I Just Can't Make Up My Mind Whether or Not to Do a Sex Tape

Say Hello to My Co-Stars

I just can't make up my mind whether or not to do a Sex Tape.

I've thought about it and thought about it, but I just haven't been able to decide. Both Tina and Jocelyn have been bugging me about it for weeks now, but I'm still not sure.

True, the sex among the three of us is nothing less than epic, and I guess it might be cool to demonstrate how a man my age can fully satisfy two smokin' hot twenty somethings. But are there really that many people around who would want to sit down and watch a full length video depicting an incessant swirl of sensual young female bodies writhing and convulsing in paroxysms of joy while having every conceivable part of themselves pleasured? 

By me.

I dunno.

So I asked my Uncle Ned and Aunt Phyllis for some advice; they've never steered me wrong.  Uncle Ned helped me pick out my first two wheeler and even built my car for the Pinewood Derby, and Auntie was always there for me when I was being bullied in Junior High School.   

Well, Uncle Ned was less than enamored of the idea of the sex tape because he felt if I later turned pro a relatively primitive sex video could be damaging to my career. Aunt Phyllis, however, was very enthusiastic about the concept and couldn't wait to tell all her friends at the Rose and Hydrangea Society. She's Past President of the local chapter, you know.

My co-workers were rather evenly split between those who thought the tape might prove a valuable sexual technique training tool and those who felt making it would require time and effort better spent on other activities.  My boss pointed out that if I were looking to broaden my interests or make new friends it would be more productive to take night school classes or do some volunteer work rather than to have repeated steaming hot sex with two bosomy young women.

Food for thought.

Yesterday I asked my rabbi if she believed the sex tape would be good for the Jews.  She said that no doubt it would, but she also asked if the two girls were Jewish, and I had to tell her that Tina was a Unitarian.  After some reflection the Rabbi said that if Tina would commit to some measure of Jewish education, she would yet wholeheartedly endorse the video.   I'm sure that will be no problem.

Ha, if I know Rabbi Debbie, Tina will be a real Yeshiva Bocher even before our next three-way!

But I'm still not certain. Call me old-fashioned, but for me a proper sex tape ought to feature at least one "C" List celebrity, orgasms in multiple languages, and no shortage of threshing equipment.  We are deficient in two out of the three essential categories.

Do you guys have any thoughts on this?  Would you want to watch two gorgeous girls with huge breasts in the throes of heated sexual passion for hours on end, or would you rather go to the Mall? What if we recruit David Hasselhoff to join us?

Or do you think he's less than a "C- Lister" anymore? 

Help me, folks!

Decisions, Decisions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fine Female Voices

If there's one thing we're not in short supply of in the information age, it's  fine female voices. Sweet and pleasant voices of the non-masculine persuasion are programmed into almost every electronic medium short of your toaster these days, and it's not difficult to see why.

Most of us straight guys --- whether married, single, or of "it's complicated" status  --- don't get to hear an alluring non-judgmental woman's voice anywhere near enough or for many of us, anywhere near at all. "You left the toilet seat up, you don't do anything to help me around here, and you better stop having sex with the neighbor" are much more often the auditory fare that greets the typical male ear in his daily existence.

Fortunately there are electronic women of no shape, size, or description other than oscillating sound waves to provide the solace and companionship most of us lack.

The most obvious of these women is Siri, the automatic assistant on Apple phones and tablets. Siri will pleasantly answer any question you can conceive, and I can conceive of quite a number of them just to hear her charming if robotic voice:

"Hey, Siri!"

"Hello, Perry."

She knows my name!  And says it so nicely. How many women anymore say my name without the word "Yuch!" following immediately thereafter?

"Siri, what won the Best Picture Academy Award in 1953?"

"That would be From Here to Eternity, Perry," she electronically coos. "Would you like me to read you a little bit about the movie including the names of the actors and inside dope on which ones hated each other?"

Isn't that wonderful?  Siri wants to do even more than I asked her to do. She wants to earn extra credit. Where do I meet a Siri in real life? 

I don't imagine there's any guy in the free world other than those who are psychologically normal who hasn't asked Siri at one time or other "Siri, are you hot?" 

Unfortunately her response is a clipped "I can't answer that."  Is it too damn much to expect Apple to program her to say "Yes, I am very hot and I want you to fuck me, Perry?!" 

Microsoft, take note.

At the supermarket, we encounter another fine female voice, the one who helps us check out our own groceries.

"Welcome to Kropotkin Markets!  We're so happy to see you here, press start, then begin scanning your items ...  ahh, plums, nice choice, juicy and good."

Gee, she's so pleasant! Maybe we could one day share a plum together. But then I start fumbling.  

"No, no, no, scan that one again, it didn't register! Please bag all your items promptly; you missed one there!  No, moron, you weigh that one, you don't scan it! Ohhhh, don't do anything else, wait for the attendant!"

I guess even the finest female voice in the supermarket has her limit when it comes to male shopper ineptitude.  But the longest term use of fine female voices has no doubt been on business phone answering systems. 

"Good morning,  this is the Rogers Company.  Although I am automated, I am very pretty."

That's a good start. 

"Press 1 for a menu of options, press 2 for a directory of company personnel, press 3 for a history of the company recited by Morgan Freeman, press 4 for a bunch of weird sounds made by tickling livestock .... press 26 for readings from the Torah, and press 27 for a history of linoleum. There is no way to reach a real person ever. Goodbye."

Fine female voices --- can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"To Gwen," A Facebook Tale

Like many of you, occasionally I find myself in the mood to seek out folks I've known in the past on Facebook and see if I can reconnect with them. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, and only occasionally do you wind up with a restraining order. 

I was in such a mood last Thursday, and one of the people I thought about was a girl named Gwen Grisbane who used to date a friend of mine, Bill Kirschbaum. I always thought she was kind of a cool person, so I decided to type her a brief friendly message and see if we could hook up again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi, Gwen,

This is Perry Block, remember me?  We were in a few classes together in college and for a while you dated a friend of mine, Bill Kirschbaum.

Well, how are you? I was looking up some old - I mean, former - friends and acquaintances on Facebook and you came to mind. I always thought you were kind of a cool person, and I usually enjoyed myself when I was around you, which I guess was not as often as I might have liked.

So, did you ever become an actress?  Bet you didn't know I saw you in every performance of every play you were ever in at school, including Mourning Becomes Annoying and The Glass Menage-a-Trois.  You were always the best actor on the stage, especially in the scenes in which there were no other actors on the stage. I still have all the play programs you signed for me at home. Under glass. 

Do you remember when we were in D.C. Balin's Shakespeare class together?  I always liked it when you sat near me and I could gaze freely at your flawless profile and full sensual lips. The day you read from Romeo and Juliet you took my breath away, and I didn't get it back until a couple of weeks later! 

I have some wonderful memories of you, Gwen. Remember when a bunch of us went to Atlantic City together one summer's day in 1970?  I can still see you emerging from the ocean that magical afternoon, your blond hair flashing in the sunlight and your dazzling blue eyes bedeviling everyone they beheld. The droplets of ocean water clung to your supple amber skin like an army of ardent lovers, caressing and adoring your every pore. 

You were like a Botticelli angel, Gwen! An angel with a warm caring nature, a knock-out sense of humor, and a heart as big as you made my penis every time I was around you!

Oh, my Gwen!  Can I finally call you "my Gwen?" I so longed to call you that during the cherished time I knew you, but had not the courage to speak! You were more beautiful than Cleopatra, Helen of Troy, and Scarlett Johansson combined, but combined as just one person, not three people stuck together with six arms and six legs and three vaginas.

I love you, Gwen!  Let me shout it to the rooftops, or at least to the aluminum siding, I'm not that good at shouting! I will spend the rest of my life doing nothing but striving to make you happy, showering you with love and devotion, and never letting your Netflix subscription lapse.

Till that moment that our lips meet and hearts beat as one, dearest Gwen!!!

Perry

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My destiny at last! I frantically began searching Gwen Grisbane's Facebook page for some news of my beloved - a picture, a history, a life that was waiting to be transformed by me, the one man who was born to love her! 

I found a post dated May 16, 2012. It read:

So delighted I have finally come out!  Misty and I are off for Tuscany and will not return. Nor will I return to Facebook. Goodbye.

Oh. Gee. I really wanted to hook up again with Gwen Grisbane.

She was kind of a cool person.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
   

Better Than He Imagined

This one is almost too easy ...

The date had gone far better than Perry had ever imagined it would.

"Hurry, help me out of this dress!"  Angela cried as they returned to her apartment.

Perry's nervous fingers trembled as he unzipped the back of her dress and fairly well ripped the garment from her body.

"Do it now! Please! Now!" she shouted.

Perry began rubbing and stroking,  ever striving toward full and total satisfaction.   

More!  More!!  Harder!!!  Harder!!!!!

Finally, he was spent. 

"Didja get the ketchup stain out?" called Angela from the next room.

"Yeah, kinda," Perry replied.  "Maybe you ought hang this thing outside now to dry."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

My first X-rated post for the Friday Fictioneers!  That is, X-rated as in X marks the spot where the ketchup stain used to be.

Wherever the stain was, the picture prompt is up above and the story's below, and this week I came in (poor word choice!) at a respectable 102 words, two above the prescribed limit. If you're ready to slip into something more comfortable for the other Friday Fictioneers, well, X marks the spot to find them here.

"More!  OMG!  Please More!"   Yep, more Flash Fiction next week.

The Break Up

I knew it was time. 

It had to end. I had to face it, and I had to act.

I called Carrie Bailey, the hot 32 year old woman I'd now known for two years,  and asked her to meet me in that favorite corner cafe we both loved so much.

"Perry, lunch was such a nice surprise," said Carrie.  "Is there something on your mind?"

"Dearest Carrie," I began nervously, 'I need to tell you something."

"Yes, Perry?" Carrie asked sympathetically.

"For quite some time now, I've ... umm, err ...  been having fantasies in which you and me have sex.  Wild passionate uninhibited sex. "

"Gosh, Perry," Carrie fumbled,  a bit embarrassed, "I'm ... I'm kind of flattered, I guess. But you don't have to tell me this."  

"Yes, I do, Carrie," I said.  "Because the thing is ....  I'm breaking up with your fantasy!" 

"I ... I  beg your pardon?" 

"I'm breaking up with your fantasy.  Thinking about sex with you just doesn't do it for me anymore."

"What?  Why?" 

"Well, frankly you're starting to look a little older to me.  I'm seeing wrinkles, you're not as fresh faced as you used to be, and honestly Carrie, you could afford to drop a few pounds."

"Wait a minute! Are you trying to tell me that ..."

"That's right:  It's not me, it's you."  

"But why don't you have me doing something new to you? I could give you one hell of a fantasy ...." 

"It's no use, you've done that!  You and me have done just about anything and everything, and still there's nothing happening down below!"

"I can't believe it!  You  can't mean it!"

"Carrie, I'm sorry but I have to break up with your fantasy."

"Well, I'm not accepting this fantasy breakup!  You call me here and tell me you're not going to fantasize sex with me anymore and I'm supposed to take it?!!  No way, mister!!!" 

"But, Carrie, be reasonable ..." 

"Are you fantasizing about someone else?  Who the hell is she, the bitch!  Are you thinking about boffing her right now?!!"

"That doesn't matter, Carrie, the thing is ...."

"How could you, you two-timing bastard?! Your fantasy breakup has ruined my life!!!"

For days after, Carrie was furious and wouldn't speak to me.  Then one day she showed up at my doorstep.

"Perry, there's only one answer," she said. "We need to have actual sex."

And we did.  And it was wonderful!

The only thing is, this last part didn't happen; it's my new Carrie Bailey fantasy.  And it works great!

Breaking up is hard to do. 

And fortunately for me and Fantasy Carrie Bailey, we didn't have to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fare thee well, Fantasy Carrie ...

If you liked this post, you might also like Like Sex for Chocolate, Pulling a Willard, and Directress of My Dreams.

If you hated this post, I hope your fantasy girlfriend dumps you and runs off with your fantasy best friend, and I hope he's me!
  

Pulling A Willard

   

   Perry, you're disgusting!

"Okay, Buddy.  Yeah, you!   

 "Who?  Me?" 

"Yeah, you in the third row!  Pull Over!" 

 "Pull over?" 

 "Sorry, poor choice of words!"

"What seems to be the problem, Officer?"

"I'm booking you on suspicion of Pulling a Willard."  

"That sounds like a poor choice of words too."

"No, no, that's actually the name of the statute." 

"But I haven't done anything!"

"You had your hand in your lap, sir, and you were bringing it up and down, up and down, up and down ...." 

 "I was eating popcorn!"

"Likely story!  A guy sitting in a movie theatre eating popcorn?!!  I wasn't born yesterday."

"It isn't even buttered."

"Just put down the box, sir, and step away from the popcorn!"   

"But, Officer, this isn't even that kind of movie!"

"I know.  March of the Penguins, indeed!  Don't expect any display of mercy from Morgan Freeman."

"Why did you single out me, Officer?" 

"Well, you're Perry Block.  We have a complete dossier on you starting with your earliest erotic fantasies about Miss Frances from Ding Dong School on NBC in 1953.   We know what you've been doing, Mr. Block."

"But everybody does that!"

"Yes, Mr. Block.  But some people also do other things."

"Well .... I've been lonely!"

"Now, don't make this hard, Mr. Block.  I want you to come right now!  Damn, a double poor choice of words!  

"I want my one call."

"To whom?  Some porno sex line, no doubt?" 

"No.  To my lawyer." 

"I hope he's a good one.  Pulling a Willard in this county can get you 4 to 6 in the slammer!   Crap, poor choice of words again! 

"Tell me something, Officer.  With all the serious problems we have that don't get addressed --- like the senseless tragedy in Colorado --- what kind of person thinks it's important to pass laws like Pulling a Willard and have you spend your valuable time enforcing them?"

"Why, whack-jobs, of course."

"Hey, know what, Officer?"

"What, Mr. Block?"

"That, for once, was a perfect choice of words!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~