Gay Phone Sex

The reason I got a job doing gay phone sex was not that I needed a supplemental income, not a job I had to take when I was struggling to make ends meet. I took this job to make a point and also because it sounded like it would be hilarious.

The problem started with the fact that I live in L.A. and I have a couch. You can't own a couch in Los Angeles. When you have a couch in L.A., you have a youth hostel. All your friends from the road who move out to take their shot at the big time want to stay with you until they "get on their feet". A week turns into a month turns into three months because they can't find a job!

L.A. is the only place in the world where getting a job is a bad thing. Everywhere else people go out to dinner and celebrate when they get a job. In this city it's a point of shame. "Ya, I had to get a day job". It would get to a point where I would look for jobs for them and one job that was always in the paper was for gay phone sex. Nobody bit. I thought, hell if I were looking for a job, I would do it! At least it would keep you laughing. Finally it got to a point where I said "Fuck it, I'll do it". (At this point my mother had been living with me for five months claiming that she could find work to support herself. Two years later she still hasn't found a way to pay her bills, even quitting a job two days a week at a thrift store because it was "too exhausting".)

I went down and applied for the job and, of course, got it. They were going to start me on graveyard shift which worked out perfectly as I knew I'd be liquored up by then. I also had a bag of mushrooms I'd kept in the freezer for the last few months waiting for a special occasion and this was it. I went to the Coach and Horses, had a few drinks and choked down the mushrooms before Fat Ralphie May drove me down to the job. The first night was a complete anticlimax (scuuze da pun) where they had me stuck on some trainee line where I only got about six calls in eight hours, mostly hang ups, and the mushrooms never kicked in.

Not the good story I was looking for, although I did gain a sincere respect for people who work for a living when I got yelled at for taking thirteen minutes on a ten minute smoke break. Evidently there are people out there who want their cocks mock-sucked now, not later! This kind of shit for six bucks an hour!

The other thing that was surprising to me was that I was not allowed to talk about graphic sex on a 900 line. If you want the hard-core phone sex you have to have a credit card and call in on an 800 number, the theory being that will keep minors from getting through. The suckers who call 900 lines can say anything they want, but the operator is supposed to steer them away from sex talk while keeping them on the line as long as possible. Ask them questions like "What do you look like?" and "What are you wearing?" As though you're about to start talking nasty but you never do. A complete fucking scam. No jacking off without proper credit. I love this country. How they separate even the vices they allow. I can talk dirty in a nightclub for a living but if you want to hear it over the phone, bring your bedroom voice and your Visa card ... etc. Of course, you couldn't jack off when I talk dirty in a nightclub (not that you'd want to), nor could you smoke a cigarette afterwards here in California. You could go to a tittie bar where you could have a cocktail and see partial nudity. You still couldn't jack off, and if you wanted to see full nudity you could but you'd no longer be allowed to have a cocktail and chances are she wouldn't talk dirty to you unless you tried to touch her. The only place the girl can touch you is in a massage parlor but she can't be naked, won't let you drink or smoke, probably wouldn't talk dirty and can touch everywhere but there. You could see someone naked and hear them talk dirty in an "R" rated movie but now you can't drink, smoke, jack off or even heckle for that matter. So you go back home to drink, smoke get naked and jack off to porn. Your cable porn won't show penetration and porn without penetration is like Jerry Springer without the fights so you go out to rent some real porn but you can't rent real porn because you don't have a credit card! Besides, if you jack off too much you'll go blind and if you're going blind that's the only way they'll allow you to smoke a joint.

Well, there you have it. I went back to work the next day only on the assurance that they'd let me work on one of the hard-core lines and spent five hours making the most perverse prank calls ever, all at a cost of $4.99 a minute to the customer. It's amazing what a guy will listen to or pretend not to hear when he's right about to come. If I started off too goofy, they'd just hang up but if I played along at first and waited for them to really get into it, I could say anything. "Oh ya, I'd love to fuck your ass! Oh baby, yeah. I'd love to have you fuck me up the ass but I just found out today that I have colon cancer and it's spread to my lymph nodes and it doesn't look very good... But this probably isn't the time to talk about it. Go ahead, fuck my ass! Right past the malignant lump all the way to the bottom, baby!" "I just had my first black guy last week. I swear, he had an eleven inch cock and when he pulled outta me, my ass slammed shut like a car door! I couldn't shit for a week! Finally I had to get in there with a butter knife and start myself like a ketchup bottle! Anyway what do you look like? Me, I'm a 61 year old Korean war veteran, I used to drive cross-country tractor-trailer until diabetes took away my legs. I have three and a half inches of uncut, twisted, herpe-scarred penis and one ball. Geez, I guess I shoulda made something up, huh?" "I used to use gerbils but that got too boring after a while so now I like to get a big string of rats on a rope, shove them up my kucky-hole one at a time and then yank them out just when I start to come. By the way, do you know anything that will get shit stains out of a Persian cat? My mother is going to kill me!"

I was hoping to get fired but no one in charge seemed to be paying attention. I just kept getting more vile and abusive until my shift was over and I was in pain from the laughter. Of course, most of it was "had to be there" funny and never made the act but it was a hell of a good time. And if there's a lesson to be learned it's "don't own a couch in L.A".. Get a love seat, that way, your friends who sleep on it will cramp up after a few days and move on.