 Hello, I’m James Taylor, and welcome to Afternoon Delight—the show that’s all about you and your sex-fetish inquiries. As you know, each week I’m joined by a guest host, selected from an endless pool of talented 1970s singer songwriters, and together we do our best to address your fetishistic concerns. Whether your gag ball got stuck somewhere it didn’t belong or you’re just looking for an inside line on a pair of assless chaps, we can help.
My co-host will join us in a minute, but first let’s take a caller:
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Caller: Hi, James. Big fan. It’s an honor. O.K. Here’s my question: My wife and I have been married for 25 years and enjoy a good amount of role play. But last week, during a hot wax nipple session, she distinctly ignored my safe word. Since then, I just haven’t felt safe being submissive. Am I wrong? And, Oh! My safe word is “Sweet Baby James.” You rule!
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Well, thank you, caller. I always love to hear when my music has found a place into the hearts of lovers and their dirty sex play. Let me say that ignoring a submissive’s safe word is never cool. I remember once in ’77, I was backstage at a Cat Stevens concert with a groupie and my favorite vaginal speculum. I was just about to increase the dilation a click, when she cried out, “Banapple Gas!” But I didn’t stop. I thought she was shouting out a song request for Cat. You see, by a horrible coincidence “Banapple Gas” was also her safe word, and I’d forgotten. Which is understandable because I was mainlining heroin at the time. Anyway, not long after, Cat rode the “Peace Train” out for an encore, and all was forgiven. But that doesn’t change what I did. Safe words are sacred, man. You keep your nipples to yourself until you get that straight with your lady.
O.K., let’s take another call:
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Caller: Hi, James. I’m 42 years old, and throughout my life only two things have gotten me off: the smooth and insightful music of singer-songwriters from the 70s and infantilism. I found a lady who loves me and who has no problem changing my diaper, but she can’t stand my music collection. Godley & Creme, Seals & Crofts, Loggins & Messina. She hates it all, and, somehow, sitting in my own diapered filth just isn’t satisfying unless I can listen to Leo Sayer’s “When I Need Love” at the same time. You know what I mean? Any ideas?
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O.K. Tough question. I think this might be a good time to bring out this week’s co-host. You might know him best for penning the theme song to The Golden Girls, but before that, he had a massive hit in 1976 with “Lonely Boy.” Please welcome talented singer-songwriter and deviant sex enthusiast, Andrew Gold. Andrew, think you can help our caller?
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Thanks, James. I think I can. Y’know back in the early 70s, I was quite the infantilism fan. Diaper changes, spankings, nursing, the whole nine yards. But I simply couldn’t afford my fetish. Despondent and alone, I wrote “Lonely Boy.” Suddenly, I was a success and I had the cash to feed my habit. I spent most of ’77 soiled and erect. But y’know what, man? That’s not where it’s at. I needed a partner. Someone who would grow with me as a person and as a pervert. I was very lucky to find that someone in ’78 and she stayed with me through the infantilism, into my C.B.T. period, and she’s still with me now as we explore mummification. I wrote “Thank You for Being a Friend” for this special lady, and I can tell you there’s nothing more important in this crazy world than finding a spiritual partner who can share your love and occasionally sodomize you. But no 1970s tunes? That’s a dealbreaker, man. I don’t even want to think about trying to achieve orgasm without “Summer Breeze” playing in the background. Stay strong, man. You’ll find the lady that’s right for you.
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All right. Good advice. I think we have time for one more call here at Afternoon Delight. Caller, are you there?
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Caller: Hey there, J.T. Longtime fan. First-time caller.
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First-time caller my ass! I’d recognize that rugged yet sensitive voice anywhere! Ladies and Gentleman, on the phone I believe we have consummate singer-songwriter and last week’s co-host, Jackson Browne. Jackson, is that you?
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Ya got me, James! It’s me, but I do have a question. Remember back in ’79 after the No Nukes show? We went down to a place in the Village, and I found that domina who actually agreed to do that thing with that thing? —You and Carly were doing your “monogamy experiment” at the time so you didn’t watch, but my question is, do you still have that domina’s number?
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Remember? Of course, I do. We played our blend of introspective acoustic emotion in the aftermath of Three Mile Island, and helped stop the proliferation of nuclear power, man. And then you got violated in ways that I still can’t fully comprehend. That was a special time. But no luck, Jackson. Carly picked up a diamond-encrusted designer paddle in SoHo that night so details are still kind of a blur. I don’t have the number.
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I have it, Jackson. I’ll hook you up offline.
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Great. Another happy customer. Well, that about rounds out our show. I want to thank my callers and my co-host, and I hope to see you next week. And remember, when it comes to finding someone to give the best advice and information on the dark and deviant, you’ve got a friend here at Afternoon Delight. |
