Whore on Hold is a site dedicated to the ridiculous, perverse, sometimes sexy, always entertaining stories about phone sex operators and their interactions with gentleman callers.  With a lot of failed writers after Charlotte and Bea, Whore on Hold is ready to begin again.  Sadly Beatrix died in a gardening accident, and Charlotte is doing something a lot more fulfilling with her time.  I think she works as a restaurant hostess or something.  Even though we miss her, and she misses us, her living conditions prevent her from picking up the phone currently, which sucks since she was loved by all.  We need to put her behind us for now.  She may come back, she may not…but what we’re missing now are the stories.  We’re missing the funny anecdotes about tranny sex.  The vignettes about obese hicks masturbating to the thought of pregnant men.  So I’m putting the feelers out there:  LETS GET THIS SITE GOING AGAIN!

If you  or someone you know would be interested in writing for this site, email freaksafari@gmail.com  If you have no job, phone sex operators are hiring.  I hear it’s a rewarding experience that pays off nicely* Share your stories with us, and let’s get this site kicking ass again.  A lot of us miss it.

*HAHAHAHAHA…even I couldn’t say this with a straight face.

Also:  WoH is looking for a new phone whore.  Contact us if you’re interested in writing for this place.

I’m updating to wish everyone a happy Thanksgiving.  I hope it was worth the lives of the innocent Native Americans who were slaughtered for it!

Kisses,

Bea

I found this pretty awesome page detailing some anecdotes from a few phone whores.

A look at what phone sex operators look like as well as their desires, fears, motivations and most memorable calls from Philip Toledano Phone Sex project whose new book will be published in July 2008 by Twin Palms. The book interviews nearly 30 phone sex operators so that we can hear their stories during their work in the phone sex industry.

Check out 12 more pics of phone sex operators and their stories after the jump.

My first night, there was a gentleman who called himself Bob.

He explained that he had no one he felt comfortable telling his desires to, and
I felt a strange intimacy between us.

I think it’s easier to release repressed desires to a non-judgmental, fictional person, because there are no consequences in the outside world.

When I first started I was nervous.

But after a while, I guess you could say the kinkier the talk, the more I was like, wow!

Let’s just say I have found myself and my sexuality through this.

I got into phone sex because I thought:

‘Why not get paid for talking dirty, instead of doing it for free?’

It brings up my self-esteem up so much, knowing guys are looking at my pics and wanting to talk to me.

Wanting me to take them to a whole other place, fulfilling their fantasies. Painting that picture in their mind for them.

I got into working as a PSO about five years ago.

Before I did this I was working part-time in a doctor’s office and was
very unhappy with my work, and my home life. I was in an abusive
relationship and had no way in the foreseeable future of getting out.

Then a regular customer of mine sent me a very nice tip, and along with my income tax refund, I was able to relocate and terminate that abusive relationship.

If I didn’t work this job…I could have been killed by that man.

I struggle and I don’t make a huge income here.

But I survive, and I help my children when they need it.

I feel I’m doing a huge service, because any man can call and act out just about
any fantasy with me, and not have to worry about repercussions. I think being able to do this is good for them, as well as me.

I’m 60 years old, I have a BA in cultural anthropology from Columbia University, and I’ve been married for 25 years.

I make twice the money I made in the corporate world.

I work from home; the money transfers into my bank account daily.

I’m Scheherazade: If I don’t tell stories that fascinate the pasha, he will kill me in the morning.

I never thought I would work in the phone sex industry.

All those years doing customer service, my customers would comment on my sexy voice.

I thought I was being professional, not sexy.

This work is customer service too.

But your customers leave with more than a smile.

I was young when I started in the phone sex world. I had no choice.

My grandmother had gotten sick and I needed to be able to help her, and still work and make good money.

I was reading the paper looking for a night job, and I saw a job as a train conductor. I thought to myself, ‘rats!’ Then I saw an ad saying ‘Make good money as a phone sex operator,’ and well, I’m scared of rats, so ding!

As a virgin, it was hard for me to talk about sex to horny men.

I had to read books and watch porno films with my friends—they’d point at something on the screen and say ‘Use that in your phone calls!’

To the caller, when I first answer, I am the inanimate Barbie.

I breathe life into the fantasy, I carve the doll out of flesh.

I do not view myself as this doll, as the commodity.

I am the manufacturer who creates her from the blueprint that the caller provides me.

When the caller comes, it is positive feedback.

Like an architect patting his contractor on the back.

One of my most memorable calls was also one of the grossest.

It was a fetish call. A scat fetish.

I started out by telling him I was a vegan.

I cracked him up. He was laughing so hard, he had to hang up because he couldn’t get back into our fantasy.

The people who touched my heart were the ones who stood out.

There was Jonny in Boston. He and his wife were trying to get pregnant.

He was calling from a fertility clinic because the magazines he was given weren’t working for him.

He ended up calling regularly even after his daughter was born.

Definitely the most amusing part about the job was when my partner would be in the room with me, usually reading while I worked.

She’d only hear my half of the conversation, so she’d either think it was absolutely hysterical or, sometimes, kind of sexy.

I’d usually try to avoid eye contact with her during a call, because I’d see her stifling a smirk and I’d start laughing uncontrollably.

Sometimes I could work that into the call; other times I really couldn’t.

Just last night I received possibly the most disturbing phone sex call I’d had in a long time.

A caller shot himself with me on the phone.

Things like this always scare me.

My current track record stands at one confession of incestuous sexual abuse, and two other suicides.

Today I performed my civic duty and voted.  Who I voted for is completely irrelevant.  There are thousands of blogs that talk about politics, why Republicans are Nazis, or why Democrats are evil twisted communistic demons, but what these blogs don’t teach you is voting etiquette, and I can’t believe it’s going to take a phone whoring sex toy saleswoman to teach you this…but here it goes:

Keep the shit to yourselves on Election Day.  I’ll repeat this.

KEEP THE SHIT TO YOURSELVES ON ELECTION DAY!

Who you vote for is your personal private business, not the strangers around you.  You had months and months to decide on a candidate, and Election Day, at the voting booth, is not a proper time to preach your political drivel.  Shut your fucking trap, you obnoxious bitch.

Take the annoying creature I met today, Suzy Whorebuttcz, for example.  Suzy just turned 18 and is obviously excited to vote.  She is young, not terribly bright, frumpy with emo glasses.  Her face is flat yet oblong, kind of resembling a taco.  She is telling everyone to vote for Obama.  She’s yelling out of her car window, “Obama!”  “Obama, vote for Obama,” to people walking into the building to vote.

Don’t be like Suzy Whorebuttcz.  She is a stupid cunt with absolutely no voting etiquette.

It’s people like her who trivialize the importance of elections.  18 year olds have such a limited grasp on politics and for the most part, should not be taken seriously.  They have experienced such a small percentage of what life has to offer that their reality is skewed and focused like a pig who can only look up at a 45 degree angle.  It’s not that I agree or disagree with her political affiliations as much as it’s how I don’t believe she has any fucking idea about what she’s talking about.  Sure, Suzy, you may be going to college.  Just like that “college” may have the word “community” in front of it, and your “major” may rhyme with “hiberal farts,” but your fancy shmancy attempts at an associates degree doesn’t negate the fact that you’re 18 and don’t know a god damn thing.  One day, Suzy, I hope you realize this if you haven’t killed yourself from listening to too much Fallout Boy.

Don’t be like Suzy Whorebuttcz.

And do not be like this person from IamRob’s (I’m sorry, Rob!) Freak Safari Forum.

“As we were handing in our ballots to have them signed by a witness, an older black man approached me and asked if he’d filled his out right. I go over it with him, and explain the difference between voting straight Democrat/Republican or going through each position and selecting the individual. He asked me if I’d voted before, and I told him I have been since I turned 18. He seemed surprised and I told him I felt obligated given that people of his generation fought and died so that I could vote. He told me he felt sheepish being 63 and voting for the first time, but he’d never had anyone to vote for before. Like a lot of people, he said he never thought he’d see the day. Then we both got teary eyed and handed in our ballots.”

This person in the story hasn’t voted his entire life because he never had anyone to vote for?  Give me a break.  The only reason why that guy voted for Obama was because he’s black, and it was blatantly obvious.  That person never educated himself, and the result is he chose not to vote.  Don’t be like that man.  Don’t be retarded.

Have voting etiquette.  Vote for people because you educate yourselves on what their policies are, not because of them being black.  Vote because you honestly care about the issues and want these people to represent you…not because they’re Irish, German, Italian, Black, White, Christian, Jewish.  It makes you sound like an uneducated asshole, and you shouldn’t be voting in the first place.  It’s the mentality like that girl and the old man she was talking to why we have electors instead of using the popular vote.  If the people honestly had that mentality through and through, we don’t deserve to have a say because that mentality makes us look like morons.

Have voting etiquette!

…you guys want to see a video from their site? It’s NSFW

If you’re asking me why I’m showing this to you, it’s because if I had to see it, so do you, and all I can say is that hearing it and seeing it are two very different things. Time to vomit.

I received an email from Carolina today to give her side of the story.  This is taken verbatim except I changed the real names, obviously.  I promise the typos are real. 

“Dear Bea

i am so so so sorry for what I did….i know there is nothing i can do to make up for what i did probably….but i have to day what i feel and that bruce basically coaorced me into giving real information….so i did what i though i should do instead and send it to headquarters….but lets be honest….was that an absolutely awful thing to do….in theory i didnt give all of my personal information and i didnt accept any gifts because you guys took them….so i should still be able to keep my job….i actually need this job because i have two kids and i cant walk good….so please consider this when you make your final decision.

tyxo

Carolina” 

 I wonder how I should respond to this warm email.  I bet it could be a lot warmer if she changed her email signature from “drinking it up downtown casey lol” to something else.

I get a call from the operator, Nina.

“Dane is looking for a twenty-something blonde girl with big breasts.”

“I can do that.”

Nina connects me with Dane.  Dane has a raspy voice.  He sounds like a smoker, but with a slightly high pitched voice.  He speaks with a southern accent and speaks slowly, like a child sounding out syllables when reading Dr. Seuss.

“Hello Dane, I’m Trixie!”  I speak with an enthusiastic tone.  It’s my first call of the day, so I have no excuse to be jaded yet.

“Hey, Trixie, I was wondering if we could play out a fantasy together.”

“Sure honey, that’s what I’m here for.”

“Have you ever seen Mr. Rogers Neighborhood?”

“I have when I was a little girl.  Yes.”

“Well I want you be a puppet, kind of like a puppet from the Land of Make Believe.”

“Wait.  Like any puppet or an actual puppet from that show?”

“Any kind of puppet, but I want you to have strings so I can do what I want with you.”

“I can do that.”

“Ok, so let’s begin.”

“Hello Dane, my name is Ms. Pennyfeather, how are you?”

“Hello Ms. Pennyfeather. I see you’re not married, are you?”

“No!  I haven’t met the right man yet.  I am too busy teaching children how to read and sing songs!”

At this point I can hear him groaning.  This is borderline creepy, but the line between pervert and ridiculous fetish is gray, yet fine.  If he starts talking about fucking one of Ms. ‘Pennyfeather the Puppet’s’ students, we’re going to have problems.

“Can I hold your strings, Ms. Pennyfeather?”

“Why yes you can, Dane.  Please.  I need a puppeteer so I can teach people how to read and behave themselves.”

“You have to sit on my lap, Ms. Pennyfeather.  Sit on my lap so I can hold your strings better.”

“Oh thank you, Dane.  Thank you so much for controlling me.”

“I’m holding your strings now, and you’re going to rub your puppet pussy, aren’t you?”

“Oh yes, Dane.  It feels so good when you manipulate my strings like that and make me touch my puppet pussy.”

Dane is getting very into this as well.  I can hear him stroking his dick.  What’s funny is that when he masturbates, he squeaks like a dolphin using echolocation.  I am in the zone though, and even though this call is creepy, I have a job to do.

“Do you like me holding your strings and making you touch your pussy?  You like it don’t you, Ms. Pennyfeather?”

“I do!  It feels so good and soft.  My skin feels like a new carpet.  I get really hot when you hold my strings.  I can even feel your cock getting hard as I sit on your lap, while you hold my strings.”

“Pull my cock out.”

“You have to do it for me, Dane.  You control my strings.  You have to pull the cock out.”

Dane was moaning from this line, and I thought it was quite clever on my part.

“I’m going to make you take my cock out and then I’m going to put your puppet ass on it and make you ride on my lap, Ms. Pennyfeather.”

“Oh that feels so good.  I can’t stop you either because you’re in control over my puppet strings, and there’s nothing I can do.  I am powerless, Dane!”

*Note to future phone sex operators.  When you’re strapped for ideas, a little rape never hurts.*

“My puppet ass is gripping that cock and I am just milking you off, now, right Dane?”

“Oh that feels so good, Ms. Pennyfeather.  Oh my god.  Oh my god.”
Dane is getting closer and closer.  He sounds like he’s having a good time with a muppet/marionette creature thing riding his cock.

“That cock is so big and filling up my tight ass perfectly, Dane.”

“Oh Ms. Pennyfeather!  OHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhh”

*click*

Dane comes and then hangs up.  Another job well done, if I do say so myself.  This was the first time I ever had to be a puppet.  And I thought nothing surprised me anymore.

If you missed my story yesterday, it’s right here.

And don’t forget to add me to your RSS feed.