First, I got LOTS of positive feedback on the drawings I featured in yesterday’s post. There is a voyeuristic quality in them that Roscoe picked-up upon, like we’re all seeing these private scenes unbeknownst to the participants.
In Roscoe’s comment, he fantasized about watching silently from the door as the culprit girls are bared and spanked. I see him there, so sneak behind the curtain to do my eavesdropping. The blatant sexuality of what he and I are seeing is too much, and we each have to pull clothing out of the way to touch ourselves as we watch. Unfortunately, we make too much noise and are discovered. Roscoe and I are set upon by all the women, captured like in some 50’s film noir. They pull our clothing down to expose the fact that we each were masturbating surreptitiously.
I’m put over the divan and hand spanked by a sultry yet icy blond on my bared bottom. The other women wank on Roscoe’s member as he’s forced to watch my chastisement until the inevitable eruption. Then he is put face-down on the divan for punishment while my naughty bits are fingered, teased, excited, brought to release. They are cruel; when they discover that I am anal-erotic, my poor innocent rosebud is treated to explorations, as well. It becomes clear that this is merely the first act in a long play; we’ll be made to spank one another, Roscoe and I, when our nubile bodies have recovered from their initial ejaculations, then be made to crawl on all fours through a gauntlet of all the women as they spank and touch us so inappropriately! It’s all so incredibly sinful and wrong; it all feels so heavenly and right! Roscoe and I will never be the same after experiencing their degradation!
I often feel as though I missed my proper generation. Part of me feels better suited to the outward prim and proper etiquette of the 1950’s (with all of its smoldering Bettie Page-like decadence just beneath the surface).
Part of me feels that I should have come-of-age in the peace and love 1960’s. That part is better suited to letting it all hang out. If a man or woman found me attractive, and I them, this part sees nothing wrong about stripping-off our inhibitions, as well as our clothes, and expressing those feelings with sex. I’d love to experiment with group sex, getting to know someone intimately as you get to know them in all other ways. Part of me feels that sexual expressions should be as free and open as shaking hands…
“Hi! I love your eyes! You have this amazing aura! Would you like to fuck?”
“Oh, hi! As you can see, my new friend… what’s your name? Yeah, my new friend, Stardust, is getting to know my vagina… but you are such a cosmic light, I really vibe with you! …would you like to fuck me up the butt? It’s available…”
The other thing about the sixties that intrigues me is… the drugs. I could see myself working on a Californian commune, living naked and unencumbered most of the time, smoking pot and dropping acid. Sex is pretty fucking far out anyway, man, can you imagine doing it with another perfect soul on windowpane, as his tongue and his prick turn into serpents to slither into me, and my pussy becomes the sunrise?
Of course, I felt displaced and in the wrong time period when I first read the scandalous Victorian novel, A Man with a Maid. I guess that I’m just kinky, and would love to time travel around.
Then again, living in this moment is pretty incredible in its own right. I’ve found a guy who shares my taste, spanks me frequently and makes love with me every time he spanks me! (As should be obvious, I’m feeling slightly better every day, more of my sexual self all the time! Robert will finish his business by this weekend and then return to me. I flew home on the red-eye last night. It’s all gonna be okay…)