You are currently browsing the monthly archive for October 2009.
In the post before last I questioned the outrageous man’s motives for wanting to meet me. My intuition, experience, paranoia or whatever was ringing alarm bells seems to have been correct as far as outcome but the reason was unexpected.
We exchanged text messages and spoke on the phone a few times before arranging to meet. He even sent me his business’s web site address, almost as verification of his bona fides because I must’ve come across as world-weary and cautious. We agreed to meet on a weekend afternoon for a late lunch and return to his house if things progressed well, again, agreeing readily with one of my personal rules that I don’t show up the first time at someone’s home. I was feeling good, and was in an unusual mindset that if our physical attraction wasn’t strong, we could possibly form a friendship (in writing this I just realised I am not in contact with any ex lovers — there’s no ill feeling or bitterness, I seem to work on recovery and re-building and I never go back while the memory of what was still hangs in the air).
The message that arrived in the middle of the night was that he *might* have to attend family business the next day but he *will* call me and explain in the morning. I was distracted at the time by some guilt that I was leaving someone else’s bed and I sent a quick reply that it wasn’t a problem and I’d hear from him in the morning.
I woke in the morning with a turbo-charged surge of logic. The previous night he said he was going to a friend’s birthday pub crawl and we had joked that he had better not get too drunk as he might be needing his energy and powers of recovery the following day.
I’d be willing to bet what’s left of my savings that he met a girl in a bar, was going to take her back to his place and couldn’t guarantee when he’d have her out the next day so it was easier to bump me with a lame reason. If that’s what happened, I wouldn’t have told the truth or expected the truth either, but I ended up indignant that my pride was dented and concerned with self-justification because perhaps I should give the benefit of the doubt as he didn’t owe me in-depth rundowns of his personal problems. Then again, what family issues arise in the late hours that only elicit a ‘might’ have to go?
He didn’t call that day, or the one after, or the one after that. I wrote him off mentally and didn’t bother following up. I get caught about whether I should send parting messages to bounders, but ultimately I can’ t dictate or predict how people behave and I need to dust off and get on with my own life.
Four days later he sent a message asking if I had forgiven him for the cancellation. Well, it wasn’t really about that. I ended up replying, saying that the postponement wasn’t the issue as life gets in the way of plans, but it was about honouring his word that he’d make contact and he had followed the cowardly fleeing habit of many of his fellow users on the web site and I had shut him out of my mind. It was a long message. Possibly a bit unhinged, too. He didn’t reply.
Oh, yeah, the hermaphrodite ran off as well. I ended up responding to his message with some carefully considered words and he didn’t reply. The most annoying part of that correspondence (apart from how much fucking time I spent trying to come across as a casually open-minded libertine who hangs out with hermaphrodites all the time) is that if I send a message and don’t receive a response in a couple of days but the person has logged on, I know they’re not interested — the hint is obvious. If I try to do the same and ignore a message I’m sent, I keep receiving more and more insistent messages until there’s a mini-war erupting in my inb0x or I have to be assertive with the block option. I’ve suspended my account because I’m dealing with enough of that behaviour with agencies during the job search; the similarities are amazing but I don’t have the energy to be dicked about by both — the pursuit of income rather than sex wins for now.
I’ll call the single man The Bachelor for want of something more creative. Then again, the only source of food he could offer after an afternoon and evening together was perhaps some bread in the freezer he could defrost but his fridge contained pin-straight rows of many beers of the world. The Bachelor will do nicely.
We met for a drink at a beachside hotel and got along famously but there was still the flow of desire that made me want to rip the shirt off his back if I had the energy. I wouldn’t know until I tried. I returned to his place and we watched a DVD for a while, sitting a friendly distance apart and later sidling together as we returned from searching for food or toilet breaks. I adore those moments of anticipation of not having had sex but knowing rampant nudity is only a short while away.
We kissed for a long time and I followed him to his bedroom. I realised it has been some time since I have unwrapped a new lover’s outer layers and discovered the beauty underneath, but I didn’t get much of a chance as there was no mood lighting in the bachelor pad — I was working completely in the dark and hoping it wasn’t because he had a shrivelled penis or contagious skin infection he was trying to conceal (my mind is still playing nasty tricks at the most inconvenient times). I explored all over with my hands and everything seemed smooth and healthy. His cock was on the slightly smaller than average side, hard and with a handy upwards curve, like a practical Swiss Army Knife penis that could get the job done in any condition.
I think we spent too long on foreplay. He promised earlier he’d work me over with his tongue, and he did, but my mind kept zoning out into things that I didn’t really need to be thinking about and I wasn’t going to lose myself enough to reach orgasm. I swung his hindquarters around into a 69 position and made him feel very good but couldn’t get him near orgasm — he responded well with my mouth but I didn’t get far with my hands and I was running out of tricks. Sometimes solo exploration goes to plan and sometimes it doesn’t without more active feedback from the recipient.
I fucked him from on top and rode until my heart rate was about to cause the ceiling to collapse. He took over and fucked me missionary style until his energy gave out and we curled up together and talked instead.
We started round two but I saw the clock was past midnight and I have been in bed much earlier the past few weeks. I hadn’t eaten since lunchtime and I knew I needed my last dregs of energy to drive home safely. With a bruised ego, I confessed I was too sleepy to do more regardless of my desire and asked if he’d come in my mouth. He took only a minute or two; all the equipment is working and we probably need to spend more time sharing the secrets of our bodies if we meet again.
The stodgy mix of grains and dried fruit in the emergency muesli bar stored in my glovebox was the most flavoursome manna after being deprived of nutrition for more than 12 hours. Always carry water, mints, condoms and a piece of portable food. On the way home at about 1am, the second man I’ve been in contact with sent an unexpected text message regarding our plans for the following day. And that brief and disheartening story, dear friends, can wait until next time.
I’ve emerged from my sick bed and can speak briefly without coughing spasms and the thought of performing oral sex is starting to re-gain some allure. Somehow I evolved from no voice to rasping voice and I’m displeased about that — after three weeks, my untended pubic hair has grown unthwarted by illness yet I don’t even get a husky voice for a few days as compensation.
Young Lion has been sending obscene text messages and we have been trying to organise a day to catch up, but our timetables aren’t agreeing. He called yesterday to ask if I’d like to hear him orgasm, and I took evil delight in saying I was in a train carriage with a hundred complete strangers and would he like me to turn on the speaker phone? He scurried away and later sent an audio message.
Pleasure Freak sent a message about catching up and had forgotten all about the hotel dealbreaker (or I’ve met him at short notice in the past and he’d thought he’d try his luck with my inconsistency). I let him know that I was looking for someone more regular and he sent a “?” in response, as if I were verging on insane to not want to see him; a few days later he asked how my luck was panning out with my search and he was free if I was. I like him and his optimism but a couple of months is long enough for intent without sex, however, I feel weak sometimes when he gets in touch.
Mr OMG did a better job of trading in on my inconsistency without even trying. He called and I ignored the phone, but I called him back half an hour later. My resolve is growing! After receiving some excellent sympathy for the state of my voice, the conversation took a turn.
Mr OMG (while he was masturbating): So, we’ll have to talk more about what you said about anal sex.
Me: Huh? (my next job won’t be starting a phone sex empire)
Mr OMG: Last time you mentioned you were interested in having me inside your arse. You know, getting you all wet and excited and then sliding the head of my cock in slowly and …
Me: Who, me? I have a near-photographic memory but I don’t remember that conversation.
A few seconds passed in silence.
Me again: Ohhh, I remember now. You must’ve had me very aroused.
Me again: And I said I’d happily die trying, didn’t I?
Mr OMG: Yes, you did.
We finished the phone call without discussing when we might see each other. I didn’t mind. I’ve seen handballing videos with men’s arms up to the elbow in other men’s backsides so I know intellectually that taking him is possible, but the little voice in my head is discussing why I ask for crazy shit without considering the reality.
This weekend I’m meeting two of the men mentioned in the last post: the outrageous one if he has recovered from a virus, who behind the initial approach is an over-achieving, smart single man about the city and now I can’t fathom why he made contact because there are many available women outside his own door step. He’s suggested dinner and a movie which is messing with my pre-conception that he was playing a numbers game and we’d probably be a once-off event. I need to stop overthinking and just meet him for a drink — my mind is playing catastrophising tricks at the moment and making me doubt everything I do. The single man with his own place is confirmed: we have flirted mildly for a few days and I’m looking forward to meeting him, no tricks of the mind, which in my mind probably is a kind of nasty game. I think a firm spanking will help smack the suspicious paranoia out of me.
I keep writing self-indulgent drivel and posting privately. Here’s the readable version of where things are at. I’m still sick and have no brain capacity for a thoughtful title, either.
Mr OMG is as flaky as ever. We’ve been a few weeks without contact but I bumped into him at the shops last week and he was charming and overjoyed to see me. Then I didn’t hear a word after I sent a follow-up message. I keep telling myself I want him more than he wants me and I need to get over it, but I’ll distract myself with others instead.
I haven’t done a thing about finishing up with ArmyDude either. I met his wife inadvertently the other day: I was pulled up at traffic lights, looked to the side when I heard beeping and a woman in the next lane was waving at me. While I was wondering who the hell she was, ArmyDude leaned from the other side of the car and waved, too. The family that waves at me together stays together, it seems. I returned the waves and smiled and waited with knuckles clenched for the lights to turn green so I could hot-foot it in another direction.
My phone has been deathly quiet since I put Young Tradesman, Pleasure Freak and Young Lion on notice that the next catch-up will be some hotel hours. I don’t know why but this amuses me. To Young Lion’s credit, he did some homework and suggested a day and a hotel but later said he only had about a third of the cost because he was low on cash. It’s kind of sweet how reality keeps getting in the way of his no-holds-barred enthusiasm. I was going to book somewhere anyway and take him for a test run, but every acceptably dodgy place was booked and I need to be mindful of my own fiscal responsibilities at the moment. His next suggestion was to meet at the beach and he’d pound me from behind, but I’m too delicate at the moment to think about getting sand in my nether regions.
My online membership has two weeks before I’ll let it revert to unpaid member status (it doesn’t greatly affect the ability to communicate as no one replies when I initiate contact, but I’ve paid mainly as an indicator that I’m not a time waster). I re-activated my profile the other day and a few interesting types have dropped by to say hello. None are within an hour’s drive or have much intent towards ongoing situations, but two or three caught my interest out of curiosity value.
One sent an outrageous message with his phone number and I countered that he hadn’t verified I was female, let alone seen my pictures. He didn’t care because he was convinced he’d like me. Perhaps being caught in my own stresses and snot at the moment is attracting me again to full-of-life, unbreakable types whose energy I can steal or borrow temporarily. Another is built like a bronzed god, possibly thick as a plank of wood but wants to bring me soup until I’m well, take me out drinking and then rim me senseless. He might be a fun diversion. There’s another man but it turns out he lives in the same place as Country Hottie; that’s going to stay a one-man town for me so he has to go. The last at this stage is a younger single man who’s moved into his own house — we’ve had some relaxed communication and I need to sort out his sexual interests but I think we’ll have drinks next weekend when I’m human again. Oh, and an interesting man with a penis and a vagina sent a smile and I really don’t know what to do — I mean, I’ve thought of umpteen things I could do with him (seriously, spend a few minutes thinking of the combinations with a man wielding fully functional male and female genitals), but no idea whether I’m taking his approach seriously which will lead me towards what to do as far as replying.
I discovered a new industrial estate less than 10 minutes from home the other night. I wasn’t exactly out looking for sites but Young Tradesman got back in touch when he was passing through my area and trying to convince me to leave the house and join him. We didn’t do much that warrants recollection but nearly all of the warehouses and showrooms are new, lacking security cameras and I didn’t see any mobile security patrols during the time we were scouting around (no wonder we didn’t do much that warrants recollection as my mind was wandering to how I might utilise the site in future and if the territory was ‘his’ seeing as he found it). On the other side of the road opposite the empty buildings, perhaps five acres is levelled, cleared and pitch dark at night. I think it’ll be good for at least six months with the current economic malaise.
The next day I thought of a scenario I’d be interested in trying. I could be inspecting some of the developments as a site to start a business and something goes wrong with my car when I try to leave, or perhaps I’m waiting for an hour-afters appointment with a real estate agent who has just cancelled. A white delivery van (with a floorpan in the back long enough for people to lay down) pulls up … this is realistic and situationally safe because one of the existing businesses on the street has a fleet of white vans for food delivery and we wouldn’t stand out if discovered. The driver and possibly his co-driver (I keep thinking about two men at once at the moment) offer assistance but I say I live locally and will call a friend to wait with me until the tow truck arrives or whatever continues the scenario.
A struggle ensues and my captor/s drag me into the back of their van and they drive somewhere within the complex to have me as they wish. I think this time I would be subjugated quickly and embrace the principles of pleasure rather than an entrapment based on rough treatment.
I think The European would be perfect to make this happen but we haven’t been in contact since our roleplay. I’m not sure whether to get in touch with an outline. I could hire the transport and he said he had attractive, sane friends if ever I was interested in a multiple-partner activity. No harm in asking, I suppose. I’ll think about it.
Let me pretend I thought about this for more than five seconds. Country Hottie had a few days off work and invited me to visit him. The last weeks of my resignation period have been filled with ostracism, politicking, lazy bastards trying to involve me in their late projects so the soon-to-be absent me can take the blame on their behalf and some constrasting heartfelt support and kindness from others that has had me hiding tears too regularly. And I have three months’ sick leave because I’m usually conscientious and sick leave isn’t paid out on exit. Easiest decision ever. The hardest part was deciding what to take.
I experienced a pang of guilt early in the day and hoped like hell I wouldn’t be involved in a bizarre event or car accident that made the news (a friend once skipped work to see me when I was living interstate, and it was the day a baggage handlers’ strike broke and she was seen standing in the airline queue on the TV that night; another was featured on the front page of a newspaper after a photographer snapped him enjoying a ride at an agricultural show instead of being at work), but today space junk didn’t fall from the sky on my head and traffic parted like the trip was meant to be.
I arrived and Country Hottie said, “So, what was this plan you had in mind for me?”
I replied, “Massage you and jump you.” I considered my bluntness and lack of detail and added, “I know it’s a simple plan, but simple plans are often the best.”
He said he wasn’t good at trying to be submissive and I negotiated impatiently that all I wanted from him was to relax and be still. I’m not sure if grinding his groin into the mattress while I was massaging his backside was relaxing either of us as I was getting awfully distracted, and by the time I had oiled his feet he was rubbing them over my breasts, but he tried to relax and not participate, I guess. As I rolled him on his back and worked from his thighs to his upper body, he had me flipped over, pinned underneath him and was sliding his slippery chest along my body.
I have little gaps in memory and the order of events, but before I showered I remembered remarking that I was covered in oil, sweat, my own wetness, squirt juice and the semen he massaged into my breasts when he came on me.
At lunch we had a heart-to-heart talk and he said he had no problem meeting switched-on, attractive women but their sexual conservatism has been a deal breaker. One considered having her hands bound beyond her limits and they said they wouldn’t consider indulging him in his BDSM interests if in a committed relationship. None would support him seeing other women with an interest in fetishes so he could feed that side of his sexuality elsewhere. I said his situation was a reminder of the fortunate position I was in and that breaking free of ego issues and social conditioning got easier with practice (and making the most of my side of the bargain) but I could understand how a lot of women don’t learn to both merge and separate love and sex. I said my problem is that I struggle dealing with people and the sex isn’t usually a problem as it doesn’t often get that far. We sighed and decided to make the most of the day and return to his house.
Part of the afternoon was spent seeing the other women’s point of view: I was sitting on the edge of the lounge with a large dildo in my cunt surrounded by a dozen clothes pegs attached to my labia and clit. My hands were tied behind my back and he was standing in front of me with his cock sliding in and out of my mouth. If I allowed his cock to fall out of my mouth, he would smack my breasts with a riding crop. I let him slip out a couple of times to test the water and the strikes were firmer than I wanted to tolerate; he also gradually leaned back so I had to bend to not lose his cock, which made the dildo start to slip. Very clever. I’m the first to agree these games aren’t everyone’s idea of a good time and the breadth of his experience can be intimidating, but seeing him switch to the part of his mind that concocts these scenarios is like opening and allowing part of his sexual expression to bloom.
The last part of the day was spent lying on his loungeroom floor with him on top piledriving me into quivering orgasms every few strokes, thinking the other women have no idea what joys he could give them if they trusted him. He’s healthy, athlete fit, responsive, skilled, open to any scenario and stays hard for as long as desired — communication dramas aside, the man is a human playground and it’s not every day I’m left lying on the floor so exhausted with heart-singing pleasure.
The universe punished me with a rotten head cold the following day that genuinely kept me at home. It was worth it.
I’ve learned to let people down with a brief message and no explanation: the breaking point was that too many times my profile was pinged by people far from my locational boundaries and I replied with a safe, “Sorry, you’re too far away,” response. Many decided conquering a few miles would instigate true love Rapunzel-style and returned with twice as much determination and promises from everything to driving to see me every weekend to camping in their cars outside my house until I was ready to meet them. Extremely disturbing, and I opted for a less is best approach.
However, someone let me go recently with this message:
No matter how tempting you and I are to each other I don’t think sweet talking you into progressing is the right thing to do. I admire your honesty a great deal and I would have absolutely loved to feel my hands firmly all over your body but our circumstances just don’t permit greater contact. I can’t guarantee work or distance won’t conspire against us again and it is a great pity. Good luck gorgeous, you’re really something.
It’s a bit flowery and I don’t expect this level of contemplative prose, but I almost don’t mind being dumped with that kind of style.
I’ve had problems in the past few weeks managing someone I didn’t meet. My gut feel told me something wasn’t right — we spoke on the phone and he laughed too quickly at my jokes and agreed with everything I said a little too hastily. I felt uneasy afterwards but overruled my intuition by convincing myself I was being critical of someone who might just be nervous. The next time I logged in to the dating site I saw he was viewing my profile and photos at least once a day, which creeped me out to put it mildly. I sent him a message with a cancellation of our plans and ending contact, except I included the explanation that his constant viewing made me uncomfortable. I paid for it.
~~~
I have looked at your pics several times because you are very attractive. Many women will simply not put up pics or they display simply a close up face pic or close up of some other part of their body – not very helpful. Your profile is also very entertaining, you may not have any idea of how much better it is that the VAST majority of other women’s profiles I’ve read. The whole thing shows some thought has been put into it.
Anyway, I am sorry if I worried you with looking at the profile and I will stop if that makes you feel more comfortable.
~~~
He came back.
I thought a fair bit before sending this email because even though I know you hardly at all, I get the impression that when you make up your mind, it stays made up and thus you probably would not re-consider meeting me. However, I decided to contact you because I was genuinely interested in meeting you.
I can guess at three reasons why you decided to discontinue things (of course, there may be others): I freaked you out by looking at your profile so often and asking questions; you met someone more suited to your needs; or you felt uncomfortable in terms of things with your partner. You are the most engaging person I have met and I probably didn’t convey to you just how much more appealing to me you were compared to other women with whom I had corresponded. Maybe I struck you as just too keen, too eager, maybe desperate because I checked out your profile so often, but that was definitely a reflection of finally finding person who seemed a pretty good match. I also looked at your profile a lot simply to check details; as you know, you look at a few profiles and they tend to blur after a while. So, not desperate or some weirdo stalker, but someone who was genuinely delighted to find someone who shared the same interests as him. I would have explained all this you had we met and had the vibe been ok.
Anyway, that is where I was coming from and I was disappointed when you decided to finish up contact. I do understand if you just don’t have the right vibe from me but I am wondering if you would reconsider meeting, just to see if things might work?
~~~
And again.
I’m definitely not trying to annoy you, or even hurry you but I am wondering whether or not I should be interpreting this as an Ominous Silence? I’ll obviously understand if, having thought about things, you do wish to cease contact just wondering where you are at? For what it is worth, I am still interested in meeting, just to see if there is some chemistry between us.
~~~
And, yes. Again.
Are you sure you want to cease contact? Like I said, I am definitely not trying to annoy or hassle you and I am prepared to be patient, I understand that these things take time. I don’t want to freak you out but can I share something with you? I have thought a little bit about what we might do together – don’t worry, I don’t sit around all day fantasising, but I do let my imagination out for a bit of a run every now and then. And in so many ways you seem to be interested in what I like and you have definitely captured my interest. I know we have not even met and there may be no chemistry but like I said, much of what you have said you like I would really like to do with you / to you / have you do to me; you get the idea.
So, I would like to meet and despite the fact that I sent that email earlier this week, I am prepared to wait, especially if you think you might like to meet me, just to see how things are between us. If you need more time to clear things up, that is fine, I have been involved in this sort of thing for long enough to know that you do need to think about things before acting.
As I said in an earlier email, you are so far in front of the other women I have met in terms of having your act together and just being a decent, well adjusted person that I am definitely prepared to wait and take things at your pace.
~~~
He’s back.
As usual I did think a bit before sending this email because I don’t want to freak you out or cross a line into really pissing you off. I’m just wondering if you are still considering meeting? I am hoping that you are if even if you are still making up your mind; I’m just wondering if you could give me an indication. As I said in my last email (which I am not sure you received), I can be patient and I am definitely not trying to hassle you.
If you definitely don’t want to meet, just let me know and I won’t contact you again but if you do need more time, let me know with a quick response to this email and I’ll wait. Remember, I’m just talking about meeting for a drink – nothing more – something we came close to doing. By the way, I did just have a quick look at your profile again, to see if you had changed anything or closed your account and yes, I had a quick look again at your pics.
I am not annoyed at not hearing from you or anything like that.
~~~
I ended up responding to the last message, repeating no more contact. He returned before I managed to block every form of communication.
I emailed you again because I simply wanted to clarify what was going on. Something to keep in mind next you stuff someone around.
I’ll take the personal attack in exchange for a guarantee he’s gone.
