A new home, a fresh look

I finally finished a move I had been planning for over 2 years.  My old residence was in a neighborhood that was gentrifying too much for my taste.  The last straw was when a married couple with a baby and 2 dogs moved into the condo above mine.  C'est la vie, I'm outta there.

The new neighborhood I'm living in has a lot of perfection to it for me: it's still "off the radar".  I own a warehouse space in the neighborhood and one of my front companies operates out of there, so making a new home wasn't too difficult: put up a gigantic wall, create a home in the back 40%.  It really is perfect: no one knows its a home, and I can slip in and out through the alley discretely.  Plus, I don't plan on having friends visit regularly, so I have my own little island right on the raging sea that I call Chicago.

I have my bedroom built, a guest room, a private bathroom, a nice little kitchen and eating area, and a living room.  It isn't too bad, and the privacy is amazing.  There's an attached apartment building upstairs from my warehouse, so if I want to meet the neighbors, I have that option.  A private rooftop deck adds to my options as well, although it's more "roof" than "deck" at the moment, but changes are coming as I desire them.

With fall ahead, my life is quickly coming to a pace that suits me, as well: the summer was comfortable and relaxing, with most of my time spent at the beach, other than the odd and over-reliable client meeting.  With Europe and South American on my radar for fall and winter, I am certain of good things ahead.

Spring breakups continue

In the past week, another 3 "solid couples" ended their 2-3 year runs, at least according to Facebook.

As I've said for many years, that's no surprise -- what is a surprise is that it's happening at a record pace.

Part of it may be that the recession in the States was keeping people together for affordability reasons; now that the job market is turning around, freedom long desired is finally available.

Another part may be the unbelievably warm winter we had in Chicago -- I missed *every* snow storm due to business and pleasure travel.  When people bed down and move in with someone else because they don't want to socialize in the cold, a warm winter can create problems early on.

Lastly, the emasculization of males continues -- I can't believe what sissies the guys are that some of my gal pals started dating in recent years.  I made a private personal bet that none of those relationships would last, and that all of them would end with the woman leaving the man.  So far, I'm 6-for-7 on those self-bets.

And so it continues...spring in Chicago.

Men and Women Can't Be _________

1. Friends
2. Business Partners
3. Platonic Roommates
4. Married

 I've tried all 4 of these, and I was unsuccessful. Living with women creeps me out because it shows you how messy and lazy a beautiful and successful woman can be. And, it always ends up with sex. Except for the last one, that is.

Going from the bottom to the top:

Marriage ruins both sex and relationships. I know plenty of readers in the past were stay-at-home moms, and just chatting them up lead me to confirm that marriage is only good for one thing: giving women an acceptable provider after they've hit the Wall or feel like they're approaching it. My own marriage because exactly that within 6 months of putting the ring on her finger: we went from shuttling around the world regularly, rubbing elbows with the infamous, to having a beautiful Victorian home, expensive kept yard and plenty of married couple cocktail parties, but absolutely no sex or the drive that we used to have. Boredom crept in practically overnight, and the woman who was my best friend and solid top plate became a woman I hate and still to this day won't answer calls from.

Living together as platonic roommates is one step better than marriage.  That means it's almost as bad.  I've done it 3 times with women that started off (and were supposed to stay) just platonic roommates. In one situation, I rented out an extra room to a couple I knew and was actually friends with.  Never once did I sleep with a female roommate because of alcohol or drugs -- most of the time, it was just random flirtations that became more than flirtation soon enough.  With the couple I lived with, I ended up fucking his girlfriend only 3 months after they had moved in.  He had no clue.  At one point, I had one of my socks shoved in her mouth while I railed her in the bathroom just 15 feet from their bedroom.  Thankfully, the bathroom was a Jack-and-Jill style with two exits: I left through mine, she cleaned up and left through hers, and he drove her to work.

Business partnerships are best between two confident men.  My last relationship that exploded a few years ago was both sexual and financial.  We started off as secret lovers, her boyfriend having cratered in confidence and finances.  When she finally tossed him out, we started a business together.  That lasted all of 6 months before she started sleeping until noon, ignoring every request (and demand) I made of her in terms of work productivity, and eventually her life revolved around fucking me once a week and going out 4 times a week.  When she finally "left me" over meeting a new, interesting guy, she had nothing to show for 2 years of "hard work."  Of course, I still have that particular business, and the guy she left me for left her just days after.  Comical.

Other business relationships I've had also always lead to sex -- I did some management consulting and the customer had hired one of our competitors to co-consult with us.  2 long nights of working late (with our management teams) and retiring to whoever's hotel room was closer was a natural reaction.  We're still competitors even though I'm no longer in the business, but whenever we're in the same town, drinks and the nearest hotel room are a natural way to exhaust the stresses we aired over alcohol-infused conversation.  For the guys: when a woman wants to catch up, she means sexually.  There's no other definition for that term.

Men and women can't be friends.  Harry in "When Harry Met Sally" said this on more than one occasion.  If the woman doesn't show sexual interest, the man will.  If the man doesn't, the woman gets curious as to why he's unique, and she'll need to win over his begging and emotional vomiting to prove that she still has it.  My only female friends are those who are obese or way older than me and probably in menopause.  I recently tripped out with a gal pal who has been just a friend for the past 10 years.  3 nights out of town, 2 of them with her in various positions missed in the Kama Sutra.

Recently an ex-girlfriend of one of my closest friends called me up -- I hadn't seen her in 2 years, and when I had seen her, I think we all hung out maybe 3 times with my buddy.  She wanted to catch up (yeah, of course she did).  Since I had just left my main plate's apartment, I figured I could actually do that -- just catch up.  The fact that she's a bartender and has about 6,000 decent looking bar staff femme friends was a priority I wanted to dig into.

Of course she coerced me to having another round of drinks at her place.  Of course she did.

And before I left in the morning, she had that common question to ask: "So are we friends, or are we doing that again?"

My answer is the one I give all women in my life: "Men and women can't be friends.  Or business partners.  Or roommates.  Or married."

And I walked out her door.
---

Hit me up on Facebook.

Inept dysfunction

I've always found it curious when a woman I'm attracted to but is in what appears to be an amazing relationship hits me up on Facebook to chat within 24 hours of a breakup. Never do I show any attraction to these women, I am just some random guy they met at a party of mutual friends. I wouldn't say I'm boundary-limited, of course, but these are always women who truly appear to be happy and comfortable with the guy they're with.

It's spring here in Chicago -- that means the alpha in a dominant person in a relationship has a good chance of pushing out the submissive party. I've considered this for years through just watching relationships crumble come April. Typically, submissive people will seek out new partners before the winter, but those relationships fall apart when the stronger party realizes they want to get out and taste new flavors.

In this case, Ellen's breakup was a surprise. I've spoken to her maybe 3 times in our lives; I believe we've met just once, and we only have 3 mutual friends. Her boyfriend wasn't that attractive overall, but he had a great job and they shared many hobbies and passions. The age difference between them was a touch above a decade, but the relationship appeared to work.

When she chatted me up on Facebook for the first time ever, I knew instantly what happened. I quickly checked her relationship status: it still showed that she was with him. I figured I was wrong.

"John and I broke up" she said, about 10 lines into the chat. "I'm sorry to hear that" was all I could manage, quickly wondering how I should engage her for a cocktail. There are lines even us assholes don't cross, and I'm never one to take advantage of a gal right after a crushing breakup.

The chat came and went a few times over 2 days, my only desire in it is to make her laugh (laughing online isn't that powerful, though). A few quick lines about life and I log off -- that's my usual modus operandi with these things.

Come Friday, I put out an invite for her to meet me and some friends for a cocktail. She doesn't accept nor decline, just leaves it hanging. Low interest, I would say.

The fact the her waist is probably a 24 and her tits and ass are in the 32 range means I'll definitely try a little harder, maybe after she's gone through the rebounds which are likely to be flocking to her soon when she announces the breakup public.

A return home, for a short while

My arrival back in my hometown of Chicago coincided with the holidays. Packed airports, packed airplanes, packed taxi cab lines, packed grocery stores.

Thanks to the decision to throw a small portion of my annual income at hiring a houseboy, I was able to avoid 2 of these 4 areas of mass infestation: the airplanes were calmer in first class, and the airports even more calmer in the private clubs that seem to be getting fewer and fewer members as the supposed recession carries on. That, my friends, is a good thing.

Chicago in the winter is lovely to look at, but terrible to witness. My gentleman's gentleman pulled up mere seconds after I texted him that I was waiting by the terminal exit, and I hopped into his/my car for the journey back to my headquarters/home. Joseph was a random find, appearing outside my door, drunk, at 2am on warm summer weeknight. His callous attitude and unfriendly nature made me like him immediately. 2 days later, he was hired to assist me in the areas that most women fail: cooking, cleaning, pressing my shirts and organizing my schedule.

With only a week left in 2011, I've come to realize that 2011 was neither a bad year nor a great year. I had plenty of travel, a few lovely ladies to keep me company, and generated enough income to really blow the doors open on the adventure I called life in 2012.

Let's see if I can stick to keeping the details together long enough to toss some words onto your screen on a more regular basis.

Thanks to those who continue to email me or Facebook PM me, requesting an update on the life of Sane. Let's try again in 2012 -- I've missed you all. Speaking of Facebook, kindly add me as a friend if you so desire: Brian Chi Sane.

My Way or My Way

I had an interesting Google Chat conversation tonight with a lady who I am soon to meet on a upcoming trip to the East Coast. I'm not sure what exactly put us on this line of conversation, but I felt the drive to share it with you find readers.

My dating rituals haven't changed much over the years, but I've honed some skills that I find make dating more fun, not just for me, but for the lovely ladies I let spend time with me.

One area of dating where I've always found the most success over the schmucks in the market is forcing the issue that dates are for my sake. I don't date a woman for her pleasure, I date her for my pleasure. That's one reason I tend not to date women higher up in financial status than myself, or more popular in terms of society. I'm the one spending my (more valuable) time with her, and my money, so its my way. There's no highway, but they're free to stop seeing me. Few do.

Recently, one of my lovers gave me a wonderful Valentine's Day present: she gave me the phone number of her best friend and said I should ask her out. Her best friend I had only seen in rare pictures, but I had commented on her attractiveness. The friend Facebook stalked me (I later learned) and was curious about me. She's a model, of sorts, but not on the same level as one of the more popular bubble heads you see Photoshopped on the cover of a magazine. Still, she's prettier than most, which makes my internal alarms go off.

As you'll discover through reading my little diary here, I have this bad knack of being an asshole but still providing women what they want the most and understand the least. Kimberly, the best friend of one of my favorite lovers (let's call her Justice), definitely gets hit on too much, so she's used to the attention of schmucks in her life. Little did she know that I have almost zero schmuck genetic material in my cells, thanks to my Casanova father and racist and prejudice mother. Gotta love good genes.

Our first date was uneventful: 45 minutes in a coffee shop. I told her after 45 minutes that I was done. "Done?" she asked. "Yes, done."

"Do you have plans now?" she inquired. "No." I left.

Our second date happened when I called her randomly and told her I was picking her up the next day (Wednesday). I told her to wear a dress, preferably not red. I picked her up at 7 and we went to dinner at a halfway decent restaurant. I had planned on paying, so the date was for my sake.

Sidenote: would you buy a $1000 airplane ticket and let Expedia pick your destination? Would you pay $30 to go to the movie theater and let the theater pick which movie you're seeing? Of course not, unless you're a schmuck. I pay, I choose.

We sat at a table at the restaurant, far from the kitchen as I had requested when I made reservations. The waiter brought us 2 menus and a wine menu. I grabbed Kimberly's menu off the table and handed it back to the waiter, who walked off for a few minutes. Kimberly gave me a stare but said nothing.

The waiter walked up to us and asked if we wanted anything to drink. I ordered a glass of red for myself, and a different glass of red for Kimberly. That's when she asked: "don't I get to pick?" I said "No."

Once the waiter brought our wine, he asked if we were ready to order. I said "Yes" and proceed to order food for Kimberly (a small steak and some veggies) and food for myself (a big steak and no veggies). I ordered hers medium, mine rare. She didn't put two cents in.

"Why don't I get to make a decision, I'm a big girl," she asked, with almost a bitchy attitude.

"I'm paying. You eat what I order or you get dinner after this one. I won't order you something I won't eat myself if you don't like it, and I hate leftovers." End of discussion.

We made small talk when our meals came. The wine was great and she commented as such. I scarfed my steak down (16 ounces) in record time while she was still eating her small order of veggies and 8 ounce steak. I started to eat her veggies and part of her steak without asking. "You're in a rush!" she exclaimed.

"I don't like wasting time." She finished her meal and I chomped down the bits she couldn't. I told her I was done (I didn't ask if she wanted desert), I flipped a few $20s on the table and we left, before the waiter could return with the bill.

Off to a bar we go, with her in her sharp green dress, a color that few women can pull off, and me in my dark green jacket with distressed vintage bootcut jeans and a deep maroon tailored shirt (with black cuff links). The bar wasn't too busy, but busy enough, but the bartender saw me come in and made 2 seats at the bar appear magically. We sat.

He asked what we wanted, and I immediately ordered her a drink (a Moscow Mule) and myself a Scotch neat with a water back. Again she asked if she gets to make a decision, to which I said "You plan the next date, you pick me up, you pay for everything, you can do whatever the fuck you want."

We drank, chatted, had a good time. Her physical contact with me was intense, which was helpful since practically every gal in the bar was jealous of her amazing legs and her gorgeous eyes. If this one is a waste of time, she at least increased the desire of other women towards me 500%. I'd keep her around just as eye candy and a jealousy trigger for the women in the room (90% of which were fat and disgusting).

Kimberly finished her drink before mine was half empty. "Can I get another drink?" she asked. "Sure," I said, and waved down the bartender. "She'll have some tap water," I told him.

"Umm, I was hoping for something...stronger."

"Yeah?" I asked.

"That first drink was tasty," she responded.

I said nothing, just sipped my cocktail. I paid for the first round in cash immediately, and if she had ordered her own cocktail, she'd be footing the bill. From how tight her dress was and how small her purse is, I doubt she brought cash with her anyway.

We had another round of drinks -- on MY schedule -- and I told her I was done. "I'd like to stay out a bit later!" she meowed. "You're welcome to. Cabs are easy to get here," I let her know. "Oh, no I meant with you."

"I'm sure there will be other opportunities."

And that was that. Of course she's seen me since then. Of course she's spent time in my bed. When I buy airfare, I pick the destination. When I go to the movies, I pick the film I'm watching. It's my money, it's my way. I don't really care what other people want -- they're welcome to stop seeing me. Few do, though, and that's a lesson for the guys who read this. Don't be a schmuck. It's your time and your money, and both are valuable to you.

Don't forget to add me to Facebook. I need more "friends" on there.

A New Year, a New Sane?

2011. It's been 1 year and 4 months since I posted something of value to this site. Who knows why I stopped. Maybe I found something I thought I wanted, but in the end it wasn't what I needed. That's a lesson in life: you have what you want, but is it what you need?

Whatever happened, I've been bored not airing my grievances and pleasures to the masses. It was a good run for awhile there. The last I spoke of was a partial, incomplete story about the lovely Sandra, my latin lover for a moment in time. She still crosses both my mind and my fantasies often, and we still communicate via email now and then. With the women I've been with since her, none have compared to her beauty and sexuality and raw courage. I'm proud of what she's doing, although I do find some frustration that our time together was so short. So it is, my friends: life passes us by if we don't make the most of it.

The rest of my time away was locked in a bad relationship with a good person. This new gal, Kira, wasn't what I wanted. I pushed her off of me when we first met, but then I tumbled into a relationship that did neither of us any good. The breakup was rough. She's doing fine, I'm doing great, but we don't talk. There are some amazing stories there, and some sad ones. In due time, I'll tell them all.

Since my breakup with Kira just under a year ago, I've dated some fine women: Christen, Rebecca, Helen, and some others. Nothing too serious until Christen, who I am seeing still to this day. She's amazing. She's pretty and driven, she loves sex and loves to be with me. She also loves that her man is with other women, and she openly encourages it and defends it when people take issue with it.

Is she a girlfriend? Not quite. A long term lover, for sure. But she also knows that with my busy life, the travel, the events, the galas, the excitement -- I need more than one gal in one city. It's good to have women like that.

Busy has been good. I've excelled, grown, profited, and made a bigger name for myself, both in the States and around the world. 2011 will be more of the same, but you can bet it will also be more of the Sane.

Stay tuned for details.

Cough, cough...

Is this thing on?

Back for another harsh winter...

...it's been since August 1st since most of you have heard from me. Thanks to those who continue to communicate via email -- it's been one of those summers, for sure.

I traveled too much, worked too hard, and let a lot of my year get crunched into a period of hectic behavior so I could have an easier winter ahead of me. For those who have been actively waiting for me to get back to hang out -- I accomplished my goal. My winter is free.

My sex life has calmed down quite a bit. This will change this winter, so if you only come here for scandal, may the scandal begin.

I've missed you all. Say hello if you're still listening!

Tools of the Trade

You are already aware that I carry a gun. I don’t kill people, I rarely even have to fire it at someone. A gun is not the tool of violence; in most cases, just brandishing this tool can prevent violence from breaking out. In situations where a scared or intimidated mark decides to try to take the advantaged position, my gun’s barrel facing them or penetrating them can shut that idea down fast. If I need to knock someone out without permanent damage, the gun’s buttplate is just strong enough to put them down but not so strong as to leave a permanent mark. It’s useful to pop doors off their hinges, stop a vehicle from pulling away and even take out a security camera.

Read the rest.

1...2...3...4...5, Part II

Continued from Part I yesterday.

"1" stands for the first orgasm my latin lover had, face down, belly down, thighs spread, my face nestled gently between them.

After she had come down, I was nuzzled up against her, my arm hugging her from the side. Her goosebumps had disappeared, which means she was resting, but I would have none of that. I carefully caressed her back and arms again, more gentle than before, and within moments those gorgeous signs of desire returned. I jokingly hit her tickle spot, just to tease her a bit more. Her back jumped a bit, but when it returned so did my hand, caressing its way down to her ass and thighs. Her body is muscular but she still has a feminine form, and I really can't keep my hands off of her.

This time, my caresses brought forth the moans faster. Her face was turned sideways, facing me, but her eyes were closed. Her mouth was forming the moans beautifully, and I figured I may as well bring her off one more time. I realized that this lovely lady needed to be fucked, and I needed to fuck her, but I had no idea if she'd come from penetration, so I wanted to secure her second "O" now rather than later.

As my hands touched her thighs, one then the other, she parted them slightly. "I'm still wet" she told me. A quick check confirmed it. Later she would tell me that the words "I'm still wet" means "Do me now." I caressed her dripping pussy courtesy-reach-around style, spreading her full lips and pushing a finger only a little bit inside her. Again her ass and hips were grinding, up and down, so I manipulated her clit and pussy lips to the rhythm her body commanded me to.

Because of her full clit, part exposed and part open, her orgasms come quickly. She can come faster than almost any woman I have ever bedded, and they're sexy and loud and fill the air with a scent of heaven. What feels great for her is an ego stroke for me, but I have a feeling that her future lovers won't have an issue bringing her off unless they aren't gentle to begin with.

And it's not just about her orgasm, it's about teaching her my various tricks to find a woman's safety zone and then breach it. I've spoken with hundreds of women over my sexual years (maybe thousands?) who have boyfriends or husbands or fuckbuddies that just don't pay attention to how to bring them out of their shell and then ravage them before they can return. Women who learn from a solid lover can pass it on to future lovers, and that's my end result: bringing this lovely young lady's sexual peak to her life NOW rather than in her 30s.

As I slowly penetrated her with 2 fingers, not really entering deeply, just beyond her lips, she grinded harder, moaned louder, and put her hands out to her sides as she grasped the side pillows while biting and pressing against the pillow under her face. It didn't take long for her to come, and when she did her body tensed and released over and over. Her goosebumps came to full fruition, capturing her whole body in the only form of braille I know how to read.

And then she was done. That's number "2."

As she came down, I straddled her back, my hard cock growing even harder. I put my cock head onto her neck and slowly rubbed it down he back. Moans. I went from her neck to just above her ass, and then rubbed my cock all the way back up. Groans. It's electric, especially when my cock can bring goosebumps to her body.

I turned her over and asked her if she wanted to get fucked. "Yes, please, fuck me." I love her latin accent that carries through to her perfect English. Where should I fuck you? "Fuck me in my pussy, please, fuck me." I nodded. I straddled her tits and took my hard cock, grabbed her head and slipped into her mouth. Yesterday, she had some problems getting my full length into her mouth. After a great blowjob, she managed to get a little under half of it into her mouth.

Today, I'm going to challenge her. I watched her eyes and she watched mine, and I fucked her mouth slowly. I used my own pressure, my own rhythm as I pulled back to her lips and then penetrated her again. When more than half was in, I hit her throat, causing her to gag a little, but not lose how wet her mouth was. I continued to pull into and out of her mouth, getting a little bit more in each time.

I wanted to throat fuck her harshly, teach her a lesson in what she'll get if she teases me as she had. Instead, I wanted to make her comfortable with my cock in her mouth. This won't be the last time I see her, and I want to build her up to the point that I can slide my entire thick cock down her throat as fast and harshly as she deserves it.

She admitted to never swallowing a man's come or getting a full load on her face. Both of these issues will be resolved on this trip, and she will love and desire both from me in the future.

Finally, I realized I needed to be inside of her, inside of her pussy instead of her mouth. She's beautiful, but I want to break her cherry that had rebuilt itself after months of not having sex with anyone.

I stood up, reached down to the nighstand and unzipped my medicine bag. There are 4 condoms in there, so I pulled one out. I tore the package, squeezed the tip and unrolled it onto my thick cock. I prefer the "larger" sized condoms because they're not as tight and forgiving as the larger ones, but I was worried that GOD'S PENIS would show itself, which would hurt her pretty bad.

After the condom was unrolled, I used a muscular technique to lessen my erection without losing it completely. Historically, I can lessen my girth by about 30% and my length by about 10% if I do the right movements. If I am too aggressive about it, I can lose my erection entirely, so it's a risk.

I pulled her ass to the edge of the bed, stood on the floor, spread her legs and put my cock right at her pussy. "Fuck me, please please fuck me" she said in her Latin-distressed English. Gladly.

I pushed my cock in and her Latin eyes opened up majorly. Her back arched a bit and her hands fell against the bedsheets, gripped. Uh, oh, ouch? Are you ok? "Yes, fuck me." I pulled back a bit, and tried to penetrate her tight pussy again. Again, another arching and hands gripping the bed. Does it hurt? "No" she lied, "please."

I pulled back, used my muscles to try to lose a little more of my thickness, and then slipped it, obviously tearing a little but she took it in stride. As my cock finally penetrated her pussy's reborn virginity, she dumped a load of wetness all over my cock. As I pulled part of the head out, it was covered in her lube. "Ohhhh, yes," she moaned.

I ran my hands on her tight abs and then grabbed her hips as I pulled back into her, slowly. "Ohhh god, fuck me" she commanded.

I didn't pick up the pace, just pulling out a little and then sliding in a bit more. Within 10 minutes of at that soft rhythm, I was able to get about 1/2 of my cock inside of her, but no more. She's incredibly tight, but so wet that there was nothing holding back but my own desire not to bring too much pain to her.

She looked beautiful. She stared at my face, alternating between opening her eyes in lust and closing them in passion. After a good 15 minutes of stroking into her, I realized her thighs were getting tired from being spread. "Put my legs on your shoulders" she asked, almost immediately after I saw her legs get tired. I followed her advice, throwing each ankle onto my shoulder.

This also allowed me to pull in deeper, but still only at the half-way mark of Little Fire Hydrant. I could tell he was getting thicker, so I tried to relax him as I slipped in and out, always making sure to keep the head inside. When a woman hasn't been fucked in a long time, the act of first penetration can be painful, but reoccuring penetrations will still hurt. It's important to not fall out.

I found her rhythm that she liked, and I found a rhythm that gave me the best sensation while still allowing me to keep my cock from becoming too thick and long. Her limit was about 1/2 of my cock, and definitely not the full girth, but it felt amazing for both of us.

And then it happened as I kept the rhythm strong: she told me "I think I'm going to come." Ladies, there are two things us guys love about a gal: 1. when she tells us she's about to get there ("Don't stop, don't stop" works, too), and 2. when she actually tells us she IS there. Sandra doesn't say when she's coming, but she does have an awesome, LOUD orgasm. "ah, Ah, AH, AHHHHH" was all it took and I continued to keep my rhythm up, pushing a tiny bit deeper to see if I could get her to accept more of me.

I fucked her for another few minutes while she laddered up her orgasm, and then slid down slowly. Finally, I could tell she was done, and I didn't want her too sore from our first soft fucking, so I popped up and took off the condom.

I stroked my cock, hovering over her belly, and asked where she wanted my load. "Come on my tits, please." I love that she asks for it, so I spit on my hand and cock and continue to stroke the head, just inches above her belly button. As I looked at her gorgeous face, I knew I had to unleash on her tits and see her beautiful bronzed skin covered in my white come.

"Yes, come on my tits" she implored, and I exploded. My first shot landed on her left tit, then I moved my cock and hit her right tit with the second. I was trying not to be too explosive, but the third shot flew over her tits and chin and hit her square in the nostril and her nose, so I aimed the fourth shot at her right tit again and missed completely, landed a huge comeshot on her nose and her left eyelid. FUCK. I had 3 more shots left, and all fell on her tits and her belly.

Gorgeous. If I had a pic, I'd happily share it with all of you, because it was serene and sexy and I fully owned her body with my come.

I had brought a towel from the bathroom but it was out of reach, so I used my ring finger to pull the come off of her eyelid so she could open it. She smiled, almost laughed, and was enthralled by my come on her nose, which she grabbed with her finger and tasted. "You taste amazing" she told me, but it was probably a lie since my diet was out of whack in this Latin America country. I'll accept it, though, but I know it can taste better.

I finally grabbed the towel, covered her tits and belly, and crawled up next to her, to nuzzle, to nap, to contemplate when and if this will happen again.

To be finished in Part III.

1...2...3...4...5, Part I

As you kind readers may know, I had a whopper of a day on Wednesday.

I arrived in a certain Latin American country EARLY. While I had business scheduled, I also invited a local blogger who I read and email here and there to meet me for a cup of coffee. Considering that she is MUCH younger than me (I was double her age not that many years ago), I figured it would be a great cup of coffee, good conversation, a nice hug, and off she goes. As I said in my previous 3-part post, we talked, walked and ended up at my hotel room just 2 hours later. 2 orgasms on her part, 1 on mine and we had a nice afternoon in my king-sized bed.

I wasn't sure if I'd see her again, considering my busy schedule and her summer of fun with friends, but the next morning, as I was walking to get breakfast at 9:45am, I received an SMS from her: "I want to see you, NOW." Uh oh, I need to eat.

As I wandered looking for food to eat, I saw her walk up. Tall, slim, curvy, gorgeous Andalusian eyes and hair that makes me swoon, my gaze was fixated on watching her walk up to me. Since she's my secret latin lover, and I'm her gringo, we had to limit PDA to basically a latin hello smooch on the cheek. It was hard not to embrace her, bend her at her waist and throw my lips on hers. Ouch.

I hadn't eaten, and I didn't see any breakfast-type places at the center of the action, so I invited her to my hotel lobby for breakfast there. She had already eaten, but we sat down in the lobby restaurant and she helped me order an omelette with cheese and chilis. The waiter, in Spanish, warned me that they were caliente. Duh, it's LATIN-FUCKING-AMERICA. I ordered coffee, she ordered orange juice.

My plate came, quickly, and it was perfection. I'm not sure what it is about the beef and eggs in this country, but it definitely tastes better. Sandra, my new latin lover, sipped her orange juice while we talked about her evening prior, hanging out with friends and doing the college summer break thing. Ahh, to be sub-21 again.

I finished, quickly, as I always do, but realized I had forgotten my cell phone in my room upstairs. I asked her to follow me while I get it. No, no, you perverted fucks, I really just needed my cell phone, and it wasn't a Costanza-style leave-behind. In the elevator, she threw her face at me and we kissed, arriving at the 3rd floor too quickly. We wandered down the hallway, and I could FEEL the eyes of the cleaning ladies after the loud cries of pleasure emanating from my room yesterday. I hope Sandra didn't notice.

We entered my room, and I snagged the cell phone, and a few more kisses. I've said it before: I love passionate women, age is not a factor. This gal, with her minor dalliances of past lovers/boyfriends, has passion down to an art and a science. She can get Little Fire Hydrant ready to put out her fire in about 3 seconds.

But that's not how Sane rolls. It's important to me to stay one step ahead of their teases, and she knew full well what I had in mind. Our first day we met, and 2 hours later I had my face between her thighs, bringing her off loudly and harshly. But no sex. I wasn't going to corner myself into bed with her without knowing how she'll handle the next step -- if there is to be another step. I'm here for a few days, and then who knows when I'll see her again? It's important to me that a lover's head, heart, body and soul all be in the right place; I never want to be the guy who takes advantage of someone.

So we left the hotel room. The smile on both of our faces was bright, and it brought smiles from every hotel employee as we walked past them. I wanted to check out the mall in town, which was a 10 minute cab ride from my hotel. We caught a cab in front of the hotel and zipped off, ready to spend my money on something nice.

We arrived at the mall, which is very modern, just like back in the States. $5 for quite a long haul, not bad. As we wandered, I told her I needed a belt, but I would love to put her in some shoes, or a dress, or get her a purse or another accessory. She had no part of it at all. I could barely pay for her orange juice earlier; she's not looking to be my sugar baby. Too bad, I'd love to doll her up and then strip her down to only what I bought her.

So we wandered the mall, looking at every men's store for the belt I want. I HATE belts with holes and pins, prefering the kind that clasps at any size without the need to puncture leather. After 3 or 4 stores, we found it: PERFECTION. The perfect color (light tan), the perfect size, and a unique clasp I had never seen before. I paid for the belt after trying to get her to pick out something for herself, but I let with only my bag.

We wandered the mall a bit more, and then hopped another cab to yet another mall to wander around a bit. Again, she denied my desire to put her into something sexy or slinky or gorgeous. We sat down and I had an espresso doble (again) and she had a strawberry smoothie (again) just like our first "date" yesterday. We also shared a keylime and grapefruit pie/cake that was fairly decent if not enough acidic.

After the second mall, we headed back to my hotel, both of us realizing we hadn't slept enough and needed a nice cuddle-and-nap. Back up to the third floor it was, and she sat on my bed while I checked my email, twitter, Facebook and blog comments. I could see the tiredness in her eyes, so I sat on the bed with her, laid down, and cradled her head on my chest and shoulder.

It didn't take long for her bronzed skin and toned body to beckon my fingers, and again I played teasingly on her shoulders and arms, taking her hands into my hands and entangling fingers while I returned back to her upper back. Goosebumps, again.

As she let me tease her skin and back, clothes slowly came off as we embraced, holding each others faces with our fingers as we passionately battled lips and tongues. I withdrew a few times, which made her erupt "TEASE!" more than once. Yes, yes I am.

She inhaled my man scent a few times, and commented on it. I've heard it before, and I have no idea what I smell like: cigarettes, coffee, halitosis? Well, whatever works.

She straddled me, her gorgeous thighs wrapped around mine, both of us still wearing our jeans. She removed her top, and I moved my hands from the small of her back to her shoulders, casually flicking her bra strap off in a split second. I'm sure she was impressed, and she laid her tits on my chest and we wrapped ourselves up in our bodies, our kisses, our mutual passions and desires for one another.

After what seemed like eternity (but wasn't, I move too fast with this gal!), I brushed her off of me in order to go wash my hands in the bathroom. It's a good tactic, because I also leave my medicine bag in there, the one with the 6 condoms. I was a bit worried about not being able to find my particular brand of condoms in this part of the world, and I was right: none of the pharmacies carry it. Argh.

As I returned, I had her remove her jeans and her underwear. For a young gal, she is quite the comfortable nudist. I absolutely adore her body: her curves, her skin, her almost-invisible tan lines. Her goosebumps I provide her drive me up a wall, and her pussy is always glistening and ready for what I have in mind, be it teasing or licking or touching. As I stroked her thighs and they spread, her scent filled my nose and reached down into my soul. There is nothing more sexy than a woman who is wet with desire from just my kisses and my caresses.

I needed to taste her, and I didn't waste time at all. I kissed my way down her chest, actually giving her nipples a smooth encircling with my tongue before teasingly biting only a slight bit. She moaned as my mouth passed her pubic mound; I inhaled and took in her gorgeous feminine scent. I had already made her come with my mouth once yesterday, so I turned her over onto her belly.

I spread her legs, ass pointing to the ceiling, and shoved my head between her legs. With her belly on the bed and her pubes also touching fabric, I wanted to give her a different clit licking than she had probably had before with her limited experience.

Her pussy tastes amazing, definitely a top notch situation. I've tasted some boring ones, but this is nothing short of perfection. I lapped at her lips, her clit, fucking her pussy with my tongue as I rubbed her ass and thighs. Every time her ass tried to move into the air, I forced it down with my hand, knowing the pressure against the bed will bring her off quicker.

And it didn't take long. Her mouth her buried in the pillow, biting down possibly on the fabric. I kept her ass forced down as I put all the pressure I could on her clit, taking it into my lips and then licking at it as it became fully engorged. She moaned, muffled, and tried to tell me she was going to come, but it really came out as "ah, Ah, AHH, I'm going to (muffle) AHH AHHH AHHHHHH" and then she did.

My face, as the day before, got soaked as she came on it and into my mouth. I slurped up as much as I could while she came down, her hips grinding less and less.

The she collapsed on the bed, and I nuzzled up next to her, my arm around her back and shoulder, my hands on her arm, feeling her breaths slow, her body loosen, her goosebumps falling away as she basked in the glory of what seemed to be a very strong orgasm.

To be continued in Part II. Suckers.