I’ve been slogging through a ton of webwork this past week, and one of the projects I’ve been meaning to get through is organizing my various contacts and email lists. The lovely Gypsy rightly suggested we really should have a voluntary email list for our phone sex clients, and since some of you have also expressed interest in attending one of my Talking Dirty & Roleplay workshops or one of my theatre performances, I figure I’ll kill three birds with one stone.
If you’d like to be added to one or more of the following lists, please email Tonya@BayCityBlues.com from your preferred email address and don’t forget to indicate which of the lists you wish to be on:
Phone Sex News & Specials
Talking Dirty & Roleplay Workshops
If you are already a Bay City Blues phone sex client, I absolutely WILL NOT be adding the email you have previously provided to our credit card processor to this email list. You must opt in to be included, and you may opt out at any time. Email may come from either my BCB or my TonyaJoneMiller.com address, and may include NSFW content, so please make sure you use a private email account it’s ok to send such things to.
I promise I won’t spam you incessantly (that’s what Twitter and Facebook are for- heh!) or sell your precious email addresses. I’ll only send out one email prior to each event, and I aim to send monthly Phone Sex News updates, but who knows if I’ll be disciplined enough to do them that frequently. Lol!
Mmmm…tasty, tasty sacrilege! *wink* I know there are some truly twisted perverts among you who appreciate my penchant for religious taboo phone sex. There’s something incredibly compelling to me about playing with such a loaded topic, even though I wasn’t raised in any kind of organized religion.
My mother was somewhat spiritual, with buddhist leanings. My father’s side of the family was mostly buddhist. My maternal relatives were pretty evenly split between Jehovah’s Witnesses and Church of Christ. (Yeah, I know. It makes for spectacularly uncomfortable family reunions. Lol!) When I started asking questions about God and religion, somewhere around 8 or 9 years old, Mom told me I got to decide for myself which religion- if any- was right for me. I spent a year going to different churches with various friends and neighbors, and after a while I just kind of decided I didn’t want to drink the Kool-aid. They pretty much all tell you to be a good person, try to make the world a better place, and not to do harm. Yet you have to do it THEIR WAY. I didn’t buy it then, and I still don’t. On the flip side, I think everyone has the right to believe what they choose, whether I agree with them or not.
Anyway…maybe it’s the lure of the unknown, but religious imagery and sacriligeous fantasies have always resonated very strongly with me. They almost always involve an element of non-consent. I’ve imagined being forcefully penetrated by a crucifix, being gang-raped by the devil and his minions, being molested by a priest.
There’s a Catholic private school in downtown Portland, and whenever I see the students in their schoolgirl uniforms, complete with plaid skirts and knee socks, I feel a pang of envy. I mean, a classic Catholic school girl can be either an innocent victim, or a vicious tease…
So how about it? You know we’re already both headed for Hell- we may as well indulge in some sacrilegious phone sex!
About a week ago I met this new guy using the Tinder app. He stood out to me because he had beautiful facial piercings, tons of tattoos, and he was looking for someone to create taxidermy-style oddities with. I happen to LOVE such oddities, and I got a huge lady boner at the idea of hanging out with this boy and playing with dead things.
Before our play date he warned me that a lot of folks get squeaked out by his collection because it’s vast and creepy. This prospect excited me greatly, both in my mind and in my panties (though I wasn’t wearing any.) I got to his apartment and pretty much came the moment I walked into the living room. There were at least 50 skulls from various animals (sadly, none were human) and just as many jars containing organs and whole corpses. He even had a two-headed baby lizard and a baby octopus! Being surrounded by such beautiful morbidity made my pussy drip, and the fun hadn’t even started yet!
After I orgasmed to his collection, he led me to the taxidermy room where I was given gloves and a scalpel. He guided me as I sliced the underside of a dead guinea pig from top to bottom; cutting through flesh is pretty fucking easy with a good scalpel, so I had to cut with care in order to avoid slicing any organs. The insides of the animals were beautiful and I had to free them from their furry cage. I gently sliced the tissue that was bonding the skin to muscle and bone until I had removed the entire pelt. Then I separated the stomach and intestines, and put the lungs and heart into a jar so I could save them. I also saved the paws and ears so I can mummify them. After removing as much meat as possible, I placed the entire skeleton in a jar and filled it with water so it can produce bacteria that will eat off the rest of the meat and leave me with a pretty, white guinea pig skeleton that I can display in my living room next to the organs.
The whole process got me so worked up that my pussy was dripping down my thigh, which he noticed. That caused a bulge in his pants, which I noticed. So I got down on my knees and gave him a very enthusiastic thank you blowjob, right next to the bloody mess I had just made! I love sucking cock in general, but doing it in a room full of gore made it extra exciting. I’m insatiable though, and a gory blowjob was not enough for me, so I crawled into the living room and bent myself over his coffee table and ogled all the creatures and skulls while he gave me one of the hottest cervical poundings I’ve ever had the pleasure of receiving.
I can’t wait to relive this experience via some creatively gory phone sex. Maybe you can help me make it even more exciting!
If you own your own business and/or work in any kind of service industry, you know how important it is to have a strong online presence, high search engine results, and top ratings on review sites. I usually ask first-time callers how they found me, and I’m flattered by how often the answer is something along the lines of “oh, I searched ‘intelligent phone sex’ and ran across your website.” Color me complimented.
I know why Bay City Blues is unique, and why I in particular come across as so different; it’s because I exist beyond the pages of a phone sex website. When you google me, it’s obvious I’m a real person with a life of my own. That’s no accident. I appeal to gentlemen looking for “intelligent phone sex” because I don’t start our interactions by insisting they buy into a porn archetype fallacy. In other words, I don’t kick things off by insulting their intelligence. (How smart of a move is it for any professional- save a dominatrix- to treat their clients with such a glaring lack of respect?)
Yet still I have people on occasion who question the veracity of my online persona. *shrug* But anyway, that’s why I try to share little snippets of myself on various social media platforms. I joined Instagram not too long ago, and I find myself constantly looking for amusing images and sexy snapshots from my daily life to post. For random strangers. Of course, that’s not so different that what I’ve been doing for a decade with my phone sex callers, although my medium of choice has been words. But now I get to incorporate visuals, which opens up so many options.
I post selfies here and there, but I tend to focus on scenes and images that accurately reflect either my sense of humor or the sensuality that seems to permeate my life. One could argue that after a decade of providing phonesex professionally, seeing the sex in things has understandably become second nature to me. And while that’s true, it still makes me smile a naughty grin every time.
This picture, for example. I couldn’t stop giggling at all the clean spoons just waiting to be made dirty. It’s like somebody knew I’d be coming along… Hehehe! The best part about it though, is one of my callers saw the IG post and called me with a fantasy based on the two of us meeting over that condiment bar in my local coffee shop. Fuck, it was so hot. But then, this particular chap knows I have a thing for sex in public bathrooms…
And that’s what make the difference between phone sex and intelligent phone sex. Phone sex is intense and liberating and fulfilling. Intelligent phone sex is all those things and more. Intelligent phone sex is inspired and detailed and rooted in the kinds of realistic details and real-life scenarios that make a phone fantasy seem impossibly tangible. A real woman like me. A location that actually exists. The kind of sex that transcends qualifying words like “real” or “phone” because with orgasms that powerful, who the fuck cares if the sex is literal or figurative?
But on the off chance you still aren’t convinced, I challenge you to try me for intelligent phone sex. I’m confident I can keep you as happily occupied as the spoons in this picture would have kept me, if I wasn’t meeting the cute barista out back for an afternoon car quickie…
Right now I am sitting at work trying to figure out what to say in my first blog as a Bay City Blues independent phone sex girl. I intended to at least get things started before my shift, but I got frustrated trying to think of things to say and I ended up masturbating. That’s a pretty common thing with me. If I’m making too much of an effort to focus on a particular task my clit will start to tingle, and there’s only one way to fix that…
Typically when I masturbate I rub the outside of my panties; softly stroking my throbbing clit through the fabric. I’m very sensitive so I get worked up easily and find myself getting carried away quickly. I was insatiable today and even had to bust out my hitachi. I try to pace myself and delay my orgasms, but I lack the discipline. It’s easier when someone else is around to keep me from coming before I’ve earned it. But, since I was alone today I gave myself five orgasms before work, when I should have been writing for all of you lovelies. I apologize for my selfish behavior.
So, now I am writing from the comfort of my porn clerk podium. I’m currently employed at a very small porn shop (hence my name being Smutslinger on Fetlife.) I sell sex toys, porn movies, and make change for the horny gentlemen who like to get busy in the arcade. For those of you that are unfamiliar with adult arcades, I will explain. The arcade is a dimly lit area with a walkway lined with booths. Each booth has a chair, paper towels, and a television programmed with multiple porn channels. You put money in the machine, choose your porn, and enjoy yourself. Many of the booths also have glory holes, so you can play with the stranger in the booth next to yours. It’s dirty, scandalous, and really fucking hot.
I’m required to do checks a few times every hour to make sure the customers are actually paying for the booths. I often find myself fantasizing about playing with someone when I’m doing my checks. I’ll see the occupied light on and pop into the room next to it, lowering my mouth to the glory hole opening, ready to suck the cock of some random dude I made change for moments before. The idea makes me so fucking wet, especially when I think about them coming on my face and having to finish my shift with their spunk stains on my cheek and in my hair. I would totally get fired if I acted out this fantasy, so I often pretend to clean so I can watch the guys jerk off through the glory holes. It gets me so hot!
What would you do with me if we played in an arcade together? Would you keep me to yourself? Or would you share me with the other guys, passing me around from cock to cock? I can’t wait to explore all the ways I can be your dirty playmate on our next hot phone sex call!