25 January 2018

... and another two years have passed.

Sorry I've been away so long. Things have been hectic. But, I promise to deliver some new content, soon...

23 April 2015

Been a while...

So, it's been, well, quite a bit of time since I was last one. Lots of things to report on but I'm too tired to start tonight. 

How have you been? Doing well and partaking in lots and lots of carnal activities, I hope.
I hope to have something up before the end of the week… until then...

13 November 2012

Dreams As Therapy

Another dream with Kel. This one was much different than the previous ones. First it was set in the present. Second, we interacted with each other. Third, it lasted a long time and lastly, she told me she was sorry.

I believe that dreams, for the most part, are just our way that our brains deal with information they have gathered while we're awake. Maybe the brain is analyzing data, trying to figure out how to organize and store it. But part of me thinks that while we're asleep our minds become receptors to stimuli we would normally not be sensitive to, as if receiving waves of emotions or energy from outside sources.

Last night's dream felt like that. It came out of the blue (as all the dreams with Kel have) as there had not been anything recently to make me think of her. We were at a house, it was a white, two-story victorian somewhere down state. I didn't recognize the house, but it was out in a rural area, with a few  large trees around it and an open field beyond that. There were a lot of people and I was there with with some people I knew. Kel was here with her son, which is weird because she doesn't have a son (that I know of). There was a band playing inside the house and it made me feel like some sort of reunion or neighborhood gathering. At one point I could hear her and "see" her, even though I wasn't looking at her. They needed a drummer for the band that was going to play next. I thought about volunteering, but I don't know how to play the drums.

We were not in the same room and after the event ended, I began to walk away from the house, when I heard her call after me. I turned around and before seeing her knew that she would look older, that this wasn't her "past self' in the dream. She smiled at me and I could feel something wanting to burst out of my chest and I couldn't help but smile back. We talked (about what, I don't know) and soon we were sitting together on the grass and things seemed...right. The next thing I remember was her holding me close, her face against mine as she told me she was sorry for putting me through all the things that happened between us, even after we stopped seeing each other. I felt something "leave" and relief washed over me.

We said good-bye and she walked back toward the house.

Normally, when I've dreamt of Kel I awake with a sense of longing. Today, that didn't happen. I've looked online to see if anything has happened to her, to see if she somehow sent some "message" last night but have seen nothing. Not that I would expect her to be thinking of me while she's on the other side of the World. But still...

25 October 2012

The Things I've Done: Katt, Part 3

"You know those Macadamia nuts?"

"Yes, why?" I responded.

"Get me some of those, and a nice bottle of red wine." She nearly commanded. "Can you do that for me?" Her voice suddenly sweetened. "I haven't had some in a while and it would be nice to have some."

"Um..." I struggled with her sudden change in tone. "Sure, yes, I can do that."

"Good, honey. I'll leave the door unlocked, so just come in. See you in a bit."

The line went dead.

I hung up the receiver and walked away from the payphone. I began to walk East, toward the store she had told me to go to, wondering what kind of wine to buy. I knew little about wines but was familiar with Treasure Island, the store she had named, as I had stopped by there before. The thing was, I didn't remember where exactly it was. This was late 2001 and I didn't have a cel phone that could give me directions via a web browser or application. Instead I would need to ask someone where it was.
After asking a couple of people, a rather attractive woman gave me directions.  It was only a couple of blocks from where I had called her and it wouldn't take me long to get what she had requested. It was only about six o'clock in the evening but the sky was already dark and the air was a bit chilly. Winter had arrived early that year.

Once I reached the store, I quickly picked up a can of Macadamia nuts then walked toward the wine section.

Merlot. Cabernet. Malbec. Pinot Noir. Hmm, I know that one. I grabbed the bottle and made my way to the cashier.

After purchasing the items, I left the store and walked across the street. I was a block away from her building and it occurred to me this was a first for us. She had never asked me to bring anything from the "outside" to her place. It was the fourth time she asked me over and I wondered if this was the beginning of something more than what we already had. If you could consider our meetings something we "had."

I reached the awning of her building and walked in. The person behind the front desk wasn't the doorman I had seen before and I figured it was because I had been here at an earlier hour the previous three times. I told him I was here to see Katt and he looked her number up and dialed.

"Yes, there is someone here to see you." He said. There was a pause as he listened to her reply. "Yes, he is carrying a bottle of wine." Another pause. "Okay, I'll send him up."

He hung up and told me to sign the guest book. After this I walked to the elevators and took one up to her floor.

I exited the elevator, found her door ajar and walked in.

"Hello." I said.

"Hey." She called from the back of her apartment. "I'm in the bedroom."

I took off my shoes and walked past her kitchen, then her bathroom, finally making it to her bedroom. All the lights were on as well as the television. I don't remember what was on, because the sight of her completely naked on her bed immediately drew my attention. She was sitting up, a few large pillows propping her up as she watched the television. The bed was devoid of a sheet or a blanket with only the fitted sheet wrapped around the mattress. Her legs were slightly spread with her pussy clearly visible. My cock began to grow. She had one hand resting on her abdomen, just above her pussy and it was slowly rubbing it in an almost absentmindedly kind of way. Her other hand held a remote control that she pointed at the T.V. She pressed a button and the television went dead. She looked at me, her eyes peering at me from behind a pair of glasses. I had not seen her wearing glasses before and they caused her to seem more "common" than before. She took her glasses off and placed them on the nightstand next to her bed.

"What took you so long?" She reprimanded.

I was taken aback by her scolding.

"It took you almost a half hour. Did you get lost?"

"Um..." I stammered, "actually, I did. I thought I knew where the store was, but it turned out I didn't."

"Oh." She pursed her lips. "Well, it's too late now. Put those things in the kitchen, take your clothes off and come over here and eat me."

Without thinking I turned and headed back to her kitchen. I placed the wine and nuts on the counter and walked back to her bedroom, undoing my pants as I walked. I quickly undressed and climbed into bed with her.

She shifter her position, laying across the bed as she had done the first two times I had been there. She didn't bother to get a towel and just stretched out, her arms falling over the edge of the bed and her legs parting wide.

"I was hoping we could have had a nice glass of wine before you started, but it's late." She said in a bothered tone.

"Sorry," I tried to atone, "but like I said, I thought I knew where it was."

"Okay." She said in an even tone. "Now, eat my pussy."

I bent down and then pushed my legs back so I was stretched out on top of her and I began to kiss her belly as I had done before.

"No." She said, her hands on my shoulders. "Just eat me."

I slid down and began to lick her. I didn't feel her respond so I kept going. Soon my tongue was inside her and she was slowly rocking her hips. I wrapped my arms around her thighs with my hands caressing the insides. I kneaded them while I licked her and a moan finally left her mouth. Good, I thought.

I kept orally servicing her for a few minutes and although she was reacting to what I was doing, it wasn't as vocal as the previous times. I wondered if I had really screwed things up with my tardiness and thought I should put more effort in to make it up to her.

I increased the pressure of my tongue on her sex and continued to massage her thighs and ass. The rest of her body began to rise and lower in a slow rhythm but she barely made any sounds. I kept at it, hoping she'd come around.

Her moans increased and I saw that she was squeezing her breasts. But it was still nowhere near what she had done before. I began to finger her while I flicked her clitoris and I felt her tighten a bit. Better.
Then she pulled away and propped herself on her elbows.

"What's the matter, E?" She asked, deadpan.

"Nothing." I tried. "Why?"

"You're not doing enough for me." She continued.

I didn't know what to say. What could I say?

"Oh... do you want me to eat you some other way?"

She began to sit up.

"No, just fuck me."She got on all fours, with her ass facing me. Then she looked back at me. "Go on, I know you've wanted to do this and I want to come."

I kneeled, my cock pointing straight up and looked around to see if she had a condom somewhere.

"Do you have condoms?" I asked.

"You don't need it." She said with a tinge of annoyance. "Just put it in me."
I leaned forward, pulled my foreskin back and guided myself into her. She let out a low grunt as I slid inside. Her hips rotated, causing her ass to rise and her back to arch downwards.

"Mmm." She purred. "You feel good."

"Thanks." I said, content with her change in mood.

"Now fuck me with it, baby, I need to come."

I grabbed her hips and pulled her toward me. She moaned louder as I pressed against her and my member was completely insider her. I pulled back slowly then slid back in. She felt incredible. Without the condom I could feel everything and I could feel her juices soaking me.
I increased my rhythm but tried not to overdo it as I could feel my climax already building in my groin.

"Deeper." She groaned.

I tried to grind into her as I thrust inside, hoping to fulfill her wish. I kept a steady rhythm trying to think of something other than how hot it was to be fucking her. She began to rock back against me and I could hear her breathing become more labored.

"Fuck me deeper, baby." She grunted as our fucking increased. I was struggling to keep my orgasm in check but her commands weren't helping. Soon she was grunting with each thrust, as if my cock was pushing the sound from out of her. It was interesting to hear her like that as she sounded less in control that all the times I had been with her before.

"Uh, uh, uh, uh." She moaned as I began to pound her. The slapping of my thighs against the back of hers and the moist sounds coming out of her pussy were turning me on more and more. Her movements seemed less precise, controlled as she rocked back into me.

"Goddamn, fuck me deeper..." She said between gasps. "I want you to make me come!"

I was close to losing it. Then I thought, Am I going to get her pregnant? We weren't using a condom and she had never mentioned anything about being on the pill. I knew she was older, probably in her late 40s but I didn't know what that meant in terms of potential pregnancy. I wondered how I could ask her without ruining the mood. She must know it's okay, otherwise she would have told me to put a condom on. I reached over and grabbed onto her shoulders and pulled her back, causing her back to arch more. Her head feel back, with her mouth wide open as she panted.

"More, more, more..." She moaned. "give it to me."

"I'm going to come." I offered sheepishly.

"No, you're not." She countered, her head turning and her eyes meeting mine with a cold stare. "I'm not done yet."

I gritted my teeth and forced my mind onto other things: Work, bills, football, anything that would prolong the inevitable.

She let her head drop down as she rocked back and forth faster. My cock, balls, pubic hair and her pussy and thighs were soaked with out juices, causing a loud, wet slap every time our bodies collided. Her neck was down, causing her shoulders to rise up. She looked like she was surrendering to something and I thought she also might be close to finishing. I looked down and watched as my cock appeared and disappeared under her ass. Her cheeks were spread apart with her puckered anus nestled in between. I licked one of my fingers and pressed it against it. A low moan bellowed in her chest. She looked back at me, her eyes watery from the effort of out fucking. I didn't know if she was approving or not so I pressed harder against her hole to see how she would react.

"Not today, baby." She said, gasping.
I removed my finger and continued to fuck her. I grasped her ass and spread her apart even more. She increased her rhythm and I followed her lead.

"I can't hold it anymore." I said.

"No..." She began.

I pulled out and began to spill onto her ass and back. She kept rocking back and forth and the friction of her skin rubbing on the underside of my cock coaxed more of my climax out of me. Her head was turned back, watching me. Once I stopped climaxing, she stopped rocking.

"Get me a towel." She said flatly. She remained on all fours while I walked to her bathroom, took a washcloth and ran it under the sink. I returned and placed it on her back, collecting my semen in it and wiping it off her back. I walked back to the bathroom and rinsed the towel. She walked into the bathroom and turned the shower on.

"I was really close, E." She said.

"Sorry, but you felt way too good." I said, hoping to flatter her.

"I know, but now what am I going to do now?" She stepped into the shower and began to rinse off.
I tried to think of something to make things right with her but couldn't think of anything. I thought about the wine, the nuts... anything. She reached for the soap and began to lather her back.

"You come a lot." She said. "I could feel it all over my back.

"Sorry. Like I said, you felt really good."

"I'm disappointed, E. This is twice now that you haven't finished me off." Her voice was louder as she tried to talk over the sound of the shower. "We're going to have to do something about this. You know this is supposed to be all about me."

I stood there, dumbstruck, unable to come up with a solution to the problem facing me. Saying I would make it up to her or even guaranteeing that I'd make her climax next time seemed inane at this point. Her tone had taken on that of a parent scolding a child.

She shut the shower off and wiped the water off her face. She looked at me squarely, her mouth a mashup of smirk and pout.

"Hand me a towel, baby." She said.

I quickly handed her a towel and she began to towel off.

"I'll probably have to take care of myself. I'd watch that cumshot video, but Gigi still has it." She seemed to be talking more to herself than to me. "Well, get dressed, E."

I left her and walked out to her bedroom where my clothes lay in a pile on the floor next to the bed. I got dressed quickly and wordlessly. I heard her walk up behind me and I wondered if she was going to pass further judgement.

"You liked fucking me, didn't you?" She said as she walked passed me, wearing only the towel on her head.

"I did." I said, offering nothing else.

"I could tell." She sat down on her bed, one leg up on the mattress, the other on the floor, toes pointed as it could barely reach it. "You know how to fuck, I'll give you that."

I looked up at her and saw that her face had taken on a warmer tone.


"Oh yes." She said. Then her face darkened slightly. "But this is about me, E. If this is not how you see things than I need to find someone else. who will see it that way."

I didn't know what to respond, so I just finished dressing while she looked on.

"Maybe I'll give you one more chance, to see if we're on the same page."

"Thanks." I said.

She got up as I turned to leave and she followed me to the door. She let me out, making sure to stand behind her door as I walked out. I took the elevator down to the lobby then left her building. I wasn't sure what to make of what had just happened but it felt like something had changed between us. I wondered what was next.

19 September 2012

The Walk

You walk your dogs, two at a time, like you mean it.

The few times I've seen you, you've given me an impression I would like to confirm: A woman who knows what she wants and takes very little crap from those around her. Your dogs walk in front of you, but they don't pull on their leashes. They're allowed some freedom but know their place. You walk behind them, but it's clear it's you are leading them. They aren't some little frou frou toys who could fit inside a shoe, no, and with a less strict owner I would think they would have run of the place. But despite their size, you handle them well, showing no signs of giving them more than you allow. They don't seem unhappy, instead they have a content look on their faces, a sign that they are given what they need. Nothing more.

You walk them in the middle of the street, not on the sidewalk or in your front yard and despite taking up the main part of the path, I don't recall ever seeing you steer your dogs to the side to let  a car go by. Not because I've actually seen a car come up behind you, but the image of you bending to someone else's whim does not exist in my mind. You don't just own your dogs, it seems, you also own the path you walk on.

Whenever I am out in our neighborhood, I look for you, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and your dogs. Whether its in your formfitting workout clothes or wearing a tank top and jeans I catch my breath when I see you walking by. You've only glanced at me once, maybe to have a better look at the person who seems to have stopped doing, whatever it was he was doing, to take in the sight of you walking your dogs. The rest of the time you've strode past, focusing on the task at hand, relinquishing no control over the situation. Your steps deliberate, measured while your hips gave a playful bounce. Your posture was upright and purposeful without being stiff and the look on your face was a mixture of sternness and serenity. You walked away, in a rhythmic march, giving me only what you thought I needed and nothing more.

02 May 2012

Facing Seats

I quickly darted past the closing doors of the subway car. My eyes scanned the car for available seats and found one right in front of me. I sat down, removing my backpack and placing it across my lap. I was slightly out of breath, a product of the sprint from the entrance of the subway station to the awaiting train.

Your eyes caught mine.

You were seated in front of me, your crystalline blue eyes snaring my gaze, helpless to move on. A small smile spread itself across your lipsticked mouth. I snapped out of my trance and tried to avoid any more eye contact, but I couldn't. My eyes darted back to you then onto other places inside the railcar. Your white blouse, the ad selling Zip Cars, your grey skirt, the homeless man ranting about something unimportant, your legs... your legs. My eyes shot up to meet yours and your smile faded. I swallowed then let my eyes drift back to your crossed legs. You were wearing pantyhose with jet black pumps at the end of them. Our eyes met again and I couldn't help but want to devour your legs with my eyes.

Then your uncrossed your legs.

I caught a glimpse of something. Lace, just below the edge of your skirt. You smiled again.

03 November 2011

Porn Sex: Sex as Sport

The other day a female friend of mine and I were talking about how casual sexual relationships were such a daunting entity, especially when it came to managing them and making them work. One of the topics that came up was the issue of setting expectations. How does one exactly go about doing that? Moreover, how does one communicate what he or she would like out of the "arrangement" without necessarily setting limits? Sex isn't much fun if there is a laundry list of things that are off-limits... or maybe it is; maybe the challenge of seeing how far one can go while still staying within those constraints appeals to some people.

While talking about those expectations and how to go about establishing them without being a killjoy the idea of sex as "sport" came up. We're both very much into the idea of having someone we can be purely sexual with without having to deal with all the other things that sex usually brings with it (yes, I'm looking at you, monogamy) and have been able to keep said relationships "casual". So, when trying to come up with a good comparison or analogy to what our view of these casual affairs were we came up with sports.

As we talked through the idea it seemed that just like any other physical activity, sex shared a lot of the same traits as things like shooting hoops, 1-on-1 or spending an afternoon playing tennis. Now, among gay men... or maybe men, in general, this idea seems much more "normal" than it does to women (at least most of the women I've known). Granted my friend is an exception (she's overall very exceptional) but she seemed to think that there were quite a lot of women who also shared this idea but would never openly admit to it. If there are, they should make their opinions known. It would probably make life a lot easier and pleasurable for a lot of people.

In any case, to me it seems like a very logical comparison to make: Casual sex is a physical activity that two adults can partake in just as they would a shared jog in the park. Why not? In either case the point is to share the experience of enjoying not only each others' body but also one's own and what it is capable of. One could even add a competitive component to it just like a couple of hours of racquetball might have between friends.While winning or losing would be part of it, in the end the act of partaking in physical play would be the main goal. Obviously with sex there would be a different level of pleasure received at the end of the "match".

So, you're probably wondering why I have "Porn Sex" in the title of this post since I have failed to mention anything related to pornography so far. Well, if we were to take the analogy of sex as sport to a further point, we could bring in the idea of amateur vs professional "athletes". In this case, the professional athletes would be those who partake in sex in a professional capacity. While I am reluctant to bring prostitutes - er, sex workers into that category they could technically be included. The reason for my reluctance is that I would think it would be the equivalent of getting to play a few rounds of tennis with someone who is well-versed in the sport but not necessarily very good at it. At least not on the same level as someone who is nationally recognized. So, for the sake of this argument I'm only referring to porn stars as my professional athletes in the sport of sex.

All that being said, here are some of the other comparisons I came up with:

  • Porn stars and pro athletes
    • Are seen as being (almost) physically ideal in both how they look and how they use their bodies
    • Can do things with their bodies that most of us can't. At least not to the degree they can.
    • Are well-versed in the sport that they practice, sometimes even innovating it.
    • Are sometimes part of a larger team or stable of other professionals (think pro teams and production companies)
    • Exhibit more endurance than most of us.
    • Can sometimes be separated into levels, or tiers where some are considered better than others or worth more money
    • Can sometimes elevate the sport into art or even the mainstream.
    • Can be dramatic.
  •  Amateurs, or those who practice sex or sport for non-professional reasons (as in, you and me.)
    • Are usually not as elegant or "in control" as their professional counterparts
    • Because they don't partake in the activity as often, their matches don't feel as rehearsed.
    • Their activities are more intimate, personal and honest
    • Primarily do it for fun
    • May partake in competition
    • Sometimes participate in the activity with the intention of improving their skills
    • The physical exertion is sometimes considered a benefit
    • The act of using one's body is the goal
    • A form of interacting with others with similar interests
    • Interest in knowing what one is capable of
    • The benefit of trying new techniques out in a more relaxed "space".
If society removed some of the stigmas associated with non-romantic sex I think more people would feel better about partaking in sex as a sport. Just as "the guys" can get together to shoot some hoops for an afternoon, friends should be able to meet up and share some orgasms. Why not? As noted above, both acts share a lot in common. And by taking away some of the more "heavy" concepts or values associated with sex (only do it with someone you're in love with, should be "special", etc.) it's possible that once you do find someone you feel you could spend the rest of your life with you may just be a near "pro" at pleasuring your mate.

Things I Like/Love

Things I like:
- Blondes
- Redheads
- Lingerie
- Hosiery
- Socks
- Lace
- Short hair
- Legs
- Victoria's Secret

Things I love:
- Brunettes
- Thighs
- Calves
- Black, band-top thigh highs
- Cuban Heels
- Seams
- Bangs
- La Perla

11 June 2011

The Rules of Engagement: Prelude to War

Yes, I'm using quite a few military references in my title so it sounds more severe that it should. Maybe I should have titled this post: The Rules of Entanglement: Prelude to Penetration. Either way, the point is the same, if the mental imagery is not.

A few months back I had found a guy on adam4adam.com who seemed pretty interesting. Not in a "my God will you look at the size of that anaconda in his briefs" sort of way, but rather, what he was seeking.

If I'm looking for sex, it's NSA/casual, not looking for a relationship or anything heavy right now. Getting to know a guy would be ideal...

... or something like that. The impression I got from this 44-year old's profile was that he was in a similar place, looking for someone to meet up with on a regular basis who he could have more than just a quick lay with. For those of you I've been chatting with regularly, you know that I've been gravitating toward finding one person to play with that I have some sort of mental connection with. I've come to appreciate how much the mind plays into sex much more lately and in the process have come to the realization that while the cock may be yummy, if the guy attached to it can't turn me on by what he says, does or writes then a pretty boring romp in the sack is about all I can expect. Also, my recent experience with David kinda helped flip the final switch in my mind that caused me to appreciate the emotional connections between two men and how that impacts the overall sexual experience.

So, I sent this gentleman a message and he replied. After a few exchanges, he told me he was reluctant to pursue anything with me due to my "attached" status. I cleared some things up but told him that if he wasn't comfortable moving forward that we could leave it at that, no harm, no foul. He said he'd think about it.

Fast forward a couple of weeks and I get a message from him, asking how things are going. We exchange a few more e-mails and it seems we're hitting it off. The option to actually meet is now back on the table.

I'm not sure what set him at ease, if it was something I said in terms of how I can compartmentalize the various aspects of my life or if he was just not getting any and I seemed like a viable option. In either case the images of him wearing only very tight white briefs caused me to want to see what was underneath. He travels quite a bit so there were a few days that would go by in between e-mail exchanges and, in turn, slow progress being made toward actually getting together.

Until last week.

He told me he was finally cool with the idea of meeting up and that Friday of this week worked for him. I told him it worked for me as well and asked if we could now start working each other up via e-mail before we finally met up. He liked the idea and a few daily e-mails filled with veiled sexual references and some very blatant erotic descriptions were traded.

Friday arrived and I found myself ringing his doorbell.

We had agreed to wear jockstraps for our first encounter since we both shared a liking for that specific article of (un)clothing. He answered the door and I was instantly hit with a sense that somehow his photo didn't match his actual physical appearance. I'm not sure what it was, perhaps I had somehow mixed up his photos with someone else's when I was filing them away in my mind. This by no means was a bad thing as he is a rather good-looking guy. It was just a fleeting sensation that somehow something had gotten mixed up. We traded some quick introductory small talk and he then asked if I had worn the "regular" jockstrap (I had asked if he preferred a regular one or a sheer one the day before. He had opted for the regular one.). I said I was and assumed that was his way of asking me to disrobe.

I quickly stripped down and he followed suite. We stood in only our jocks' both trying to decide what should come next. This is where the title of this post comes in. We really didn't set any sort of rules up front or decide what we were going to do so there was a rather awkward moment as we tried to mentally size the other up and try to ascertain what the other's limits might be.

He took a few steps toward me and reached for the growing bulge in the coarse fabric of the my jockstrap's pouch. I followed his lead and after a few minutes of coaxing each other's erections we released each other's members and took each other in visually.

He was much larger than I had expected. His frame was similar to mine, only an inch shorter than me, but his cock seemed about an inch longer and slightly thicker. It had a beautifully shaped head and there was already a drop of precum oozing out of the tip. He had warned me about his cock's "leaking" quality so I was not surprised to see it already producing the clear fluid.

We slowly stroked each other, exploring the other's sex and the surrounding areas. I kneeled and took his now very stiff cock into my mouth and proceeded to suck him off. After a few minutes of this I sat back on my heels and he bent over and returned the favor.

Soon we were in his den, trading blowjobs in front of a mirror, edging each other closer and closer to climax. When it was clear we were both at that point, he stood in front of me, legs slightly apart, his cock deepening in color, a long string of clear, sticky fluid hanging from the tip of it as he stroked in a faster pace. I sat on a couch, legs spread, also coaxing the orgasm out of my stiff cock, watching his naked frame preparing to climax.

His breathing got louder and when I could tell he was close, I sat up and caressed his balls, further urging the orgasm out of him. He grunted and three quick spurts of semen spilled out of the tip. The fourth shot out onto my leg and the remaining spurts spilled onto the floor in front of him. His climax was copious, no doubt enhanced by the amount of precum inside his cock. He relaxed, letting his cock stand on its own and I took it and spread his milk all over the head and down the shaft. He twitched, his cock now very sensitive in its post-orgasm state. I let his cock recover and I sat back and finished myself off.

We both laughed at the messes we made and he walked to the bathroom, returning with a damp towel. I took it and cleaned up, my eyes shifting from my cleaning duties to his still erect cock.

We cleaned up further in his bathroom then we got dressed.

He was leaving that afternoon for work, returning some time during the weekend. We talked about what next week was going to be like, both relaying our desire to meet again.  We sad our good-byes and I headed out.

There was no "agreement" in terms of what to expect in our subsequent meetings or if there were to be any limits (no anal, exclusivity, etc.) in terms of what we could do with or to each other. The encounter, to me, was very hot and I could easily see myself bent over some piece of furniture while he fucks me senseless with that generous cock of his. We're both versatile but I find it much more of a turn-on having him penetrate me than the other way around. I've never flipped with a guy, so I'm also thinking this is something else I can take off my "to do" list.

But none of this has been established between us. So, what is the usual protocol for determining next steps? Go with the flow or set ground rules?

13 May 2011


I thought about you tonight. Nothing much, just a memory that snuck up on me, was suddenly in my mind without a segue. It was a phone call: You apologizing for not calling me back, claiming your friends had “kidnapped” you and you couldn’t get away. We had agreed to meet up that night but I wasn’t surprised when you didn’t call until much later.

Really, no surprise. We weren’t going out, we weren’t really talking by then. You had been in Seattle for a while after being in D.C. for so long. I had never moved. You had gone on without me and I often wonder if you knew I’d stay put, someone you could count on to put a smile on your face, someone you could push away or call in the middle of the night when you thought I was straying or for some sort of flattery or justification for being.

We had broken up - at least you thought we had - or maybe I had said those words and my taking them back meant nothing to you - and months later you came walking down the stairs of the El, slowly, your smile radiating brighter than the platinum blonde hair you had decided to don for the sake of effect. Or maybe not. It looked good on you. I almost dropped my defenses. Almost.
At lunch you had tried to pry, to see what was underneath and you lashed out when you couldn’t see what I was thinking.

“You lost that privilege when we ended.” I said. Or maybe I just thought it, afraid of engaging you, showing too much. My secrets were my only capital and I would be damned if I handed it over to you.

But there was the tinge of guilt and I almost caved. Almost.

So I remembered the call. I was at home, surrounded by friends who had also decided to kidnap me. You knew most of them and we could have easily merged our groups and wound up together that night. I’d like to think you had called because you wanted more than to just hang out. But I’d never know because I told you it was too late. You had chosen your path that night and I had not been a part of it. Maybe you had thought about me all day after lunch. Maybe you had realized what you were missing. But you never said those words. Instead you hid behind your friends just like I did as I said my good-bye and hung up.