It will take me a moment to get where this is going , but be patient as I promise it will all make sense eventually. I’m going to start by telling you that I’m a great fan of Woody Allen’s films, particularly his early ones, and in one of them, Sleeper, one of the scenarios is all too close to an aspect of my own life, something I have to deal with, almost on daily basis. In the film he has been deep frozen and comes alive at some time in the distant future where peoples’ day to day needs are largely served by technology. Circumstance making him go on the run, he disguises himself as a robot butler in an affluent household, and at a party one of his duties is to pass round a metal sphere to the guests who each hold it for a moment then give it back to him so he can hand it to the next guest. 
Some of you will have already guessed it. Yes, the ball’s function is similar to the “Orgasmatron” in Barbarella, that is, in this imaginary future , all the sexual arousal that anybody needs is pulsing from this sphere, and simply holding it for a moment is enough to get each person trembling with erotic satisfaction. About thirty seconds is as much exposure that any of the guests can cope with, but in his role as a robot, Woody Allen is not expected to feel anything and has to hold it for minutes at a time. The humour in the situation is watching him staggering from guest to guest, cross eyed with sexual over load and all the time trying not to give away that he is melting with lust. Now what has this got to do with me? A lot more than you might realise. Several times a week, for the sole purpose of lighting erotic fires in the loins of all you lovely but all too naughty people out there I am obliged to bring you stories of wicked wenches,
spanking sapphists,
naughty nuns,
juicy young men,
and provocative secretaries
leaving aside the sort of precocious schoolgirls who only exist in your over heated imaginations.
I have to conjure up erotic scenarios carefully designed to make you reach in your pants to still the weeping overload.
I have to trawl through page after page of erotica to find images of lustful girls whose sole purpose in life seems to be to stimulate and seduce anyone who comes within their orbit,
Most of whom end up being soundly spanked for dressing and behaving like sluts ,
and indeed who have actively brought on their punishment by their outlandish dress(or lack of it)
their provocative poses,
or their apparently throw away remarks,
each carefully chosen to leave you awash with fluid. And it doesn’t stop there. Most weeks to keep all you naughty girls happy I feel obliged to bring you a nice fat cock or two, so you can fantasise about what they might feel like in your girl’s soft lips,
or in your manipulating fingers,
lovely erect cocks stiff and quivering with the need to penetrate and erupt.
Yes, are you all getting the point now? What I’m saying is at I’m human too, not a robot, so all too vulnerable to getting aroused by this stuff. Spare a thought for me, driven to self stimulate by my own words or some accompanying illustration that is so delicious it drives out all other thoughts.
And it doesn’t simply stop with self pleasuring. More often than not, the need to live out some of these fantasies is too much for a young impressionable girl and I’m forced to pick up the phone on whichever accommodating man is likely to suit the particular need best. Yes, exactly! There’s some poor man out there who has to suffer as well, so spare a though for him too.
“Is that you Peter? Yes, it’s Elizabeth. You see I’ve been such a naughty girl, and I just thought that if you came round and punished me then……..”
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