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The Drummer placed a profile on the sleazy free web site about six weeks ago as he was interested in meeting a casual someone. I didn’t think much of it until an interesting moment at home when my profile popped up as a match for his, however, I managed to refrain from singing the old song about pina coladas and getting caught in the rain.
On occasion he’s called me to his computer to look at a profile or attempt to decipher the subtexts in some women’s messages. I hadn’t trawled any women’s profiles for ideas when I wrote my own so reading others’ self-portrayals has been fascinating. A fair proportion have done the rounds like me and become jaded as their final paragraphs are “don’t” lists of not wanting to be played, not being treated as late-night semen receptacles, not wanting nude photos prior to meeting, not engaging in anal sex on the first meeting – we’ve all encountered the same situations judging from the knowing smile on my face when I read some of their complaints. I removed most of those ‘rules’ from my profile to see if the idiots would be less subtle and more easily identified, but perhaps my tactic was wrong and I needed to spell things out bluntly.
The Drummer received some defensive feedback for writing in his profile that he wanted to see women making more of an effort to contact men. Others contacted him solely to hurl abuse his way as they assumed he was lying about his open relationship status (I don’t understand this behaviour; if you don’t like what someone writes, why not leave them be instead of going to the effort of contacting and abusing them?). I watched one discussion unfold and was shocked at a woman’s tirade because he was already in a relationship. I was tempted to invite her to call me as a reference check but The Drummer sensibly shut down the conversation.
The Drummer was in contact with one woman and they had exchanged e-mails for some time but hadn’t progressed towards meeting. It was hard to tell him that she was either not ready or was never intending to meet when he had given her his phone number and she hadn’t reciprocated. She was still appearing online but had made no effort to chat again so her interest had waned or perhaps she was an attention seeker. Personally, I saw a picture of her bare breasts on a large monitor and would be intimidated at the prospect of climbing among those mountains.
He has suspended his account to try another site but one final woman’s comments have resonated in my mind. She said he would have to make more of an effort to win her over; quite rightly he gave up and walked away. My inner feminist screamed that one of the trade-offs of equality is that we can’t sit in ivory towers waiting for gallant lads to take all the risks and sweep us off our feet (and especially so for casual encounters).
I know my own tough times when I’ve looked for someone but it’s been eye-opening to witness that the grass isn’t necessarily green on either side of the fence.
Mr OMG and I have fallen into a strange but comforting routine over the last six months. He storms in from wherever he’s been, I respond with cautious joy, he occasionally sends pictures, I occasionally reciprocate and he suggests a meeting driven by the state of the hard-on in his pants. I confirm and he either disappears without notice or remembers to postpone, but it doesn’t hurt as I knew it was going to happen. We lay low for a few weeks and start the cycle again.
I have accumulated quite a collection of pictures and the resilience of mind that we may never see each other except for chance sightings at the local shops. He did offer to exit my life but we have developed a tolerable pattern of behaviour and an amiable companionship of sorts. If I weren’t so awful at being friends with exes, I’d almost call it friendship.
Last weekend we exchanged a few messages in the morning and by late afternoon his libido was rampaging. He offered to meet at the foreshore in the early evening and this time I suspected he was prepared to follow through. I was sitting at home with unwashed hair, no make-up and wearing an old tracksuit and needed to make a decision quickly. I gained the Drummer’s blessing to dash out for an hour or so and responded to Mr OMG that I’d have a shower and hit the road.
Between putting the phone down and heading to the bathroom, The Drummer intercepted me with his cock in his hand and the comment that he wanted a bit of what Mr OMG was going to have. I stopped, and was caught in a never-never land of indecision and guilt. The Drummer and I have had limited sexual contact over the last 12 months and he consents to my other life so who am I to rush out without paying attention to his wants? Then again, his lust was probably only sparked by the knowledge I was heading out to meet someone else and he has all the other time in the world to be physical with me. But I haven’t approached him for a long time though and should be welcoming of his advance regardless of its timing, but I’d made a commitment to Mr OMG.
Fuck. You can read all the self-help books and blogs in the world about non-monogomous relationships but there are some crossroads that don’t come with roadmaps.
The Drummer pulled my pants down and pushed my upper half over the bed. Decision made on my behalf. His cock was becoming harder but my body wasn’t ready and I experienced jabbing pains until my body adapted to penetration. After more thrusting he felt good inside me but the clock in the back of my mind was ticking that I had about 10 minutes until I’d be late for the agreed time with Mr OMG. The Drummer is on medication that can delay orgasm and I suspected with the short lead-in that I’d possibly be leaving him dry.
Fuck.
The Drummer removed my pants, flipped me around on my back and got on board. We kissed and I wrapped my arms around my back and the mis-fire of our last attempt at sex a few weeks ago was fading from memory. However, his thrusting started falling into the mechanical monotone that signals he’s a long way off coming and I broke the pattern and said I should have a shower and go.
The Drummer was understanding and said that at the start he was into it but not fully into it, if I knew what he meant. I didn’t. Maybe he was acting on the first impulse that hadn’t fully developed into serious intent; he can come in a reasonable time if he’s had a longer build-up and this was a spur of the moment action.
I showered quickly and made myself even later by waiting in the wrong car park for Mr OMG. We worked out the geographical confusion and he pulled up alongside me and got out of his car. Darkness had almost fallen and it was difficult to see him in detail after a year’s absence. We hugged and our smiles matched in breadth and he was skinnier than the last time I had my arms around him.
And I’m going to have to continue this another time as I’m away from the computer for a few days. I’ll be back.
I was looking (unsuccessfully) for a way to truncate the months running down the left margin of this site as the list is getting too long, and realised it’s my third anniversary here. Psst, the third anniversary gift is traditionally leather, so gifts of a harness for a 6 foot 2 man and a buggy whip would be treasured, thanks.
I clicked on the ‘April 08′ link and read the entries. I’m a bit pleased with myself that I was brave enough to start jotting notes from this side of my life and stick with it, but disappointed that I seemed to be a more expressive writer then than I am now. I don’t know, I’m too close to myself to see clearly. Out of curiosity, has anyone been reading since the early days?
Some things haven’t changed, such as my aversion to once-off encounters, and some have, including the Drummer’s reduction and now withdrawal from seeking other sexual partners. MB and I are the closest and strangest of friends and I had lunch with M1 about six weeks ago. I’m not sure what we are as he coyly makes invitations that aren’t but really are invitations but perhaps I’ll master the communication side of things in the next three years.
I hadn’t been fisted, had a threesome, met strippers who hated women, been involved with married men, tried to hook up with a woman, almost choked on bitter semen, broken up with someone over stupid pride and possibly false assumptions, been involved in a sexual assault roleplay, flown several thousand kilometres to fuck someone, hurt myself by continuing to want what I can grasp but can’t have, had a man skew himself on a strap-on (hell, owned a strap-on), developed into a reasonable source of lubricant knowledge and become a creature of the outdoors at nighttime.
And looking at my wish list from April 2008, I still haven’t had sex with a police officer or been involved in group sex with uniformed men. I’m not any closer to those fantasies but I’ve done okay. I have reached A Certain Age and think I have about five years left of this lifestyle before I run out of energy and my tits are sagging somewhere near my belly button, but I said that last year so I’ll take it day by day.
Sorry, I’m continuing this deviation from my sexual diary again, but I need to tidy some loose ends before returning to the good stuff.
Self
I mentioned at Christmas that my mother was ill. All is good now and she seems healthier than prior to her illness.
I haven’t mentioned The Drummer of late, firstly because there’s been no sexual activity with him for a long time, and because I am caught in a bind about how much to write. I need to express something as my partner is part of the whole story and enables me the freedom to live this part of my life, but on the other hand he’s entitled to his privacy and I find it hard to gauge how much to tell.
We have been working through some bigger-picture issues regarding our relationship and are coming from different perspectives: he’s simpler and more open in his desire to stay together for the longer term, but I look at the last couple of years and have wondered many times if the now is still what I want in the future because we aren’t moving positively from a stagnant situation. Also, I need to seek help with how to manage living with his mental illness more effectively. I don’t know if I help or hinder his (lack of) progress and I believe a greater understanding of my role will assist. It breaks me on too many days to see him a shell of who he was. I’ve sourced a counsellor and am going to start seeing her to help gain a wiser perspective because I’m too close to the eye of the storm to see what’s outside its fury.
Things are looking positive for the job mentioned in the last post and I hope to have something finalised in the next fortnight. There will be a lot of responsibility and high targets, but the company has the discipline and processes needed to succeed, so it will be up to me to achieve with them. I hope the offer comes off as I’m excited firstly about the challenge, and secondly about the freedom to effectively be running my own business within the business. A side-benefit will be more flexibility than I currently have to pursue my sex life, so things are looking up in a big way after a couple of months of eking slivers of personal time.
The Country Boy
We are back on track although my suit of emotional armour is a little thicker than previously. The irony of being more detached is that something’s occurred that currently impacts on his family and work, and he should have less time for me, but is making a greater effort to meet. Perhaps we’ll both be freer at the same time in the future and we can enjoy some relatively peaceful time together. His house will also be available for a while in a month or so; I can’t maximise use of a hotel room at present so the thought of being in a house and on a bed is enticing beyond words, and even exceeds the discomfort of knowing I’ll be entering someone else’s territory. I greatly enjoy the outdoor activities we engage in, but I’m reaching a stage where more variety and less risk would be good (having said that, we were more brazen than usual last night and I’ll have to write that story up).
Others
Young Lion has been back in touch. He works not far from my temp gig and has suggested we fuck in a booth at a peep show … I don’t even know if that can be done as I’ve never been in a peep show booth. I must admit to some curiosity to the point I walked past the club one lunchtime, but it was at the end of a lane and some seedy-looking people were congregated at the entrance, so I chose not to explore it alone.
NZ and I have had some phone contact. His wife had a baby so he’s been on daddy duty. His sex drive seems quite high according to some of his messages, however, I’m squeamish because I’d feel I’m taking him away from something more important. He has a genuinely open relationship so any time away is sanctioned, but I find it funny that I’m the one with skewed perceptions and not being able to look past them.
I almost posted this without mention of Mr OMG but he texted yesterday to apologise for his behaviour and said he’d leave me alone. I decided that saying goodbye was his way of saying he didn’t really want to end contact, so I said I’d miss him and would like contact in whatever capacity it forms. He replied soon after so I was on the money with my perception, but I still have no idea of my true intention. My motive seems pure at the moment that I like him even though it’s unlike we’ll meet face-to-face again. Or, I am an idiot.
Future of the blog
Having been deprived of time and energy to spend on the things I enjoy has made me appreciate this quiet space even more. There were some moments I thought of walking away and just getting on with living the life rather than talking about it, but I’m not ready to do that yet.
I’ve been thinking about my sexual objectives for the year (it’s a damn long ride on public transport and I need to think about something), but they haven’t really changed from the things I didn’t achieve last year, such as another threesome. I have decided I’d like to find another girl to make some of the Country Boy’s fantasies come true and I’ll devote some time to that in a few months when I have time. I’d like to explore fisting more but I think the Country Boy’s hands are too thick and broad to fit me, but I’ll never know unless we try. That, too, will have to wait until things calm down as I’ll need a lot of relaxing warm-up time to make the attempt.
I intend to try some different ideas like adding photos more often, but that’s dependent on the usual issues of taking snaps that no one else sees and that can’t be linked to anyone. You should have seen me learn very quickly how to kill off geo-tag data on photos — hello, techno-gadget designers, I *don’t* want the world to know what I’m doing where.
I’m also thinking of how I can open this space up, perhaps to questions and answers (I’m too lazy to open and maintain a Formspring account, and I’ve convinced myself I won’t be asked any questions anyway). Felinus had an intriguing idea about a sex blogger-created site where questions or topics could be posted and discussed or readers’ stories contributed and told — like an open-table forum. I think it has huge potential but I’m good at starting and not finishing things so I’m not sure if I’m the right person to kick it off.
To end, I’ll probably have sex no more than 50 times for the rest of the year according to the rolling average of my posts, so I’m going to make the most of every opportunity.
I was thinking about the balance of desire and realised of the casual men in my past, I have mostly wanted them more than they have wanted me (sorry, today is one of those need a grammar fairy by my side days). I don’t know if this is because I don’t open easily to others and I give more wholly when I decide to trust, or if I tend to become involved with low-maintenance, self-sufficient types and thrive on the frustrating challenge of winning them. The see-saw of desire with Mr OMG would see me seated on one end of the plank on the ground with him hoisted in the air (even though he sent some lovely photos today), but as much as I leave him alone with a convincing air of nonchalance, I still run to the phone when he calls and put on some theatre that it’s a wonderful surprise to hear from him. The “treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen” ethos runs true for me when it suits.
And I become turned off with astonishing speed when someone has become more attached to me than I feel is innately acceptable. It hasn’t happened much: the last time probably occurred during some moments with ArmyDude when the intensity was becoming untenable — I backed away rather than show the courage to discuss and manage the situation with him.
Jekyll was the most consistent as far as being involved equally and maintaining his boundaries and, without realising, he taught me a lot about compartmentalisation in all areas of my life. He was the victim of terrible events in his youth and learned to isolate himself mentally during physically abusive episodes. Decades later, I could listen to him managing work situations on the phone and put the issues away mentally within a second of terminating a call, deal with a family problem and file it almost literally in a box on a mental shelf, discuss sexual fantasies with me with complete focus yet five minutes after we parted I know I’d be filed away for next time (in a positive and respectful way, of course).
The reason for these thoughts is that I think the Country Boy desires me more than I desire him, and sometimes I look over my shoulder to see if a thundercloud of my own making is approaching. I know he’s still chatting to women occasionally on the web site because he told me (he doesn’t seem to be faring too well as he tells them he’s already seeing me; I’m sure at some stage he’ll learn to not tell the whole truth). While my selfish side doesn’t like to share, I’m glad as the potential competition for his time is keeping me on my toes (and the number of psycho hose beasts on the web might make me look like an even better proposition).
For a while I was starting to fret that things were too smooth and easy and I would lose the rawness of desire for him. However, when he sent a text message saying he was a spanking virgin and wanted me to be the first, I leaped at the opportunity. I didn’t care if he was telling the truth or not; it was one of those proclamations that I decided to be true.
There shall be sex in the next post.
I tried to allude in the previous post that the body can experience the range of its sensations — except lingering, satisfying fullness — when in skilled hands mismatched with a disengaged mind. The Youth no doubt has younger, less experienced women lining up for his attentions and they’ll proceed more eagerly and wisely along the paths of their sexual lives. But I need more, and it’s been hard to explain to potential lovers that while any interaction will be casual, I want more than simple coupling. I also want men who just don’t want to fuck, but who want to fuck me. It’s a clear and unifying concept of my sexuality and ego but many haven’t understood the difference, whether by me not being able to explain myself or through a simple mismatch of intentions.
But sometimes I can look into someone’s eyes and just know I don’t need explanations because we’re in the same space for the same reasons: to meet the desires of the self and delight in the desires of the other, and I remember why I persist with these nocturnal games. I met this one at a car park on a rainy night and phoned him to say I wasn’t late but was only a few metres away, however, I feared slopping muddy feet in his car. He offered to come to me, and I said no because his dash would have been longer and more treacherous. He reached over and held the passenger’s door of his car open until I made the scramble over safely. He said I looked nicer than my photos, even though I was clad in most of my winter wardrobe.
I looked intently at his face while the interior light was illuminated and was filled with the rare dual sensation of I think I am going to like you as a person and I want to have you naked as soon as possible. We talked generally and skirted over some sexual topics; in the last 10 minutes before we had to go I held his hand. He said he was glad because he wanted to but didn’t know how to make an approach. I refuse to believe someone on a dating site is that guileless but I chose to fall into his story for those moments. He said he wanted to kiss me goodbye but wasn’t sure how. I said it was easy and if he came to the middle and I came to the middle it would just happen. And it did. Many times.
He is tall and broad and firm and fair and milk-fed healthy, has the twinkle of the devil in his hazel eyes, a genuine and easy smile, a monster cock and a sense of urgency when he says he has so many things he wants to do with me. He is attached though; I discussed this with The Drummer and complained about the rough-and-tumbles of dealing with single men and the torn moralities of dealing with attached men, and it will probably come down to my own level of selfishness.
The Drummer has changed his mind about having others in the house. I called him at work (this was a couple of weeks ago now) to discuss that Mr OMG was possibly free to catch up with me one night and to double check the newly-agreed arrangement still stood. He said everything was fine and told me to have a good time.
About an hour later he called back to say he had changed his mind and didn’t feel comfortable. I was caught by surprise and backed down immediately; our agreement regarding the open side of our relationship is that we only proceed with things with the agreement of both — anything causing discomfort or angst in one stops immediately with a reasonable explanation.
As things turned out on the night, Mr OMG was going to be too late to meet and has since wandered off again, but I was furious with myself upon reflection that I hadn’t pushed my partner for the ‘reasonable explanation’ about his change of heart. While some of my behaviour tends towards the unconventional side, I’m cautious and sensible and would never compromise our personal safety or security or any of the other things he was concerned about.
We had another talk the next day when he had settled and I had cooled and I raised my side that his reasons weren’t reasonable or rational, however, I’d back down for the moment as I wasn’t going to force him to accept people in our house. In having said that, it wasn’t fair on me to have to try to guess the real and underlying issue such as jealousy or marking territory. We talked in circles for a while and ended up nowhere closer so I’ve let it go for now.
From an overall viewpoint, The Drummer’s ongoing mental health issues are no closer to resolution with medication or therapy; he has deteriorated and the last 12 months has seemed wasted in many ways. We worked out today that he’s been diagnosed and medicated for four years now. I feel resentful at times that my own battles have to sit neglected while a lot of our energy is devoted towards managing his daily navigations and, when disagreements like the current one arise, I need to pick my times and arguments with painstaking thought about the potential ramifications. The last time I went to a psych appointment with him I felt like I was holding a ball of bitterness in my throat that I wanted to spit at the therapist that I had moments of being tired of his problems being the star player while there was little energy or time left to devote to mine. I then loathed myself inside for being petty and selfish and I ended up quieting the inner shrew and speaking as the supportive partner; I’ve lived with enough cycles of depression to know I’ll get through them and The Drummer’s problems are deeper and broader and we don’t know where the end is, so he wins.
Part of me thought quietly that perhaps him granting some time home with another would be part of the sweetener to help keep me functioning while we work through our ongoing rough patch, but sexual boundaries and mental health aren’t suitable bounty for negotiations and trade. We’ll have to come to agreement another day when he is being rational and I am feeling less selfish.
A few pieces need to be put in place.
ArmyDude: He is back but dropped by the office unannounced three times in the week of his return and hovered aimlessly when other people were around. I read him the riot act about taking unacceptable risks and asked for some breathing space. He agreed quickly but has sent messages daily and I need a break; he is also having serious problems at home and I’m not comfortable with his boundary management at the moment.
Country Hottie: I sent him a photo of nipple clamps attached to a place I don’t have nipples and he responded awfully quickly like Pavlov’s randy dog. We set a date to meet, he became more flaky than my current temperament would tolerate and I let rip with a message calling him a slack fucking bastard who needs letting go, among other less politely worded things, and I walked away. I felt better after clearing my air, he chose to keep hanging around for now and I’m going to be tied up and spanked a pretty shade of scarlet next weekend. I like him more now that I have acknowledged I don’t really like him.
The man with potential from a few posts ago: We agreed congenially and with a hint of regret to stop before we begin. His diary is a ferociously full beast and, with three weeks passing without a spare few unplanned hours in his schedule, I let him know that things weren’t going to work for me, much as I’d like. There is enough intent without availability in my life without adding to it.
Pleasure Freak: He’s new. He sent a message. I replied that I was growing tired of attached men whose concepts of having time for flesh-and-blood pleasure were illusions and I’d leave it to him if he wanted to get in touch. He sent a nude photo instead. I sent him one from work. He sent another from his car. I enjoyed his sense of daring. We met yesterday and I was almost felled by knee-buckling attraction. He almost thankfully wasn’t quite as handsome as his face photos, but in the lovely paradox that looks don’t always equate to attraction, every girl hormone in my body started having a wild party. He is tall and dark and rangy with broad shoulders and a small arse cupped by faded jeans and emits sexuality that I really and truly want to explore. I held back and looked for clues of what was going on in his head; at one stage he touched my arm as he stood to get something from his car and the girl hormones started somersaulting and doing backflips. Later, he asked if I was keen. I paused to manage some nerves, stared in his eyes and said, “Yes, very much so if you are.”
We talked until a few minutes before he had to go and I made him late for a function because we started kissing in his car and it all felt so very, very good. He made himself even later when he said he was going to wank quickly before leaving. I asked if I could stay and perhaps help because I like watching men masturbate (especially attractive men with high sex drives who have sent nude photos and are right in front of me). He pulled down his jeans and I asked if I could touch and taste. He, of course, said yes. I wrapped my lips around the top of his deceptively thick cock and wondered how I’d manage to fit it in, even with more time and a less cramped position for devouring him. I wasn’t able to wonder long as he gave warning signs of orgasm and I let him escape from my mouth before he came up his belly. I’m trying to behave and not do too much on first meetings with those I want to see again. I am cautiously optimistic (and want his cock inside me in many different ways).
Mr OMG: Ha, now how did he sneak in? I ‘accidentally’ clicked on his profile I’ve been ignoring and he sent a smile the following day. Now I wish I hadn’t, and he hadn’t. I sat on my hands and pondered whether to re-open the not-quite-healed wound. I ended up sending a guarded message to which he was brave enough to reply and we spoke briefly on the phone last night. He is a beautiful man and the centre of a thousand fantasies but after a somewhat awkward conversation (which had to end abruptly and was left open-ended) the reality is that I’m not sure I want to see him. Months after we met the first time he is still drifting and doesn’t seem to know what he’s looking for. I think I don’t want him and I’m too surprised by that thought to believe it yet.
Forecast postscript: No, I don’t have ESP; I think tomorrow I’m going to contradict my last sentence.
The Drummer: Last week The Drummer and I were having a heart-to-heart talk about his mental health, and a side issue that caught me by surprise was his admission of jealousy towards my other life and the opportunities it affords. He is losing his masculinity and sexuality on an increasing dose of anti-depressants; he has (we have) a long and tough journey and I’ll never give up on him but this week I wanted be somewhere else, live someone else’s life and not have to be the parent, the boss, the leader, the guide, the decision maker for a partner who has lost himself. I need someone strong, too, but I look around and the only place I see that kind of help is in the mirror and I am sad.
I didn’t have a response to address his jealousy but the next day I said to him all I really want with the others is something along the lines of what I had with Jekyll, who was around but we weren’t in each other’s faces, and we could mix up the car parks and hotel rooms and go to town on each other in any way with firm boundaries. I don’t have that at the moment and my other life is not all he is perceiving it to be. The majority is just chasing and distractions and misplaced hope. I get nervous meeting new people and cynical from knowing that the intentions of most online aren’t what they appear. I get a little house crazy some weekend nights if he is working and my closest girlfriends work nightshift and a couple of other friends disappeared after I entrusted them with my other life secret. I feel lost and probably in need of more female company sometimes. Some men are mindless diversions, like the stripper, and it’s so easy that it’s not fun. If I could have anything sexually, it would be more of him as my partner, away from the grip that medications have on his sexuality, and perhaps one other to fill the urges for controlled insanity, and that would be it, but that’s not life at the moment and so I will roam with a heart equally weighted with desire and discontent, but I will stay home tonight because my eyes are red and puffy from purging this.
While waiting for the ArmyDude possibly working for me saga to pan out, my new online profile is reviving a few ghosts of the dating dead.
The man who a couple of weeks ago postponed an hour before our meeting and disappeared into some dating black hole sent a smile to my new profile. Oh, gosh, the internal battle I had between knowing I should take the higher ground and let sleeping dogs lay, and just dying to lead him on until he’s salivating from his mouth *and* cock and dumping the fucker 15 minutes *after* the time lined up for a rendezvous. It took a couple of days for my obsession with the latter scenario to settle and I took the grown-up route and blocked him from further contact. (I still have little revenge fantasies but it’s okay to dream, right?)
My new profile received a respectful message of introduction from the chap I met about six weeks ago, which ended in a ‘it was good to meet you’ peck on the cheek that screamed of the unspoken ‘and we’ll never meet again’. We had no further contact until he was watching BDSM porn and texted to say he was thinking of doing me and then disappeared. Strange once-off behaviour aside, he didn’t deserve bullshit and mind games and I replied with a ‘thanks but no thanks’ message signed off with a different name and I thanked myself for keeping my new photos private (all right, the response and fake name were bullshit but it was the most considerate bullshit I could think of).
Mr New Year’s Eve‘s handsome-but-god-I-want-to-smack-it-hard face appeared in a search. He must’ve blocked my old identity as his grinning mug was in high-definition living colour on my monitor this time around. Meh. Blocked.
There is one intriguing tri(anything)-sexual man but he’s proving too far away for either of us to set up a pissing and/or rimming session. A few younger men with plenty of time on their hands were chasing with determination and attempting midnight text message booty calls in parks when we hadn’t spoken on the phone, let alone met. Um, yeah, I’m tired, depressed, apathetic and I’m really going to answer the phone in the middle of the night to meet a stranger when it’s my personal safety being compromised. I know the whole male/male beat set-up and protocol but is this normal these days for casual male/female contact?
I can appreciate the relative peace that comes with staying home and watching DVDs instead of pursuing the prospect of sex. Writing the last sentence trigged a thought that I’ve lost sight of what I’m looking for. It’s obviously more than sex because a few seconds of my hand around my partner’s cock would guarantee some kind of erotic response, but there’s more. Always more.
The Drummer has an unusual problem. He missed a few days of his anxiety medication, and when he tried to masturbate last night, a skull-splitting pain invaded his head right before the signal to orgasm.
A day later, no orgasm and the headache remains to the point he couldn’t go to work today. I’m not sure when he’s going to try again because agony is a reasonable deterrent for wanking.
We haven’t engaged in much sex the past six weeks so I won’t be the cause of any unintentional pain (insert trying-to-be-funny-but-falling-over-a-bit laughter here). I think we’ve been spending too much time together because he’s been working near my office and we’re often travelling together in addition to the usual homely activities.
Closeness feels comforting but sure as fuck drives lust into the ground.
