‘nuf said

I haven’t been looking for anyone online for many months, but I still receive the sleazy site’s mailing list of the week’s new treats.

After reading this man’s three-worder, I’m never writing paragraphs again. Love it.

I haven’t a clue what my three words would be. At the moment they’d be ‘too much maintenance’.

Just briefly on the Country Boy, we haven’t caught up for longer than usual and I’m starting to get the jitters again. He says his schedule is clearing but his contact has been less frequent, and we’ve had some innocent (I think) miscommunications and seem to be off track. Will see what happens. I have a sick feeling in my stomach that this is the beginning of the end. However, my mood swings are currently under medical investigation, so I don’t know what’s logical and what might be my hormones running rampant with reality. Perhaps I will need to start taking the week’s treats more seriously.

Poppycock and balderdash


I re-activated my profile on the original sleazy web site to look around as the Country Boy and I have discussed looking for a third person to join us. I’m not sure we’ll proceed any time soon as we haven’t fleshed out the details of who we’re looking for (I’ll want a man and he’ll want a woman, for starters) and I’m too stressed to hell about other things, but I found a couple of people from the past sitting on my hot list.

Mogul, who “never uses the web site as I’m not usually that kind of man” had been active in the last 24 hours. He wasn’t online so I thought it safe to read his profile and block him so my viewing wouldn’t be logged in his activity list — mature, I know. He is a premium-level member. And he’s in his early thirties, 5 foot 10 in height, has a nine-inch cock, above average looks and finds that most women can’t satisfy him. Well! If the reality police were to conduct a raid, they’d say he was over forty years of age, 5 foot 6 in bare feet, has a cock larger than his other bodily dimensions but — I don’t know — six inches perhaps (maybe he typed the number upside-down), quirky looks with a styled bouffant of hair and, while he’s not lacking in the skill department,  possesses delusions so fanciful that no one could satisfy him. I wonder if the compact brunette he’s piledriving in his photo gallery knows a) she’s featured several times and b) her face isn’t concealed.

Reading his profile was quality entertainment and I might have to unblock him one day and go back for more.


When I met SuperNerd earlier in the year I wrote:

There was no one thing that sent my hackles on edge, but in looking back, it was a series of small inconsistencies and doubts. I still don’t know what his game was, but it doesn’t matter now.

He had been online in the last 24 hours as well and viewed my profile within minutes of me logging in. I looked at his, and he’s changed his ‘single’ status to ‘married’ and written several times that he’s married and doesn’t want judgement or personal attacks.

That at least explains my feeling that something wasn’t above board with him. He told me he was separated, had part-time custody of his child and his house was free for meetings. His wife must have a similar name to mine as in the early days he accidentally sent me a couple of messages intended for her about having paid some of her bills, which I thought was generous or perhaps part of their separation agreement. And he wriggled out of discussions when I mentioned meeting at his house. I wonder how many pickles he got himself stuck in with his secret life before he decided to be upfront.

I know protecting one’s identity is important, but I stick to a rule of twos: lie about my age by no more than two years and my location by no more than two suburbs, and have profile photos less than two years old. Then again, I fell into both their worlds so perhaps slathering one’s profile with mountains of bullshit works as well.

Red hot lie

Finally, an online dating site has been found guilty of creating fake profiles. Oddly enough, The Drummer was a guest member of this site about 18 months ago and paid for a membership to contact women who had sent ‘flirts’ to him; the operation was sophisticated enough that each woman had a mobile phone but disappeared within a day of a real-life meeting being suggested. He complained to the site owners and later to the government’s trade practices system and must have been one of many subscribers to do the same.

Dodgy Female Profiles Attract ACCC

Source: http://smarthouse.com.au/Content_And_Downloads/Downloads/E7G2C7J6

By David Richards | Friday | 23/07/2010

Dodgy female profiles that were use to lure consumers to dating web sites have been exposed by the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission after an investigation of web sites owned by Jetplace Pty Ltd.

The operator of the socialising and dating website http://www.redhotpie.com.au, has been ordered by the Federal Court to disclose that Jetplace created and operated well over a thousand of its own profiles on its redhotpie website.

The 1371 profiles created by Jetplace purported to represent actual users of the website who were resident in cities and towns across Australia. The profiles appeared in the ‘Uncut’ section of the website.

Jetplace used some of its own profiles to send flirts or customised messages to some registered users of the website. The Jetplace profiles also appeared in searches carried out by visitors to, or registered users of, the website.

Following legal action by the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission the Federal Court has now declared that Jetplace contravened the Trade Practices Act 1974 by engaging in misleading or deceptive conduct and by representing that membership of the website had performance characteristics and benefits that it did not have.

[story continues]

Another article I read stated that the falsities were across the board, with more than a thousand of the fake profiles being female, 300 were male and about 60 were couples’ profiles. While I feel self-satisfied on behalf of all of us who have suspected this practice, I have to wonder how many other sites are indulging in the same kind of fraud but just haven’t been caught yet (or have covered their electronic tracks more carefully).

Most of my earlier meeting activities were generated from a larger web site with paid members as a perceived insurance policy against time wasters, but without a guarantee of 100 per cent genuine members, I wonder about the future of fee-charging sites when the sleazy free site is growing at an alarming rate. All the members are real, but the genuine prospects are fewer.


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.

Month of madness 3 — the, um, nothing

Last weekend came and went with a lot of promise and as much frustration.

I banished Young Lion for telling me he had a week off work and plenty of time to catch up, but he couldn’t/wouldn’t commit to a day. He tried the last-minute game and I walked away; now he’s sending photos and text messages and being almost clingy. Fuck, all I’ve asked for is a few days’ notice and I’ll move mountains to spend time with him, but I’m not in the mood to be his last-minute girl.

Pleasure Freak has sent some messages, but our timetables haven’t matched for a park meeting. He likes watching people suck his sock and said he could pick up a man and let me watch (in the spirit of this month). He is another last-minute fly-by-nighter with whom I’ve not maintained contact, but the park is only 15 minutes from work and is an option for an eye-opening experience if it comes off. I’ll have to try him on afternoons I’m free and see what happens.

Someone from my almost-past returned and we’ve engaged in some cautious phone contact. He postponed our planned first meeting in the early hours with an excuse I thought was a cover-up for having met someone else. I was right (almost impossible to be wrong on that one) and they have since entered and ended a relationship. I can’t fathom what he wants in the larger meaning of his world; he wants an understanding friend to talk to, but a couple of times has called late at night on a mission to collect me and return me unharmed in the morning. There’s something unresolved from last time, but I’m not sure — and he’s not sure — of his intentions that I don’t know what to do. Commonsense says run, don’t walk, but curiosity and the need for resolution keeps me from donning the running away shoes.

I’m meeting NZ again early this week for a couple of hours, so all is not lost.

I found a bisexual personals site and placed an ad for two men who want a third person (that would be me), but most of the responses have been from crossdressers and t-girls far outside my age range and location range. However, I’m learning lots of new terms such as “suck’n’run” and “wank buddy.” I was deadly serious in my post a couple of weeks ago about hiring a man or two for a double penetration, but it looks like I’ll be needing surgery in the next couple of months and the out-of-pocket expenses will be high. It’s hard to justify rampant hedonism when more serious financial obligations are pending (and my period is out of whack and now due on the day of my birthday).

Second-last man standing

I suspended my online account; before hitting the ‘close’ button I saw a message from one of the remaining men I was interested in but I was too battle weary to respond and I had already given him my e-mail address.

He had the foresight from our previous messages to guess correctly that I was considering temporary retirement and my account shutdown wasn’t because of him. I received an e-mail and we met for a drink a few nights later. I didn’t have a good read on him because his profile photos weren’t good quality and our communication had been brief, but his e-mails mentioned enough about his interests and background to pique my curiosity and prop my ailing sense of hope.

I nominated a hotel to meet for a drink and he walked in a door as I was walking out to look for a quiet table to sit. I only recognised him as we were on the phone together at the time trying to find each other. He was more attractive than his photos and I couldn’t conceal my delight. He’s of average height and weight and has brown hair and brown eyes but the way everything is assembled worked for me big time. He seemed pleased and kissed me hello on the lips.

We discussed our situations: he is in an open relationship where his wife is accepting of his non-monogamy and is expressing interest in the lifestyle but hasn’t taken action. His special interest is playing the third man for couples and we exchanged stories until the hotel closed — he won the discussion about group sex and I was queen of car sex tales. We were sitting at 45-degree angles and his leg touched mine for longer periods as we talked. I grasped his wrist when I was emphasising a point in a story to let him know I was also interested.

We agreed to take a drive in his car and look for a quiet place to get to know each other better. I suggested a beachside car park but it was adjacent a main road and he drove confidently to what turned out to be the same car park where I spent time with Super Nerd. I chose to feign ignorance like I think he was and pretended we were creating this space for ourselves. We kissed; finding a happy connection with our lips was awkward for a while — his mouth is smaller and rounder than mine and his lips thinner, and our teeth occasionally gnashed until we worked out the real estate of each other’s mouths.

He is senior in the industry he works in, has impeccable manners and a high-end car, but couldn’t stop himself from gasping, “Great tits,” when I undid my bra. I laughed and enjoyed hearing the basic response of a man when lust strips away his layers of civility. I reclined the seat and laid back while he rolled my nipples between his fingers and brushed his fingers along my belly. My pants and underwear ended up on the floor and he fingered me shallowly; by then I was ruing that I had my period and hadn’t brought protection as I wasn’t anticipating anything beyond meeting him for the drink. I asked him to remove his clothes and he wondered what had taken me so long.

I wrapped my hand around his cock and massaged it to life. He squirmed and praised and said how much he wanted to fuck me. I leaned over the centre console and went down on him and couldn’t find a way with my mouth to maintain his erection; he was still aroused and moaning but I will take a while to work out his likes if we see each other again. I returned to masturbating him while kissing and his erection returned.

He became quiet and his breathing increased in tempo while thrusting in turn with my hand. He seemed to orgasm without ejaculating; again, if there is a next time I’ll need to spend time working out his body. I’ve witnessed this before but only rarely and I wonder if he was being polite. He pressed into my clit with his finger and made circles until I came, and I wasn’t just being polite.

We talked a while until he drove me back to my car. I’ve noticed the last few men I’ve met for outdoor activities have driven away without waiting for me to start my car and ensure my safe departure, but he escorted me to my car like a gentleman — and then pushed me against the door and grinded into me as we kissed goodnight until we almost ended up in his car again. I liked both sides of his behaviour.

He is interstate for the week and I’ll see what transpires when he returns.

Another postscript: He has postponed our planned meeting this weekend due to an extension of his trip. We’ll see …

Oops, she broke

I’m having a shocking run of outs.

The die-hard dominant mentioned a couple of posts ago started playing games: we had agreed to meet next week on a night I was free and he left my following message unanswered for a few days. He was on my favourites list and I could see he had logged in each day — I assumed he was starting a dom/sub game of control or anticipation and I left him to it. The day before we were due to meet he sent a message asking if I’d like to meet him on the only night I wasn’t available. Either he’s filled the nights I’m free with more desirable options and I was a back-up plan, or he didn’t want to meet and wanted me to do the dirty work. I did the dirty work and deleted him.

I gave my contact details to three other men before I suspended my account and one sent a message asking, “Will I get any action the first time we meet?” Deleted him as well.

I’m not sure what’s changed this campaign. The only difference I can discern is there have been more young and single men, who seem to have more energy and options and less regard for manners or the words in my profile. I can’t find much different in my approach or behaviour and it’s all puzzling, although it’s been a positive reinforcing experience that the only person’s behaviour I have control over in this life is my own.

I think The Bachelor has gone as well. I logged into the instant messenger program for the first time in months and saw him online, sent a hello message and he marked himself invisible straight away. I don’t know if that’s rude or reasonable etiquette for chat, but I realised that was three weeks ago and we’ve had no contact since. I’ve let him go as well as I don’t have the energy to work it out.

So, at this stage it seems I’m down to Mr OMG, who is roughly a quarterly event, and Young Lion, and we’ve met twice in six months. I’ll have a little rest and come up with a gameplan another time.

Postscript: I had a drink with one of the two remaining prospects last night. All went well and I’ll write the post soon.


I never realised looking for a male escort could be so time consuming and frustrating. What on earth is she up to now? I hear you ask.

It seemed like a good idea to organise one of my outstanding dreams this year of double penetration; I know that’s part of the reason why swingers’ clubs were invented, but I want a memorable experience rather than risk a tick-the-box exercise in mechanics with strangers. My birthday is in a couple of months and I thought perhaps The Drummer and I could spend the night in a hotel and book a professional to make sure the job is done reliably and well (The Drummer and I haven’t had sex at all this year but he still seems keen to watch me being ploughed — I haven’t told him about this scheme or his potential involvement yet). So off to trawl the internet I went.

I understood why none of the web sites featured face shots as prostitution is often a second job for men, but I didn’t find out until later that legislation bans body shots. Damn. I was hoping for something like a visual sushi train where the tasty man treats would spin past my screen on rotation until I picked the one I wanted to eat.

The first agency web site I viewed was peppered with red love-heart balloons and promised that Chad, Marcus and Edward knew how to please the ladies and give the most glorious neck massages. Next.

The next web site was akin to buying a stud thoroughbred in the race horse classifieds: 185cm/85kg/blue eyes/tanned/dark brown hair/toned physique/strong jaw/presents well. Sounds practical, I suppose. Next.

The last site featured a man who’s 35 with blue eyes, dirty blonde hair, a tight physique, and has the same first name and dimensions as Mr OMG. I might start saving for a couple of hours with him. I don’t know how much to save because rates on most agency web sites are on enquiry, but lots would be a good estimate.


I am still alive but currently caught up with medical appointments, finding a new gym and finding a new job among other priorities less pleasurable than sexual shenanigans. My period is due in a few days; barring a miraculous meeting with someone in the next 48 hours, things will be quiet for the next week or two.

I met someone for an initial catch-up that won’t be going further. His profile read that he was into kink (and outlined a few of his favourite activities), experience as a dominant and a submissive and his rampaging appetite for sex. I was very interested. After about 15 minutes talking face-to-face, I learned that he hadn’t done any of these things but they were his desires and he *intended* to live his life like a Roman orgy set in a dungeon. The cafe didn’t have wireless internet so I couldn’t dash to the toilets and re-read his profile, so I went along with his spiel and pondered if my usually-sharp memory was faltering or if he was lying about his background until it started becoming the truth.

His wishes to be trussed and treated like a fuck toy sounded enjoyable for a while until he asked me to take him on as a submissive … I’m not in the right mindset for the responsibility and emotional care of someone almost at bursting point with desire and with so little real-life experience that I wished him well and walked away. I know many others spend inordinate amounts of time looking for the more innocent to corrupt, but I think it’s clear by now that I’m not like many others, for better or for worse.

I returned home and checked his profile text. I was right; he hadn’t done anything he had listed. Even though his deception was based around hope rather than malice, he had also lied about his marital status (an open relationship isn’t one where you’re tired of your girlfriend and thinking of fucking around behind her back).

Someone else postponed twice so I deleted him and I could be meeting a die-hard dominant later in the week for a drink. We have already established that I’m less about the protocols and more about the sensations, so I’ll see what happens.

Just keep lining them up at the rate I’m deleting them

Super Nerd and I re-scheduled when he returned. You guessed it: an hour before our planned meeting time he said he might be running late as he was still at work. The logical side of my brain kicked in and calculated quickly that he was a 75-minute drive from where he was working, we were meeting in 60 minutes and something wasn’t right. I gave him the latest time to let me know if he was going to be late so I wasn’t left waiting at the car park alone for him. Right on the minute he said he hadn’t even left work yet.

I had to respond and ask if that meant he was delaying or cancelling (I loathed having to ask 20 questions when he already knew the answer). He cancelled and I let him know I was ending contact due to ongoing confusion. He didn’t reply.

There was no one thing that sent my hackles on edge, but in looking back, it was a series of small inconsistencies and doubts. I still don’t know what his game was, but it doesn’t matter now. My only solid theory is that he was available, local and sexually compatible, which means it was all too potentially good and therefore my life would have been simpler, so it couldn’t have been.