CALL OF THE DAY: joyful sensuality and happy skin
So smooth… and it smells delicious. What’s your fabric softener?
It was with interest that I talked with this new client last week. Too early to tell if he’ll become a true regular, because he’s a client from another company. (Apparently, and I just learned this, my home company is in a labor-share, “sister” arrangement with another company, and if that company is short of “older” girls they can patch through to operators on our service and vice versa.) Anyway, the owner from that company swore that if any of her customers called looking for me, they would put me through immediately. I don’t know how true that is, but this guy came looking for me six days after our first call and requested me by name, so that is a good sign.
I was mostly interested in this guy because he is one of the few fellows who I’ve met on the phone who is into cross-dressing, but NOT into cock-sucking. And I honestly don’t think he’s into feminine clothing, but “feminine fabrics”: satin, silk, lace, velvet. He’s a real sensualist, and that hasn’t come up for me very often, in phone sex or in real life.
Most of my cross-dressing callers approach dressing up in only the most perfunctory way; they are more interested in getting to the meat of the matter, so to speak. The clothing description doesn’t need to be detailed, and it is more about the visual implications. In these calls, the women’s clothing is merely a symbol, or at most, it is part of the arsenal designed to attack men’s egos and bring them to heel. This caller didn’t want to be humiliated or dominated or “forced” to suck cock. He didn’t even want his ass to be played with (although he did say, shyly, that he thought he had a pretty nice-looking ass). He mostly just wanted to talk about how the lingerie felt.
I asked him what he was wearing, and while he described it with enough detail that I knew he was actually wearing it—crotchless panties, crotchless pantyhose, and a little satin camisole—he didn’t go into any of the usual talking points, like, ooh, slut-red panties or ruffly pink lace, goodness, look at the denigrating power of “womanly” things. No. He described instead the way the pantyhose gently contained his flesh, how the panties slipped smoothly around his balls, how the camisole swirled cool against his belly.
He wanted to hear what I would wear, if we were going to indulge in a mutual lingerie appreciation party, and I found myself several times catching myself because I wanted to make sure that my descriptions were focusing on the sensation, and not on any assumed power dynamic or gendered role-play. I think I did all right, after all. I had him wallowing for several minutes in the satiny expanse of his top sheet against every other exposed bit of his skin (including his cock), and when I described how my silk stockings would slide and rasp softly against his pantyhose-clad hips while I rode him cowgirl-style, well… that’s when he came. I was so happy that I laughed out loud, and he didn’t care. He laughed, too.
See, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with men wanting to be humiliated or dominated or wanting to be put into “forced-bi” situations (although Kitty Stryker captures some of my unease around the sissification situation). But I’ve said it before: I don’t understand degradation and humiliation, and that is so much a part of the cross-dressing situations that I’ve encountered. So I was pleasantly surprised to find a cross-dresser whose approach to fantasy is more in line with my own, focusing on the positive, joyful attributes of what we want. I’d sure like more calls with him, to balance things out. If he has someone(s) in his life, I hope they support his sensuality.
I think he’d be a lot of fun to go fabric shopping with.
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