Drunk on Boobies
By Tonya Jone Miller | August 29, 2010
This is a picture of me and my pal, Cindy, on the way to a party a couple of weeks ago. I think the look on my face is hilarious, like I’m high on her tits… *giggles*
And speaking of boobs…I’m over halfway to my personal Race for the Cure fundraising goal, and we’re very close to meeting our team goal! Thank you thank you THANK YOU to those of you who donated already- I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your generosity! Please, if you can spare even $10, please click this link and donate.
Boobies make me happy. If you’re a friend of mine, chances are they make you happy, too. So please consider investing in general titty health? Viva las ta-ta’s!
Tonya
Topics: My Life | 2 Comments »
My New Tattoo…
By Tonya Jone Miller | August 27, 2010
I’ve been wanting a new tattoo for a while now. I mean, like for the past five years. It has been 15 years since my last one, and I’ve been feeling the itch. If you look at my photos, you can see I have a gecko on my right ankle. I’ve never hated it or loved it or felt particularly attached to it one way or another. Which for me, seems wrong.
A tattoo is living art on my body. My two other pieces have special meaning for me, but the gecko never really did. I got it because I was young and impulsive and wanted more ink. So I’ve been considering getting it covered up or incorporated into a new tattoo, but I didn’t want to just get something for the sake of getting tattooed. I mean, that’s how I ended up with the damn lizard in the first place, right?
But one night I was up late editing Threads, and it just kind of hit me…Of course…A map of Viet Nam would make the perfect tattoo! I started asking around and heard from a number of people that Atlas Tattoo, which is about two blocks from my place, was a good studio. So I went in one day a looked through their tattoo artists’ books. I was drawn to the work of Lewis Hess and booked a consultation with him. I went in a few weeks ago with a basic idea and some artwork, and about a minute into my description of what I wanted, he asked why.
Turns out, he is half Vietnamese too! I totally had a Casablanca moment…Of all the artists in all the tattoo studios in Portland, I choose him, sight unseen just based on his artwork…What are the chances? I just knew it was meant to be. We made an appointment for mid-September (his earliest opening- that ought to tell you how talented he is), but I mentioned that I was close and worked from home with a flexible schedule so he could feel free to call me last-minute if he had a cancellation.
Tuesday my phone rang, and before I knew it I was under the needle. It’s about 2/3 finished now. You can barely see where he covered up the gecko- it will be even less noticeable once he goes back over it with more leaves and flowers. The interior of the map of Viet Nam will be colored in- the rice paddies at the top will be various shades of green, yellow, and white, but we still haven’t decided what the southern part will be filled in with. I have a couple of ideas but nothing I’m completely sold on yet. Anyway, here’s what it looks like so far…
One element of it that I am absolutely giddy over is the bowl of pho. I’ve always said that when I miss my father (who passed away nearly 13 years ago), I crave pho, a beef noodle soup that my mom always described as the cheeseburger of Viet Nam. Something about the smell of pho is comforting to me, the food equivalent of getting a hug from my dad. It’s traditionally served with a plate of condiments- bean sprouts, basil and/or mint or other fragrant herbs, lime, and sliced hot chile peppers- and I am stunned by the minute details he managed to convey in such a small space…
I can’t wait to see what it looks like when it is finally finished in a month! But I wanted to share it with you now, because every time I look at it I get a big silly grin on my face. It’s so me. By the way, “Thanh-Tuyen” is my Vietnamese name and means pure stream. Pure. Heh.
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Remember…
By Tonya Jone Miller | August 27, 2010
Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate,
but that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us.
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant,
gorgeous, handsome, talented and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking
so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us.
It is not just in some; it is in everyone.
And, as we let our own light shine, we consciously give
other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our fear,
our presence automatically liberates others.
~Marianne Williamson
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Save the Ta-Ta’s
By Tonya Jone Miller | August 10, 2010
I’ve never been much of a breast woman. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate a nice pair of tits. But my attraction to any particular girl has a lot more to do with her personality and vibe than any physical attribute. That said, I’ve always been happy with my own boobs. They’re natural. They’re not huge, but a little bit more than a mouthful…
Why do I suddenly wax rhapsodic about breasts? Because after my doctor’s follow-up appointment for my ankle sprain this morning, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to participate in the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure on September 19th. I’ve signed up with a relatively modest fundraising goal of $500, and I’m asking you for help.
I know times are tough all around, but every dollar makes a difference. Please, if you can spare even $5, please click this link and donate. Could you skip your latte twice this week? Or order a burger instead of a steak the next time you go out for dinner or maybe skip a glass of wine?
Unfortunately, the statistics predict that someone you love will get breast cancer. I ask you to consider this an investment in the future health of someone you may love dearly or someone you might never know but who may owe you their life someday. Thank you.
Tonya
P.S. Phone sex callers who make a donation will find themselves the recipient of special favors…Just sayin’…
Topics: My Life | 4 Comments »
Catching Up
By Tonya Jone Miller | August 10, 2010
I had my follow-up today, and it seems my ankle is healing slightly ahead of schedule. The splint is gone, replaced with an air cast I can wear with shoes, and I’m off my crutches. Apparently, my “mutant healing powers” (as my yummy girl P referred to them) extend beyond whip welts on my back and cane stripes on my ass. Heh.
Seriously though, I’ve been humbled by the outpouring of support my friends have shown me over the past three weeks. I’m not good at being helpless, and living in an attic apartment while being on crutches has made even simple things like taking out the garbage and getting my mail a challenge. I’ve had tons of food/meal deliveries, offers of rides anywhere I needed to go, and tons of errands run for me. As frustrating as it has been, it makes me realize how blessed I am to have such amazing friends.
In other news, I found out I’m going to be a part of Incubator at the Someday Lounge in September. It’s a monthly evening devoted to letting artists workshop new projects in front of a live audience. I’ll be performing an exerpt from Threads and I’m so excited! And nervous, but that will pass. I can’t believe I get the chance to share some of these stories- they’ve been my creative calling for almost the past year…
I’m also going to teach my Roleplay & Acting in the Dungeon class again, this time for the Portland Leather Alliance. I felt like I learned a lot when I did it for Whipper-Snappers and will be able to present an even more entertaining and educational workshop. There are already 20+ folks RSVPed on FetLife, so my biggest adjustments will be to accommodate for a larger class size. I’m hoping I can fine-tune the class enough to submit it for consideration at kink events around the country.
Oh and I’m working on a new phone sex fantasy caller remembrance, so check back soon for that…
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Yellow Sundress (For B)
By Tonya Jone Miller | July 27, 2010
I figure that over the span of my phone sex career, I’ve spoken with thousands of men. Some, after relieving themselves with the aid of my services, wander off into that good night, never to be heard from again. But more often than not, first-time callers turn into second-time callers into repeat clients into friends…
Of my first ten callers when I began doing phone sex over six years ago, I am still in contact with six of them. (I’m starting from my tenure at Bay City Blues, not counting the couple of months I was on Niteflirt, as I played an archetypal character for a third-party company there.) Of those six, I still have phone sex with three of them.
Back when I started blogging over on LiveJournal, it was mostly a tool for phone sex promotion. I did a lot of “shout-outs” to my callers, little mini-synopses of calls. But after a while it seemed so redundant. Tiny snippets of porno talk that couldn’t possibly compare to the genuine timbre and tone of our voices, quivering and catching as we whispered our naughty desires. So I stopped doing shout-outs and instead focused on writing about my life off the phone.
I don’t regret it one bit, but every so often I’m struck with the urge to write about calls, both long past and more recent. And I think it’s high time I indulged the craving, so I’m going to share some samples of sexy memories and fantasies that have been haunting me lately…I’ll probably parcel them out slowly, but here’s the first installment…
Yellow Sundress (For B)
We catch each other in the chat room often, sometimes on IM. I know he flirts with all the girls, but something about our chemistry on the telephone convinces me I’m his favorite. He is hard and mean and rough when we talk, calling me all the dirty names that make my cunt quiver. He likes rape fantasies and knows they’re one of my personal fetishes, so he aurally violates me in the most delicious ways.
One day online, I am describing a new purchase to him, this yellow sundress I found at a thrift store for cheap. It’s the kind of dress that makes a girl feel yummy and pretty and naughty and sexy and sweet all at the same time. He obviously picks up on my excitment, because I come home to a sizzling email from him. In it he describes his slight regret at wanting to accost me on my stoop in that dress and rip it from my body, tear it to shreds, and take me right there in the doorway. As you can imagine, I was never able to wear that dress again after that without thinking of him. There are just some people who leave that kind of impression.
Our phone sex relationship lasted for a couple of years, and then he informed me that he was getting married and didn’t think he could continue talking to me. I will interject here that as I’ve said before, I’m the worst phone sex operator in the world in that on some level, I hope my callers will cease to need me. I hope they all find special people in their lives that fulfill their desires and make them happy. But when he told me, I was understandably disappointed. The financial consequences were much less important to me than the fact that I was losing a friend I enjoyed and clicked with on a strangely intimate yet still casual level.
The thing that blows my mind is that I know he still reads my blog. He still checks up on me, comments occasionally, and sends me brief emails of support and encouragement every once in a while. I’ve long since lost the yellow sundress (six years, after all!), but there’s something both humbling and gratifying knowing that he, wherever he is, still remembers. I hope he knows how much I cherish the gift of having shared his life, for however brief a time.
Topics: My Life | 2 Comments »
Gimpy
By Tonya Jone Miller | July 21, 2010
I spent all day Sunday helping a friend move into his new apartment. Then Monday night, we went on an epic shopping trip…Fubonn to stock up on Asian grocieries, and Fred Meyer for random household accesories- cleaning supplies, mixing bowls, etc. We finished unloading everything into his place, said goodnight, and I started downstairs to my car.
It was terribly dark, and somehow I managed to miss the last step. I felt a blinding pain in my left ankle and crumpled onto the cement. Always the tough girl of course, I walked it off, got in my borrowed car, and started home. Every time I had to depress the clutch it sent me into tears. Finally at my place, I hobbled up the outside stairs, crawled up the inside ones, and collapsed onto the couch.
I’ve had my fair share of twists and sprains. I figured I’d RICE it- rest, ice, compression, elevation- and it would be fine in the morning. So I wrapped it up, put an ice pack on it, and slept on the couch with it elevated up resting on the back. Then I woke up at 6am, crying in my sleep from the pain.
Now as most of you know, I’m not a wuss. I’m a freakin’ masochist. I can take some pretty intense pain. But this was not the good kind. I unwrapped my ankle to find it the size of a baseball. I couldn’t put any pressure on it at all. so I called Howard, who is still my best friend and the one person I know I can count on above all others. He took me to the ER at Emanuel Hospital.
Turns out nothing is broken, but I have a severe sprain, about the worst you can have without actually tearing or breaking anything. I have to wear a splint and use crutches for at least two weeks, and I have a follow-up then with an orthopedic surgeon to make sure I’m healing ok and don’t need any kind of surgery. Best prognosis is 4-6 weeks until I’m completely healthy. Sigh.
All I can think about is how lucky I am that I can still do my phone sex work while injured. Laying on my back in bed doesn’t aggravate my ankle. Heh. I mean, most people in this economy don’t have a 6 week financial cushion. This would devastate them. So I’m trying to keep my annoyance and poor-me helplessness to a minimum. My friends are coming through in droves with offers of errands, rides, food, chores, etc. Things could be much worse.
I’m just going to hunker down in my bunker for the next two weeks and pamper myself. Which means I’ll be available quite a bit for phone sex shenanigans…If…you know…that’s your thing… *wink*
Tonya
Topics: My Life | 1 Comment »
I want to ride my bicycle…
By Tonya Jone Miller | July 16, 2010
I went for a bike ride today for the first time in years. A friend of mine has lent me her cruiser indefinitely, and Portland is a very bicycle-friendly town. When I lived in Boulder, CO, for eighth grade, I biked everywhere, but it has been a long time since I’ve had my own wheels. I forgot how good it feels to have the wind in my hair, and I just let myself ride aimlessly around my neighborhood for an hour. Truth be told, I overdid it a bit and I’m sure I’m going to be sore in the morning.
I’m producing a show for Monqui tomorrow, the first one I’ve done in a while, and will be gone all day. Sunday I’m helping a friend move to a new apartment, so I’ll be scarce this weekend…Enjoy the sun and stay hydrated!
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Rope is fun. And decorative!
By Tonya Jone Miller | July 2, 2010
Last night I was a living art model for my friend, Lew Rubens, at his 3-D bondage photo exhibit opening at Club Sesso…
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A Phone Sex Primer
By Tonya Jone Miller | June 29, 2010
Phone sex is a strange beast. In my six-plus years of experience, I’ve come to realize that everybody’s concept of what it is differs. Some callers like to talk as if we’re actually in the room together, describing what we’re doing to each other. To me, this is the most straightforward kind of phone sex:
“I’m bending over the dresser, sticking my ass in the air, watching your dick twitch in the mirror as you slide one hand up my inner thigh.”
Others can’t get past the willing suspension of disbelief. Hearing me say, “I’m licking your balls” when they don’t FEEL it somehow takes them out of the zone. Perhaps it makes the fantasy aspect of phone sex too apparent. In any case, the way around this is to use speculative speech:
“If I was there, I’d love to suck your cock. I’d wrap my lips around it and bob my head up and down until your toes curled.”
A simple adjustment of language makes all the difference.
You’d think that, being an actress, roleplay would be the easiest kind of phone sex for me. And in a way, it is. But again, roleplay can mean many different things to different people. Usually it is a combination of dialogue and description:
Me: “Excuse me, Sir, do you have a moment?”
Caller: “Yes, Miss Miller, how can I help you?”
Me: I slip into your office and you hear the lock click behind me. Your eyes travel down over my nubile, young body, and you can’t help but let your gaze linger on the swell of my pert tits under my slightly too-tight cardigan sweater. “Ms. Connell told me I’m in danger of being suspended from the cheerleading squad because I’m getting a C in your class.”
Caller: “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about that. Rules are rules, and you young lady have to learn that there are consequences to your actions.”
Me: “Isn’t there anything I can do?” I look at you with big, innocent eyes and start to unbutton my sweater…
With a small number of callers, we have such a good rapport, we can actually incorporate the description into the dialogue. This always feels the most organic, and when I close my eyes, I can picture the scene in my head like it’s really happening.
Me: “Mmmm you like it when I stick my ass up in the air like this, don’t you?”
Caller: “God yes, you’re so wet and tight from behind. And I love seeing that little puckered asshole of yours quiver. So tempting…”
Me: “Oooh fuck yes! You know I’m a dirty girl- you know I love it up the butt. Go slow? I want to feel every inch of it slip it into my ass.”
You see? We’ve established that we’re having doggy-style anal sex without really breaking character or slipping out of back-and-forth dialogue. But truthfully, most callers need a little more description for the dialogue to make sense to them, and I’m happy to oblige.
A small number of guys actually send me scripts they want me to follow more or less verbatim. Obviously as an actor I’m comfortable actualizing text, but it makes me wonder how many pso’s the poor guys have to go through to find someone like me who’s capable of pulling it off believably. I mean, trained professional actors fuck up, even after hours of rehearsal. I can’t imagine that Generic Phone Babe #287 would be very effective. But then again, maybe I just set the bar high for myself.
Still other clients barely speak at all and prefer to listen to erotic storytelling. This can be fairly challenging, as it is essentially an extended, improvised, erotic monologue. For those calls, the more details I have in advance, the better. And while they often require more concentration and less masturbation on my part, they are somewhat liberating in that I can go wherever I please within the given parameters of a caller’s fantasy.
People often ask me what I like when it comes to phone sex, but my answer rarely satisfies them. Phone sex is a service. I like being of service; I always have. I like knowing that something I’ve done has made someone else’s life better or even just put a fleeting smile on their face. So what is my fetish? What turns me on? Well, lots of things. Heh. But when it comes to phone sex, I like making my callers happy.
Truly, the content of any call is less important to my enjoyment of it than my clients response and pleasure. I love a man who makes noise, a man who encourages me to get into it and expresses his own excitement. And yes, I realize some of them call from home or work when there’s a chance of getting caught and need to be quiet. That’s hot in its own way.
I like knowing I have the sexual energy and erotic intelligence to figure out what a person wants, and sometimes more importantly, how they want it. It makes me feel powerful, desired, appreciated…
Topics: My Life | 2 Comments »