I had phone sex this morning. And for the life of me, I can’t explain why.
It went down like this: I was having a hard time sleeping, so I was actually up reading when some douche that I haven’t talked to since we hooked up (2 months ago) calls me. At 5am in the morning.
He’s drunk off his ass. He apparently just got in from a ski-boarding trip, and was thinking about me on the plane (yeah. right.). I preemptively inform him that he can’t come over.
“Nah, nah, baby…I know…I just wanted to…well, you know…I was thinking about you…and, uh. Well…”
He wants to have phone sex. I hate phone sex. I explain to him why I hate phone sex.
I talk for a living. I have a low, throaty voice. Guys ALWAYS want me to have phone sex. It’s annoying. And at some point, I end up running out of stuff to say.
But a) I was kinda horny. I’ll admit it. b) I figured the quicker I got this guy off, the sooner he’d pass out and go to bed.
Don’t ask why I didn’t just hang up on him. I haven’t figured that part out, myself.
So I begin to aurally pleasure. However, I forgot to consider how incredibly, ridiculously drunk this guy was. I didn’t realize there was such a thing as “Phone-Whiskey-Dick.”
It takes 2 hours.
Yeah, I had phone sex for two hours. In that time, he could have come over, fucked me blind, and been kicked out of my apartment already. Twice. And it’s a 30 minute drive.
The worst part: While we both talked a fairly innovative, creative, and interesting game…I was the only one who ended up coming.
And after that, I suddenly didn’t have any qualms about hanging up on him. Who knew, you can actually kick someone out of your bed over the phone.
That’s just awesome.