I don’t do the cookie cutter thing. I don’t follow scripts and I don’t have standard lines that I throw at every boy who dials me up. I love talking to you guys: challenging you, teasing you, swapping sexy stories and unearthing all your secrets. Do I moan when I cum? Yeah, sure, but I’m not going to start moaning the second I pick up the phone (unless you ask). Read my journal and you can see examples of the titillating fantasies and role plays my callers and I indulge in. I like all flavors of phone sex. I know some girls specialize in just one or two things and stick to those. Where’s the appeal of that? Wouldn’t you rather be my first Daddy of the day instead of my fifteenth? How does a girl keep from going on autopilot if she’s saying the same thing over and over again all day long? I know I’m clever and creative enough to slip into any role and I love to indulge a new fantasy each time I pick up the phone. Best job in the whole fucking (and non-fucking) world! This way I’m always fresh, excited and full of fun twists for you & me.

Maybe I’m the sassy strawberry-haired girl next door. You come home from work one night and plop down in front of your computer, ready to cruise the same bland sites you visit every night. But this time when you boot up, a new program loads. It appears to be some kind of hidden, voyeuristic web cam thing. You see me, bending over naked, pouring a swig of bubble bath into a steaming tub. Sweet, creamy ass cheeks right up in the air, just a glimmer of fuckable pink asshole almost visible. Naturally, you’re riveted. You spend the next few days glued to your monitor, rubbing your cock as you follow my every move. Do you wonder how the camera got there? You, poor fool, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. One night you watch me get dressed and meticulously made up, a smirk lingering on my lips as I slither into a scarlet dress. Earlier you watched me pack a suitcase with some very…interesting…contents. I scoop it up on my way out the door. You’re so busy furiously pumping your fist up and down your pre-cum-drenched cock that you don’t hear the tap tap of my stilettos. The first thing you hear is my laughter. Slowly the words sink in. “Are you enjoying yourself? You don’t know a setup when you see it…do you?” You watch in the mirror as I slowly stalk you. My breath tickles your cheek. “Blackmail.”

Or maybe not. Maybe I'm your girlfriend's younger sister in the frothy pink skirt that flips up around my waist when I’'m dancing on the lawn with my friends, shaking that sweet teenage ass for all the world to see. Or I could be your wife, the cum-craving fuckwhore that needs to feel black cockmeat slam into each of my holes, erasing the unpleasant memory of your mini-dick.

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