What am I wearing? You want to know what I’m wearing you fucking pervert?
OK, I’m wearing a check shirt and a pair of loose jeans. What? No, I’m not going to tell you what underwear, asswipe. But it’s functional: cotton, you know.
What, you thought I’d put on something sexy just to do this phone sex call? Fuck you!
Oh, I see, you want me to lie? You want me to tell you I’m just lounging here in some kind of fetish fantasy garb, hmm…? Leather bra… big thigh-high boots for you to lick, maybe? You’d like that, huh?
Not going to happen, loser. You’re paying to jerk off, you’re gonna jerk off to me just as I am. Jeans, check shirt… no make-up. And I’m sitting on a bus, I’m going grocery shopping. I need to stock up on tampons, cos it's my period and I'm almost out? And you have… oh I dunno, like two minutes before it’s my stop and I end the call, so if you’re gonna jerk off do it now, asshole.
Hmm? Yeah, the bus is pretty crowded. You tugging? Up-down-up-down-updownupodownup…
Hurry up, just pulling out from the stop before the mall.
Updownupdowntugtugtugtugtugtugtugtugtug? Oh.
There. Was that special for you, hun? Hope so, cos it’s all you’re ever going to get.
Oh, and tribute’s going up by another 40% next month, creep. And tell that fucking bank of yours if they’re a day late again, you’re gonna have to go three months without hearing your Goddess’s voice, yeah?
Yeah, I know you worship me, creep. That’s because I’m female and talk to you occasionally. Don’t forget – 40%.
Now fuck off.
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| "Hmm? Yeah, sure I'm wearing gloves and boots. It's cold here in Buffalo, moron." |
The lovely lady featured in this story is Goddess Rodea, of the American Mean Girls (they seem to have branched out beyond Miami and might even have rebranded again), who really do just sit around in sexy lingerie all day, doing unpleasant things to males. But this caller doesn't need to know that and I won't tell him if you don't, OK?