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Yesterday I was only logged on for 50 minutes, and at least 40 of those were spent talking. I had a couple of super fast callers, but I had two longer calls.

The first one was from a guy whose name I didn’t catch– he repeated it for me several times, but his accent made it sound like ‘Gerty” so I really don’t know. Anyway, this guy was pretty mellow. I introduced myself, described myself to him as usual. There was the usual “you sound hot” type thing from him, and then he asked me if I would like to role play. I said I would and asked him what he had in mind.

He wanted to do a college professor/ college student role play, which on the inside made me go ‘yay!’ since t’s actually one I’ve enjoyed in real life. So he asked me what I would wear, and we got started. He’s quite patient, which was great. We exchanged our imaginary dialogue and I performed my duties like any good college student that hasn’t turned in her homework will. He was getting along fine, but just couldn’t get there. He then explained to me that he was drunk, and asked if we could try again. He told me to be very descriptive, so we went into it again, and after lots of descriptions and sexual acts, he finished. I can’t remember if he just plain hung up or was polite and at least said goodbye. He seemed polite the whole time though, so he may have said goodbye.

My next caller was a bit… interesting. Let’s call him Claude. He calls me and asks me for my desription. As I’ve said before, I’m cosidered a cute 18 because my character is 18 and my voice sounds very young. As I’m describing myself he says things like ‘Oh, you’re just a cute 18, yes?’ and “Oh, you’re so cute and petite, yeah?” and things like that, after almost every sentence. So we’re getting to the juicier stuff, and he’s still making all the same comments. Then he says “What are you to me?” Going off of something he had said earlier, I responded with “Your good girl?”

“What else?” he said. I knew where this was going, but just to be sure I asked him “What else do you want me to be?” so he said “You’re my dirty little slut.” I say okay. “No, say it” he says. “I’m your dirty little slut!” I say, which still doesn’t satisfy him. “Tell me what you are!” he prompts. “I’m your dirty little slut, Claude!” and so we resumed. I’m just a cute 18, a very petite girl taking his big 8″ cock. You know. He asks me if I like it, I moan that I love it. “I love you, Morgan!” he says. I just sort of moan and try to carry on, so he repeats. “I love you, Morgan!” Oh. So I have to say it. “And I love you, Claude!” I pronounce. “I love you, Morgan!” he says again.”I love you too, Claude!” Ugh.

Oh yeah. While we’re getting into this, he asks me if I have any piercings. Like I tell most people before I give them an imaginary beej, I have a tongue ring. He asks me if I have any other piercings, so I say I don’t. He asks me if I have a belly piercing. “Oh yeah, I do… I forgot about it.” Psssh. He really digs that belly button piercing. So we’re doing our thing, and he asks me if I like skinny women. I say sure I do. Then he asks me if there are any celebrities I like. I watch Chelsea Lately and see the occasional headline on msn.com, but I’m really not up on celeb gossip. So, I’m at a loss. I already know he likes skinny girls, and young ones, preferrably blonde. So my brain is frantically flipping through celebrities, and I can’t think of anything.

Finally, I toss out “Angelina Jolie” because although I think she’s too skinny and has had too much work done on her face, everyone else thinks she’s the shit. “Ah, no.. is there anyone else?” Fuck! Umm… “Renee Zellweger” I say. At least I thought of a blonde! “Is she skinny?” he asks me. Remembering her scary skelton phase, I say “Yes” and then he asks me how old she is. “Um… in her 30’s?” I offer. “No… is there anyone else?” he asks me. Well fuck. I’m really crashing and burning here. “Why don’t you tell me who YOU like?” I ask, but he’s no help. He wants me to think of someone like me, young with blue eyes and blonde hair.

Ah ha! “Blake Lively!” I say. He says he doesn’t know who she is. I tell him she’s on Gossip Girl here in America. Of course he hasn’t seen it. So I tell him she’s got blonde hair and blue eyes, just like me. He asks how old she is. I fib and tell him Ithink she’s just 19, altough I know from the horoscope section in my latest Cosmo that she was born in August of ’89. He asks if she’s tan, if she has any piercings (of course I say her belly button is pierced!) and asks what she wears. I tell him she wears short low cut dresses and heels.

So he says “Hello Blake” and we resume our conversation as if a completely different person had picked up the phone. We get into our game, and he asks how much I weigh. I have no idea how much she weighs, so I tell him 120, which is 10 pounds less than my character. That’s pretty skinny in my opinion, so  think it’ll satisfy him. We play our game for a little while, but the 120 pound Blake Lively just isn’t cutting it fo him. So he asks me to think of someone else… Someone skinny, and blonde, and young.

“Paris Hilton!” I volunteer. “How old is she?” I tell him she’s 21, which is a big fat fib because she’s actually on the cusp of 30. Paris Hilton annoys and repulses me. Anyway. He then greets me, saying “Hello Paris!” and I say hi back.  He asks what I’m wearing, and I tell him I’m wearing a very short dress with a low cut neckline and some high heels, which I haven’t gone wrong with yet. He tells me he’s seen my porn (I haven’t seen it) and says that I got  lot of spunk on me. Previously he’s wanted to come all over whatever girl he’s talking to, especially on her flat belly and her belly button ring.

Then he asks how much “I” weigh and practically drops a load right there when I say “100 pounds.” Finally, he’s made his decision. So he decides he wants to wrestle and pin me to the bed. We’ve already covered that “I” have a belly button piercing and am very skinny, blah blah. He climbs on top and wants me to feel his full weight, and then fucks me. Instead of coming all over me, I tell him to come in me, which makes him tell me that I’m a naughty slut. Oh, and throughout the entire phone conversation, no matter who I’m pretending to be, I’m prompted to say “I’m your dirty little slut, Claude” at regualar intervals.

So he finally comes in the nasty cum dumpster that is Paris Hilton, and then thanks me. He tells me I was very good (HOORAY! That was only my 3rd time to log in!) and that he would be calling me back again. “Who are you?” he asks. By now I’m old hat at this game. “I’m your dirty little slut Claude.” I say. “Alright then, goodbye” and he hangs up.

I logged out after that call because I had a distressed friend on her way over. Once I got her calmed down and we were chatting, I told her the story of my call with Claude, and she laughed her ass off. See, therapy for all! Claude gets his rocks off with skeletal girls that claim to love him and be his dirty little slut, I find all of this very interesting on the other side of my mind (you know, the side that my character, Morgan, doesn’t control) and a friend having a bad day has a good laugh. I look forward to my callers today!