Thursday, 4 November 2010

The Electronic Eye

Virgil and I stay in bed all day on Monday. It is our sex anniversary and we are celebrating. The drugs are out, the toys are out. We are loving and fucking each other. I have cane marks on my thighs and bum.

We're in bed looking at porn on my laptop (straight porn) having previously been aroused and inspired by an intense whipping on The Training Of O. Mainstream porn rarely does anything for me. It's not that it's offensive: it's dull. Is anyone having a good time? Not the well-hung porn actors trying to push their semi-flaccid cocks into the holes of cooing porn actresses. 

All I can see is the process. I hope for the occasional porn blooper - an unguarded facial expression or something that suggests some kind of thought process, emotion or feeling between the participants.

Virgil suggests we look at the webcams. There are couples who will perform on demand. We peep at a dozen of them. We look at couples sitting on their beds, sometimes talking to each other, fiddling with their webcams, smoking cigarettes or just staring off, waiting for someone to come online for a 'live' encounter. 

Finally we see one we like the look of. They're young, pierced and tattooed. Good hair. We click the link and then we're on and they can see us too.

"Hi," she says. They're American. They smile and ask, "What would you like us to do?" 

I have no idea what I want them to do. I feel shy and wish I'd made a plan. 

Virgil says, "Play with him," and she starts to stroke her partner's cock and balls. He kneels and she bends her mouth to him. He starts to get hard. They're looking back at us and say, "Why don't you do it too? Let's see you." But we're juggling a laptop on a bed in a dimly lit room and that's not really going to work so we say, "Thanks, but we're going now," and break the link.  

And in case you're wondering (I would be) four minutes of live webcam cost $20. This is the first time I've paid for sexual services.

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