rynner2 said:
Oh, I don't know, I think that's what our spooks are supposed be doing, keeping tabs on potentially dodgy people and cosying up to them on the quiet. I can't see the benefit of exposing who, what and why our Secret Squirrels are working on. That's their job, leave them to it.
I also think that society needs to accept that many many people have "deviant" sexual urges and desires, at least as seen from the accepted norm. If this spy was a raving queen, liked locking himself in tricky bondage situations, and was also partial to a spot of cross-dressing, well, so what? Apart from himself, tragically, he wasn't hurting anyone. If the consensus was that he was a kinkster and died in a terrible act of misadventure, fine, let's just move on.
I've heard that some people actually don't service their Mrs exclusively in the Missionary position, and some even have
the lights on! So what? We all have different tastes and triggers, vive le difference.
If I am ever found dead in suspicious circumstances, I sincerely hope my family can simply accept the fact that I enjoy several, erm, "alternative pursuits" , and try to blot that out when they think of me. (Yeah, like that time I fainted in a very petite Domme's studio. How the hell she managed to brace my weight and push me high enough to release the restraints, I don't know, adreneline I guess. We both learned something that day!)
My family and friends ain't going to want to hear about my foibles, but fuck 'em, I don't particualrly want to know what pushes their buttons either. The thought of sleeping with one woman exclusively, in a marital bed, for 40 odd years of my life, makes me feel quite queasy. If they get hung up (cough) on trying to paint me as the sweet, innocent chap I might have once been 30 years ago, the REAL reasons behind my demise might be obscured or lost permanently.
Perhaps certain mysterious deaths and disappearances (like, oooh, that female chef that went missing a few years ago?) would be solved a lot quicker if families weren't in such denial about their loved ones liking their sex to be anything but vanilla.
I know some very "respectable" women who adore being ploughed by teams of rougharses like me, and I'm only too happy to help out. If I recognised one of their faces in an appeal for information, I'd be obliged to spill the beans (if only to the investigating officers rather than The Sun), but I may very well be in the minority. Someone with really crucial info might be stricken with Catholic guilt and keep quiet, which in fact may only amplify the shock/horror for the families, and also ramp up the excitement of the aforementioned Shitsheet, who would dutifully print every lurid detail under the guise of "news", when the truth finally did come out.
It has occurred to me on occasion that I know nothing about some of my intimate associates, other than a probably false first name...and what they really
really like to do for fun. It's quite a dampener to think that I have no concrete get-out if one of my little recreational soirees goes awfully wrong and I'm left in a strange place, cradling a dead person about whom I know nothing. Whilst dressed like, ahem, a rapist in black leather and a face mask. Yeah, I know, I know...but it floated her boat!
Erm, anyway, less of that, maybe we should concentrate on investigating so-called pillars of society with genuine, SERIOUSLY twisted sexual urges instead? (Or rather, their mates who haven't been buried at 45 degrees in their shellsuits yet, and are still roaming about).
Now, Escargot, talk to me about this vaccuum contraption...purely for, um, "research" purposes only...