In one week, I’m celebrating a BIG birthday: 30! In acknowledgment of the fact that I’ve spent over half of my 20s working at The Frisky, I’m going to reach down deep into to archives and revisit some old posts. I’ll examine what I wrote at the time and how that has or hasn’t changed. If you have any suggestions of old posts you’d like me to revisit, tell me in the comments or shoot me an email at Jessica@TheFrisky.com. First up …
The Post: “Why I Like Being Called A Slut In Bed”
Publication Date: February 2, 2011 Keep reading »
Phone sex expert Miranda Austin has graciously shared with us a chapter from her book Phone Sex: Aural Thrills And Oral Skills, available both on Amazon.com and Audible.com (oh la la!). Here she explains how a novice should make a phone call to a phone sex line.
In order to get the most from your phone sex experience, you as the customer have a few responsibilities. (Yes, yes, I know you’re paying, but you still have to help.)
First and most important, tell the operator what you want. It sounds simple enough, and for some people it’s easy. Some callers just go ahead and say, “Hi Kristi, I’d like for you to role-play that you’re Mother Goose and I’m a firefighter, and when I come over to put out the fire in the giant shoe, you recite nursery rhymes as I eat your pussy.” Keep reading »
Be honest: “For A Good Time, Call …” has made you just a tiny bit curious about what it’s like to work a phone sex line. Is it just pervs who call up and pant into the phone before hanging up? Are all the women who do it just paying their way through grad school?
We went to Sabrina Morgan, a 28-year-old phone sex operator in San Diego, for the real story. She got involved in phone sex back in 2005 and was kind enough to answer some questions over email. Everything you want to know about dirty talk, stocking fetishes and melon humping, after the jump!
Keep reading »
After a slew of flings that consisted of more games than the World Cup, I was practically in heaven when I met Jake – an intelligent, successful, Southern gentleman who eerily resembled New York Mets heartthrob David Wright. Keep reading »
I get called a “slut” all the time. My friend Ashley calls me a slut like it’s my name: “Slut!” The Frisky staff calls each other sluts when we divulge our sexual escapades. Internet commenting trolls call me a slut fairly regularly (and a “bitch”, and a c-word, and plenty of other foul things). I call myself a slut, like, say, last week when I hooked up with a dude on the first date. A lot of 20-something women are used to being called a slut in some area of their lives, in every situation from “haha, just kidding” with our friends or (cool) co-workers to more serious areas, like when it’s hurled at us by a catcaller. “Slut” is one of those female-centric words — like “bitch,” like “feminist” — that can mean so many things that it almost means nothing anymore. Except, it turns out, in bed. Keep reading »
“Tell me what you want to do to me,” I cooed in Brandon’s* ear. It was our first time in bed together and I was hoping he would pass my “dirty talk test.” The test is simple. I ask the man what he wants to do to me and he responds with his own special brand of dirty talk. Easy, right? Not always so simple.
It’s easier to get the little head than the big head in the game. But the problem is, I only want to have sex with a man when both heads are present. I want him to understand that my pleasure takes place first in my mind and then in my body. And if he can’t stimulate my mind, he has a very slim chance of stimulating anything on my body. Sure he can fumble his way around and accidentally push a button, but why bother? I know some people don’t like to talk; they just like to “do.” But for me it’s not enough. Keep reading »