Dear Dirty Diary Ch. 04

The fourth scenario, titled, "Don't get your tit in a wringer!" pictured the frazzled woman, pulled off balance by the dog tugging on her tattered dress. After stumbling forward toward her old-fashioned washing machine, her hand accidentally hit the wringer switch. Her big pointy breast had been drawn into the rollers and her huge brilliant pink nipple was emerging out the other side!

The following pose, called, "Damaged goods!" and depicted the poor dear hanging up the ragged clothes she attempted to wash on a bathroom clothesline. Both her wringer-pinched nipple and her poor pussy were crisscrossed with band-aids. Her ripped and mud-stained polka dot dress hung beside her panties, still bearing faint grass stains on their seat and a blackish round stain ringing a puncture hole through their tattered crotch. Just as she attempted to hang up her holed nylon stockings, the dog trotted by, chewing away at the broken-off root stub and jerked her hand with his leash, causing her to clip a clothes pin onto her unscathed nipple!

The last scene, called, "Just desserts!" posed the heroine, soaking in her bathtub. Her hugely erect, beet red teats jutted out as her remarkable breasts floated, wet and shiny and her widely spread knees poked up out of the sudsy bath water. She smiled lustfully as she lathered up the gnarled old root stub, obviously intent upon a return engagement with her new found friend under more relaxing conditions. The dog sat forlornly, chained under the sink, looking quite upset about the clothespin clipped on his little penis!

I told Louise that after flipping through the reel, I felt all woozy in my head and warm in my pussy. For reasons I couldn't explain, I locked the door, stripped naked, then tried on my aunt's nylons and the silkiest, frilliest panties in her drawer. Lying on their bed, I slowly scanned through the reel over and over again, squeezing my little nipples and running my hand up and down my thighs, abdomen and crotch. At that moment, for the first time, I found that exquisite little bump just above my vulva that felt ever so good whenever I rubbed over it. I slid my hand down inside those billowy sheer panties and tickled that growing little bump until suddenly my whole lower body began to shake and convulse. I thought for sure I was having a seizure or something, especially after I found my vulva all wet and gooey. For months after, I fretted over what I'd done and have never told a soul until that day with Louise.

To my dismay, my daydreams began to center around those photographic adventures of that woman and on impulse I found myself shopping for my own filmy underwear and performing private little torture experiments on myself, getting to know all the most erotic secrets of my body. I lost my virginity to my hairbrush handle one sleepless night, shortly after and up until I married Doug, I couldn't survive even a day without poking anything that would fit into myself. Looking straight into Louise's eyes, I told her, "I guess I'm still searching for that old stump root in my mind!" I had a good understanding of sex well before I viewed that photo reel, but had never been told that penis-shaped objects might be just as good as the real thing, especially when combined with some silky lingerie. "Penises might be natural, but dildos are longer lasting and a lot less hassle!" I philosophized as I ended my story.

Louise immediately asked, "Weren't you concerned about the sadistic overtones of the photos?"

I told her that never entered my mind because they were merely a 1950's form of slapstick humor, sort of kike a sexy cartoon that obviously was grossly exaggerated. The woman never showed any expression of pain, only surprise with each new predicament, so I suppose my peculiar little passions originated from that realization. I asked Louise, while we were on this subject, where her passion for tying up her lovers originated.

She blushed vividly, then began, "When I was little and we lived in the Gaspe, near the New Brunswick border, we used to play Acadians and Scots. It was kind of a French Canadian version of Cowboys and Indians. I particularly enjoyed being an Acadian outcast taking revenge upon the Scottish immigrant settlers, who were pushing us off our land. The little Scottish girl a few doors away was my favorite target and I just loved capturing her, tying her up to a tree and poking her all over with my stiff little finger. I would then leave her crying and securely tied up after filling her underpants with lumps of dirt." Louise continued after a pause, "

A few years later, after we moved down to Phillipsburg Quebec, both of my parents had to work to keep our family fed. They couldn't afford a sitter for us after school so we were left alone to fend for ourselves. We could, however get U.S. programs on our little TV, but they were mostly cartoon or westerns in those days. My favorite show, "Annie Oakley" revolved around a tough young pioneer woman who could ride horse, shoot and lasso as well as any man. In the most memorable episode, Annie was chasing a thieving barroom-dancing girl, making her getaway on a stolen horse. Using her roping skills while galloping behind in hot pursuit, Annie threw her lasso over the femme fatale's upper body, cinched it tight, right across the girl's breasts, and then stopped abruptly. This yanked the stuntwoman off her horse so suddenly it caused her legs to shoot straight out and widely spread, wherein her skirt and crinolines blew up around her waist. She landed with a bone-jarring thud on her poor little bum, cushioned only by her frilly French underpants. Annie leapt off her horse with her rope in hand and hog-tied the dancehall girl just as slickly as a rodeo rider could."

"Like you, Laura, I remember the sequence almost in slow-motion and played it back through my mind many times since. To my adolescent mind, her breasts looked round and supple, squashed by the tight lasso. Her stocking covered legs, frilly panties and billowing petticoats seemed so flirty and exciting, but with those coarse ropes all wound around her upper body, hands and ankles, she looked just like a birthday present all tied up in ribbons and bows." she recollected. She told me her fascination grew stronger after peeking in her father's detective magazines. Apparently they often showed illustrations of women in torn clothing helplessly tied up by their captors, awaiting untold sexual tortures.

A wistful expression came to Louise as she continued, "My fascination finally became an obsession after finding a girly magazine of my older brother's when I was about fifteen. In it there were many glossy photos of models dressed in revealing lingerie, trussed and bound in erotic poses. Recently, a re-release of all those old Betty Page photos just whet my appetite even more."

As Louise walked me to the door, she handed me the sliced cucumber dish and suddenly blurted out, "So, do you think you'd like me to tie you up some time?" I answered with, "Ah, but of course Madame, as long as you're willing to indulge me in my little lingerie perversion while you're doing it."