Saturday, May 8, 2010

"Yeah, my mom used to do that all the time."

In doing phone sex, I have the ability to block certain callers from contacting me in anyway, including by email.  That has only occurred on one such occasion.  I had a caller who wanted me to pretend to be a mother, holding down my 6-year-old daughter, so he could have sex with her.

After  I told him I was very uncomfortable with the role-play & would not participate, I asked him some questions.  I wanted to know if he had ever been molested as a child.  Although he said no, I asked more specific questions, such as had any of his relatives ever touched his genitalia as a child, making him intentionally erect.  He replied, "Yeah, my mom used to do that all the time."

I then went on to explain that a 6-year-old girl would not take any pleasure from having sex with a man, because the size of his penis would rip her open with a great deal of pain.  He was stunned.  It never occurred to him that a child would not enjoy having sex with him.  Apparently he enjoyed the attention of his mother.

Because the phone sex system is double blinded (I do not have his number & he does not have mind), I would not be able to report him to any authorities.

Does phone sex become a stepping stone to other activities?  Is it simply a vehicle for some to live out their fantasies?  As a phone sex operator, do I have the moral & ethical obligation to report any illegal role-playing?

"No one ever loved you, as much as I did."

My daddie finally died after battling Hodgkin's Lymphoma for 2 years.  His death was perfect & beautiful.
My mother called me on Tuesday & warned me that she did not believe that he would make it until the weekend, when I was suppose to visit.  I immediately caught the next train & saw him, within 6 hours of her phone call.

The only thing I could think of on the 4 hour train trip was what I would say to him on his death bed, as he awaited his next journey.  I had the entire monologue memorized from the first sentence to the last kiss.  On the trip, I had convinced myself, he would be laid out on his death bed, seemingly asleep, attached to gadgets, monitoring the life leaving his sickly body.
However, as usual, my daddie had his own thoughts in mind.  When I saw him for the first time, he was sitting up & talking to my mother.  He was hairless, pail, skinny in some places, bloated in his tummy.

My mother explained that his organs were shutting down one by one, with his kidneys going first.  He had a catheter inserted into his penis, although he was unable to pee.  Later on, I asked his nurse if there was any turning back.  She said, "No", explaining that once the organs start to fail, the body cannot recuperate.  He had less than a week to live.

All at once, she announced that she was going home to get some rest & I was requested to stay the night with my daddie.  Without agreeing to her request,  she quickly went over what monitors I should watch & why; telling me when I should call her.  Then she promptly left.

I was scared.  I had never been on a death watch.  I had never been on a death watch for a person who was sitting up & talking to me from time to time.  For the most part, daddie laid in a drug induced painless sleep.  However, when he woke, he wanted to leave, pulling his thin cotton robe off & attempting to get out of bed, in order to return to his home.  My goal was to keep him calm & comfortable.  If I did it long enough, the drugs slowly wore off & he became lucid.

He spoke of life, death, triumphs, sorrows, & love.   He never asked questions, only telling me his personal truths.  He would be seeing his mother, father & sister; all of whom preceded him in their journeys.

Tears from both of us flowed from time to time.  They were not the tears of sorrow, but the tears of recognizing a life well lived & well loved.   The monologue I had memorized on the train disappeared from memory, as I listened carefully to what he had to say.

When the drugs wore off to the point he was in pain, I called his nurse.  She lovingly gave him more medication & he would quickly fall asleep.  I convinced myself that I could sleep, when he did.  I was wrong.   As much as I tried to get comfortable, I only heard his labored breathing &the beeps of his monitors.

Twelve hours slowly went by, along with many conversations on the joys of living & the madness of dying young.  Child became the parent.  Parent became wise man.  Souls mingled.
At 8am, my mother & my daddie's sister returned to his side & told me to go home & rest.  I did as they requested, knowing my daddie would be comforted should he wake.  When I reached my parent's home, I fell fast asleep, until I jumped to my feet, when the phone rang.

My mother said my father would die soon.  If I wanted to be there, I needed to leave immediately.  Knowing I would be utterly devastated if I missed saying good-bye, I left.

I arrived at his hospital room, with him surrounded by love, facilitated by my mother & my aunt.  He was pale, & seemingly lifeless, although he was indeed hanging on by a thread of life.  That thread slowly began to unravel.  Before my eyes, his breathing became shallow & almost unnoticeable.  His expression grew peaceful, as though he was a child being held by his mother.  My mother, a nurse too, unplugged his monitors one by one, as the tears ran down her face.  She knew his time had come.  To try & save him with drugs, was inhumane.

Within moments, his soul left his body.  His nurse & my mother verifying that his journey had begun.  His nurse, quietly left the room, giving us time to process his life & death.  My mother spoke to him, saying "No one ever loved you, as much as I did."  She then gently kissed him on his slightly blue lips & pale cheeks.

I began to cry.  Not because my father's lifeless body lay before me, but because my mother just lost a part of her soul; her  husband, best friend & lover of 40 years.