MIND GAMES...

Continued from yesterday:

...This one was really into mind games. Carnally, it was always fantasy-time. Latin looking, gracefully-lashed, almond shaped eyes, the twenty-something had the physical allure of a da Vinci painting, the creamiest of skin tones, and a full and perfect-sized penis. He was a watcher, nevertheless. Usually under the influence of an unknown substance. So I just lay down and opened my legs very gradually, which is the way he liked them opened. I won't tell you what I did then. But an effect is the measure of its cause. It had the most uplifting result. I have never actually known his full name, and believed him to be who he claimed to be, attached to the Solicitor-General’s Department. My sexual promiscuity wasn't of much interest to him, my virginity was.


We call that versatile in the business...


And here's a picture you never expected to see.








“How do you feel about being sodomized.” I hear you ask.


My lips are sealed. Frankly, I didn’t figure out what he was doing until it was over. Thankfully, the dosh was worth it. I think premature ejaculation got to him first. Lucky, in a way. It might have been a bit embarrassing if he’d set me on fire. It might have made me look as if I were actually enjoying all that nonsense, which I definitely did not.


Besides, I never said I was the Mother Theresa. It is burdensome to be considered perfect. Pussy is as pussy does. Or in the words of the author, who so eloquently described me - and I wish I was at liberty to disclose the link: “Selena Dreamy has all the connotations of romantic femininity, and particularly of its association with one predominant type. The type that looks perfectly at home in a late-night bar, but is naturally removed from the tedium of domestic life. The sort of female, in other words, all enlightened men dream about: sensual, sultry, seductive, enigmatic, loving, stimulating and yet, compassionate and undemanding.”


Now, how cool is that?


Driving home, I managed 110mph anti-clockwise on the M25, blowing off the Solicitor General’s life-style troopers at about Junction 23. My mother always assumes I am staying with Richard. She will say so in court!

Interestingly, Vera Baird, the Solicitor General, “praised local papers for identifying men who have been convicted of using prostitutes...”


...So will I get a commendation for identifying the head of an international financial conglomerate who asked me to do an after-dinner lap-dance for the executive board? You will not have heard of him. He's not a footballer. We sup together once or twice a year, to give him a chance to sodomize me.


It is in fact essential that the Vera Baird, the Solicitor General has some advice in these matters. Indeed, to judge by past form, supporters of radical change will be severely disenchanted. For even though no sentiment is more firmly rooted in the English national character than a distrust of sex, the habit possessed by eminent Englishmen of specifically indulging in paid for fornication, is an inevitable derivative of British cultural history, notorious in its time for sodomy, flogging and fagging. To which characteristics certain eccentric personalities would add a strong taste for flashing and bondage, of which Ms Baird, may take a less disruptive view, though few of them would be expressing delight if sodomy was not included. Nor does the original sado-mitic mix get any the less pleasurable or entertaining with frequent repetition. And if you do happen to be a member of parliament, let me inform you that any expense less than £ 250 does not require a receipt. Besides, you can always acquire one of Miss Dreamy’s more expensive services and recoup the cost through a series of claims for less than the £ 250 threshold. But I guess, you know that already.


All offers gratefully received (Silky panties by request).


Dreamy xxx


P.S. Clinton? I never saw or heard from him again - but I did get the clap!