Stop sending me mixed signals!

To be a successful phone whore, you need to pretend to be a tranny, sometimes more than a normal woman.  The other day I got a call from a guy requesting tranny cock.  A lot of guys want cock for some reason.  It’s the nature of this game.  It’s fun too, because a lot of these guys are living the straight life, and I like giving them what they want.  If they can’t get a face full of black cock in their real life, then I’ll give it to them.

Tonight Michael calls me.  He’s looking for a 6′5 girl with a 9″ surprise.  I’m super tall, and for some reason this excites me.  I’m not used to being tall.  A 9″ penis, yes…but never tall.  My tranny’s name is Elektra.

Michael asks me what I’m into.

“I can go from mild to wild, Michael.  What about you?”

I can hear Michael panting.  Already he’s in the zone.  Three minutes into this call, and we’re right on target.

“I’m just sitting here stroking my hard cock.”

“How big is that hard cock, Michael?”

“5″.”

Here’s the thing.  When guys talk about having small penises, it usually means they want to be humiliated, which is fun.  I love dom talk.  Making fun of men is my specialty and is a great stress reliever, however…tonight was a bit different.  Usually I’m good at picking things up, so when someone says, “I have a five inch penis,” it makes me think I should make fun of it.  Well I was wrong.

“Oh you’ll never be able to please me with that small cock will you!”

“What do you mean?”

“Your cock is too small to do anything with.  Luckily I have a huge cock for you to play with.”

“It’s not that small, Elektra.”

“It’s pretty small, Michael.  I bet I can’t even grab that cock without crushing it in my large hands, right?”

“It’s the national average.”

“That tiny little pecker?”

*click*

Well I was a little wrong on that.  Oh well, fuck Michael and his stupid mixed signals!

Danny calls me.  He’s looking for an obese mountain of a woman.

“I can do that,” I tell the operator.  My name is Bell.

In my mind, Bell has cottage cheese thighs.  She is wearing a white shirt, with black panties and cut jean shorts.  She has blonde hair and blue eyes.  And speaks with a redneck accent.

“Hey Bell, my name is Danny.”

“Hi ya’ll!  What are you doing?”  I say this with a lot of gusto.  Between each sentence I am panting.  Every fat girl I know pants, so in my head, this made perfect sense to me.

“Umm, I’m just sitting here in my briefs.”  He doesn’t sound that excited, but we can change this!

“What are you into, Danny.  I am so hor-nay.”

“Ummmmm why do you sound like you’re on Jerry Springer.”

*click*

Oh well, fuck Danny and his stupid mixed signals!
I’ve taken hundred, thousands of phone whore calls, and there’s always an exception to some rule.  Danny and Michael are perfect examples.  Fuck them in their stupid asses.  In my world all boys who have small penises and talk about it WANT to be made fun of.  If they didn’t, why wouldn’t they lie about their sizes?  It’s not like I’m really going to know you have a five inch cock!  If you wanted to dominate the tranny, you should’ve just said that instead of assume I can read your mind.  And Danny, you want an obese woman?  That’s fine, lots of guys do…but if I have a southern accent, all of a sudden that’s offensive to you?  I can’t understand how being from the south is absolutely gross, but fucking a morbidly obese chick isn’t.  Your damn fetishes are so confusing!