Sex. Work.

I think I've found the cure for my overly high sex drive. All I have to do is work more.

I've always been one of those people who thinks about sex all the time- new positions, different faces, different moods and props. I've had the sex drive to match. I learned HTML (not that you can tell from this blog... heh) with one hand down my pants. At my first clerical job (data entry), when I was 16, I'd just get up during the day and go to the bathroom and slide my fingers across my slick pussy lips. I'd do this two or three times a day. Of course it was a damn boring job, but still. Sometimes I'll just be out shopping and I'll suddenly get so horny I have to have sex right then and I start looking at the people around me a lot more closely. I haven't done it yet and it always kind of scared me. My impulse control isn't perfect, yanno?

Most guys cannot keep up with me. This pisses me off because as a woman you're taught that guys will always out-horny you, and that you'd better expect to turn down sex a lot more often than you actually want any. Ha! I find myself pouting and saying, "Come on, once a week really isn't enough..." or if I'm lucky, "You know I need it at least once a day. Get some pizza and get your ass back in here- I'm not done with you yet." It's really sad when you have to beg for sex and it's not done, as a kink, with either a fat, juicy cock head inches from your slit or the expectation of a cold, securely locked chastity belt. It's depressing. Nobody likes those quiet, depressing orgasms you have when you know you can't wake up the person next to you and if they were awake it wouldn't matter anyway, because you already know the answer.

I got turned down a lot during what I was told were my most desirable years, before I changed and grew some (metaphorical!) balls. It takes a toll on you when you think nobody wants you. Resentment builds, and coupled with a high sex drive you're wanting something all the time that you can't have (or can't have very often) and you're not sure anyone wants to give it to you or share it with you.

Now I know people want me. I know people want me badly enough to send me some very weird emails, or pay by the hour for my company. I've had a couple of customers who got too attached and wanted to take it off the phones. (This is phone sex. It's not a dating service. It's never going to happen. Besides, think about it: Isn't that kind of a really awkward way to meet someone, finding out their strangest, harshest, most extreme sexual fantasies before their first name or even whether or not you have anything else in common?)

I talk to guys who wake up at night with the same problem I have and instead of biting their lip, wiping their eyes and reaching for Mister Buzzy, they call me and get something much healthier: a warm, sympathetic human voice. Somebody to talk to, even if we're just talking about what he wants me to fit inside my pussy.

For the first few months I walked with a strut. I felt sexy, I felt desirable, I was part of an inner sisterhood of filthy words and slippery pink flesh. I got paid an awesome per-minute which translated to a decent hourly, in a no-pants-needed environment. But I'm a geek. I tend to obsess. My obsessive little obsessing brain will just sit there and... obsess, all day long, like it does about sex.

I'm thinking about sex all day anyway, right? Perfect for this line of work, right?

Heh. At first, sure. I had ideas at a constant pace. I wrote them all down and I couldn't even keep up (especially around midterm time... oops). But since taking this job both my speech and my perverse sexual imagination have gotten cruder, more focused on the obvious symbols that 70% of my guys want to hear about, rather than the stuff I noticed before and prided myself on noticing, that the other 30% or so really get off on. Rather than thinking of the sweat on someone's collarbone and licking it off, of fingers tangled in hair and how I can reach this from that position I'll think of the obvious Anglo-Saxon litany: cock, fuck, cunt. Rather than express the vivid details of a thick, swollen, pulsing cock I'll use the cartoon symbols: big hard cock! Wet pussy, either tight or freshly gaping!

Basically I've been eating too much of the sexual equivalent of fast food and need to up my erotic sophistication again.

And oh, what it does to my masturbating...

I'll stop, in the middle of a fantasy, and think, "How would I market that for a listing?"

I do this ALL THE TIME! It's incredibly strange. When sex is your work, you get all kinds of weird entanglements between your work sex and your non-work sex. It gets all up in your head and it changes you. I'm not saying it's bad. It has some nice side effects I'm getting to. I'm just saying you can't really expect some of the ways it changes you, and it can really throw you for a loop at the weirdest times.

The awesome side effects: I can masturbate basically whenever I want. I do it without even thinking about it sometimes on calls. Even when I'm not masturbating, or masturbating but not to the point of coming, I get surrounded so much by erotic energy and I kind of feed off that. I'm like a geeky, reclusive succubus.

(I became a hermit for the social life.)

I'm always thinking about sex, sometimes getting some play and sometimes just playing with myself but either way I'm playing with myself more and needing to less. I've had days where I just lay there and orgasm over and over, trying to hold the phone away from my face so I don't accidentally hang up or scream too loudly in the poor man's ear. It kind of makes up for the dry spells. There's lots of the stuff around sex, even when I'm not getting any actual sex, and so my libido's calming down some.

Yeah, now it's at frequently horny instead of FUCK ME NOW!

xo

katie