I’m not a preacher’s daughter but one of the reasons I got for blasphemy phone sex big time is that I was raised in a very, very religious household. However, it was also a religiously confused household. Both my parents were very devout Christians but Mom was a dedicated Southern Baptist and my Dad was a super believing Roman Catholic. Do not ask me how these people, so obviously “unequally yoked” in the New Testament phrase, even got together, especially close enough to be married, but they did. Sometimes I would attend a Southern Baptist Church with Mom and other Sundays I would be at a Roman Catholic mass with Dad.
To be honest, I could not stand either of them. Both the priest and the minister bored the — yes — HELL out of me. I super hated the stand, kneel, sit, repeat thing at the Catholic Church. It also seemed to me that both groups consisted of a bunch of self-righteous hypocrites. Although the Roman Catholics had a lot more rituals than the Baptists, they were both alike in limiting what women could do so it struck me early on that they were unfair.
Still, I have to admit there were a few things I did like. When I read the Song of Solomon, it was not hard to see the references to the bride waking up with perfume dripping from her rings as meaning she had pussy juice from masturbating. I also clued in as a teenager to the idea of the garden as the pushing and the white whine as pussy juice and the red wine as menstrual blood. When they talked about “the love of Jesus,” I would sometimes think about it when I was at home diddling myself and imagine that me and the big guy were going at it, that he was loving me all over my body. I sometimes got a kick out of imagining that I was a nun getting on with a priest or that one of the good-looking youth pastors at the Baptist church had a yen to get in my britches. With the background I’ve got, I think you know that Trixi is the one to call for blasphemy phone sex at 1 888 8 FREAKY.