailey). co{sm}prostasis, in Bailey {dag}coprostacy [Gr. {sigma}{tau}{gaacu}{sigma}{iota}{fsigma} a stopping], costiveness. {smm}copro{sm}zoic a. [ZOIC a. 2], of animals, living in dung. (See other words below.)

I would say that my active sex life is marked by a high amount of coprolalia. And I like it that way.

This is babydustin. Stinky Dust from previous posts.

stinkydiaper13@yahoo.com
www.myspace.com/prissybabyd
1847-331-0486

baby dustin

I love the maryjanes and wrinklie tights, don’t you?

click this little one for a freakish douchnozzle drizzle cum.

he leaks cum faster and faster until it’s a stream– no ejaculation…

A brief interview:

So here’s  a question or two for you:

do people smell your babypowder smell when you walk by?  Yes, but they don’t think its me, the child that walked by or there own…Only once was I at blockbuster and some guy with his gf asked if I was wearing baby powder.

does your cum come out caked with baby powder?  Yes, it get gooey

or does it taste sweet like cotton candy because your weenie is soo small it must be tasty?  I does have a salted taste, with baby powder it has a flour taste

where do you shop– midget’s r us?  I have a woman who makes my clothes and the diapers  i buy

You ever cum in a bottle and fall asleep drinking it like a good girl?  Yes, I’ve cum and mixed with my milk

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.

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. 

It works like this:

I post a message to you in my blog, and you come running like a sweaty, nervous hound, heeling to your mistress’s call.

Then I tease you, and taunt you as you beg for mercy.

I dig up some old dirt, smear it on the internet… and share it with the world.

For a moment then, I sit, breathless in anticipation of your reaction… wet with the knowing of what’s to come.

And then we dance… MY dance… to the tune of $150.