The Inner Slut

My spirit is tired. And hungry. It wants to be filled with warmth and nurturing. It wants to be affirmed and recognized. It wants to live. It wants to love. For now, it feasts on Ennio Morricone's theme from Cinema Paradiso (piano solo).

The Inner Slut's angry with me about Tom. She wants me to forget the guy, turn my back on him and just ignore him. I don't think I'm going to hear from that guy again. But then again, he did reply to my letter which he called wondeful and deserves a lengthier reply than his short response. He was probably in Korea when he sent that.

I was with my Dale last night. He got really excited earlier in the afternoon when I told him that I had a game planned for that evening. It wasn't anything, really, just playing dress-up. I put on my fuschia push-up bra, with the white embroidered flowers on the cups, black fishnet stockings, a black-maroon thong, and my red high heel mules. All under my very corporate beige and brown long skirt and tailored blouse. Oh, but my baby's dick really went as hard as I've never had it go hard before.

When my Dale gets really turned on, he gets really aggressive. He had me on my back with all my clothes on, buttons off and skirt raised. It was so good to feel his dick ramming deep inside me. Unfortunately, it didn't last very long. He'd put on weight and I noticed that when he'd lost weight, he managed to maintain his erection for some time. Too bad. He is such a fucking animal when he's turned on. A ferocious hamster, he calls himself.

I'm meeting Art and Anna this Saturday evening for a little fun. Anna's coming in from out of town and Art and I'll meet her at the airport. So I'll be meeting Art beforehand. Hmmm....wonder if he'll be brave enough for some appetizer before the main course....And John. We've tentatively set lunch and some fun afterwards on Saturday as well. But this is a busy guy as well.

Setting aside the Inner Slut for a second (with much screaming and gnashing of teeth), I sometimes wonder why I play the game. After all, the official reason is because I like the fact that I please men. Not because I like to please men. The fact is, I please men. There's a world of difference. And did I say, the "official" reason? Please. There's only one reason.

I like to please men. = I show up, change into whatever kind of person the guy wants me to be, and proceed to derive pleasure from his pleasure. This is how I used to be.

I please men. = I show up, he likes what he sees, and pleasure is simultaneously achieved in that one's pleasure is not dependent on the other's. This is me now.

Well! I never realized how much I've grown. And even the Inner Slut's impressed. of course, she's much more concerned about trying to pleasure herself with my Dale watching, stroking his dick. What would he do once she starts to squirt cum all over? Would he feel useless, obsolete, discarded? I don't think so. I'd think he'd be excited.

And then there's Bill, the X-G-man. Caught him online via messenger. He's coming over next week. So I proposed joining him and bringing Marge along. He's meeting a "trannie," or a transvestite and will be informing me if the trannie's interersted in making it a 4sum. He's also invited me to be his partner for some "regional" fucking. What a concept. He wants to try out groups in Asia, like HK and Singapore, but he needs a partner to get into these groups. Well, why not? I mean, as long as it's dafe sex all around, there's no danger. But I'll have to discuss issues of safety and precaution with the guy first, including danger to life and limb.

What's that they say about all work and no play? Well, all play doesn't cut it, either. I want my Dale. We didn't really play all that long. Perhaps, an hour. We spent the rest of the time, 2 hours more, just cuddling and talking. I so wanted to talk to him about how much Tom hurt me but Dale's not just a friend, like Marge. My Dale is very special to me and he's intimated to me that I'm just as special. I get the impression that he knows, and expects, that I see other men aside from him, but that he'd rather not have it spoken of. It's a play-pretend game -- for both of us. I don't know if he's seeing other women. As far as I can tell, he's not.

I've been badgering him to hire me as his personal assistant at the plant. He keeps saying, no, very sweetly. Last night, I was pestering him again and, again, he said no, he doesn't mix business with pleasure. I said that we could just focus on business. He laughed and said he didn't want to get his hands off me. That was the sweetest letdown I've ever had, and will ever have, in my entire adult life. He bought the latest Dido cd and was playing it in the car when he picked me up. He said there was this one song which always reminds him of me, Do You Have a Little Time?

I got to listen to it and, yes, I have to agree, it's my song to my Dale: I'm just here waiting at the side of your life. He laughed and said that wasn't true, giving the back of my hand a passionate kiss. When it was time to go, I went from contented to suddenly apprehensive. I wanted to cry and the tears just verged on overflowing. I held back but my voice broke when I said good night.

I think I'm depressed -- again. Things are really looking bleak.