The Inner Slut

"How many Toms do you have in your dance card?" Terry asked from out of the blue. He was having a lite beer, and I was nursing my vodka and tonic, by the poolside of his hotel. I looked at him with a smile growing on my face. I decided I wasn't going to answer the question, so I just laughed. "You don't want to answer that one, do you?"

I put my glass down and shrugged. "I haven't really counted. I didn't know you were supposed to count."

"You're not," Terry said.

I don't know what to do with this guy. He likes to get into my head. But he's a gentle, probing presence when he's in there. He asked me if I were happier than the last time we were together. I was testy then, because he kept asking me questions, trying to push me out into the light where he could see me. Disconcerting, but at the same time, flattering. Then again, he is Scorpio.

That was Holy Wednesday. I was with him again last Saturday. I drove to his hotel where I found him by the poolside, still in a meeting with another guy. That was uncomfortable. I took a nearby table, took out my fone, glanced at it and looked for the ladies' room. I must have stayed in there for like fifteen minutes. When I emerged, he was alone. Again, he had beer and I had my vodka. Again, he tried to get inside my head.

The sex was so much better this time. I brought along my dildo, a huge, purple one, and my anal beads. He used the dildo on me at one point and it felt really good. I've used it only once as I find that it's exciting only when I have an audience. As it is, I use it in the bathroom to hang my pouff on. I wish I had a tub so I can stick that thing pointing up and sit on it.

First things first. He took out this monster of a camera, a huge Canon digital, and took shots of me. Naked and reclining on the bed. Lying on my back, legs and pussy spread wide, and rubbing on my clit. Rubbing ice cubes on my pussy. Finally cumming. It was very erotic.

He also blindfolded me and tied my wrists together in front of me, so at first I was rubbing my clit, with one wrist tied to the other. Then he shoved his hard cock in my mouth and I sucked on it while I rubbed on my clit. That felt good. I took off the blindfold and the bonds, and I sucked on that cock some more. But it felt so hot in the room, I was in such a sweat. He turned up the airconditioning but it didn't help one bit. He called for a glass of vodka and tonic.

When the drink arrived, he placed it on my tummy. It was so cool to the touch that I placed it on my pussy. Terry got up and hurriedly took the ice tray out of the fridge, scooped out some ice and placed them on my tummy and slipped some in my pussy. That felt really great! I stopped complaining about the heat in the room which I thought was brought on by faulty airconditioning. Now I know better.

Then, after watching me play with myself some more, he mounted me and fucked me hard. Slow, deliberate, deep. He was so turned on. Then he turned me over and fucked me from behind. Oh, but that cock felt so good in me. I could feel the head massaging my pussy up and down. My muscles just wouldn't stop clenching and relaxing, clenching and relaxing around that hard shaft. But the cum wouldn't flow.

"Do you like that?" Terry asked as he rammed his cock in deeper and harder. I whimpered out a yes. "Would you like another cock?" Deeper, harder. Soft whimper. "Tired of this one?"

"No," I groaned. "I want this one -- *gasp!* -- it feels so good...!"

"So you want four men, do you?" Terry said, his voice echoing the passion that he felt. He pulled out his cock. I was grateful tor the respite but then, I felt the dildo pushing in and my pussy, getting wetter. Terry slid the entire thing in and it felt great. It was a long, thick gel dildo and Terry started ramming it in, faster and faster. I could feel my muscles cramping up from all that stimulation, and yet, no cum. Finally, I had to beg him to stop for the cramps. I fell exhausted on my side on the bed.

Terry parted my legs and started rubbing my clit. Then he took my hand and placed it over my pussy. As I lay back and started playing with myself, Terry got the camera again and started shooting. Finally, the cum started to flow. It was a lot and I squirted juice on my hands and thighs.

This really turned him on and for the second time that night, he fucked me. This time, it was for him. He fucked me with my legs up in the air, his hands pressing down on the soles of my feet. He fucked me deep and hard. He groaned through clenched teeth as he got up on his knees, pushing my butt off the bed and plunging deeper into me. He pulled out his cock and jerked off cum on my pussy and tits.

It really takes patience, doesn't it? It takes time -- to be comfortable with another person, to discover and establish a rhythm between two people. The beginnings of a relationship between Terry and myself showed itself last Saturday. There's promise there. Unmistakable, undeniable. It only requires recognition and a deliberate intent to pursue to make it grow. I'm willing to see where it takes me with the guy. I'm not so sure if he wants to pursue things. I get the impression that he's hesitant. For what reason, I don't know.

Perhaps, like me, he doesn't want to give the impression that he's serious about the whole thing and, thus, avoid scaring the other person off. Scorpios are so capable of loving wholeheartedly, totally, that the fear of rejection is just as strong.

I was chatting with Terry yesterday, via instant messenger. I told him I missed the way he held me that first time, while spending the night together. He didn't say much, except that he could be really sweet but can be just as sour "when the mood takes."

Hay, naku...

Tom, that sweet, sweet man, got me an AOL email account. So he could send me large files containing erotic fotos -- off the net and of himself! What a kooky guy! And so we could use the AOL instant messenger which allows instant foto sharing. Cool feature. The AOL Buddy List is a much more fun messenger than Yahoo IM. And the best part is I can send emails with up to 16 MB of attachments!

So one of the series of fotos this guy sends me is of his erect cock over a print out of a foto of my spread cunt, clit showing, followed by several of the same print out covered in cum. The series was entitled, 2 Days' Worth of Cum.

I have to admit that that cock is a hot, delicious serving of manhood. All eight inches of it. I miss my sweet Tom. I keep thinking of him now. He's gotten me wondering, because he said he'd gone to dinner with his good friend and neighbor last night and told this friend about me and how well we'd gotten along. I asked him why he mentioned me to his friend and he started talking about his marriage and godawful sex life with his wife, his Catholic faith and how that warped his attitudes and perceptions about sex. And now he's free to explore that frontier, hidden from him all these years. That he should come across me is quite intriguing. Or maybe I'm just reading too much in all of this.

Mark

So I went with Mark to the flea market. The guy bought a jade bracelet and another of pearl for his sister. He got me a jad and coral one. He's not that well off, obviously, although he did offer to get me an expensive pearl bracelet. Of course, I refused the gracious offer. I bought two linen blouses for the summer.

I met him again that evening for dinner. That really confirmed that he's financially strapped. After all, he has a sick sister to take care of. Perhaps, even alimony. We didn't talk about it. Again, he walked me back to my car which, this time, was parked nearby. He declined my offer of a ride back to the hotel. He probably went back to the resto for a more substantial dinner.

Common friends

The "alternativists" in this country is only a small group. So small that everyone knows almost everyone else. I met Marge online and found out that her "regular" is Terry. Marge has met Alex/Felix but didn't accept the invitation to play because he rubbed her the wrong way. She played with Peter who, she said, treated her nicely enough. Terry himself has heard of these two guys, Mara's Swiss guards. And he didn't hear anything good. I am affirmed.

I saw my Dale on the 14th. He met me at the mall. I did a variation on the no-undies thing by taking off my undies in the car - to La Pallazo, the opera piece. Hilarious. We were laughing like high school kids all the way to the motel.

We were given the Alexandra's Crown room. It had a circular bed with interesting bed posts growing from the floor to hold up a crown overhead, with a mirror on its underside. Interestingly, Dale was able to sustain an erection long enough to actually fuck me for more than a few seconds. And that happened twice. The second time, he was so damn hard (relatively) that it hurt me inside, in the pelvic area. I had to ask him to stop. That did him a lot of good, his ego, I mean.

Of course, I came in torrents as usual, but the second time (I come only twice now with him because a new thing has developed: I give him a blowjob after cumming twice), it was really strong that the splashes reached my face. It never happened before.

I was looking in the mirror at myself being fucked and it looked really good. It was very erotic. I only wish Dale didn't have problems with erection. His cock actually gets real big and thick when erect. I love him, nevertheless.

Mark

I had dinner with this American guy, 47, last night. He's in the separation process with his second wife. He lives in the DC area. Banker, math whiz, very intelligent. There's something about him that makes you sit up at attention. He knows what he's at. He's also very sweet. Grew up in the Southern US, hence, the very polite manner and the soft voice and accent. In a word, genteel.

It was just dinner, with a promise to meet again in May for more intimate fun. This morning, I'll be accompanying him to the flea market nearby for South Sea pearls and jade for his sick sister.

What I like about American men is that they're candid and easy-going. No pretensions. No fuss about which fork to pick up for what, or what wine goes well with whatever. I'm not saying that Americans are not cultured. They're just easy to get along with. Anything goes. And they're warm and sweet. At least, the Americans I've met so far.

Mark was always holding my hand, taking my elbow, watching out for me. He even carried my handbag for me. And walked me back to my car which was parked something like a kilometer from where we were. I drove him back to his hotel, of course.

Tom

Sometime in the very early morning last night, my fone rang. It was Tom. And then the lights went out. Of course, so did the fan. Gad, but it was hot and humid.

Tom was telling me not to open my eyes, just lie back down in bed. He just wanted to hear my voice, he said. He is so sweet.

I had an intriguing chat with the guy on the messenger:

Tom: I am growing impatient for you. I need good sex and I miss it terribly.

Me: So do I...

Tom: If you found the perfect man for you and he really turned you on how many times a day would you like sex, any kind of sex?

Me: As many times as he wants!!!

Tom: Then for a average day it would be 3 times and a lot on the weekend. and some day we would not make it out of the house!

Me: I’m sure.

Tom: Could you handle it?

Me: Yeah! Why? You don't think I can? ...

(Tom sends over a very erotic foto.)

Me: ...your kind of pose huh?

Tom: Love to eat you out in this pose.

Me: Let's do that next time.

Tom: And fuck you good and hard too in this pose. Can you handle it?

Me: Can you?

I guess this explains the fone calls (he's been calling me almost everyday now this past week). I wonder.

I am not seeing Dale tonite. A business associate is flying in from Sweden and Dale has to meet with him. I hate this. And I wore that pretty blouse that's Dale's favorite, and a denim mini-skirt. I was planning on not wearing any panties tonite and having Dale feel me up my skirt when I get in the car.

I hate this.

And then there's Bruce. American in his late forties. Talked to him on the fone yesterday. Agreed to have lunch with him today. Unfortunately, it was only this morning that he sent over his foto thru email. Yech. Small, round, balding. Although his profile on that personals site says he has never had complaints as to his sexual prowess, or of his size.

We'll see over lunch.

I was with a Black man last Friday night, Adrian. He's 49, American, travels a lot which, he says is the reason why he never married. He does have sons, grown men. He'svery decent, well-educated -- and cold. He was not interested in making friends, although he was very civil. He has a well preserved body, better than Tom's. I like Tom better. He's warm and a friend, more than a fucking buddy. Adrian's just horny. And not very gallant.

He did order coffee and something to eat when I arrived at his hotel. And he did meet me at the lobby -- at my request. I didn't want to be mistaken for a prostitute. Of course, I don't look like one but they tend to do that around here, think a woman a prostitute because she shows up alone in a hotel lobby. Adrian walked me down to the lobby, offered to pay my parking ticket which I, of course, refused, and announced, as he bussed me on the cheek goodbye, that he was heading for the dining room for a bit of dinner.

Total turn-off. But he did convince me of the benefits of an all-protein diet. So that's where I am right now. Thanks to the advice of a stranger.

I asked him if I should use Afro-American, if the word, black, in reference to him offended him. He said he himself uses the word, black, so it shouldn't be a problem. I've never been with a black guy before. He was a good-looking man, tall and well-built. He didn't have an extraordinarily large cock but it was long and hard. Very nice. But that's all. I don't think he'll be calling again, but if he does, I don't think I'll be available.

Tom called earlier, an hour ago. Just to say hi. He's left off-line messages for me on the messenger. He is so sweet. I was trying to be warmer and chattier but I couldn't. I guess it's because there's nothing much to say, as there's nothing going on between us, anyway. And I suppose it's because I was so overwhelmed. I dunno. I'm so pathetic. Maybe it's me who's holding back.

I'm seeing my Dale tomorrow evening. But before then, there's this American guy who wants to have lunch with me. Can't hurt. It's just lunch.

I miss my irrascible Terry and his scruffiness. He's like an old teddy bear that's lost patches of its fur, bitter and angry at being an old thing, yet loathe to give up its solitary existence with no one to answer to. He's a contradiction in terms, and he has the nerve to call me full of contradictions. My dear friend, Terry. Interesting intersection of a Scorpionic dimension. Blame in on the stars and the alignment of planets. He mirrors me back.

He's building a house somewhere in the islands. For self-imposed solitary confinement, as it's in a place not so accessible to just anyone, and yet, he has drawn up plans for guest rooms and a jacuzzi. He intends to have a Hummer built in a Volkswagen chassis, with a Volkswagen engine. He says it can be done and has the pictures (downloaded from the net) to prove it. He travels all over Asia, saying he likes to keep moving, and yet he builds a house for no reason, not even for retirement. Maybe he has a secret agenda, kept from everyone, even himself. I think I understand. There are no contradictions, really. Just a knowing eventuality.

It's Good Friday and I'm at work. Seems like the only time I can really do what I need to do around here is when there's no one asking me for this or that. And when there's no internet connection. I have such an active net life.

I'm looking forward to May as I'm meeting Carl then. I'm taking him to Baguio for a few days. I think he's looking for a wife. That actually scares me. But there's something in his eyes (foto) and his voice (mobile fone) that's very endearing. He's 47, if I remember correctly, Aussie, divorced, two kids. He loves photography and the ocean. We've been exchanging emails, talking on the fone. He's coming over for no other reason but to see me. Scary.

I've received a few emails from Bill, the X-G-man. He's currently in Vegas. Prior to that, he was in SanFo. He says he's always horny for me and thinks of me all the time. Sweet of him to say that. Of course, I don't believe that. But it was sweet of him to say it.

Tom was online yesterday and we chatted for a while. Kinky stuff. Can't wait to be with him again. I'm thinking of getting Nelson and him together for a threesome. That should be interesting. Tom likes toys and having his ass played with. I can't wait to see how Nelson reacts to this. I miss Tom. He's so sweet and attentive. I love playing with his ass, and hearing him moan and call me "angel" or his "little sub."

Was with Terry the other night. Spent the night at his hotel. He gives me the impression that he doesn't want to show me warmth, any more than the most superficial affection. Perhaps he's scared that I might develop an emotional attachment to him. But I find that I can be quite honest with him as to how I really feel. He makes me feel really down but he seems sincere in "walking with me" in this journey. Pure Scorpio. I love the guy. But, again, hard to hold. And, again, why should I want to hold on? It's enough that he holds me in high regard, thinks of me as a remarkable and remarkably talented person. I'm too good a person to be lonely, he says. I get the feeling that he thinks of me more than he cares to admit. I love the way he's broad and heavy. And hard. And gentle.

Men. I have much still to learn -- and unlearn.

Nelson came to spend the night with me last night. It was funny but when he got drunk, he started to tell me that he loved me. He made a gallant effort, tripping over his tongue in the process. Hilarious, really. He didn't want to admit it but he was angling for a committment, a promise from me that I would stick with him through thick and thin. After all, we were already planning for a long term partnership. I gave no such firm answer. I said I would stick to what works. As long as things were working out, we'd have no problems. I don't know how he took it. He's a very predictable guy, very conservative in his attitudes and perceptions.

Good thing he was drunk when we went to bed as it was too hot to fuck anyway. In the morning, however, he stuck his cock in me, whether I wanted it or not. Pretty soon, though, I was really wanting it. He has a nice big, fat dick that could really get hard. While it was still in my pussy, I started to rub my clit. That certainly made me cum. Not gushing or squirting, but it was good enough. It was the first time I did that with Nelson, or with anyone, for that matter. It felt really good. Unfortunately, Nelson tired out early and Junior went limp even before he could cum. Too bad.

What does the Inner Slut want?

1. Sweet, sweet men, like Tom and Bill.
2. More time for meeting more men.
3. Men who are articulate, and in touch with their real selves.
4. More grey matter, less ego.
5. Soft, clean, cool sheets on a large bed, with lots of big, soft pillows.
6. Airconditioning.
7. A man's deep, refined voice whispering in her ear, telling her she's so special.
8. A hot tub and jacuzzi.
9. Lots of sushi and sashimi, tempura and miso soup.
10. Dale taking her for a drive on his new BMW R1200GS.

It's arriving in July. He paid $15,000 for that thing. I can't wait.

It started with Terry. He gently took my hand and placed it over my pussy. I knew what he wanted, to watch me as I rubbed my clit. Although I've never masturbated that way before, I obliged as the pleasure was quite apparent on his face.

I masturbate but I don't touch myself. Just last night, I read that there are two kinds of female orgasm: clitoral and vaginal. I've been making myself cum, clitorally, since I was 11. I had my first vaginal orgasm in my late 20s, purely by accident. It never happened again. Till I met my Dale.

I've never touched my clit till Terry. I didn't come then. It was with Tom that I managed to make myself cum loads -- and squirt -- all on my own.

I drove over to Tom's apartment hotel to spend the night. It was my second night with him. He had a lot of toys with him: gel anal beads, a ridged dildo, a gel dildo, a gel dildo with vibrator, ben-wa balls, and an interesting liquid which warms as it lubricates called a warming liquid. It felt really good. He also had pairs of surgical gloves. Tom likes to have his ass played with. I used the anal beads on him and it felt really good. It looked good, too. I loved his moans and his soft voice calling out to me. That was great. And he has a really big, hard cock to boot. He's a really kinky guy.

He loves to fuck hard doggy-style, just the way I like it. He lasts really long and makes every conscious effort to hold it back for longer, more satisfying fucking. He loves to watch pussy in action so he took a lot of fotos of mine from all angles. They turned out really well, too. I've never seen my pussy in that way before. It was the first time I took a real hard look at it. It looks good, especially the clit. It was so round and pink, shiny with wetness, peeking out from the folds of pussy lips.

There was this series of shots with the ben-wa balls coming out of my pussy. That was a real turn-on for Tom and me.

Anyway, so we fucked hard that night and then we went to sleep exhausted. Sometime in the early morning, we fucked again for a short while. I can't really remember it, as I'd taken anti-allergy meds that night and I guess I was half-asleep while Tom fucked me. But in the morning, around 8.30, we started fucking again and he sat back on his haunches, stroking himself, staring at my pussy. I didn't know what came over me but I started rubbing my clit, gently at first and then faster and harder, till I was cumming and wouldn't stop.

I came a lot and wet the bed a lot. I didn't even realize that I was squirting till Tom told me much later. He said it was a sight to see. So I came and came, and then he fucked me real hard doggy-style. It wasn't very long till he himself was cumming.

And that's not all. Two nights after, I woke up in the middle of the night, feeling an orgasm waiting just underneath my clit. So I spread my legs, pushed aside the crotch of my panties and started rubbing my clit. It wasn't long till I was cumming, stronger than when I did it for Tom. I felt myself squirting and getting wetter and wetter. I could feel the wetness spreading on the bed underneath me. I must've cum continuously for about three minutes. There was a point when I was cumming so strongly and freely that I wondered whether I was already making myself pee.

When I finally stood up to shower and change, my nightie was soaking wet. Cum was literally dripping from my nightie. I checked if I had peeed but the pillow didn't smell of pee; neither did my panties and nightie. It was all cum. It was the strongest I've ever cum without my Dale.

My poor Dale. How do I deal with him now that I know what to do with myself? Do I love him less because of this? Do I need him less because of it? Does he lose to my hand?

Very interesting.