Pokemon Go is Stopping Outdoor Adventures

I’m wedged firmly between the gaming eras of Space Invaders and the Assassin’s Creed series but I somehow missed Pokemon the first time around.

However, I’ve become quite the self-proclaimed legend on Pokemon Go through necessity.

NZ and I were messing around in the back of his family transporter, parked adjacent to a sports field and walking path. The sky was a moonless black and we huddled in the bubble of his car because the air was almost freezing outside. No one else was around. No one else was silly enough to be out in the middle of winter.

We had removed our pants, keeping our tops and socks on in respect to the chilly air (or to German porn). I wriggled as far up the floor pan of the car as I could, with NZ wedging himself as best he could between my legs. His tongue and fingers started my slide into a dreamy reverie.

Lights suddenly flashed outside. I sat bolt upright, convinced we were surrounded by police.

“What the fuck is that?” I said, pleasure forgotten.

NZ unwrapped his limbs and looked out the side glass as well. Three mobile phones and dark silhouettes were moving towards us at an unescapable pace. I wondered if the owners of the glowing gadgets could see our outlines through the clouded glass. Towards the left, more blueish-white orbs of light from mobile phones bobbed in the distance. We were surrounded.

NZ pulled a blanket over our bare skin (yeah, officers, we were just having a semi-naked picnic in the back of this car). As we awaited our fates, a sedan drove into the car park and pulled up suddenly. No one got out. Thirty seconds later, it drove off again.

The holders of the mobile phones got within 10 metres of us before veering to the right and then turning vaguely towards where they came from, as if chasing invisible butterflies. They flitted away into the distance. The sedan returned a few minutes later, stopping briefly and taking off again. It returned another time before disappearing.

NZ and I discussed what might have happened. Short of looking for aliens, the best reason I came up with was that people were looking for a lost dog. That didn’t explain the stopping-and-going of the car though. NZ seemed to hope they were outdoor perverts like us, but with thicker skins. We gave up pondering and tried to return to our intended activities. I was too scatter-brained to relax and NZ’s dick went up and down like a see-saw. We finished each other off with our hands, cleaned up and vowed to get a hotel room next time.

The next night I watched the news and the lead story was about the Pokemon Go craze sweeping the country. The footage showed tribes of people roaming around at night, phones glowing in hands while capturing animated insect things. Ooh. I texted NZ with the explanation for the previous night’s happenings.

I downloaded the Pokemon Go app and learned enough to catch a few zubats and ratty critters in my neighbourhood. I haven’t returned to the car park NZ and I met in but something tells me that it was a Poke-stop and the adjacent areas were rich with rare Pokemon.

I can’t wait until the craze is over.

The tables have turned

The Drummer received a message on a meeting site where he has an inactive account. A local woman who wasn’t responsive towards his profile last year had a change of heart and got in touch with him.

You know when someone has gone out for a quick introduction and hasn’t returned hours later that something enjoyable might be happening? Yep, he got lucky.

He backed up with another visit to see her the same weekend; I was supportive and delighted that he’d met someone but felt slightly apprehensive that so much was happening in a short time. Was she a psycho hose beast? Clingy? Or just plain content and wanting seconds?

She is about 10 years younger than him, recovering from a painful relationship break-up and looking to sample the delights she finds in the online world. She seems to be in a mindset similar to mine of a few years ago where new experiences were to be had for the having, regardless if they turn out positively or more as lessons in life. She has another man or two on the go which has tempered my reservations that she might be a psycho hose beast.

I laughed wildly when he returned after the second meeting and said it took a long time driving around to find somewhere private in the great outdoors. Like in the last post, shit, I understand the frustration of public spaces being used by the public for their intended purposes rather than smut. She has a house nearby but it wasn’t available so they needed to furtively scratch about for an alternate venue.

A few days later I was at work when she visited The Drummer at home. My first thought wasn’t about someone entering my territory but rather if the house was clean and did he remember to leave a towel out in case she wanted to shower? I guess that means I’m comfortable with our new arrangement to use the house even if it isn’t to my direct advantage just yet.

Everything’s changed but nothing’s happening

I haven’t written for some time because I haven’t been active or looking for activity. Things have changed on the home front though.

One night I was at home, doing something relaxing like reading a book, and The Drummer said he had something serious to discuss with me. I couldn’t tell from his body language if serious meant a jocular discussion about a lack of chocolate in the house or a truly serious issue. I turned my attention to him and hoped we were running low on chocolate.

He said he’d been reading some old posts on my blog and wasn’t aware I’d once invited Mr OMG into our house. I experienced a moment of wonder that two people could have an important conversation after which one has no memory while the other has down-to-the-sentence recollection. I explained that I once had his blessing to invite Mr OMG, however, he wasn’t comfortable with the arrangement afterwards and I returned to my nocturnal life in car parks. Shit, I don’t dodge sporting teams and others looking for mischief at the park because it’s invigorating and good for addressing my lack of patience.

We talked further and he said he was fine if I invited someone over. I’m glad for the additional – and comfortable – venue but I had to laugh that I now have all the facilities I need when I am at the tail end of my adventurous period.

The unexpected conclusion to this post is that he utilised our (reciprocal) offer first.

A man’s perspective

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.

This week’s cameo role is played by Mr OMG, with a guest appearance by The Drummer

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.

Time capsule 2008

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.


Re-grouping

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.

Desire is never balanced

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.

Re-attachment

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.


Negotiations

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.