Amorous Goods & The Dirty Duchess

I watched until she finished. I would have signed away my house to watch her finish. Luckily I didn't have a house.

"It makes a great front page," I told her.

"Wait til you see what's inside," she wrote back.

*

Tom Wolfe wrote about hanging out with the Hell's Angels and LSD cultists and so on during the late 1950s and early 1960s.

When Wolfe wrote about the Angels gang-banging a girl at a party, he pretended he did not know who she was and suggested she was so out of it that she did not know what she was doing.

Now, he regrets his censorship, he told the Daily Telegraph couple of years ago.

He said: "She was the former wife of Neal Cassady, Luanne Henderson. And the Angels also brought in Cassady, who was high as always, and they got him to have a go at her too. It turned out later that she wanted to be identified in the scene, and that this was completely voluntary on her part. But I wrote it as if I didn't know their identity, which really was a shortcoming of mine. That's public relations and you can't play public relations. You really just have to tell the truth."

So the truth is, back in the 1950s, there were girls looking for dirty sex, wanting to be used as a fuck toy. And there were men who liked to watch their women do it.

She was no skank either, Luanne. She was a girl who knew she was glamorous and loved it.

Around the time I read that, I also came across some reviews of Future Sex, a documentary book by Emily Witt, a journalist who found herself single in her 30s and went exploring for sex using the new hook-up apps.

At some point, she watches a girl being used like Luanne was, for a porn film, and admits it turned her on. Afterwards, she asks the girl if she got any moments of real pleasure out of it and the girl says: "Oh god, yeah. All of it."

Some snot in one of the posh papers told Miss Witt off for taking this "at face value". But why not?

"Group sex is an exciting idea for a woman," Rosie told me. "Cock coming at you from all directions, darling, from men you have deliberately turned into animals. And a bit of pussy in the mix adds to the scents, the sensations, the possibilities. Who wouldn't want to try it at least once?"

*

Suddenly, one act after another was a sensation. The clothes fitted like skin. The bodies in them glowed. And the scripts were porno poetry.

I now realise that Rosie and her chosen girls were getting hold of clothes and props which had some sort of magic in them.

Veronica Lavingham made a darkly beautiful film about trying on something inspired by the idea of a chastity belt, only it was about the opposite of chastity. It was a decoration, a tease, an invitation, constructed by an artist from pewter and jet and gold chains .

"It's beautiful," she cooed, lifting it from the dummy where it hung. And when she put it on, she shimmered like it did.

"I can tighten it to a perfect fit," she explained, sliding some tiny catches. "So there's a jewel against my ass and another one nudging my pussy, so I can push against them any way I want. You couldn't get a cock past them. But ..."

She gasped.

"You could just get in to tip the velvet with a tongue. "

*

Fenella Fetish was a biker girl , all tattoos and lean muscle, who built her own fucking machines and fitted them all with a kind of stuffed leather dildo which I now recognise as aprobably nother Amorous Goods product. When she got it in her, glistening with machine oil, she opened like a flower and talked a torrent of filth while she tortured her little titties and said Watch Me a hundred ways as she got into rhythm with the clank and squelch of that tireless prick.

The Fuck Sisters ... well, read A Scene From Rumpleton Manor, elsewhere on this site.

*

Looking back, you can trace it all building. Sex Lies & Videotape (1989). The Calendar Girls (2000). Video streaming that really worked, starting for most of us about 2012. Naked Attraction, 2016. Sex Education, 2019. Villanelle in Killing Eve. Zoom ... Rumpleton Manor. And somewhere in the background, all the time, it seems, the ever-spreading influence of Amorous Goods. Since I found out how our paths have been crossing, I am not sure I know, any more, what is real and what is magic. But then, in cyberspace, it does not matter much, I suppose.

However, I am sure that some very powerful people are suddenly really trying to find the real me. So it has to be bye bye for now.

ENDSIT