I love being a phone sex therapist. I talk to men about their kinky fetishes and fantasies; all the things they cannot tell anyone else, even their wives. Even though I am discreet, I am not bound by the same ethical guidelines that limit a licensed therapist. I can laugh at my clients. I can shame them. I can mock them. And, I can publicly humiliate them in my blogs if I want. What makes me go to such extremes? Losers do. First, some of the most pathetic men call me. They know they are losers who can’t please a Barbie doll with the turtle hiding in their panties. Second, they are asking for trouble by confiding in me. I snicker every time a caller says, “This is just between you and me, right?” It is if you don’t piss me off, annoy me or tell me the most pathetic story ever. It has been a loser week. Cuckolds, sissies, panty boys oh my. The winner of the loser of the week goes to Dale. Dale has been watching his wife put on makeup to go to the gym for a year now. He has been eating her pussy when she comes back from the gym for a year now too. He seemed to believe she was creamy from sweat. I sweat a lot when I get a decent workout. Never once have I sweated out thick milky white cream from my pussy from doing squats. Unless, of course, I am doing squats on my trainer’s big fat cock. I had to break it to Dale that not only was he the dumbest husband on the planet, he was also a cuckold and sissy cum eater. Phone sex therapy means being harsh sometimes. If you are too dumb to read the writing on the wall, I am happy to spell it out for you. Please, don’t cry like Dale. I can only handle you being so pathetic.
Farah
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