In the middle of a busy Saturday night, The Slave texts:
"Wanna hav fone sex? I bought rubber hood and gag, nipple clamps and poppers. And collar and lead :)"
Oh. They say that romance is dead.
I had two options:
a) Text back: "Hi. You're lovely, but this is a bit hard core for me."
b) Text back: "Cool. Put it all on and I'll phone you in 15 minutes." And then never call.
I'm pleased to say I took option a.
5 comments:
But surely he'd have got off more on option b?
Well, yes, you're completely right.
I just couldn't go through with it, though. There's only so long I can do my Barbra Woodhouse impression before it gets embarrassing.
You think phone sex is hardcore? Crikey, Skip - you've gone right down in my estimation ;)
Surely, buying all those props kind of misses the point of phone sex?
Dear I Love London,
I apologise - I should never use expressions like "hard core". Just as I should never wear tweed.
It wasn't the phone sex I was objecting to - although, it's never really been my thing.
It was more just the very idea of chatting merrily away, emptying the dishwasher while someone is chatting away to me through a hood. And it also doesn't bode well for if I ever met up with him - I mean, there's kinky silly fun and then there's trying to shag a man who's wearing most of the B&Q catalogue.
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