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.
