Rantings of a Pervert

Sometimes I really don’t understand myself. Well, I guess I should say that most of the time I don’t understand myself. Last week, I was talking with my favorite NiteFlirt Girl, Angela St.Lawrence, she had read my blog here and said she wasn’t aware of me liking humiliation. Then I think she hit the nail on the head when she laughed and said I liked everything.

She’s right, I do like everything. When I get horny, you could tell me to strip naked and walk downtown in the middle of the afternoon, and you would be reading about me in tomorrow’s paper, arrested for indecent exposure. But officer, I was just doing what the nice lady told me to do.

How is it that guys will let the little head do all of the thinking? Especially when it is so often preoccupied! I know it used to get me into trouble when I was younger. At least now it has been tempered with a little common sense. . .not much, but at least a little.

The strange thing is, that when I get horny, I want to do everything! I want to have every orifice filled with something and to fill as many as I can fill. While on the one hand I am dying to cum, on the other hand I want the feeling to last forever and I know that as soon as I reach orgasm, it’s all over, I’m through playin’ then.

More later::The Perv

The way I see it, there are three different types of Phone Sex. The first and probably the most desired is that when you and your lover are separated and you call and encourage each other through mutual masturbation. Creating an image in each others mind of what you would like to be doing with them, and how you would be pleasuring them until you both climax and enjoy a wonderful period of afterglow.

Second, there is phone sex with a Professional Phone Sex Operator. This can be pretty incredible, depending on the operator, I direct your attention to NiteFlirt where some of the best of the best hang their hats, and paddles, and panties, did I just say panties? oh yeah, and dildos and . . . I’ll be back in a minute.

Okay, I’m back. Where was I? Oh never mind, I remember, Phone Sex. This is where you can let your wildest fantasies come to life in your mind, no judgment calls, no sideways glances, no worries, just an enjoyable time with a playmate who, seem to really enjoy what they do. At least the ones I call do.

That brings us to the third, and final form of Phone Sex. If you know of another, please let me know. This is the bad kind of phone sex, the phone sex you are are not looking for nor are you pleased when when you get it. This is the phone sex that I wanted to talk about today.

I recently purchased a television, bought it from Walmart and it was their store brand ILO which stands for Initial Technologies (I don’t know how they get ILO out of it either). It was a 32″ HDTV and I got it all set up and working. The picture probably wasn’t the best, but from what I had before it was exceptional. Everything was just peachy and I could stay up till all hours of the night watching reruns on TV Land.

My peachy picture of paradise was shattered about 100 days later when the picture just went away, and I had no sound. Hmmm, maybe cable is having a problem. A quick check of the other TV put that thought to rest. I finally came to the sad realization that my new Television just died.

No worries, I got it at Walmart, it’s just up the street. I’ll just call them to find out how I need to bring it in to swap it for one that works. Oh I haven’t forgotten, this is a story about phone sex, bear with me for a minute cause this is where it starts. . .

“Oh no sir,” he said, “We don’t accept in-store returns after 90 days.” Damn! That was a bit uncomfortable, I don’t think he used any lube. According to the store manager, they will have someone come out to the house and fix it for me. Well, that feels a little better anyway. I got comfortable with a frosty beverage and prepared to make the call to customer service.

I spent a festive half-hour on the phone with Kunja of Bombay only to find out that the home of the Kama Sutra is also the home of phone rape. I would have to package the television back up, and send it back to them in order for them to fix it. Of course I didn’t have my box so they gladly sold me one for 10 bucks. Now, I have to wait for the box to get here and the call tag then package it all back up and ship it back to them. My ass was definitely a bit sore.

Four weeks later, after the whole ordeal, my television returns and I carefully unpack it and get it set up. Gathering a frosty beverage to my bosom and gleefully sitting down in front of my newly refurbished 32″ HDTV I tune into the Cartoon Network to watch some quality Tom and Jerry. The television lasts almost through the first cartoon before going black again. Geez! Kunja must have left that in me!

I called customer service again, this time it was Kunja’s sister who answered the phone, and she was evidently unaware that my television had just been there the week before. I finally convinced her to put Kunja on the phone and I went off on him. I screamed and shouted and threw the phone up in the air and it didn’t seem to affect him at all.

Kunja promised that they would email me a call tag so I could send the TV back immediately and told me that they would send me a new TV instead of repairing the old one. Somewhat mollified I agreed and hung up heading for my computer to check my email for my call tag, which, by the way, never showed up.

Now I will readily admit that I don’t have a life, sitting in front of my computer and clicking on the check mail button is actually an entertaining evening for me. The next morning slumped over the keyboard, my bleary eyes open slowly and my hand instinctively reaches over and clicks the check mail button, but to no avail. Still nothing from ILO.

I managed to get myself ready and went to work, where I checked all day off and on to see if the call tag had arrived, but it never did, so when I got home I called them back only to find out now that they didn’t email call tags. I raised the roof on their end. . .again, finally told them that I was going to file a complaint with the BBB and hung up.

I don’t know what they were using on me, but it was a bit more significant than a french tickler. I spent the next hour or so filing a complaint with the BBB, and waited.

It was only about a week before I got the call tag and got the television packed back up and shipped back. I also received a response from my complaint at the BBB. It seems that now they said that they do not replace televisions, they only repair them. So now everything that Kunja told me was just a fig newton of his imagination, and they weren’t going to do anything to take care of my complaint. I said as much in my reply to their response, and proceeded to write a note going over the whole thing to the President of Walmart, the largest most powerful retailer in the world and let them know just how po’d I was.

Now I am just waiting to find out if I am going to get a reach around after this ass reaming! I’ll let you know if I do.

More Later::The Perv

Warning! Sometimes I get all Pissy after watching the news!

TANSTAAFL, an acronym for, “There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch. This was coined by the Award Winning Science Fiction Writer Robert Anson Heinlein. I don’t remember the first book it was used in, (it was “The Moon is a Harsh Mistress”) but it tended to show up off and on in several of his works. TANSTAAFL actually came into the popular vernacular years ago although I think that its use has faded, probably more because people don’t want to believe it than because it isn’t factual, because it is.

I think this country is in dire need of remembering that term, and coming to grips with the simple truth it contains. Nothing in this world is free, yet every day in the streets and on the news people are complaining about how they have been mistreated and how they have a right to this or that. I would like to know who was passing out these rights and why I wasn’t in line when they were being distributed.

I was watching the CBS Evening News with Katie Couric. I normally don’t watch that news program as I like CNN Headline News’ Erica Hill much better. Anyway, that isn’t the point, the thing that caught my attention was a story they did on protesters marching on their mortgage lender. These were people caught up in the sub-prime mortgage crisis this country is facing right now.

One woman was interviewed who said that she wasn’t looking for help because her husband lost his job, or (and she actually said this) because they didn’t read the contracts they were signing, but it was because there was a crisis in this country and the country needed to help them out. Personally, I had a little trouble understanding that.

First, I had always thought that losing a job was one of the major reasons people would lose their home. Suddenly they couldn’t afford it any longer, they would default and the bank would foreclose. Certainly heartbreaking for the individual family, but that isn’t cause for a national crisis.

Second, I can certainly understand how stupidity and ignorance could be the root cause of a national education system crisis, but how does this translate into a national mortgage crisis that I am supposed to be concerned with? I don’t see the connection between someone’s greed and my pocketbook.

It has always been my understanding that the interest rate people are charged is to pay the lender for the risk of the loan. Lower rates are applied to loans with less risk, higher rates to those with greater risk. That is how the industry pays its  bills. Now while Mrs. Grundy may not have been smart enough to read the contract, the underwriter certainly was and should have known better.

Now we are marching in the streets and saying that the Government has to bail them out of the mess they made. Hogwash! If the underwriter doesn’t want to renegotiate the loan, and the buyer can’t make the payments, let the underwriter foreclose and try to move the property themselves. That is the risk they assumed when they wrote bad loans. That is the risk that they were very aware of when their greed caused them to get people in debt over their capacity to pay.

It wasn’t my idea to provide money to people who did not have the capability to repay it, and I have received not one thin dime in interest for those loans. The mortgage company made the money on those loans so they should be the ones to absorb any losses.

Back to Mrs. Grundy. Let’s stop and think for a moment, okay? Was she living on the street before she purchased a house beyond her means? Wasn’t she paying rent to someone somewhere? Of course she was. How is she hurt by this? Her credit has a stain on it. Ooops! I forgot, she didn’t have good credit before they lent her the money for the house or it wouldn’t have been a sub-prime. She has lost nothing and has actually had a couple of years in a better house than she was renting before all this took place.

Again, not my problem. The mortgage lender knew and accepted the risks involved in writing these sub-prime loans. The borrowers, while it is unfortunate, would have still been paying someone rent during this time period so they aren’t truly out anything. It looks like a wash to me. If the mortgage lenders go out of business, they are the ones at fault in the first place and need to step up and assume the loss if needed.

More later::The Perv

Can you think of anything that is sexier than seamed stockings and a pair of high heels?

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I have been able to enjoy using my butt plug lately, but something I was missing was a vibrator in my ass. Once upon a time, I had a vibrating butt plug and it was nice. I opted for a egg vibrator this time and it worked wonderfully! Actually I think it was designed as a G-spot vibrator as it is about 6″ long with an egg shaped vibrator angled off to one side. It works well as a prostate vibrator though and was also easy to turn off after the job was done.

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Well, I have to say that I am amazed. When I start treating her like a princess, she starts acting accordingly. Even though I have problems with ED we are having sexual relations again and that is startling. I’ll keep you posted.

More later::The Perv

Here are a couple of pictures of 2 of the most beautiful Playboy Playmates I have ever had the pleasure to hide under my mattress. Patti McGuire and Janice Raymond. Enjoy

I can recall with a smile many evenings spent holding these pictures above me with my left hand.

More Later::The Perv

Well, tricks really isn’t a good word for it as I am not trying to trick anyone, but it is more like an awakening. Opening my eyes to new ideas and seeing the benefit of them in action.

Yesterday, I spoke with a friend of mine and we were discussing sex and relationships. I told him about the frustration I was having with my wife and our sex life. It was something like the scene in The Godfather where Johnny is whining to the Don about his life and his problems with women. “Godfather,” he says “what do I do?” The Don looks at him and starts berating him yelling, “you can start by acting like a man!”

This wasn’t so much him telling me to act like a man as it was, I have control over some things, I need to change what I can, and stop expecting her to change. Well, the light went on over my head, you may have seen it, and I realized that in trying to empower her, I was trying to ignore the fact that she has needs, she has desires, she wants her man to let her know that he is interested in her.

When I started, last night mind you, to let her know that I did desire her and that I was upset she hadn’t worn any of the clothes I bought for her it was like turning on a light switch. It was amazing to see the change in her demeanor. This morning when I got up, we became intimate, something that hasn’t happened in years first thing in the morning.

Thanks for waking me up!

More later::The Perv

Cecilia left on Wednesday, she had flown to Chicago to be with her girlfriend who was pregnant and had just gone to the hospital 6 weeks early with labor pains. Michael didn’t expect her back until Monday evening. This was Memorial Day weekend and no one had to be back to work until Tuesday.

Michael and Cecilia hadn’t been together long. They met in March when they were both in New York on business; they were talking in the airport lounge while waiting on their flight back to Memphis and found themselves very attracted to each other. They really had quite a bit in common too. They both worked for brokerage houses in Memphis, different ones of course and they were both in New York attending the same seminar. They thought it strange that they didn’t meet each other until they were waiting on their flight back home.

Cecilia loved baseball and was a faithful season ticket holder for the Memphis Redbirds, the Triple A farm team for the St. Louis Cardinals. Michael also loved baseball, but hadn’t been to a game since the home opener the previous year. Both of them loved to eat at the Rendezvous but had never run into each other there either.

They managed to swap seats in the plane in order to be able to sit together on the flight back and continue their conversation, so that they felt like old friends by the time they made it into Memphis International. They swapped numbers and promised to call. It was three days later, late on a Friday afternoon before Michael had a chance to call, and he was afraid that Cecilia would blow him off for taking so long to call, but it actually worked out pretty well as Cecilia had been covered up at work after returning from the seminar as well. She was ready for a break by the time Michael got her on the phone.

Being short notice, Michael hadn’t really had an opportunity to make any serious plans so they decided to go get some ribs and hit a few of the clubs down on Beale Street. They really hit it off and both of them ended up back at Michael’s apartment around 2:00. They just crashed, clothes and all, laying across the king size bed.

Michael woke first around 10:00 and quietly went and made coffee for them. When he came back into the bedroom Cecilia was not there, but he could hear water running in the bathroom so he just sat on the edge of the bed to wait for her. A few minutes later he was rewarded with her stepping out of the bathroom dressed only in her bra and panties. A beautiful matching set in black lace, he was mesmerized and just sat there dumbly.

Cecilia wasn’t fazed at all, she just walked out of the bathroom and over to Michael. She stood there a minute before she said, “Well?” Somewhat confused, Michael answered, “Well, what?” “Well, I didn’t think I would have to spell it out for you Michael. I thought you were brighter than that!” Cecilia reached around and unhooked her bra and let it slip to the floor, releasing those beautiful full breasts from their captivity. “Ahhh,” she said, “that feels much better. Are you beginning to get the picture yet?”

Michael didn’t even speak as he reached out and pulled her towards him, squeezing her ass as he did. He pulled her close and started to flick his tongue across her right nipple as he reached up and caressed her left breast with his hand. Cecilia stood there and let him lick and play with her breasts for a full minute before a slight whimper crossed her lips. She said, “I knew you were smart enough to figure this out. . .”

They played and laughed and sucked, fucked and kissed for 2 full hours before they finally collapsed back on the bed. They never did get any of the coffee that Michael prepared earlier, but fell asleep in each others arms.

Their relationship had been like this from the beginning, and they hadn’t been seeing each other but about 4 weeks before Michael asked if she would move in with him. She agreed and they spent a week moving her a piece at a time from her apartment to his. The sex was incredible and it seemed that she never quite got enough. A situation that Michael was determined to take full advantage of.

So when Cecilia got the call from her girlfriend in Chicago, Michael was a little bummed out, he was looking forward to a holiday weekend where they never climbed out of bed other than to get food.

Wednesday night passed without incident. Michael tossed and turned in the bed but he finally got to sleep. Thursday was much the same, but this time Michael had a couple of drinks with dinner and a glass of wine to help him sleep. In addition to that, Cecilia called him and they had phonesex. She apologized for being gone, but he knew it was something she had to do so he didn’t complain.

Friday night came, and Cecilia didn’t call and when he tried to call her it seemed her phone was turned off. Michael was hoping for a repeat of the phonesex they had the night before and he had had a few drinks. Something to dull the senses so that he wasn’t quite as aware that she wasn’t there, and to loosen up his inhibitions as he wasn’t really used to having sex while on the phone.

Michael got naked and lay in the bed thinking about Cecilia, finally he went over to the dresser and got a pair of her lacy panties out and put them on. He couldn’t believe how wonderful the material felt against his hard cock. He had turned on the stereo to some sexy music earlier and that is probably why he didn’t hear the key in the lock.

He didn’t hear anything until he heard Cecilia, in a very stern, angry voice say, “What the fuck do you think you are doing? You pathetic prick! Answer me you fucking slut!” Michael tried to stammer out an answer but she didn’t give him time. “You little sissy boy! You like that don’t you? Well, don’t you?” This time, he managed to squeak out an answer, “Yes.” “Yes, what?” she screamed. “Yes, ma’am?” was all he could manage to get out. “That is better! Tell me, is this what you have been doing every time you were alone here? And don’t even think of lying to me!”

Michael was in shock, he hadn’t really been wearing her panties, but he had taken some out and let them brush across his face from time to time. He also liked the smell of her dirty panties in the laundry hamper. “Yes ma’am,” he managed to stammer. “I thought so, you pathetic little worm!. If you like it so much, let’s just get you dressed up right!” She looked at him and said, “Okay, now I want you to sit up on the edge of the bed while we decide how to dress you.”

Michael sat on the edge of the bed patiently wondering what Cecilia was going to do to him. She was digging around in her drawers picking a few things out and placing them on top of the dresser. Finally, she stood up and turned around to face Michael. “Here,” she said, “take those panties off and put these on.” She handed him a pair of pink lace panties. “I imagine that I’ll have to throw those away now that you have had them on.”

Michael got the new panties on, and she handed him a garter belt. “Put this on next sissy,” she said. He struggled with it a little, confused about how it went on, but he finally got it on, he could sense her impatience. Next, she handed him a matching pink bra and told him to get it on. Finally, she handed him a pair of black seamed nylons and said, “Let’s not be all day about getting these on, hurry up!”

He stood there, with bra, panties garter and stockings, looking a little dazed and apprehensive. Cecilia said, “Okay sissy boy, let’s see you model them. Wait a minute! Here, try on these heels first!” Michael was able to slip on the black pumps but he could barely stand. Cecilia didn’t give him an opportunity to complain, “Model them for me, sissy!” With unsteady legs, Michael walked across the bedroom and back, strutting a little thinking this was the extent of his punishment. Cecilia snapped several pictures of him as he strutted up and down the bedroom floor, “These will give us something to laugh about later,” she smiled.

“Okay sissy Michelle! Sit down here and let me do your make-up.” He sat down at the dressing table facing her. He was beginning to enjoy this, and his smile betrayed his emotions. “So, you think this is funny?” she snapped. “You won’t be thinking that for long,” she smiled. Cecilia put make-up on his face in as whorish a manner possible and when she was done she examined her handiwork.

After she took a couple of pictures of her ‘masterpiece’ she snapped, “Michelle! Go get your slacks and shirt and put them on.” Michael looked a little puzzled and asked, “Over all of this?” “Yes, sissy, over all of that, and don’t argue with me,” she snapped back. Michael managed to get his clothes on, visibly worried now, the smile was gone from his face completely.

“Hurry up Michelle,” Cecilia cooed, “we have places to go.” “Hunh?” was all that he could manage for a reply. Cecilia said, “That’s wasn’t a very ladylike response Michelle, now come along, hurry now” “Where are we going,” he asked her. “Out,” was her only response.

They walked out to her SUV and Cecilia helped Michael in and closed the door, then she ran around to the driver’s side and hopped in and took off. She got out on the interstate and told Michael to take his shirt and pants off and to throw them in the back seat.

Michael started to argue, but then he thought about the pictures she had just taken of him and realized that he didn’t have any choice in the matter. He took off the shirt and tossed it in the back, then slowly managed to take off his pants and toss them over his shoulder as well.

Cecilia looked over at him and said, “My my my, don’t we look like the proper little sissy boy tonight?” “I think it would be a shame if I were the only one to enjoy this, don’t you?” Michael’s stomach was filled with butterflies and it felt like his heart was in his throat as he answered and said, “Yeesss ma’am, it would be a shame.”

“I think I know the perfect place to show off my little sissy boy!” she laughed, “Just the place indeed!” Cecilia had already turned off the interstate and was headed towards the edge of town. Just before leaving the city, she pulled into a large truckstop and drove all the way back to the back where the trucks were parked for the night.

“Okay, get out!” she laughed, “let’s let everyone enjoy my little sissy boy!” He tried to talk her out of this, but she would have none of it. “I’ll be waiting at the fuel island for you,” she said, “and mind you, do not take those shoes off or you’ll ruin those pretty hose out here on this asphalt!” “Right down the middle too, I’ll be watching,” she told him, “now hurry up and get out sissy!”

Michael slowly managed to get out of the SUV and his heart sank when he closed the door as he heard her hit the power lock switch and he was out there, dressed in nothing but her underwear. But it was getting late, maybe no one would notice, he tried to tell himself this, and even as he was doing so, Cecilia started honking her horn as she slowly drove up to the fuel island.

To Michael’s horror, he saw the truck cabs start to rock as drivers got out of their bunks to see what the honking was about. Several turned on their headlights and Michael found himself in what amounted to a well lit modeling runway, and he was the only model. A few drivers even honked their air horns to make sure everyone was awake to see this show. Michael could see the drivers laughing at him as he struggled to keep his footing in the high heels he was wearing.

Michael felt something warm running down his leg and he realized that he was pissing all over himself, for some reason, that got his dick as hard as a rock as he kept moving, trying to get to the fuel island and back into the SUV. By the time he got back to the SUV, he could hear the drivers as they laughed at him and he begged Cecilia to let him back in. She was laughing uproariously as he climbed into the front seat and she said, “Next time, I will have my little sissy boy ask one of those nice truck drivers if he would like to have his dick sucked.”

Just hearing those words, Michael started to climax violently, his cum filling Cecilia’s panties and he was pretty sure he was in trouble, but he was also certain that this would not be his last time. Cecilia just laughed knowingly.

More later::The Perv

I know! You don’t have to tell me, or rub my nose in it. I’m an idiot. The sad part is, I know that a leopard doesn’t change its spots. You can not make a chipmunk into a lion. Why do I constantly try to do it? Even knowing what is going to be the outcome, I persist in trying to change things.

It was about 3 weeks ago. My wife and I were home alone on the weekend when I had the bright idea that we could go to the store and get her some sexy things to wear, and maybe that would inspire her to actually think about sex a little bit.

Off we go, now understand that she is all in favor of the idea at the time. We go and find some high heels to start the process, then we find her some real jeans, not the blue denim look stretch pants that she has called jeans for years. Well, what would a new outfit be without a blouse to go with it? Three hundred dollars later we end up back at the house.

I’ve told her many times that I do not, never have, and never will mind spending money on her to buy clothes, lingerie, shoes etc, as long as she will wear them for me. What can I say, I love to see my wife in sexy clothes. Well, she did put on a new set of clothes for me that day, and we both enjoyed it. I enjoyed being able to see my wife in something other than the baggy comfort wear that has been her basic uniform for years, she enjoyed the attentions I was paying her. She felt sexy, and it felt good, at least that is what she told me.

Now then, like I said, this was three weeks or so ago. Has she pulled out any of those clothes we had so much fun picking out? How many times has she put on a pair of heels, even if it was just to sit on the couch? You would not know that she had any new clothes, or that she even remembered how good it felt to have me complimenting her and telling her how sexy she was. If I hadn’t seen the credit card statement come in with the charges detailed on it, I wouldn’t know that we had been shopping.

Again, I sit here and wonder how stupid I can be to think that anything ever changes. I am guessing it will probably be another month before she even notices that I am a bit distant from her, and it will be like some sort of revelation to her when she does.

More later::The Perv