Friday, January 30, 2004
Call girls
I sent Dale the url to Belle de Jour's blog and he said that it was very entertaining. I voiced out my interest in becoming a call girl. He laughed, saying I wouldn't enjoy it as it would turn out to be work and not fun. Well, I said, if I could have fun and get good money for having fun, that wouldn't be too bad at all. He laughed again. He cited this line from Belle de Jour, saying that call girls were paid as much to leave as they were to show up. That got me thinking.
We talked about the movie, "The Full Monty," and I learned a few things about Sheffield and the local colloquialisms. Like, what a daft bugger was. Then he mentioned that he'd seen posters of the group, The Chip & Dales, around the city. They were probably coming over. He suggested that my girlfriends and I get tickets to the show, for laughs. I said I didn't see the point. I mean, why pay that much money to watch guys take off their clothes and in the end, I can't even get one of them to come home with me? Now, if they were to pay me to watch them, that would make a lot more sense. He laughed at my logic.
Back to this getting-paid-to-leave bit. I realize now that it's money that justifies this wham-bam-thank-you-ma'm approach to sex. I've had that a lot, with Patrick and these other guys. It always left me cold. If I were a prostitute, I'd have to accept that. But as I'm not, it always confused me. Of course, these dickheads were only in it for the sex. They weren't looking for a relationship. But that they didn't even want to know the person they were fucking is a bit too strange for me. Dale calls it mutual masturbation. For these dickheads, it's the fantasy that matters.
I've always wanted to know the guy I was with. Not because I'd want to see him again, but because he is a person, not a thing like a vibrator.
Speaking of vibrators, Dale says he's going to get me this butterfly vibrator that I can wear over my clit, with a strap around the waist. The thing he likes about it is that it comes with a remote control, so we can be sitting there having dinner and he can turn it on and watch me melt in my seat, wetting my panties. He is mean. I'd rather he get me a huge, black dildo that he can ram in my cunt right after he's made me explode cum all over the sheets.
We talked about the movie, "The Full Monty," and I learned a few things about Sheffield and the local colloquialisms. Like, what a daft bugger was. Then he mentioned that he'd seen posters of the group, The Chip & Dales, around the city. They were probably coming over. He suggested that my girlfriends and I get tickets to the show, for laughs. I said I didn't see the point. I mean, why pay that much money to watch guys take off their clothes and in the end, I can't even get one of them to come home with me? Now, if they were to pay me to watch them, that would make a lot more sense. He laughed at my logic.
Back to this getting-paid-to-leave bit. I realize now that it's money that justifies this wham-bam-thank-you-ma'm approach to sex. I've had that a lot, with Patrick and these other guys. It always left me cold. If I were a prostitute, I'd have to accept that. But as I'm not, it always confused me. Of course, these dickheads were only in it for the sex. They weren't looking for a relationship. But that they didn't even want to know the person they were fucking is a bit too strange for me. Dale calls it mutual masturbation. For these dickheads, it's the fantasy that matters.
I've always wanted to know the guy I was with. Not because I'd want to see him again, but because he is a person, not a thing like a vibrator.
Speaking of vibrators, Dale says he's going to get me this butterfly vibrator that I can wear over my clit, with a strap around the waist. The thing he likes about it is that it comes with a remote control, so we can be sitting there having dinner and he can turn it on and watch me melt in my seat, wetting my panties. He is mean. I'd rather he get me a huge, black dildo that he can ram in my cunt right after he's made me explode cum all over the sheets.
Tuesday, January 27, 2004
Is it porn?
I was just wondering if I had a readership and found a comment to an earlier post. The guy (yes! a guy) stated that he got a hard-on reading that post. I replied that I didn't exactly know how to react.
I suppose I should be flattered that a few paragraphs from me gave a guy a hard-on. But is it porn?
Is it?
I suppose I should be flattered that a few paragraphs from me gave a guy a hard-on. But is it porn?
Is it?
New name
I just thought that a journal should reflect what it contains, and what purpose it serves. It's a basic principle in marketing, really: tell the world what you're selling. People won't buy if they don't know what's for sale. In the same manner, people won't show interest if they don't understand.
So does this mean that I'm writing for a readership? Sure. This is not just a journal anymore. It's a publication.
Interesting.
Of course, I don't really know if I do, indeed, have a readership. But, what the hell. It's a start.
I've always loved to see words form on a blank sheet. Or screen. Or any space in between paragraphs. I've always written for me, never for anyone else. So this acknowledgment of a readership is a new thing.
Anyway. Before I bleed this issue to death...
Charles & Pia
I spent the night with Charles and his girlfriend, Pia, last night. (See entry of 3 November, 2003.) It wasn't for a threesome as Charles informed me early on that Pia jsut wanted to watch. Anyway. It was a disaster. I'll write about that later. It's just too much to handle right now.
What I want to say, though, is that they know Alex/Felix and Peter. It was probably Pia who got Charles into the group.
Small town.
I hate that woman. She's a silly little tart. That is all I want to say right now.
So does this mean that I'm writing for a readership? Sure. This is not just a journal anymore. It's a publication.
Interesting.
Of course, I don't really know if I do, indeed, have a readership. But, what the hell. It's a start.
I've always loved to see words form on a blank sheet. Or screen. Or any space in between paragraphs. I've always written for me, never for anyone else. So this acknowledgment of a readership is a new thing.
Anyway. Before I bleed this issue to death...
Charles & Pia
I spent the night with Charles and his girlfriend, Pia, last night. (See entry of 3 November, 2003.) It wasn't for a threesome as Charles informed me early on that Pia jsut wanted to watch. Anyway. It was a disaster. I'll write about that later. It's just too much to handle right now.
What I want to say, though, is that they know Alex/Felix and Peter. It was probably Pia who got Charles into the group.
Small town.
I hate that woman. She's a silly little tart. That is all I want to say right now.
Saturday, January 24, 2004
Patrick
Met up with Patrick last night. I was supposed to go home early so I can get some rest for the exam today, but got to bed around 2 in the morning. Brought Pat home to my place and had an hour rolling around in bed. It wasn't that good, but it was definitely better than the first time. This time, he asked me to kiss him with an open mouth and eat his mouth. He also wanted to see me play with myself. The first request I complied with, but not the second one. No one plays with me except my Dale, not even myself.
Pat was exciting. He tore at my hair and grabbed my tits, sucking on my nipples. I sucked on his dick for a long time. He was so yummy -- hard, hot and huge. He felt good in me. After weeks of just finger-fucking, even if it was by Dale, pure and simple penetration felt really good. I had a small orgasm, enough to wet the sheets a bit. Nothing earth-shattering, but it was better than the last time.
He expressed interest in joining Art and Ana with me, who I'll be seeing tonight, after my exam. Let's see what they'll say to Patrick.
Patrick (pumping): Is Art's dick as big as mine?
Me (dreamily): Huh-unng?...Oh, no...
Patrick (still pumping): Maybe you can ask them if they want to have me with you.
Me (relishing every entry): Okay, baby...*gasp*...I'll ask...
Pat was exciting. He tore at my hair and grabbed my tits, sucking on my nipples. I sucked on his dick for a long time. He was so yummy -- hard, hot and huge. He felt good in me. After weeks of just finger-fucking, even if it was by Dale, pure and simple penetration felt really good. I had a small orgasm, enough to wet the sheets a bit. Nothing earth-shattering, but it was better than the last time.
He expressed interest in joining Art and Ana with me, who I'll be seeing tonight, after my exam. Let's see what they'll say to Patrick.
Patrick (pumping): Is Art's dick as big as mine?
Me (dreamily): Huh-unng?...Oh, no...
Patrick (still pumping): Maybe you can ask them if they want to have me with you.
Me (relishing every entry): Okay, baby...*gasp*...I'll ask...
Thursday, January 22, 2004
Going for the record & breaking it
A coupla days ago, I met with this 43-year-old Frenchman, Greg. He has his own management consultancy here. Very courteous, mellow, very French in speech and mannerisms. I liked what I saw so I agreed to accompany him back to his place. He had a lot of books and music cds. He had very nice hands. But he had a small dick that couldn't get hard enough. We were only half an hour at it. I didn't even cum. He came too soon. Then he asked me if I wanted to shower. I asked if he was trying to get rid of me and he shrugged, "Just asking if you wanted to shower."
"So what time you want me out of here?"
"After you shower?"
Aah. Amusing. I take a shower and he walks me back to my car, with the cd of Justin Timberlake he had given me. My thoughts on whether the intelligent conversation was worth my seeing him again were broken by his pulling out a wad of bills from his pocket.
"What the fuck is that?" I exclaim with much passion.
"Chinese New Year..." he shrugs.
I am horrified, thrust the cd into his hands and walk away in the middle of his lame apologies. I was trembling with rage and humiliation as I pull out of the parking lot. He sent me a text message apologizing but I let it go. Chalk up one more in his list of karmic debts. I hope he never finds happiness in all his lifetimes.
Dale
Met my sweet Biker Boy the evening after, (only last night!) thank goodness. While waiting for him at the mall, I received a text message from him, the first line going: "I don't think I can make it to the motel..." and I had to scroll down to read the rest of it. But right there, my heart blanked out as I thought he was cancelling on me. It was like a sudden power outage, unannounced, casting my entire universe in darkness.
"...I'm so horny I'll just have to rape you in the car!!!" he continued.
What a beast! I replied with: "Ur such a fuckng animal! I thot u wer cancelng! Get ur fuckng ass down here! NOW!!"
And horny, he was! And so was I. I've learned to tell Dale my fantasies and he'd whisper these scenarios in my ear while he finger-fucked me. It made for really gratifying sex and superlatively explosive cums. I must have cum at least 15 times. At the very least.
One scenario involved a group of five men with huge hard cocks just scrambling to fuck me in the cunt and up my ass and in my mouth. I loved that. Then he'd have several women lining up to have me lick their pussy. He loved that. I proposed a new scene: me being fucked on a motorbike. He lost no time in having me tied onto one with a big black guy shoving his huge, hard cock in my pussy and fucking my brains out. He is followed by the rest of his biker buddies who line up to fuck the slut tied onto the bike.
Gad, but I was squirting cum like there was no tomorrow. I was so stimulated, I even came standing up. The cum just fell out of me. It didn't drip, it FELL -- in big, heavy drops from my pussy as I stood there, with Dale finger-fucking me from behind. As Dale handed me a bottle of water, he joked that I could get dehydrated if I didn't slow down. I said I'd probably die of over-cumming, and expressed my fear that he was probably trying to slowly kill me that way.
As Dale was driving me back to my car some three hours later, I complained of this pain in my lower abdomen, just right above my pussy mound. Dale said it was probably because I'd cum so much, I'd depleted my cum glands.
That was the most gratifying sex I've had so far, with anyone, even Dale. I asked him if he'd ever had anyone cum that way and that much before, and he said, No. On the phone with him this morning, we were comparing notes on how we were feeling so mellow. I was weak, so much so that I couldn't even make a fist. He laughed at that, saying that he will be in such a most genial mood that whole day, nothing could ruin anything for him.
But the sweetest thing was, driving home last night, I received a call from him. He'd never done that before. This time, he gave me a call, and he sounded like he was at a loss for words. He then bade me goodnight, told me to drive safely and that he'd call me first thing in the morning. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him but I ended calling him, Darling, instead. I hope he understood. I think he did.
"So what time you want me out of here?"
"After you shower?"
Aah. Amusing. I take a shower and he walks me back to my car, with the cd of Justin Timberlake he had given me. My thoughts on whether the intelligent conversation was worth my seeing him again were broken by his pulling out a wad of bills from his pocket.
"What the fuck is that?" I exclaim with much passion.
"Chinese New Year..." he shrugs.
I am horrified, thrust the cd into his hands and walk away in the middle of his lame apologies. I was trembling with rage and humiliation as I pull out of the parking lot. He sent me a text message apologizing but I let it go. Chalk up one more in his list of karmic debts. I hope he never finds happiness in all his lifetimes.
Dale
Met my sweet Biker Boy the evening after, (only last night!) thank goodness. While waiting for him at the mall, I received a text message from him, the first line going: "I don't think I can make it to the motel..." and I had to scroll down to read the rest of it. But right there, my heart blanked out as I thought he was cancelling on me. It was like a sudden power outage, unannounced, casting my entire universe in darkness.
"...I'm so horny I'll just have to rape you in the car!!!" he continued.
What a beast! I replied with: "Ur such a fuckng animal! I thot u wer cancelng! Get ur fuckng ass down here! NOW!!"
And horny, he was! And so was I. I've learned to tell Dale my fantasies and he'd whisper these scenarios in my ear while he finger-fucked me. It made for really gratifying sex and superlatively explosive cums. I must have cum at least 15 times. At the very least.
One scenario involved a group of five men with huge hard cocks just scrambling to fuck me in the cunt and up my ass and in my mouth. I loved that. Then he'd have several women lining up to have me lick their pussy. He loved that. I proposed a new scene: me being fucked on a motorbike. He lost no time in having me tied onto one with a big black guy shoving his huge, hard cock in my pussy and fucking my brains out. He is followed by the rest of his biker buddies who line up to fuck the slut tied onto the bike.
Gad, but I was squirting cum like there was no tomorrow. I was so stimulated, I even came standing up. The cum just fell out of me. It didn't drip, it FELL -- in big, heavy drops from my pussy as I stood there, with Dale finger-fucking me from behind. As Dale handed me a bottle of water, he joked that I could get dehydrated if I didn't slow down. I said I'd probably die of over-cumming, and expressed my fear that he was probably trying to slowly kill me that way.
As Dale was driving me back to my car some three hours later, I complained of this pain in my lower abdomen, just right above my pussy mound. Dale said it was probably because I'd cum so much, I'd depleted my cum glands.
That was the most gratifying sex I've had so far, with anyone, even Dale. I asked him if he'd ever had anyone cum that way and that much before, and he said, No. On the phone with him this morning, we were comparing notes on how we were feeling so mellow. I was weak, so much so that I couldn't even make a fist. He laughed at that, saying that he will be in such a most genial mood that whole day, nothing could ruin anything for him.
But the sweetest thing was, driving home last night, I received a call from him. He'd never done that before. This time, he gave me a call, and he sounded like he was at a loss for words. He then bade me goodnight, told me to drive safely and that he'd call me first thing in the morning. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him but I ended calling him, Darling, instead. I hope he understood. I think he did.
Thursday, January 15, 2004
Hello again!
Guess who's called? Patrick. That young Pinoy pilot who is so good-looking and sweet and affectionate. The one whose wife had an affair with a lesbian. He sounded excited that I have my own place now. Actually wanted to drop by this weekend but, as Nelson's going to be there, we'll see if we can meet next week.
I really must have curtains. And a rug. Not to mention wire racks for the kitchen. And a centerpiece table for the living room. Hmmmm....This is exactly what I feared would happen, overlapping subjects. Now, I don't know if I should mention this in my Home blog.
Whatever.
I'm actually looking forward to seeing Patrick again. He has such a beautiful body. Hard cock. Strong legs and arms. Very touchy-feely. Very warm. But not a good fuck. Ok. This time, let's see if I can lead. Maybe I'll ride him. I do want to learn to lead. The problem is, I'm not strong enough to sustain the ride. I get tired too easily.
His cock is so good to eat. It's just the right size, and long. And very hard. He's very clean. And his voice is soft and mellow and always cool. In fact, he's very laid back and he doesn't appear to get nervous at all. Of course. He's a pilot. He must have nerves of steel.
What is it about good-looking men? They may not be a good fuck, like Patrick and Chris, but I so desperately want to make a fantastic impression. Not just a good impression, mind you. It has to be mind-blowing.
It's interesting but I want to really take the lead with these two dickheads. Why? So I can leave them in awe of my sexual prowess? Make them realize that I don't need them to have a great time? Because I can duplicate the quality of the act with just about any other guy? Because I call the shots, they're reduced to playthings?
Yes!
Role reversal. Penis envy. Power play.
Just like with Art and Ana. I was telling Dale that I actually wanted to make Ana cum like he makes me cum, so I can enjoy the look on Art's face. Imagine, a woman giving his wife the best sex of her life! A woman who can fuck his wife better than he can! Wow. Now that's complicated. (Read: it's giving me information overload. My brain feels like it's grinding very slowly and having a real hard time processing the info.)
Why do I want to reduce these men to insiginificant insects? There are now three of them good-looking dickheads who aren't a good fuck: Art, Chris and Patrick.
I want to reduce each guy's penis to nothing. I want my pussy to subjugate each guy's penis. I want to watch each dickhead's face drowning in pleasure. I want to watch them surrender to me. But only these guys. I don't want to see Dale in this situation. That wouldn't be pleasurable at all, although I do love to hear Dale moan and sigh with pleasure as I suck on his cock.
Omigosh. I'm turning into a dominant. Wow. I AM a switch. Let's see. How to go about dominating these dickheads. Hmmmm...What the heck. I'll just wing it and go with what works. My goodness, but I'm actually very excited.
I really must have curtains. And a rug. Not to mention wire racks for the kitchen. And a centerpiece table for the living room. Hmmmm....This is exactly what I feared would happen, overlapping subjects. Now, I don't know if I should mention this in my Home blog.
Whatever.
I'm actually looking forward to seeing Patrick again. He has such a beautiful body. Hard cock. Strong legs and arms. Very touchy-feely. Very warm. But not a good fuck. Ok. This time, let's see if I can lead. Maybe I'll ride him. I do want to learn to lead. The problem is, I'm not strong enough to sustain the ride. I get tired too easily.
His cock is so good to eat. It's just the right size, and long. And very hard. He's very clean. And his voice is soft and mellow and always cool. In fact, he's very laid back and he doesn't appear to get nervous at all. Of course. He's a pilot. He must have nerves of steel.
What is it about good-looking men? They may not be a good fuck, like Patrick and Chris, but I so desperately want to make a fantastic impression. Not just a good impression, mind you. It has to be mind-blowing.
It's interesting but I want to really take the lead with these two dickheads. Why? So I can leave them in awe of my sexual prowess? Make them realize that I don't need them to have a great time? Because I can duplicate the quality of the act with just about any other guy? Because I call the shots, they're reduced to playthings?
Yes!
Role reversal. Penis envy. Power play.
Just like with Art and Ana. I was telling Dale that I actually wanted to make Ana cum like he makes me cum, so I can enjoy the look on Art's face. Imagine, a woman giving his wife the best sex of her life! A woman who can fuck his wife better than he can! Wow. Now that's complicated. (Read: it's giving me information overload. My brain feels like it's grinding very slowly and having a real hard time processing the info.)
Why do I want to reduce these men to insiginificant insects? There are now three of them good-looking dickheads who aren't a good fuck: Art, Chris and Patrick.
I want to reduce each guy's penis to nothing. I want my pussy to subjugate each guy's penis. I want to watch each dickhead's face drowning in pleasure. I want to watch them surrender to me. But only these guys. I don't want to see Dale in this situation. That wouldn't be pleasurable at all, although I do love to hear Dale moan and sigh with pleasure as I suck on his cock.
Omigosh. I'm turning into a dominant. Wow. I AM a switch. Let's see. How to go about dominating these dickheads. Hmmmm...What the heck. I'll just wing it and go with what works. My goodness, but I'm actually very excited.
Scared
I was just on the phone with Dale--again. The second time today. He called to tell me he'd read my email, quoted earlier, and had replied to it, also quoted earlier.
He said that he hopes that I know how much he feels for me. "I don't," I replied. He faltered for half a second and went on to funny things. I did clarify my answer later on. I said that I didn't want to know how much he felt for me, as I was scared. And he laughed. Relieved, I think. Yes, definitely relieved. It was so hearty and hale.
At least, I don't see the bridge yet.
He said that he hopes that I know how much he feels for me. "I don't," I replied. He faltered for half a second and went on to funny things. I did clarify my answer later on. I said that I didn't want to know how much he felt for me, as I was scared. And he laughed. Relieved, I think. Yes, definitely relieved. It was so hearty and hale.
At least, I don't see the bridge yet.
Question & answer
From my dearest Dale:
"I hope you know sweetheart how much I feel about you, I would hate to stifle you and I love your free spirit. My time with you is very precious to me and I enjoy it whether talking to you on the phone or when I am with you.
"I think the best thing I can say about our relationship is the more I know you, the more I know about myself.
"I am also reminded of a song by my my favourite guy Harry Chapin, it's called "Let Time Go Lightly" and it is about a busy guy but when he is with the person he really cares for he lets time go lightly, in the same way 'I let time go lightly when I'm with you'."
In response to my email:
"i lost it. i must've deleted it. anyway, let me outline the email:
"1. things i appreciate about you:
a. you went out of your way to find out how to get back to my place
b. you spend time with me despite your very busy sked
c. you call me up on the fone everyday and share your day with me
d. you pick me up when i'm down
e. you're very patient with boring ol' me
"2. things i feel about you
a. you're very precious to me
b. i wish we could last forever but i know someday we'll end
c. i'll cross that bridge when i get there
d. in the meantime, i intend to enjoy your company and your presence in my life
e. you're the greatest teacher i've ever had because you teach me not only about life and work, but also about me
f. i'm yours till the end of my days, even if i do find someone else to share my life with
"3. things you should not worry about
a. i've become emotionally attached to you and might pose as a problem in your marriage
b. i'm a sap and i like to be mushy, talking on and on about feelings
"i'm reminded of this line in this movie with jack nicholson, as good as it gets: you make me want to be a better man.
"in my case, you make me want to be a better woman. of course, i always want to better myself, but your presence in my life gives the matter a bit more urgency, a sweet, tender nagging at the back of my head.
"i dunno. maybe this is all just hormones but i mean everything as abovestated. (that is so legalese.) please don't get scared. this is just me sounding off, as sometimes it feels like bursting out of me and it's better i write this to you than blurt things out of the blue. i don't want you to think that i don't appreciate you and the things you do for me (and to me, of course, but you know that last one already!).
"so with that said, i wish you a really good day. i miss you and miss holding you and kissing you in the shower. next time, we'll stay in the shower longer so i can kiss you all over and do things to you...mmmmm............
"P.S. this is a message generated from the heart, no need to reply!"
So. Question answered. I'll cross that bridge when I get there. I'm starting to cry nights. This is so absurd. Free spirit. I never thought of myself as a free spirit. But I'll take his word for it.
Finally, I love.
"I hope you know sweetheart how much I feel about you, I would hate to stifle you and I love your free spirit. My time with you is very precious to me and I enjoy it whether talking to you on the phone or when I am with you.
"I think the best thing I can say about our relationship is the more I know you, the more I know about myself.
"I am also reminded of a song by my my favourite guy Harry Chapin, it's called "Let Time Go Lightly" and it is about a busy guy but when he is with the person he really cares for he lets time go lightly, in the same way 'I let time go lightly when I'm with you'."
In response to my email:
"i lost it. i must've deleted it. anyway, let me outline the email:
"1. things i appreciate about you:
a. you went out of your way to find out how to get back to my place
b. you spend time with me despite your very busy sked
c. you call me up on the fone everyday and share your day with me
d. you pick me up when i'm down
e. you're very patient with boring ol' me
"2. things i feel about you
a. you're very precious to me
b. i wish we could last forever but i know someday we'll end
c. i'll cross that bridge when i get there
d. in the meantime, i intend to enjoy your company and your presence in my life
e. you're the greatest teacher i've ever had because you teach me not only about life and work, but also about me
f. i'm yours till the end of my days, even if i do find someone else to share my life with
"3. things you should not worry about
a. i've become emotionally attached to you and might pose as a problem in your marriage
b. i'm a sap and i like to be mushy, talking on and on about feelings
"i'm reminded of this line in this movie with jack nicholson, as good as it gets: you make me want to be a better man.
"in my case, you make me want to be a better woman. of course, i always want to better myself, but your presence in my life gives the matter a bit more urgency, a sweet, tender nagging at the back of my head.
"i dunno. maybe this is all just hormones but i mean everything as abovestated. (that is so legalese.) please don't get scared. this is just me sounding off, as sometimes it feels like bursting out of me and it's better i write this to you than blurt things out of the blue. i don't want you to think that i don't appreciate you and the things you do for me (and to me, of course, but you know that last one already!).
"so with that said, i wish you a really good day. i miss you and miss holding you and kissing you in the shower. next time, we'll stay in the shower longer so i can kiss you all over and do things to you...mmmmm............
"P.S. this is a message generated from the heart, no need to reply!"
So. Question answered. I'll cross that bridge when I get there. I'm starting to cry nights. This is so absurd. Free spirit. I never thought of myself as a free spirit. But I'll take his word for it.
Finally, I love.
Monday, January 12, 2004
Year of the Monkey: 22 Jan. 2004
Art had been sending me text messages since last week, persisting in his invitation to play again. I wasn't in the mood for him and his wife. Like I said, they weren't good at all. I suppose they're good enough for each other. I don't find them exciting. I'd like to have Art alone, though. He could learn to please me, that's for sure.
Stevie
Last Friday, I met with this 34-year-old stock trader, Stevie. Gad, but he looked more like he was 24 than anything else. He could pass for my nephew. Anyway, nothing there. I mean, the guy's pretty much on the straight and narrow with sex. He had just broken up with his girlfriend and was curious about this personals/sex site. So he came across my profile, among others, and sent me an email. He seemed okay, so we met. And get this: when we were at the coffee shop, his entire family dropped in to say hello to the guy. I was introduced as an officemate who he accidentally met at the mall. Very nice folks. I don't think I'm gonna be hearing from him again, though. I made it clear that I wasn't into younger men. And there was no chemistry.
Dale
I'm meeting Dale for dinner tomorrow evening. Just dinner. A sort of celebration for his wonderful performance for the past year and the accolades he's received from his boss. I'm so very proud of him. To be able to make millions (in US$) for the company in the state the economy is in, is not a small thing.
He still calls me up every morning at work. He tells me what he's got in store for him that day. I tell him what I'd be up to for that day. I feel that he wants me to be aware that I'm part of his everyday. "I'm gonna be in a million meetings today, baby," or "I gotta drive up to Clark today 'coz I need some information on this take-over we're contemplating," or something of that sort. And all I can do is bite my lip and remind myself that all I can tell him is that I miss him and he should take care driving, when I so very much want to tell him, "I love you so much," and "Come home safe to me."
I still am scared to show him how much I feel for him, in case he gets nervous and gets it in his head that I'm getting emotionally attached to him. It could happen.
Nelson
Last week, Nelson and I met with this couple (he's 43, she's 22) for a possible swinging session. Oy. He's too nervous, while she's too blank. I got the impression that the girl married the guy to get herself and her family out of poverty, and he's looking for swinging partners to hold on to his very young and pretty wife. After all, if she's sexually satisfied, there'd be no need to worry, right? Wrong. He's bound to find out sooner or later that young women tend to fall in love and behave in a silly manner when in that situation. Especially when frustrated with their current partner. Anyway, good luck to them both. But I wouldn't worry about the girl. I bet the guy's gonna be crying his eyes out real soon.
Nelson doesn't seem to be so interested in fucking anymore. These days, it's showing me off as a possible swinging partner to potential business partners. I don't mind, as long as I benefit from the financial gains. I've made it clear to him that I expect to receive a share from all successful ventures made possible by my appearance at preliminaries.
My Chinese horoscope assures me of two things in the Year of the Monkey: romantic/sexual partners a-plenty, and fame and glory for the taking. Interesting combination. Let's see what happens.
Stevie
Last Friday, I met with this 34-year-old stock trader, Stevie. Gad, but he looked more like he was 24 than anything else. He could pass for my nephew. Anyway, nothing there. I mean, the guy's pretty much on the straight and narrow with sex. He had just broken up with his girlfriend and was curious about this personals/sex site. So he came across my profile, among others, and sent me an email. He seemed okay, so we met. And get this: when we were at the coffee shop, his entire family dropped in to say hello to the guy. I was introduced as an officemate who he accidentally met at the mall. Very nice folks. I don't think I'm gonna be hearing from him again, though. I made it clear that I wasn't into younger men. And there was no chemistry.
Dale
I'm meeting Dale for dinner tomorrow evening. Just dinner. A sort of celebration for his wonderful performance for the past year and the accolades he's received from his boss. I'm so very proud of him. To be able to make millions (in US$) for the company in the state the economy is in, is not a small thing.
He still calls me up every morning at work. He tells me what he's got in store for him that day. I tell him what I'd be up to for that day. I feel that he wants me to be aware that I'm part of his everyday. "I'm gonna be in a million meetings today, baby," or "I gotta drive up to Clark today 'coz I need some information on this take-over we're contemplating," or something of that sort. And all I can do is bite my lip and remind myself that all I can tell him is that I miss him and he should take care driving, when I so very much want to tell him, "I love you so much," and "Come home safe to me."
I still am scared to show him how much I feel for him, in case he gets nervous and gets it in his head that I'm getting emotionally attached to him. It could happen.
Nelson
Last week, Nelson and I met with this couple (he's 43, she's 22) for a possible swinging session. Oy. He's too nervous, while she's too blank. I got the impression that the girl married the guy to get herself and her family out of poverty, and he's looking for swinging partners to hold on to his very young and pretty wife. After all, if she's sexually satisfied, there'd be no need to worry, right? Wrong. He's bound to find out sooner or later that young women tend to fall in love and behave in a silly manner when in that situation. Especially when frustrated with their current partner. Anyway, good luck to them both. But I wouldn't worry about the girl. I bet the guy's gonna be crying his eyes out real soon.
Nelson doesn't seem to be so interested in fucking anymore. These days, it's showing me off as a possible swinging partner to potential business partners. I don't mind, as long as I benefit from the financial gains. I've made it clear to him that I expect to receive a share from all successful ventures made possible by my appearance at preliminaries.
My Chinese horoscope assures me of two things in the Year of the Monkey: romantic/sexual partners a-plenty, and fame and glory for the taking. Interesting combination. Let's see what happens.
Thursday, January 08, 2004
Threesome
Finally! I met with Art and Ana on the evening of the 2nd. It was a letdown. They weren't all that good, either of them. But I did do it with Ana. She's very clean, and round and voluptuous. She liked my breasts very much. Art just liked me very much. He was very tender and could have been loving, but I guess he didn't dare, with his wife around.
I didn't come at all. I'm so used to Dale already, it now takes a whole lot more to please me. Speaking of Dale, I met with him the next day and took him home to my place for some real fucking. Well, finger-fucking, but it certainly felt so good after Art and Ana's sorry attempts.
Don't get me wrong. I like Art and Ana, not a lot but enough to tolerate their pretensions. I'd like to see Art's face when Dale gets a chance to do his wife. I mean, I didn't even flow, let alone squirt. And Ana didn't get wet at all, and she said she came, once with me working the dildo-vibrator on her and another time with my finger in her. I tried to do what Dale does, but I don't think I gave him justice.
This is the first time I kissed a woman. Ana tasted clean and sweet. I sucked on her tits the way Dale taught me: like I wanted to get something out of them. Ana liked it a lot, the way I sucked on her. But I couldn't get myself to eat her pussy, or even lick it. No, I wasn't all that turned on. Mara admitted that doing another woman didn't do anything for her. Same here. But I did get a kick from pleasing Ana. I got somewhat turned on by the fact that I was making her feel good.
I could be a switch. Yes, I could definitely learn how to please a woman. And I've got a great teacher in Dale.
Sweet things
The next day, I met with Dale and told him all about the previous night. He was excited for me but I think, in retrospect, that he was somewhat jealous that I was with another man. We were in his car driving to my place and he asked me if I were jealous where he was concerned. I was saying that I missed him the previous night as I wasn't gratified. And he said that what we had, the two of us, was something very rare. He then asked how I would define what we had.
It took me a while but I admitted to him that I didn't want to define it. He agreed, saying that what it was, was not susceptible of definition. It was then that he asked me if I were jealous. I told him I wasn't. His reply made my heart jump to my throat. He said he himself was jealous, of me.
I couldn't believe what it was that I was hearing. I pointed out to him that there was no one in my life at all, and that if there were someone who had to be jealous, it was me. He admitted that there was no logic to it but, as the song goes, if he thought I was gorgeous, other men would, too. I assured him that there was no one else, short of telling him that I loved no one else, and would love no one else like I love him.
I stopped short of that. Instead, I told him that I had these very intense feelings for him that I didn't dare put into words, as doing so would only legitimize these feelings. That doing so would force me to face the reality that I do have these feelings for him and that, I cannot do, as they were not mine. The feelings weren't mine, I said, but what I meant -- and I'm sure he knew what it was that I actually meant -- that he wasn't mine. Not mine to love and to hold.
I didn't come at all. I'm so used to Dale already, it now takes a whole lot more to please me. Speaking of Dale, I met with him the next day and took him home to my place for some real fucking. Well, finger-fucking, but it certainly felt so good after Art and Ana's sorry attempts.
Don't get me wrong. I like Art and Ana, not a lot but enough to tolerate their pretensions. I'd like to see Art's face when Dale gets a chance to do his wife. I mean, I didn't even flow, let alone squirt. And Ana didn't get wet at all, and she said she came, once with me working the dildo-vibrator on her and another time with my finger in her. I tried to do what Dale does, but I don't think I gave him justice.
This is the first time I kissed a woman. Ana tasted clean and sweet. I sucked on her tits the way Dale taught me: like I wanted to get something out of them. Ana liked it a lot, the way I sucked on her. But I couldn't get myself to eat her pussy, or even lick it. No, I wasn't all that turned on. Mara admitted that doing another woman didn't do anything for her. Same here. But I did get a kick from pleasing Ana. I got somewhat turned on by the fact that I was making her feel good.
I could be a switch. Yes, I could definitely learn how to please a woman. And I've got a great teacher in Dale.
Sweet things
The next day, I met with Dale and told him all about the previous night. He was excited for me but I think, in retrospect, that he was somewhat jealous that I was with another man. We were in his car driving to my place and he asked me if I were jealous where he was concerned. I was saying that I missed him the previous night as I wasn't gratified. And he said that what we had, the two of us, was something very rare. He then asked how I would define what we had.
It took me a while but I admitted to him that I didn't want to define it. He agreed, saying that what it was, was not susceptible of definition. It was then that he asked me if I were jealous. I told him I wasn't. His reply made my heart jump to my throat. He said he himself was jealous, of me.
I couldn't believe what it was that I was hearing. I pointed out to him that there was no one in my life at all, and that if there were someone who had to be jealous, it was me. He admitted that there was no logic to it but, as the song goes, if he thought I was gorgeous, other men would, too. I assured him that there was no one else, short of telling him that I loved no one else, and would love no one else like I love him.
I stopped short of that. Instead, I told him that I had these very intense feelings for him that I didn't dare put into words, as doing so would only legitimize these feelings. That doing so would force me to face the reality that I do have these feelings for him and that, I cannot do, as they were not mine. The feelings weren't mine, I said, but what I meant -- and I'm sure he knew what it was that I actually meant -- that he wasn't mine. Not mine to love and to hold.
