SweetSexyVicky: Confessions of an ALL TABOO Fetish Phone Sex Mistress

I am about to pop some Ambien and fall asleep. I don’t like the Ambien, but it beats staying awake till five in the morning and getting 2 hours of sleep, or running the risk of od’ing on benadryl (which sounds theoretically impossible… but there’s been a time or two, let me tell you). So, we’ll just take the Ambien for now.

Sooooooooooo…. Autoshuffle. This post is brought to you by a very old post on my very old blog. I am reading Nicky Hornby’s “High Fidelity” right now, and am feeling all musically inclined. Let me tell you, I loved John Cusack in the movie, but love the character of Rob so much more. The film is set in America, but the book is set in North London, and it’s like a literary reminder of my stomping grounds. It’s awesome– the record shop is supposed to be in Holloway, up the Seven Sister’s Road, and I used to live close enough to take a LONG walk to there… used to go to the Holloway Odeon all the time– as a matter of fact, that’s how I spent my 20th birthday, watching 6th Sense @ the Holloway Odeon… *sigh* The book is just awesome, and I love Hornby’s voice as Rob in it.

What am I thankful for?

• cellphones with cameras
• starbucks
• all of my friends
• heh. open relationships
• niteflirt (really, I mean it)
• books
• and my kindle.
• oooooooooooh vast
  
• the  “my backpack’s got jets” song about boba fett

That’s about it. have a wonderful and happy holiday! and when you get a chance, call me

It is so true. The mix tape is a magical being, I think. It’s always so wonderful to receive, especially when there’s a romantic connection. When I was a teenager writing to my penpals overseas I loved getting mixtapes from this one Scottish guy, I seriously thought he was fucking brilliant. Until I saw Empire Records and recognized, in order 90% of the music, from his latest mixtape. He was sending me rips of soundtracks and pawning them off as his own collections. I was, of course, wounded.

I still love receiving mixtapes though– and you always know that’s when the shit is getting serious, unless the person is just a nutball who is way into music. I’ve received some great mixes in my time. mmmmmmm I need someone to send me a mixtape for fucking.  I’d start mine off with Bodies by Drowning Pool.

So there’s this song that is running through my head, but I don’t know who sings it. I really like this song, but I can never remember the name of it or the name of the band that sings it. The way I perceive this song is the way I want to be loved. The part that gets me is when the guy goes, “lost for you, I am so lost… for you” but there’s more, it’s like this awesome mix of sex and love to it. I love this song, whenever I hear it on the radio, but then I forget it.

Okay, I give up. Obviously I am listening to a mixtape as I right this and shit’s on my mind and everything. I want to say thank you to all of you who have emailed and called and weighed in on my current situation. I appreciate it. But now, I think I am fucked generally. What do you do when faced with an impossible chance and two people who know just how impossible said chance is? Do you behave like an adult and reason out all the reasons you should stay where you are (safe, reasonably content, etc etc)?

Ugh. I hate being a girl sometimes. And by girl I mean, “emotional, obsessive, prone to bouts of crushing insecurity and insane neediness” NOT “possessing of breasts, brains, and a pussy” because I actually like that part of being a girl. I just don’t like the chick-y-ness of being one sometimes.

Thank god this has only happened 2x. I couldn’t handle it if it was a regular occurrence. I gotta put my fuck me shoes on, stop listening to querulous and overtly romantic music, and remember that I am fabulous and wonderful… ((shhhhhhh does it sound much like I am lying to myself?))

Top 5 Favorite Boy Parts

1. 1. Hands. (the better to finger me with, grab me with, etc)
2. 2. Necks. I remember being 14, entranced by *ahem* david duchovnys neck, just wanted to suck the daylights out of it.
3. Arms. Ok, that scene in Chronicles of Riddick where Riddick fucking lifts Jack by jamming his forearm between her legs, in the slam?? I damn-near pass out every time I watch that scene.
4. Backs. I like rubbing them, rubbing myself on them, kissing them, and beating the ever-loving shit out of them. Is it wrong that there is just something so fucking hot to me about a guy’s back when it’s covered in welts? (or fake scars in the movies?)
5. cock. Technically, this should be number one, but, why play to expectations?

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!

*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 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

I am currently sitting in a line waiting for the ballroom to open so I can watch the star wars fan film awards. God. It’s been forever since the first fan film awards came out and then that damn tauntaun movie won (barf) so I stopped watching altogether.

Anyhow, it’s been a pretty good day so far– still running into people I know all over the place, so that’s good. I am going to be in line for awhile so if you want to give me a holler– I will be available for the next hour and forty-five minutes.

Vicky

xxx

Okay it’s back to school time for me. I am in class from 6-9 pm every Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. But that’s okay because except for in my multimedia classes last winter, I am in a class that has more male students than females. (Finally)

I have to tell you, it’s so much fun to play world of warcraft during lecture and have 2-3 different guys trying to watch your action– wishing they could 1. date you 2. play and 3. that they could suck or fuck their way to a grade like yours truly. (wink)

Seriously.

I tend to leave the boring classes for summer. Math– summer. Science– Summer. African American history– Summer. oooh! So I am in another Science class– human biology. I can’t wait until we study reproduction. As a matter of fact, we have a writing project for this class, it’s to write a paper on something which portrays itself as being scientific when it isn’t.

I love telling my fellow male classmates what I have chosen. Extenze. Yep. Of course I wink and promise to let them know what my findings are… if I don’t ask them if they would like to be part of my own exclusive clinical study…

JF called me tonight, he had ADD of the perv-mind and I love it. Unfortunately it ended up in me being so unbelievably horny I’d probably mount a jackhammer right about now if I could find one… I swear. The nastier they are, the harder I fall. Yum.

When asked what you will be bringing to the table, do not snicker and think “table dances”.

I have never had a formal job interview where I was interviewed by a panel. I am pretty sure that nodding and informing the panel that I was nervous, it was my first time, but ‘what the hell, it’s good practice’ was not the best way of displaying my character.

Neither was informing the principal that he looked like he needed to unwind and he should call me sometime– on my $1.70 line. *sigh* That only happened in my head, thank god, because if it had happened in real life I would definitely not have gotten the job. I will just have to wait and see how it went.