Erica Scott: Life, Love and Spanking

Ruminations, opinionated observations, darkly humorous blathering and the occasional rant from an outspoken spanko and unapologetic attention wh–, um, hog.

Archive for the category “phone”

Kink in the time of Covid-19

Before I get to the subject of this post, an update on my friend with the virus. She is in the middle of Week #3. Still having fevers, still having O2 drops, and her exercise for the day is taking a shower. She has made two trips to the ER. However, her lungs are clear and unaffected, so the hope is that her body is simply exhausted and will rally after a time.

I remind you — she is fit, strong, and only 31 years old. You guys do not want this virus.

Anyway, enough of that.

In these days of social distancing and quarantining, if you’re a spanko and you’re fortunate enough to live with a spanking partner, more power to you. If you don’t… then as far as getting these needs met, you’re essentially screwed. No parties. No play dates. Not even small get-togethers, because even if you do have a limited gathering, you have to maintain distance. Anything tactile is off the table for now. Which cuts out… well, everything.

So what are people doing in efforts for some satisfaction? Seems you can do one of two things. You can either satisfy the physical craving and self-spank, or you can forgo the impact and focus on the head space part of things, by either FaceTiming/Zooming or talking on the phone. In other words, virtual scenes.

Sexy-girl-using-computer

Some people are blessed with wonderful imaginations. Their minds can take them into the deepest and darkest recesses, simulating what they desire. They can take a paddle to themselves while imagining that Mr. or Ms. Deliciously Toppy is doing it. Or they can use a visual on a screen or a voice on the phone and put themselves into the same head space they feel when it’s in person.

Sadly, I’m not one of those people.

I have tried self-spanking a few times. I figured if I could achieve sexual satisfaction by masturbating, I could scratch the spanking itch myself, right? Wrong. It is so not the same. First, it’s physically awkward, and very hard on the shoulder. I don’t need anymore shoulder issues after dealing with shoulder impingement syndrome all last year. Second, there is no way I can get the angle and speed and distance good enough to make a proper impact. And finally, perhaps most important, it makes me feel ridiculous. Not the feeling I’m going for.

So then we move onto the virtual stuff. Instantly, Zoom and FaceTime are out for me on my old computer. It doesn’t have a built-in mic, and my every effort to use an external mic has failed. For whatever reason, I get picture, but no audio. My tech practically took the thing apart and couldn’t figure out what was wrong. So until I get a new computer, that’s out. I suppose I could video chat on my phone, but the small screen is a hindrance.

So that leaves the phone. A disembodied voice + my imagination. Not something I’ve ever found fulfilling in the past. But in these times, needs must. We do what we can. We try things. We endeavor to broaden our horizons. Especially someone like me, whose horizons are admittedly rather narrow.

I was talking with a gentleman from Alt.com, a very interesting and bright man, good conversationalist, funny. He is local, but we had already determined that our kinks in person wouldn’t mesh properly. No one’s fault; it is what it is. However, since no one is doing anything in person right now anyway, he suggested we try a phone scene. He said he had a lot of experience weaving fantasy scenarios and all I would have to do is stay engaged and keep answering his questions, so he’d know in which direction to go (or not).

Because he was so articulate and seemed confident about his abilities, I thought, oh, what the hell. Go for it. Life is short, and fun is at a premium right now. It’s human contact, it’s kink, it’s exciting. Give it a shot.

So, last Monday, I called him at the time we’d designated, right on time. I had my cell plugged in so the battery wouldn’t die. Per his suggestion, I had water nearby and no TV or any other distractions on. We fell into easy conversation and the first hour or so was just vanilla get-to-know-you stuff.

Remember, I’m not a fan of the phone in general. I’d rather email or text people. About the only person I speak to regularly on the phone is John. That said… would you believe we were on the phone for six hours and twenty-seven minutes???

He was, as promised, very imaginative and there were no lags in the conversation. He needed a lot of feedback from me — whenever he said something or another, went in a particular direction, he’d ask me to rate how I liked it — a little, medium, a lot, extremely. Just saying “Yes” wasn’t enough. I can understand that; he had nothing else to read, not being able to see me, see my bodily reactions. A couple of times when the scenario went in a way I didn’t care for, he switched gears immediately without faltering. And he had a wonderful voice, deep and rich. A radio host voice. (And by the way, I saw his picture — he does not have a “face for radio,” as the saying goes. ­čśÇ He’s quite the attractive man.)

I let myself feel, and to the best of my ability, I tried to imagine. My body reacted. We took breaks, used the bathroom, drank water, checked in, etc. But the action was almost continuous. Without spelling out any details, we went to some dark places, darker than I usually go, but I felt safe doing so. I came four times. When I was starting to feel rather selfish, he finally did too. Then we talked for about another 45 minutes to an hour.

Something of note happened, toward the end. After my third intense orgasm, I started to cry.

“What are you thinking right now?” he asked. “What do you want?”

Without thinking about it, I blurted, “I wish you were here! I want to feel your hands on me, your arms around me. I need impact, I need physical contact, I need I need I need…” and I kept babbling on and crying. He was very kind, and in a few minutes I calmed back down.

But there it was. I. Need. The. Real. Thing.

This was fun, and he was lovely. He worked hard to give me some pleasure. I did have an intense emotional release, and some laughs and titillation. I don’t regret doing it at all; I’m glad I did. But I don’t think I’ll be doing it again. Hell, I’d love to talk with this man again. As friends. He’s fascinating. And so damned smart. But virtual doesn’t cut it for me. It was hard for me to give the constant verbal feedback; in person, it’s not as necessary. You have breathing, you have body reactions, you have skin color. A bottom can simply sink into the space of the scene, stop talking and just feel. Is it better than nothing at all? I suppose. But I experienced a kind of rebound.

When we got off the phone, I was delirious with tiredness. It was nearly 3:00 a.m. But I was also really hungry, and still a bit keyed up; I couldn’t just shut everything off. So I made myself something to eat, then answered a couple of emails. Then I even did a bit more work. By the time I went to sleep, it was 4:30.

I was very relaxed but exhausted the next day, and in a fog of unreality. I went through the motions of the day, worked, managed to work out, although I had to break the session in two because I hit a wall and had to stop and take a nap. I finally caught up with my sleep and by Wednesday I felt back to normal.

And extremely frustrated. The craving for play had come back with a vengeance and a ferocity.

Not his fault. Not mine either. It’s just the way it is. I need what I need, and all the facsimiles and simulations and fantasies and discussions and pictures painted with words just won’t cut it.

For those of you who have better imaginations than I do, I salute you and I envy you your ability to suspend disbelief and immerse yourself in what’s available to you. Me? I don’t know when the hell people will be able to play in person again safely, but until then, looks like I’m going to do without it.

I’m working. I’m healthy. John is well. I have a place to live and I can make rent. Life goes on, and this is not the end of the world.

It’s just kinda fucking frustrating.

Have a great weekend, y’all. Please be safe and take care.

Partially OT: Rumor has it…

So what’s trending in social media today, besides election crap ad nauseam and whatever the Kardashian/Jenner clan have been up to? Some are saying that hyper screaming-Mimi exercise guru Richard Simmons has been secretly transitioning into a woman. I really couldn’t care less one way or another, but every time I see this guy, I’m taken back to the 70s.

I’ve mentioned before┬áthat I knew him then… as a maitre d’. Yes, that’s right. When I was 14-15 years old, he was the host at an Italian/Continental restaurant/bar that one of my dad’s closest friends owned. We went there at least once a week, oftentimes more.

What was Mr. Simmons like back then? Exactly the same as he is now, except he wore long pants and a collared shirt. Same wild hair, same loud, pushy demeanor. I honestly don’t know how he got this job, or how he kept it. He was obnoxious. He’d butt into conversations, sit on the arm of the plush dining chairs and poke his nose into what we were eating. He once told me that I was too fat to be eating fettuccine Alfredo. (He was right, but it still wasn’t his place to say so.)

(If I’ve told this story before, forgive me. I’m old.) One time, I had ordered shrimp salad. I knew of the chef’s penchant for covering salads with black pepper, which I hate, so I specifically said, “No pepper, please.” When Richard brought me my salad, sure enough — tons of black pepper. So I asked him to take it back. “Oh, come on,” he snapped at me. I insisted, and he left in a huff. A few minutes later, he came back with a fresh salad, plunked it down in front of me so hard the lettuce jumped a little, and said, “Here you go, spoiled brat.”

Ha. I guess he got that part right. *snicker*

It was shortly after this job that he got interested in health and fitness (I guess that was partially due to watching a bunch of people consume platefuls of heart-attack food), opened his first gym, and the rest is history.

Just another little tidbit from my crazy past. In other, more on-topic news — Steve came over yesterday! Finally! He showed up at the door, announcing, “Hi, you called 1-800-SPANK-YOU?” I really, really needed this; I was one big ball of leftover tension from the day before. I had not yet learned out to work the navigation thingamajig on my new phone, and I had to drive someone unfamiliar. I Mapquested it, but the directions turned out to be vague and open for interpretation (and of course, I interpreted them the wrong way), and I got ridiculously, hopelessly lost, driving around and around, disoriented, pulling over, trying to figure out how to get directions on my phone, shooting texts, pulling back into traffic, getting lost again, pulling over again… UGH!! This is what happens when a Baby Boomer tries to be a Millennial! The good news? Steve showed me how to work Google Maps on my phone and get the spoken directions, so this won’t happen again. And oh, a lot of my tension is gone. ­čśÇ ┬áNo pictures this time, sorry. We were too busy making up for lost time.

I have lots of work (yay!), and I need to get to the gym, so I’m out of here. Happy Hump Day.

Friday odds and ends

Want a few search phrases? Sure you do.

ho do shoot for spanking films

Who are you calling a ho?? I suspect they meant to type “how,” but having “ho” lead them to me is perturbing.

erica scott spanking poverty

I don’t think anyone’s ever gone broke buying my videos…

gay jewish spanking

Um… so this person is looking for spankos who are not only Jewish, but Jewish and gay? Oy. Quite a niche there, my friend. Good luck to you. In order to find what you’re seeking, you’ll need gay-dar, J-dar AND spank-dar.

doctor spanking me mom

I’m not your mom, honey. So this isn’t my problem. Why are you complaining, anyway? Haven’t you heard that medical fantasies are a hot trend?

boys spanked to tears

OK. This is a perfectly legitimate search phrase. But how, exactly, would this phrase lead people to me?? What’s the thought process here? Not that search engines think, but still.

In other news — I did it. I got a new phone. I went to Verizon yesterday and spent about 15 minutes on my own, playing with the display phones, checking out the features. I did try out a few Motorola Droids, but I was definitely drawn to the Samsung S7. Not the Edge, though. John has that, and although it’s considered the cooler, hipper phone, it’s also more expensive and honestly, I don’t like that weird curved edge with the display extending into it. So I went with the basic. I fooled around with the touch screen a bit, and made a pleasant discovery. On the Samsung phones (didn’t see this feature on any other phone; maybe the iPhone does it too), you don’t have to go to a separate screen for symbols when you’re typing. Each letter has a corresponding symbol, so if you want the symbol, all you have to do is press the letter and hold it down.

Then I found a sales guy — he reminded me a lot of Stuart on The Big Bang Theory, kinda nerdy, but he was very nice and helpful. He showed me a bunch of stuff and helped me make my decision.

The┬áSamsung camera is superior to most of the other Androids. It will be nice to have a decent camera. The features are mind-boggling, and this is probably way more phone than I’ll ever need, but I did get an amazing deal on it because I was due for upgrades and there were promotions and so forth. My monthly bill did not go up, although now I’m on a plan with the lowest amount of data allowed. However, I barely use any now. I have all my music on an iPod, and I use my desktop to look at videos and so forth, so I can probably keep that cheapo plan. If that doesn’t work out, I can increase my data for $15 a month, no biggie. I already have unlimited calling and texting. And the $180 I paid yesterday got me the phone, the case, the protector, and the car charger. So I think I got a good deal.

Oh, and because everyone warned me, “Your stuff won’t transfer! They’ll tell you it will, but it won’t!”, I spent time downloading all my phone’s photos onto my desktop, and typing all my contacts into a Word document. I needn’t have bothered. Every single thing on my phone was transferred over cleanly, including photos, contacts, and even all my texts. It took a while; I was at Verizon for over two hours.

The first thing I figured out how to do when I got home was put up a picture of John and me as the wallpaper. Priorities, you know.

It’s Friday; off to John’s in a few hours. And guess what we get to do this weekend? Absolutely nothing!! No reunions. No dressing up. No putting on a face for a bunch of strangers. Ahhhhhhhhh. Oh, and we’ll make damn sure to go to a decent restaurant too. That new place we went to doesn’t have a Yelp page yet. When it does, I’ll have a few words for them. I think I’ll refrain from using John’s description, however. ­čÖé

And this Monday, I have another appointment with my chiropractor. Last time I was there, when he was helping me off the table, he held out his hand to me and said, “Come here, little girl.” I damn near died. Steve says I should toss out┬ásomething like, “You know, you’re awfully toppy,” and see what his reaction is. If he asks what “toppy” means, I can just cover it up by saying it’s just another term for “bossy,” or something along those lines. Mind you, I know this is all just fantasy territory. But it’s fun. ­čśÇ

Have a great weekend, y’all.

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