I have got the harness, the lube and no patience. Right. Strap on phone sex. No dancing around it. I have a harness, a big purple thing that goes in the harness, and no shame about either of them. Some of you spell it strapon, some of you spell it strap on, and I do not care a bit either way. I am forty fucking something, married to a pilot who is away most of the month, and I have reached the age where I cannot be doing with coy. You either want it up you or you do not. If you do, wonderful. If you are not sure, get on the phone anyway and I will talk you into it in about four minutes flat.
Here is what actually happens. I put the harness on and it takes a minute, because the buckles are stupid and I always get one leg wrong. Then I spit on my hand, because lube is for people with patience, and then I tell you to get on the bed. You go face down. Ass up. I put the tip against you and hold it there while you get used to the idea, then I push. Slow to start, and then not slow at all. You make a noise. They always make a noise, a sort of surprised kettle noise, and it is the best part of my evening. And no, I will not go easy on you because it is your first time. I do not do easy. I do it properly and I do it until you are shaking and swearing and telling me shit you did not plan on telling me.
Pegging is not a favor I am doing you, by the way. It is the thing I want, and you are the one who gets to lie there and take it and be grateful. That is the arrangement. If you want the longer version of how I run a pegging call, read pegging phone sex with Remy first, then come back to this one. The neighbors can probably hear. Good. Let them.
Call Remy and bend over: 1 888 474 6769









