Man Question Three

did you check out black rock boutique at all for cool costumes? – annie

We stood in line for about half an hour, first in the hot sun and then in the shade under pole-mounted batik prints, while a man with a paddle asked for virgins (first-timers) and took them out of line and spanked them. His paddle had a black sparkly no-slip coating for that extra sting against a bare bottom.

He was very gentle. “One through ten?”

“Um, three,” said a girl in red hot pants. She took them down and he whacked her and she squealed, and her friends made fun of the momentary delight that crossed her face. She turned the other cheek. A boy in his twenties took it at six. After awhile I was ashamed of hiding my virginity and rose my hand. I said give me a seven and bared my bottom. It wasn’t so bad so I said for the other side, eight.

“Did it hurt?” he asked.

“Yes!” I said, with a smile. If that was an eight, it’s have to be about a twelve before I’d mind. I then volunteered my wife, who took a seven both sides. She too didn’t flinch, and let the red skin glow. Couple with steel buns, he called us.

Eventually we were let into the boutique by the door guard, a very nice tall man with his blonde hair tied into little green-dyed knots. It was a small pavilion tent with carpets spread over most of the dusty ground and four or five thoroughly disorganized clothes racks hung with random cast-offs. I was looking for a vest but settled for an old blue silk shirt and borrowed some scissors to take off the sleeves. Also found a pair of string-tie shorts which I later scissor-modified by slicing the legs into strips until the length was just barely decent – in fact, once hitched over a bicycle seat, they weren’t nearly long enough, but a little extra exposure to the sun never hurt anyone. Besides, it was damn comfortable. La Miz discovered a thing or two as well, and we departed dancing down the exit runway.

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Jodie's question was a challenge and I haven't had time to give it worthy attention, but wanted to get the above out meanwhile. The Experience was very rich -- yet life continues on and the past is washing away, as it always does. Maybe it's just me, but life's experiences are generally written into beach sand and if I can't make the time to focus and write about them, the waves of the day to day wash them away. However, some things can never be forgotten, and when I can make time, I hope to share some of them with those who are interested. Pictures would have helped. When my fellow campers get some posted that are of relevance to my experience, I may grab 'em.