avatarKiki Wellington

Summary

A phone sex operator recounts an unusual experience with an older client who shared his unconventional sexual practices, including inserting hard boiled eggs into his rectum.

Abstract

The author, a former phone sex operator and graduate student, reflects on her interactions with an older gentleman who became a client after hearing her on a radio show. Despite his polite and formal demeanor, the client revealed his peculiar sexual preferences, such as coffee enemas and the insertion of hard boiled eggs into his rectum. The revelations were unsettling to the author, yet she continued to engage with him out of curiosity and a sense of providing a public service, as his wife seemed uninterested in these practices. The client's eccentricities left a lasting impression on the author, who often recalls the bizarre conversations in disbelief.

Opinions

  • The author initially found the client's formal language and polite manners a refreshing change from the more crass language used by other clients.
  • She was taken aback by the client's detailed descriptions of his unconventional sexual practices, particularly the insertion of hard boiled eggs.
  • The author adopted a live-and-let-live attitude towards the client's practices, which is necessary in her line of work.
  • Despite the odd nature of their conversations, the author felt a sense of familiarity and expectation over time, which made the interactions more manageable.
  • The author views her time spent listening to the client's eccentricities as a form of public service, given his wife's apparent disinterest.
  • The client's stories were so memorable that they frequently became topics of conversation with others, often in a humorous or incredulous context.
  • The author acknowledges the client's unique impact on her experiences as a phone sex operator, despite not engaging in typical phone sex activities with him.

To the One Who Shoved Hard Boiled Eggs Up His Rectum

No buts about it, your ass play weirded me out

Photo by Tengyart on Unsplash

You were an older gentlemen, early 60s, with a wife and grown children. I was a phone sex operator, mid-20s, earning extra money while in graduate school. Our paths crossed when you heard me on a local radio show that I called in to from time to time when the topic was related to sex. You called me that same night and told me how you were in the car with your wife when you heard me on the show. She teased you because she had your number — you were trying hard to memorize mine. And of course, she was right. So you became a client that night.

Despite talking about sex, you were very polite. Dare I say, somewhat gentlemanly. Whereas other customers would tell me things like “I want to stick my cock in your wet pussy,” you were more formal, more along the lines of “I will stick my penis in your vagina.” And fucking? Forget it. You were going to have sexual intercourse with me. I thought it was an interesting change of pace.

I didn’t know the half of it.

Did I somehow wander into a “this is your brain on drugs” PSA?

You started to tell me what you really liked, and what you claimed you were doing while talking to me. You went into painstaking detail about the coffee enemas you claimed to give yourself. I learned all the minutia about the type of coffee you liked — never decaf — as well as the nozzle you were partial to. I’d never heard of a coffee enema at the time, but I went with it. Then you got really comfortable. Maybe too comfortable. You started to talk to me about how you were putting hard boiled eggs into your rectum.

Hard. Boiled. Eggs.

Into. Your. Rectum.

Photo by Miguel Andrade on Unsplash

Though not my cup of tea, I could listen to you talk about your coffee enemas. But hard boiled eggs?

An egg? What the fuck am I listening to? I thought. Did I somehow wander into a “this is your brain on drugs” PSA? The images in my head certainly felt like a hallucination induced by a bad acid trip.

Now I’ve always been a live and let live type of gal — you have to be when you’re a phone sex operator after all — but something about hearing a man old enough to be my grandfather talk about shoving hard boiled eggs up his ass was more than a little unsettling to me. Though not my cup of tea, I could listen to you talk about your coffee enemas. But hard boiled eggs? You weren’t the only one who needed digestional assistance — not a small feat considering I can pretty much drink hot sauce straight from the bottle.

Although I didn’t have to keep talking to you, you kept calling and I kept listening. You were pleasant enough and I became accustomed to your shenanigans with the incredible, not so edible, egg once I knew what to expect. I began to feel like I was doing a public service because from the sounds of it, your wife wasn’t about to entertain any of this.

I didn’t entertain it for long either. I hung up my phone when I became too busy with my thesis to continue working that gig. Although I was only doing it for a short time, you left a long-lasting impression on me. I think it’s obvious why. Over the years, you have come up many, many times — usually in the context of a “Can you believe this crazy shit?” conversation.

So while I didn’t tip my vibrator to you during my brief tenure as a phone sex operator, I do have to tip my cap. If nothing else, you provided some of the strangest conversation I’ve ever had to this day. Thank goodness. I don’t know if you’re the walrus or not, but to me, you will always be the egg man.

More from Kiki Wellington:

Sexuality
Fetish
Phone Sex
Humor
Eggs
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