Cooper’s made it to the big time! Sixty million dollars for a sex show for women.
As a grandfather who’s been around the block a few times, I want to know a few things. Does jism, cum, squirt, sperm, or whatever euphemism you want to call the stuff that comes out a guy’s penis urine hole sting your eyes? Does it lose its salty flavor on the bedpost overnight? That’s an old song by Lonnie Donegan that most of you women won’t recall. Oh wait. That’s “chewing gum,” ain’t it?
At any rate, there are comparisons to the “real world” I’d like to make about this Call Her Daddy video/podcast. Please take this as an old academic’s words to the wise. I see you’ve attended some college, so perhaps you can dig it, even from a granddaddy.
- Why do women need a machine to get off? Do we need machines to do everything these days, including bypassing the erotic brain?
- Are most sugar daddies so steeped in techno and Wall Street babble that you need to have a podcast to get a woman “up for his game” because he’s so fucking illiterate and doesn’t enjoy talking about anything really arousing other than himself?
- If you were 85 would your program lose any viewers?
- Does erotic poetry reading count as much as a good vibrator? I know a lot of really, really, really great female/male poets that can turn men/women on.
- Did Dr. Ruth die? She used to talk about erotic stuff that didn’t require machines.
That’s only a “taste,” my dear, of how much deeper one can dive into the psyche (male or female), and it’s all considered foreplay. Comedian Richard Pryor used to say that the only “sex toys” he had were a rubber duck and a bar of soap. The rest was his sense of humor and growing up in a whore house!
Say, can you do a show on whore houses? And what they do for clients to please them. No? Why? Oh. Because men are too fucking strange with their “tastes” for women to enjoy hearing? I see. Makes sense. No wonder you have those vibrators.
Okay, then talk about yourselves some more and how to please your body with a vibrator and get rich old guys off by getting squirted in the eyes and smiling about it. Or, showing it on your tongue.
Do Sugar Daddies read D. H. Lawrence or Anne Rice? Nope? Do you? Even old Dracula (or Dragula) could do in a sexy pinch.
Not a literary show? Sorry. I didn’t know that.
One suggestion: talk to your mate and tell him/her/they what you enjoy doing and then do it! But carefully supervise.
Enjoy your sixty million, Ms. Cooper. I suppose you’re earning it because Spotify’s paying it out.
Here’s a poem by my friend Lillian Hoagland in Norway. Very erotic:
WHAT IS LEFT UNSAID
I have a book of unsaid words.
I look at it every night, when the silver moon shines, and the beams melt your signature in the new snow.
The shadows of the winter forest attempt to trap two souls that are one. It hurts so much.
The unknown voice sings to me from the stars above, and I hear the angels’ sweetly sad cry because it must be love.
A sad love
I gape into your ocean blue eyes, and I read what lies beneath these eyes.
I touch your jaws with my tongue and read every line in this face. These lines tell me your hidden needs.
I melt my desire on your red lips, and they entrance my mind, which turns your wounds into emotions you’ve never felt before.
You are the luscious painting from my artistic eyes. My butterfly fingertips play upon a blank canvas to express the wild flight of chaotic twirls inside my head and a glowing wildfire within my heart.
I catch my thoughts and let them flow. Perhaps you notice my small gesture, as I move my lips like twin waves across your oceanic gem.
I have a book of unsaid words …