Separating PSO Life from Real Life

Ring. Ring.

After working as a PSO for three months, I have a Pavlovian response to hearing a phone ring. My pulse quickens, and I instinctively drop into my “sexy voice.” Before I open my mouth to say hello, I look at the caller ID on my cell phone and realize it’s my dad calling. Oops. Better switch to the normal voice.

It’s amazing how quickly we can adapt one model of behavior into daily life, especially when that behavior is part of a work routine. I sometimes find myself taking mental notes when a friend is spilling all the dirty details about her awesome sexual experience so that I can work that into future PSO calls. Last week, my friend Mary provided fantastic details about a night with her part-time lover.

The second I walked into his apartment, I felt his hands close around my throat and the unmistakable sensation of being thrown to the ground. He pulled up my skirt and his fingers slid knuckle deep into my already soaking wet pussy. He expertly rubbed my clit and my first orgasm came swiftly and powerfully. I felt his hot breath against my ear and gazed into his eyes briefly. The message was clear: I belong to him.

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