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.
Showing posts with label tease. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tease. Show all posts
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Somewhere in America, Part III
This is Part III of a 3 part series (you should hope).
There I am, my beard glistening in her come, her lips raping my face, her hands on my neck and hair. A woman unafraid of tasting herself on the man that brought her off is 5 stars in my book.
We fall back to the bed and cuddle, noting that the sun is still up -- it's barely late afternoon. She has to be back at her place because she's going out to a party of some sort with friends later, so we don't have much time left.
The cuddling didn't last long as her face is on mine again. She's an amazing kisser, right up there with the best. She handles my aggressive kisses without shrieking, but she also accepts my teasing kisses by pouting when I pull away. A kiss is a tease like a back touch, but also a display of intimacy moreso than even fucking. From her kisses, I know I want to be inside of her, just not today, mere hours after our eye first made contact.
As we kiss, I feel her hips grinding again, up into thin air. It's not even 5 minutes after she came on my face and I can tell she's ready for more. I playfully dance on her body, her arms and shoulders and let my mouth wander to her beautiful breasts, licking around her nipples, underneath to her belly, up to her neck and shoulder and any protrusion I can put into my mouth fully or partially. She's moaning, surely ready for more.
I know I could have gotten my medicine bag and fucked her, but I wanted her to beg. Since her mouth is open but words aren't coming out, I decided to see how far I can push her orgasmically before penetration.
My hands danced down the middle of her torso, teasing her breasts and the sides of her body, her mouth making contact with mine again. My other hand is supporting her back and her neck, still teasing it slightly with the smallest touches, bringing forth those amazing goosebumps that just lead me to tease even lighter.
As my hands pass her latin hips, she moans. It's obvious she wants to come again. Finally, as my hand makes its way over her light pubic hair, she really moans. I let a finger slide past her clit and her hips push up to meet it. I pull back on her gorgeous lips and they're soaking again, fully wet so quickly. I'm amazed at her sexuality, her appetite for me, and her desire to come at my command.
I cupped her pussy fully and used a finger to only lightly penetrate her. That's when I noticed why she's so sexual: her clit extends from her hood where it's large, but it hides for a little bit and comes out again just at the opening to her pussy. It's amazing, and it has to be sensitive as all hell.
With my palm cupping her clit and my middle finger slightly penetrating her, I realize that I am going to hurt her BAD when I fuck her for the first time, if I can fuck her, if she wants me. Still, my finger is bouncing completely out and then just partially in, being careful to be very gentle with her extended clit.
Every time I pull out, she moans and grinds her hips. Every time I re-enter, she does the same, just as powerfully. She's sensitive, but she's ready so I don't need to hold back. I only do for teasing sake.
But she's still sensitive and wanting to come hard again, even with my teasing. I'm kissing her, trying to pull her attention away from the fact that my finger is caressing her dripping pussy. I can still taste it on my mouth from her first orgasm, and I can feel her body tense-and-release as my finger plays its medley on her clit.
It doesn't take long as I continue to pull out and in. "I think I'm going to come" she warns me (HOTT), so I use the bottom of my palm to add extra pressure to her clit hood while still stroking the entrance to her pussy, which has thickened up. She's dripping to the point that I can feel it. "Oh yes, like that, like that" she says with her Latin accent. I could always come myself just from her melodic and gorgeous voice.
"Unhhh, unhh, ohhh, unh" she mumbles as she comes, her arms reaching out to her sides on the bedsheets as her pussy moves 6 inches upwards to meet nothing but my palm and hand. As she comes, I look at her face, the gorgeous closed eyes which slightly open to show me pure white: her eyeballs are in the back of her head.
Her toes are curled, her feet extended forward, her legs are spread, and she continues to come for 30 seconds or more as I continue to rub her clit, lighter and lighter to not bring pain.
Finally, she stops. She's breathing heavy, kissing me, cuddling her face into my neck as she comes down from her orgasm. After a few minutes, we just cuddle again, my hands on her shoulders and her back as she holds me, fully spent.
Finally, she gets up to put her panties back on. Her gorgeous tits and ass get me fully erect in my jeans, my shirt still laying somewhere on the floor. I decide I can't handle it anymore, so I stroke my cock through my jeans and notice I totally flooded myself with precome. Ouch.
I unzip my jeans, unbuckle my belt, and slide my thick cock out. I spit on my hand to lubricate it as I stroke it. She turns, notices, and hops back on the bed, watching intensely.
I look at her face and see she wants it, so I ask if she wants to kiss it. Instead, she opens her mouth, licks her lips, and puts the head into her mouth, which fits, but just barely. I'm stretching her cheeks and love the look of this gorgeous, bronzed skin latin lover swallowing my cock head into her mouth.
She tries to put more in her mouth, but its girth gives her some problems, so she backs off, licking the head and underneath, causing me to moan. She puts it back in her mouth and tries to get more inside, succeeding at swallowing about 1/3 of Little Fire Hydrant. Then she backs off, obviously hitting some sort of gag reflex. It's still hot as hell, and this girl can give head.
She's switching between licking my shaft and underside of the head and popping it in her mouth, getting more of it little by little, finally ended with her lips at about the halfway mark on my average-length cock. Fuck I want to drop a load in her, on her, whatever.
Sadly, we're out of time. She HAS to leave, her ride is coming to pick her up and we're still a 5 minute walk from the pick up point. Still, she doesn't stop, until I remind her that we have to leave. I want to squirt my load all over her gorgeous face, but that's going to have to wait until next time -- if there is a next time.
I pull my hard cock back into my pants, find my shirt and dress. She finds the rest of her clothes and I watch her dressing, contemplating finding my condoms and fucking her, or pushing her to her knees and jerking off on her mouth. Wouldn't that be a nice surprise for the people she's seeing later?
But it wasn't to be. I walk towards the door out of my hotel room and she kisses me, deeply. Neither of us want any PDA while we're in her small and gossip-prone hometown, so I kiss back, knowing it could be our last. I have business to tend to, and my lifestyle causes me to leave cities sometimes hours or only a few days after I arrive.
"Tomorrow?" Maybe.
We leave the hotel, both of us smiling aggressively. Everyone in the hotel must know -- this gal is loud. We wear the smiles proudly as we walk over to her pickup point. She turns, gives me a platonic latin kiss goodbye on the cheek, and I turn on my heel and head back.
Tomorrow. Maybe? I hope so. I want to be inside of her, badly.
There I am, my beard glistening in her come, her lips raping my face, her hands on my neck and hair. A woman unafraid of tasting herself on the man that brought her off is 5 stars in my book.
We fall back to the bed and cuddle, noting that the sun is still up -- it's barely late afternoon. She has to be back at her place because she's going out to a party of some sort with friends later, so we don't have much time left.
The cuddling didn't last long as her face is on mine again. She's an amazing kisser, right up there with the best. She handles my aggressive kisses without shrieking, but she also accepts my teasing kisses by pouting when I pull away. A kiss is a tease like a back touch, but also a display of intimacy moreso than even fucking. From her kisses, I know I want to be inside of her, just not today, mere hours after our eye first made contact.
As we kiss, I feel her hips grinding again, up into thin air. It's not even 5 minutes after she came on my face and I can tell she's ready for more. I playfully dance on her body, her arms and shoulders and let my mouth wander to her beautiful breasts, licking around her nipples, underneath to her belly, up to her neck and shoulder and any protrusion I can put into my mouth fully or partially. She's moaning, surely ready for more.
I know I could have gotten my medicine bag and fucked her, but I wanted her to beg. Since her mouth is open but words aren't coming out, I decided to see how far I can push her orgasmically before penetration.
My hands danced down the middle of her torso, teasing her breasts and the sides of her body, her mouth making contact with mine again. My other hand is supporting her back and her neck, still teasing it slightly with the smallest touches, bringing forth those amazing goosebumps that just lead me to tease even lighter.
As my hands pass her latin hips, she moans. It's obvious she wants to come again. Finally, as my hand makes its way over her light pubic hair, she really moans. I let a finger slide past her clit and her hips push up to meet it. I pull back on her gorgeous lips and they're soaking again, fully wet so quickly. I'm amazed at her sexuality, her appetite for me, and her desire to come at my command.
I cupped her pussy fully and used a finger to only lightly penetrate her. That's when I noticed why she's so sexual: her clit extends from her hood where it's large, but it hides for a little bit and comes out again just at the opening to her pussy. It's amazing, and it has to be sensitive as all hell.
With my palm cupping her clit and my middle finger slightly penetrating her, I realize that I am going to hurt her BAD when I fuck her for the first time, if I can fuck her, if she wants me. Still, my finger is bouncing completely out and then just partially in, being careful to be very gentle with her extended clit.
Every time I pull out, she moans and grinds her hips. Every time I re-enter, she does the same, just as powerfully. She's sensitive, but she's ready so I don't need to hold back. I only do for teasing sake.
But she's still sensitive and wanting to come hard again, even with my teasing. I'm kissing her, trying to pull her attention away from the fact that my finger is caressing her dripping pussy. I can still taste it on my mouth from her first orgasm, and I can feel her body tense-and-release as my finger plays its medley on her clit.
It doesn't take long as I continue to pull out and in. "I think I'm going to come" she warns me (HOTT), so I use the bottom of my palm to add extra pressure to her clit hood while still stroking the entrance to her pussy, which has thickened up. She's dripping to the point that I can feel it. "Oh yes, like that, like that" she says with her Latin accent. I could always come myself just from her melodic and gorgeous voice.
"Unhhh, unhh, ohhh, unh" she mumbles as she comes, her arms reaching out to her sides on the bedsheets as her pussy moves 6 inches upwards to meet nothing but my palm and hand. As she comes, I look at her face, the gorgeous closed eyes which slightly open to show me pure white: her eyeballs are in the back of her head.
Her toes are curled, her feet extended forward, her legs are spread, and she continues to come for 30 seconds or more as I continue to rub her clit, lighter and lighter to not bring pain.
Finally, she stops. She's breathing heavy, kissing me, cuddling her face into my neck as she comes down from her orgasm. After a few minutes, we just cuddle again, my hands on her shoulders and her back as she holds me, fully spent.
Finally, she gets up to put her panties back on. Her gorgeous tits and ass get me fully erect in my jeans, my shirt still laying somewhere on the floor. I decide I can't handle it anymore, so I stroke my cock through my jeans and notice I totally flooded myself with precome. Ouch.
I unzip my jeans, unbuckle my belt, and slide my thick cock out. I spit on my hand to lubricate it as I stroke it. She turns, notices, and hops back on the bed, watching intensely.
I look at her face and see she wants it, so I ask if she wants to kiss it. Instead, she opens her mouth, licks her lips, and puts the head into her mouth, which fits, but just barely. I'm stretching her cheeks and love the look of this gorgeous, bronzed skin latin lover swallowing my cock head into her mouth.
She tries to put more in her mouth, but its girth gives her some problems, so she backs off, licking the head and underneath, causing me to moan. She puts it back in her mouth and tries to get more inside, succeeding at swallowing about 1/3 of Little Fire Hydrant. Then she backs off, obviously hitting some sort of gag reflex. It's still hot as hell, and this girl can give head.
She's switching between licking my shaft and underside of the head and popping it in her mouth, getting more of it little by little, finally ended with her lips at about the halfway mark on my average-length cock. Fuck I want to drop a load in her, on her, whatever.
Sadly, we're out of time. She HAS to leave, her ride is coming to pick her up and we're still a 5 minute walk from the pick up point. Still, she doesn't stop, until I remind her that we have to leave. I want to squirt my load all over her gorgeous face, but that's going to have to wait until next time -- if there is a next time.
I pull my hard cock back into my pants, find my shirt and dress. She finds the rest of her clothes and I watch her dressing, contemplating finding my condoms and fucking her, or pushing her to her knees and jerking off on her mouth. Wouldn't that be a nice surprise for the people she's seeing later?
But it wasn't to be. I walk towards the door out of my hotel room and she kisses me, deeply. Neither of us want any PDA while we're in her small and gossip-prone hometown, so I kiss back, knowing it could be our last. I have business to tend to, and my lifestyle causes me to leave cities sometimes hours or only a few days after I arrive.
"Tomorrow?" Maybe.
We leave the hotel, both of us smiling aggressively. Everyone in the hotel must know -- this gal is loud. We wear the smiles proudly as we walk over to her pickup point. She turns, gives me a platonic latin kiss goodbye on the cheek, and I turn on my heel and head back.
Tomorrow. Maybe? I hope so. I want to be inside of her, badly.
Read the rest...
Somewhere in America, Part II
Continued from Part I.
As I'm rubbing her back, her body is completely melting at my touch. A Chicago blogger I met told me that my stories of women might be getting boring because I tend to do the same thing to women, but it's not true at all. When I first investigate a woman's body, I touch her EVERYWHERE, looking for the spots she needs touched the most. Is it my fault that practically every woman, regardless of the number of lovers they've had, tend to have the same spots ignored?
Anyone (including the woman) can go for nipples and the clit, but only the rare bloke goes after every spot. Sometimes it's the back of the knee, sometimes its the small of the back. I've found scalps can be comforting or erotic, feet can be ticklish or orgasmic. That blogger who made that comment hasn't had my touch, so it's easy to say "meh" when all I've heard, time and again, is "oooooh" or "oh my god don't stop that ever." This blogger in my hands has read me, and she knows my style, and she still melted because I found her body's forgotten areas.
I'm not pressing her for anything, but I've wanted to touch a woman for months. My one real opportunity never happened (yet) because of her schedule and my schedule. So here I am, with this knock-out who was beaming over me in 3" heels (not that much taller, but taller), caressing her shoulders and arms and the upper portion of her back.
I know when a woman is comfortable, and this gal was in full-on bliss. She could pretend to know how I handle women my words, but now she knows the truth: her body is unique, just as everyone's is, and everyone has needs that have gone unfulfilled for far too long.
Eventually, we leave the near-spoon position and she rolls onto her belly. I hike the bottom of her skin-tight red cami top up to her bra strap, and start looking for ticklish spots. There, and there. She doesn't laugh or jump, I know how to find the spots to avoid. The rest of her back? Goose-fucking-bumps. When her hips were grinding into the king-sized bed, I knew my resolve was out the window.
So here I am with this tall, slim-yet-curvy, bronzed like a Maxim beach cover gal who is growing goosebumps bigger than the volcanoes that dot practically every Latin America country. What happens next? I turn her head and she kisses me. No, not a nice little Sane lady kiss but she tears my face off.
Another new blogger I email told me that her biggest turn off with guys is that they're bad kissers, or they jump the gun. Let me tell you, ladies and gentlemen, that this gal is NOT the type to just destroy a man's face, but I have a pretty good feeling that everything I was doing (or not doing) created this urge to annihilate my lips, tongue, facial scruff and possibly the neighbor's room in one fell swoop.
My fingers were still barely touching her back and shoulders, arms and hands, and our mouths were battling. Soft kissing, teeth clanking, tongues appearing and disappearing, moans and groans. I held her hands back so she couldn't touch me and before I know it, she takes her own shirt off. I'm not sure exactly how we were kissing with her on her belly and my belly on her back, but the next thing I know is her gorgeous ass grinding up against my cock which is on the edge of becoming GOD'S PENIS and causing us all problems (including you, fair reader).
I need to fuck this young woman, but she needs to be taught a lesson. I'm strong and weak, the sun is shining in the window in this early afternoon just hours after we met for the first time, but I know what I have to do. I have to break her into tiny little pieces so I can fuck each one separately and repeatedly until they melt back together.
I keep looking at her gorgeous face, these eyes that penetrate my mind stronger than I could penetrate her pussy on 100mg of Viagra. Yet every time I look at her, she destroys my face with the see-saw of hot, wet kisses and soft, tiny, sensual kisses. Who the fuck is teasing whom?
At some point, one of us gets her to flip over, straddling me from beneath. My cock is on her pubic mound and she's grinding, moaning, enveloping me with her latin lips and her Spanish/Andalusian eyes. My hands are still fighting the urge to tear her clothes off, dancing their light tune on her skin, still bringing forth strong goosebumps worthy of many photographs.
I unbutton my dress-shirt and lay my hairy chest on her bareback. She moans. I pull back and then put my chest on her again, a louder moan. Holy mother of gumbo, she's that sensitive on her back. I wonder if her not-even-a-handful of previous lovers had any clue.
And then we flip, me on my back, her straddling my cock with her jeans warmed by what is obviously a pussy that needs immediately attention. We're kissing and the next thing I know, I feel tits on my chest, and not the feel of her black satin bra. My hands trace up from her still-covered thighs to her sides up past her surprisingly large and soft tits, ending up on her shoulder.
I use my nails (not long but not short) to dig into the bottom of her back, and forcefully tear them up her back, bringing forth a moan/groan that sounds different in Spanish than it would in English. I'm in real trouble here, folks.
And still she kisses me, taking in every nerve ending on my tongue and my lips and my face, while my nails dig, my fists massage, my fingers push and dance on her back. Latin lovers have always ruined me for the Gringo ladies, I just forget when I don't have one in my life.
I can't tolerate her pussy grinding on my cock still hidden in my jeans, so we roll over again. "I'm so wet" she tells me, not having to as I can smell her pussy through panties and jeans. I stare at her eyes and she asks if I want to check if she's right. I know she is, and I really don't want to rush it, but this gal is going to explode and I don't have enough towels to clean it up.
I make my way down her chest, skipping her nipples as usual and kissing softly down her stomach, which is gaining goosebumps. I decide to throw her off and plant a soft kiss on the one section I know is too ticklish. She laughs, but she doesn't break her stride as it turns into a moan as I venture lower.
Her belly is cute: tight, flat, solid, but still feminine. I could spend hours on it (and I probably will if she decides to visit me again). I make my way down to the edge of her jeans and pull them down slightly, still fully buttoned and zipped. Her panties, white and black, are obviously soaking in her lube, so I kiss past their edge to the start of her nicely trimmed and perfect pubic hair.
She can't stand it, and I can't stand it either. I kneel between her legs, unbutton and unzip her jeans, place each hand to one side of her jeans just below her hips and tear them off. Clean in 10 seconds. I wanted her to remove them, but I don't think she was thinking clearly.
Now her jeans are off, so I snuggle up against her pussy, covered by her thin black-and-white panties. They're soaked straight through, but I lightly kiss her thighs without tickling, run my big schnoz across her covered clit "accidentally" eliciting an awesome moan, and kiss around her panties in every part of skin imaginable.
She's done for, and now I can do what I want. If I wanted to fuck her in her pussy, she'd have come instantly. I could have fucked her in the ass and she'd probably still come. I might be making this story sound like I had her fully under control, but I think the reality is that she had me mesmerized. I want to hear this polyglot come, wondering what language it'll come out as.
The panties come off and are thrown over the bed. Her pussy is gorgeous. I force her thighs wider, and her pussy lips are fully engorged and spread, her large clit is visibly throbbing, and she's soaked. The sun is still out, and it is causing her to glisten like the frothy head of a bottle of blow-bubbles.
No teasing is needed at this point, but I lick her full pussy lips and bring them farther apart magically. I lick her pubic hair above her clit, lick the inside of her pussy lips listening to her moan, feeling her sopping wet ocean of lust pressing against my face for me.
Her hands are on my head, pulling me in, so I go for it. My tongue hits her clit and she's grunting, her back is arching, she's practically begging.
I don't let off, I don't go easy. She's beyond the point of any foreplay doing anything other than causing her to pull my hair out if I don't swallow her load in the next 30 seconds.
I misunderstand her say "STOP!" while I'm swallowing drops of her lube as its pouring out, so I back off. She grabs my hair, hard, and pulls me back. "I said DON'T STOP" she quietly yells, so I dig back in, impressed by how good she tastes, and pleased that her big clit is even bigger as I pull it between my lips.
And that's that... "I'm going to come" she says, and a few moments later, she does. I don't let off, tickling and sucking and pushing against her clit as waves of orgasm fuck through her body. My face is SOAKED, my beard is wet, her thighs are clenching and releasing my head, her hands are all over the bed. She keeps coming, I keep prodding to try to get every last ounce of come out of her and into my awaiting mouth.
Finally, she's done. She softly pushes my mouth from her pussy, and out of nowhere grabs my head, bends over and puts her mouth on my mouth, on her own come. "Mmmmm, your face is covered in come," she says.
To be continued in Part III.
As I'm rubbing her back, her body is completely melting at my touch. A Chicago blogger I met told me that my stories of women might be getting boring because I tend to do the same thing to women, but it's not true at all. When I first investigate a woman's body, I touch her EVERYWHERE, looking for the spots she needs touched the most. Is it my fault that practically every woman, regardless of the number of lovers they've had, tend to have the same spots ignored?
Anyone (including the woman) can go for nipples and the clit, but only the rare bloke goes after every spot. Sometimes it's the back of the knee, sometimes its the small of the back. I've found scalps can be comforting or erotic, feet can be ticklish or orgasmic. That blogger who made that comment hasn't had my touch, so it's easy to say "meh" when all I've heard, time and again, is "oooooh" or "oh my god don't stop that ever." This blogger in my hands has read me, and she knows my style, and she still melted because I found her body's forgotten areas.
I'm not pressing her for anything, but I've wanted to touch a woman for months. My one real opportunity never happened (yet) because of her schedule and my schedule. So here I am, with this knock-out who was beaming over me in 3" heels (not that much taller, but taller), caressing her shoulders and arms and the upper portion of her back.
I know when a woman is comfortable, and this gal was in full-on bliss. She could pretend to know how I handle women my words, but now she knows the truth: her body is unique, just as everyone's is, and everyone has needs that have gone unfulfilled for far too long.
Eventually, we leave the near-spoon position and she rolls onto her belly. I hike the bottom of her skin-tight red cami top up to her bra strap, and start looking for ticklish spots. There, and there. She doesn't laugh or jump, I know how to find the spots to avoid. The rest of her back? Goose-fucking-bumps. When her hips were grinding into the king-sized bed, I knew my resolve was out the window.
So here I am with this tall, slim-yet-curvy, bronzed like a Maxim beach cover gal who is growing goosebumps bigger than the volcanoes that dot practically every Latin America country. What happens next? I turn her head and she kisses me. No, not a nice little Sane lady kiss but she tears my face off.
Another new blogger I email told me that her biggest turn off with guys is that they're bad kissers, or they jump the gun. Let me tell you, ladies and gentlemen, that this gal is NOT the type to just destroy a man's face, but I have a pretty good feeling that everything I was doing (or not doing) created this urge to annihilate my lips, tongue, facial scruff and possibly the neighbor's room in one fell swoop.
My fingers were still barely touching her back and shoulders, arms and hands, and our mouths were battling. Soft kissing, teeth clanking, tongues appearing and disappearing, moans and groans. I held her hands back so she couldn't touch me and before I know it, she takes her own shirt off. I'm not sure exactly how we were kissing with her on her belly and my belly on her back, but the next thing I know is her gorgeous ass grinding up against my cock which is on the edge of becoming GOD'S PENIS and causing us all problems (including you, fair reader).
I need to fuck this young woman, but she needs to be taught a lesson. I'm strong and weak, the sun is shining in the window in this early afternoon just hours after we met for the first time, but I know what I have to do. I have to break her into tiny little pieces so I can fuck each one separately and repeatedly until they melt back together.
I keep looking at her gorgeous face, these eyes that penetrate my mind stronger than I could penetrate her pussy on 100mg of Viagra. Yet every time I look at her, she destroys my face with the see-saw of hot, wet kisses and soft, tiny, sensual kisses. Who the fuck is teasing whom?
At some point, one of us gets her to flip over, straddling me from beneath. My cock is on her pubic mound and she's grinding, moaning, enveloping me with her latin lips and her Spanish/Andalusian eyes. My hands are still fighting the urge to tear her clothes off, dancing their light tune on her skin, still bringing forth strong goosebumps worthy of many photographs.
I unbutton my dress-shirt and lay my hairy chest on her bareback. She moans. I pull back and then put my chest on her again, a louder moan. Holy mother of gumbo, she's that sensitive on her back. I wonder if her not-even-a-handful of previous lovers had any clue.
And then we flip, me on my back, her straddling my cock with her jeans warmed by what is obviously a pussy that needs immediately attention. We're kissing and the next thing I know, I feel tits on my chest, and not the feel of her black satin bra. My hands trace up from her still-covered thighs to her sides up past her surprisingly large and soft tits, ending up on her shoulder.
I use my nails (not long but not short) to dig into the bottom of her back, and forcefully tear them up her back, bringing forth a moan/groan that sounds different in Spanish than it would in English. I'm in real trouble here, folks.
And still she kisses me, taking in every nerve ending on my tongue and my lips and my face, while my nails dig, my fists massage, my fingers push and dance on her back. Latin lovers have always ruined me for the Gringo ladies, I just forget when I don't have one in my life.
I can't tolerate her pussy grinding on my cock still hidden in my jeans, so we roll over again. "I'm so wet" she tells me, not having to as I can smell her pussy through panties and jeans. I stare at her eyes and she asks if I want to check if she's right. I know she is, and I really don't want to rush it, but this gal is going to explode and I don't have enough towels to clean it up.
I make my way down her chest, skipping her nipples as usual and kissing softly down her stomach, which is gaining goosebumps. I decide to throw her off and plant a soft kiss on the one section I know is too ticklish. She laughs, but she doesn't break her stride as it turns into a moan as I venture lower.
Her belly is cute: tight, flat, solid, but still feminine. I could spend hours on it (and I probably will if she decides to visit me again). I make my way down to the edge of her jeans and pull them down slightly, still fully buttoned and zipped. Her panties, white and black, are obviously soaking in her lube, so I kiss past their edge to the start of her nicely trimmed and perfect pubic hair.
She can't stand it, and I can't stand it either. I kneel between her legs, unbutton and unzip her jeans, place each hand to one side of her jeans just below her hips and tear them off. Clean in 10 seconds. I wanted her to remove them, but I don't think she was thinking clearly.
Now her jeans are off, so I snuggle up against her pussy, covered by her thin black-and-white panties. They're soaked straight through, but I lightly kiss her thighs without tickling, run my big schnoz across her covered clit "accidentally" eliciting an awesome moan, and kiss around her panties in every part of skin imaginable.
She's done for, and now I can do what I want. If I wanted to fuck her in her pussy, she'd have come instantly. I could have fucked her in the ass and she'd probably still come. I might be making this story sound like I had her fully under control, but I think the reality is that she had me mesmerized. I want to hear this polyglot come, wondering what language it'll come out as.
The panties come off and are thrown over the bed. Her pussy is gorgeous. I force her thighs wider, and her pussy lips are fully engorged and spread, her large clit is visibly throbbing, and she's soaked. The sun is still out, and it is causing her to glisten like the frothy head of a bottle of blow-bubbles.
No teasing is needed at this point, but I lick her full pussy lips and bring them farther apart magically. I lick her pubic hair above her clit, lick the inside of her pussy lips listening to her moan, feeling her sopping wet ocean of lust pressing against my face for me.
Her hands are on my head, pulling me in, so I go for it. My tongue hits her clit and she's grunting, her back is arching, she's practically begging.
I don't let off, I don't go easy. She's beyond the point of any foreplay doing anything other than causing her to pull my hair out if I don't swallow her load in the next 30 seconds.
I misunderstand her say "STOP!" while I'm swallowing drops of her lube as its pouring out, so I back off. She grabs my hair, hard, and pulls me back. "I said DON'T STOP" she quietly yells, so I dig back in, impressed by how good she tastes, and pleased that her big clit is even bigger as I pull it between my lips.
And that's that... "I'm going to come" she says, and a few moments later, she does. I don't let off, tickling and sucking and pushing against her clit as waves of orgasm fuck through her body. My face is SOAKED, my beard is wet, her thighs are clenching and releasing my head, her hands are all over the bed. She keeps coming, I keep prodding to try to get every last ounce of come out of her and into my awaiting mouth.
Finally, she's done. She softly pushes my mouth from her pussy, and out of nowhere grabs my head, bends over and puts her mouth on my mouth, on her own come. "Mmmmm, your face is covered in come," she says.
To be continued in Part III.
Read the rest...
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Somewhere in America, Part I
Meeting bloggers is always fun, but lately my bloggers I've met were local to me in Chicago, and one in DC.
I've talked about my world travels that occur often, and a blogger who I chat off-and-on with asked if my next trip would land me anywhere near where she lives, somewhere south of Mexico and north of Argentina. I like to make fun of her when she calls the U.S. "America" because where she is from is ALSO America. North America, Central America, South America, we're ALL Americans.
As luck would have it, I had a trip planned to HER America region. And not just to her country but to her home town. I dropped her a note when we chatted, and a possible coffee "date" was planned at some time in the future.
My client kept moving his schedule, so I booked 5 different flights for 4 different date segments. The blogger was also busy here and there with life, but I did want to meet her. I'd seen her picture and even some video she shared with me, and she was gorgeous, slim, curvy and fun to chat with. Just like with Delecta and AFCBs #1-3, my goal was to make friends.
Finally my client said "Come on this day" and I told the blogger to see if she was still interested in that coffee. She confirmed her interest, so we made plans to meet on one of the days I'd be there when she was free.
I hopped a bunch of flights, landed in said random country, and texted my client and her as I walked out of the plane just shy of lunch time. My client decided to be too busy, so I checked into a VERY nice hotel, turned on my laptop and found the blogger online.
We'll call her Sandra, not her real name. Sandra told me she was free in the afternoon around 3pm, and that we could meet at the mall that was 1 block from my hotel and just a half mile from where she lives. Bonus. She asked me where we should meet, and I quickly picked a coffee shop at the mall.
The mall is awesome, but wasn't very busy. The coffee shop was in a rotunda part of the mall, all glass -- I could see people entering the mall, and I seated myself so I could see her coming up the escalator. She's tall, loves to show off her body, has an ass that one should worship, and is completely out of my league. Oh, and she hasn't hit 21 -- yet. Umm, yeah, that's as safe as it can get.
At 2:30 she chats me that she'll be there early. ARGH, no time for a shower, a shave, or a change of clothes even. I haul into the elevator, walk over to the mall, find the coffee shop and situate myself so I could see her before she sees me. A few minutes late, as the latin women prefer, and I see her coming up the escalator. Holy crap, I need to bail.
I became nervous, which is very rare for me. As she walks around the windowed second floor of the rotunda (the coffee shop wraps around about 40 degrees of it), I stand and she beams a smile. I throw back my toothy, crooked, broken smile and we embrace, hard. Nice boobs. TIGHT, muscular body. Amazing skin and her face is just lit up.
We talk, my nervousness obvious. A cute waitress brings us menus, and we order our drinks: espresso doble for Sane, some sort of strawberry smoothie for Sandra. We continue our conversation, just feeling the other out for comfort and comedy. We smiled, we laughed, we made eye contact. We drank our drinks, fast.
At one point, she turned her head and her neck cracked, causing her hand to shoot up to rub it. "Ow, that hurt," she told me, sitting across from me as I watched her unsuccessfully rub her own back.
As I paid for the drinks, we decided to walk the mall since my belt was so loose it was falling off my ass. We wandered in and out of various stores, me pointing at cute gals clothing and her nodding her head NO. She knows I like to buy pretty gals gorgeous clothes so I can be seen with them, but she already looked gorgeous in her red A-shirt, tight jeans and red fuck-me-heels. Oh, and the bitch wore glasses. Grr.
We checked out a bunch of NICE stores (high fashion labels), which is surprising since the minimum wage in the country is around $1 per hour, maybe less. I found TWO suits that I am buying before I leave, but no belts. I needed a belt in the color I was wearing. Tomorrow I'll find a leather shop that can poke holes.
We wandered a bit more, neither of us hungry, but I needed toothpaste and lip balm, so she took me to the local pharmacy, which is more drugs than consumer goods like Walgreens back home. Found the toothpaste and the lipbalm, I paid, and we left.
She had plans with friends in the evening, and I had a fresh carton or two of cigarettes, plus I had to drop off my purchases at the hotel barely 2 blocks away, so I asked if she wanted a pack of smokes in exchange for showing me around the area. She agreed, so we headed up to my hotel.
Originally I had a penthouse suite, but they were doing construction in the hallway and it was NOISY, so I requested a lower floor to avoid the noise. No big deal for them, and I was lucky to still keep a smoking room ($20 tip lucky). The majority of the hotel is non-smoking, so the rooms are hard to come by.
I showed her my room and then sat on the large, red couch while she sat on the king size bed, her feet dangling off. We talked some more, her flirtatiously making eye contact with me while her legs kept dangling off the bed, swinging, inviting, teasing. Argh.
I stood up, for whatever reason, adjusted my ponytail, and sat down next to her on the bed. Why? Because it was safe. We were fully clothed, there wasn't any touchy-touchy beyond some accidental glances (uh huh) and she had plans with friends so there wasn't really that much time to do anything but talk.
So there we are, talking, making eye contact, laughing, obviously enjoying each other's company. For background purposes, the gal doesn't have a lot of sexual experience. Less than anyone I've met in a LONG time. That means that Sane has to be a total gentleman, and I stick to it.
And then she fucking seduced ME. Her hand was on her neck a few times, obviously hurting. At one point, she laid down on the bed (it's comfortable), so I did, too, staring at the ceiling as we talked. Then she rolled over to her side facing away from me, continuing to talk but also putting her hand on her neck, her entire back north of her bra-strap exposed with tan skin. Uhhhh, yeah.
I asked her if she needed help, and her hand was replaced by one of my hands as I rolled to my side to get a better angle. I used my (very) soft fingers with some force to detect what muscles were tight and found that her left neck muscles were extremely tight, and her right neck muscles were needed some attention but not as much.
I proceeded to find the pressure amount between healing and pain, not pleasure and pain. As I used my thumbs and fingers into her neck and shoulder, I could see her body loosen up. She even let a gasp fall from her lips. Just a few minutes of that and she was feeling looser in the neck and shoulders, and her body's posture took on a different angle -- more relaxed, rehabilitated.
Her body slid back a bit, her back touching my best, her ass pushed up against my cock which was already starting to get happy from the body touching, from her scent, from her gasps and moans from my simple back rub.
In order to find a comfortable position, I put my arm on her arm, my fingers on her shoulder and my other hand that I was laying on rested on her back.
To be continued in Part II.
I've talked about my world travels that occur often, and a blogger who I chat off-and-on with asked if my next trip would land me anywhere near where she lives, somewhere south of Mexico and north of Argentina. I like to make fun of her when she calls the U.S. "America" because where she is from is ALSO America. North America, Central America, South America, we're ALL Americans.
As luck would have it, I had a trip planned to HER America region. And not just to her country but to her home town. I dropped her a note when we chatted, and a possible coffee "date" was planned at some time in the future.
My client kept moving his schedule, so I booked 5 different flights for 4 different date segments. The blogger was also busy here and there with life, but I did want to meet her. I'd seen her picture and even some video she shared with me, and she was gorgeous, slim, curvy and fun to chat with. Just like with Delecta and AFCBs #1-3, my goal was to make friends.
Finally my client said "Come on this day" and I told the blogger to see if she was still interested in that coffee. She confirmed her interest, so we made plans to meet on one of the days I'd be there when she was free.
I hopped a bunch of flights, landed in said random country, and texted my client and her as I walked out of the plane just shy of lunch time. My client decided to be too busy, so I checked into a VERY nice hotel, turned on my laptop and found the blogger online.
We'll call her Sandra, not her real name. Sandra told me she was free in the afternoon around 3pm, and that we could meet at the mall that was 1 block from my hotel and just a half mile from where she lives. Bonus. She asked me where we should meet, and I quickly picked a coffee shop at the mall.
The mall is awesome, but wasn't very busy. The coffee shop was in a rotunda part of the mall, all glass -- I could see people entering the mall, and I seated myself so I could see her coming up the escalator. She's tall, loves to show off her body, has an ass that one should worship, and is completely out of my league. Oh, and she hasn't hit 21 -- yet. Umm, yeah, that's as safe as it can get.
At 2:30 she chats me that she'll be there early. ARGH, no time for a shower, a shave, or a change of clothes even. I haul into the elevator, walk over to the mall, find the coffee shop and situate myself so I could see her before she sees me. A few minutes late, as the latin women prefer, and I see her coming up the escalator. Holy crap, I need to bail.
I became nervous, which is very rare for me. As she walks around the windowed second floor of the rotunda (the coffee shop wraps around about 40 degrees of it), I stand and she beams a smile. I throw back my toothy, crooked, broken smile and we embrace, hard. Nice boobs. TIGHT, muscular body. Amazing skin and her face is just lit up.
We talk, my nervousness obvious. A cute waitress brings us menus, and we order our drinks: espresso doble for Sane, some sort of strawberry smoothie for Sandra. We continue our conversation, just feeling the other out for comfort and comedy. We smiled, we laughed, we made eye contact. We drank our drinks, fast.
At one point, she turned her head and her neck cracked, causing her hand to shoot up to rub it. "Ow, that hurt," she told me, sitting across from me as I watched her unsuccessfully rub her own back.
As I paid for the drinks, we decided to walk the mall since my belt was so loose it was falling off my ass. We wandered in and out of various stores, me pointing at cute gals clothing and her nodding her head NO. She knows I like to buy pretty gals gorgeous clothes so I can be seen with them, but she already looked gorgeous in her red A-shirt, tight jeans and red fuck-me-heels. Oh, and the bitch wore glasses. Grr.
We checked out a bunch of NICE stores (high fashion labels), which is surprising since the minimum wage in the country is around $1 per hour, maybe less. I found TWO suits that I am buying before I leave, but no belts. I needed a belt in the color I was wearing. Tomorrow I'll find a leather shop that can poke holes.
We wandered a bit more, neither of us hungry, but I needed toothpaste and lip balm, so she took me to the local pharmacy, which is more drugs than consumer goods like Walgreens back home. Found the toothpaste and the lipbalm, I paid, and we left.
She had plans with friends in the evening, and I had a fresh carton or two of cigarettes, plus I had to drop off my purchases at the hotel barely 2 blocks away, so I asked if she wanted a pack of smokes in exchange for showing me around the area. She agreed, so we headed up to my hotel.
Originally I had a penthouse suite, but they were doing construction in the hallway and it was NOISY, so I requested a lower floor to avoid the noise. No big deal for them, and I was lucky to still keep a smoking room ($20 tip lucky). The majority of the hotel is non-smoking, so the rooms are hard to come by.
I showed her my room and then sat on the large, red couch while she sat on the king size bed, her feet dangling off. We talked some more, her flirtatiously making eye contact with me while her legs kept dangling off the bed, swinging, inviting, teasing. Argh.
I stood up, for whatever reason, adjusted my ponytail, and sat down next to her on the bed. Why? Because it was safe. We were fully clothed, there wasn't any touchy-touchy beyond some accidental glances (uh huh) and she had plans with friends so there wasn't really that much time to do anything but talk.
So there we are, talking, making eye contact, laughing, obviously enjoying each other's company. For background purposes, the gal doesn't have a lot of sexual experience. Less than anyone I've met in a LONG time. That means that Sane has to be a total gentleman, and I stick to it.
And then she fucking seduced ME. Her hand was on her neck a few times, obviously hurting. At one point, she laid down on the bed (it's comfortable), so I did, too, staring at the ceiling as we talked. Then she rolled over to her side facing away from me, continuing to talk but also putting her hand on her neck, her entire back north of her bra-strap exposed with tan skin. Uhhhh, yeah.
I asked her if she needed help, and her hand was replaced by one of my hands as I rolled to my side to get a better angle. I used my (very) soft fingers with some force to detect what muscles were tight and found that her left neck muscles were extremely tight, and her right neck muscles were needed some attention but not as much.
I proceeded to find the pressure amount between healing and pain, not pleasure and pain. As I used my thumbs and fingers into her neck and shoulder, I could see her body loosen up. She even let a gasp fall from her lips. Just a few minutes of that and she was feeling looser in the neck and shoulders, and her body's posture took on a different angle -- more relaxed, rehabilitated.
Her body slid back a bit, her back touching my best, her ass pushed up against my cock which was already starting to get happy from the body touching, from her scent, from her gasps and moans from my simple back rub.
In order to find a comfortable position, I put my arm on her arm, my fingers on her shoulder and my other hand that I was laying on rested on her back.
To be continued in Part II.
Read the rest...
Monday, July 13, 2009
The problem with Sane and the ladies
Written earlier and posted while I'm having lunch in Greektown.
I received some great emails and chats over the past few weeks from a variety of ladies (where are the fucking MEN) aghast at my pickiness over women.
It doesn't take long for me to search through years of journals to come up with the reason for my pickiness. It isn't my lack of attraction for a woman or confidence issues or the lack of desire on my part to take a vertical girl and make her horizontal in 3 seconds. It isn't any fear of commitment or lack of wanting to share my heart. It isn't that I set ungodly high standards, even.
The number one problem I am facing, and have faced for more than 3 years, is the lack of women who are interested in chasing and being chased, but not in the most obvious fashion.
I've gone out on a number of dates: some obviously dates, others ended up being dates or just being fun times with a beautiful lady. They've always ended up with two different outcomes: (a) she wasn't attracted to me or (b) she was TOO attracted to me. Both are downers, really.
I like teasing and I love being teased. Even though I often write about how women are generally the first ones to kiss me, I prefer to be the one to kiss them first. But I don't do that unless they're showing signs of attraction, and lately most women act like little girls and are totally hands off, even if they find me hot. Hence why they end up kissing me first.
When it comes to even a purely sexual relationship with a friend-with-benefits, I still like those signs of attraction that the well trained woman offers: the touches, the smiles, pulling hair away from my face so she can watch me talk and listen, the hand on my side or my shoulder, the stares at my face while I drive. This form of teasing HAS to exist at some point before I make a move or let her make a move, because it is a solid foundation of attraction.
I had a great friend who turned into a lover not too long ago (years, but not decades). I lusted after her from day 1, but she never showed a sign. Months past and we ran around the town, having a blast at dinner, drinking, even goofy fun at her pad. Then one day, she emails me and asks me if I find her attractive. Umm, yeah, duh.
So we end up making out -- a lot. She was a terrible kisser, one of the worst ever. I taught her to slow down, to show me her desire by NOT destroying my face and tongue and lips. Eventually, she got the gist of kissing and things were solid. We'd jerk off in front of each other (often) but I never touched her below the neck. When the clothes came off, we'd spoon but not fuck.
Finally, we had sex and it wasn't that good. I only came maybe 1 out of 4 times, she just wasn't a good lover. She was so hands off physically, but she'd tell me how much she was attracted to me. To this day she continues to tell me that I'm the most attractive man she's ever met, let alone been with.
I broke it off after a few months, not really wanting to be with her sexually. It hurt her, but it didn't destroy her. She had a hot body and a cute face, so finding another guy to date or just fuck wasn't hard. Yet her scene was mostly boys with big dreams but no goals, so of course she bored and swept through a chain of boys in short order. We never touched again, I had no desire.
When I think about the boredom in bed, I can attribute it to the lack of her showing me she wanted me, being part of that great tease that can stay solid for years through a relationship. In some of my emails, you readers have told me that I need to jump the gun and kiss everyone I go out with, just to see. Here's the thing: I don't. If a lady isn't mature enough to play the game correctly, then she's going to be a boring lover, even if she's good in bed.
Looking over EVERY first date I've been on, I can honestly say that I've been attracted to practically everyone, but none have shown me the type of soft teasing that I really like. Saying to my face that I'm hot or that they want me is nice and all, but it's not as nice as the sly look in their eyes when they show me how much they want me in some way, and are willing to play it slowly at least for one night.
So I usually go out on a first date, and then never a second. Some fall into friendship roles, some pass away into the night like ships passing. Rarely do I notice the wake trails because the tease was never there.
It's rough on me, especially as I age. I tried dating some women closer to my age, but there is such animosity and anger towards men. I try to explain to them that their 20s was about dating boys with no goals, no successes, no passions, but few understand. They just want to feel 25 again and they can't. They could, with me, but the drama and baggage is too heavy for me to lift.
So I date younger. I'm shocked lately that the majority of people I meet who aren't that much younger than me consider me too old to date. I've heard it from 10 women in the past 6 months alone, and yet all I hear from most of them lately is how immature the guys are they date. 1+1=2, it's not hard to figure out.
On the asking-out front, I've been bombing a LOT lately. It's odd to me that in LA I crashed and burned 100%. In Chicago my numbers have been a little bit better, maybe getting the phone number from 1 in 5 women I talk to. It's not a horrible percentage, I'm not a 6'1" alumnus with the face of Johnny Depp, so I push forward. Yet when I go out on first dates there, it's the same ritual: either they jump on me too fast, or they don't give me a single sign of interest.
So that's where I am: a whole slew of pretty girls in my life, and either they're not into me (which is fine) or they're too into me (which is an ego stroke but bad for my sex drive). Yet I'll keep on keeping on, looking for someone to spend time with -- but not too much time; someone to make out with -- but not try to force them to be with me and only me; someone to fuck -- but not force into a love affair that neither of us can handle.
It's not a rough life, bachelorhood, but it does get boring. I never feel lonely, but incomplete without a fun person I can hitch to my wing and fly through life at a slow pace, eating the best foods, drinking the best cocktails, fucking with intensity when desired and passion when required. As the midsummer nights approach, I start wondering if I am doing the right thing turning down those who are too into me.
I think so. I can't break a heart, because it takes a little piece of mine when I do.
I received some great emails and chats over the past few weeks from a variety of ladies (where are the fucking MEN) aghast at my pickiness over women.
It doesn't take long for me to search through years of journals to come up with the reason for my pickiness. It isn't my lack of attraction for a woman or confidence issues or the lack of desire on my part to take a vertical girl and make her horizontal in 3 seconds. It isn't any fear of commitment or lack of wanting to share my heart. It isn't that I set ungodly high standards, even.
The number one problem I am facing, and have faced for more than 3 years, is the lack of women who are interested in chasing and being chased, but not in the most obvious fashion.
I've gone out on a number of dates: some obviously dates, others ended up being dates or just being fun times with a beautiful lady. They've always ended up with two different outcomes: (a) she wasn't attracted to me or (b) she was TOO attracted to me. Both are downers, really.
I like teasing and I love being teased. Even though I often write about how women are generally the first ones to kiss me, I prefer to be the one to kiss them first. But I don't do that unless they're showing signs of attraction, and lately most women act like little girls and are totally hands off, even if they find me hot. Hence why they end up kissing me first.
When it comes to even a purely sexual relationship with a friend-with-benefits, I still like those signs of attraction that the well trained woman offers: the touches, the smiles, pulling hair away from my face so she can watch me talk and listen, the hand on my side or my shoulder, the stares at my face while I drive. This form of teasing HAS to exist at some point before I make a move or let her make a move, because it is a solid foundation of attraction.
I had a great friend who turned into a lover not too long ago (years, but not decades). I lusted after her from day 1, but she never showed a sign. Months past and we ran around the town, having a blast at dinner, drinking, even goofy fun at her pad. Then one day, she emails me and asks me if I find her attractive. Umm, yeah, duh.
So we end up making out -- a lot. She was a terrible kisser, one of the worst ever. I taught her to slow down, to show me her desire by NOT destroying my face and tongue and lips. Eventually, she got the gist of kissing and things were solid. We'd jerk off in front of each other (often) but I never touched her below the neck. When the clothes came off, we'd spoon but not fuck.
Finally, we had sex and it wasn't that good. I only came maybe 1 out of 4 times, she just wasn't a good lover. She was so hands off physically, but she'd tell me how much she was attracted to me. To this day she continues to tell me that I'm the most attractive man she's ever met, let alone been with.
I broke it off after a few months, not really wanting to be with her sexually. It hurt her, but it didn't destroy her. She had a hot body and a cute face, so finding another guy to date or just fuck wasn't hard. Yet her scene was mostly boys with big dreams but no goals, so of course she bored and swept through a chain of boys in short order. We never touched again, I had no desire.
When I think about the boredom in bed, I can attribute it to the lack of her showing me she wanted me, being part of that great tease that can stay solid for years through a relationship. In some of my emails, you readers have told me that I need to jump the gun and kiss everyone I go out with, just to see. Here's the thing: I don't. If a lady isn't mature enough to play the game correctly, then she's going to be a boring lover, even if she's good in bed.
Looking over EVERY first date I've been on, I can honestly say that I've been attracted to practically everyone, but none have shown me the type of soft teasing that I really like. Saying to my face that I'm hot or that they want me is nice and all, but it's not as nice as the sly look in their eyes when they show me how much they want me in some way, and are willing to play it slowly at least for one night.
So I usually go out on a first date, and then never a second. Some fall into friendship roles, some pass away into the night like ships passing. Rarely do I notice the wake trails because the tease was never there.
It's rough on me, especially as I age. I tried dating some women closer to my age, but there is such animosity and anger towards men. I try to explain to them that their 20s was about dating boys with no goals, no successes, no passions, but few understand. They just want to feel 25 again and they can't. They could, with me, but the drama and baggage is too heavy for me to lift.
So I date younger. I'm shocked lately that the majority of people I meet who aren't that much younger than me consider me too old to date. I've heard it from 10 women in the past 6 months alone, and yet all I hear from most of them lately is how immature the guys are they date. 1+1=2, it's not hard to figure out.
On the asking-out front, I've been bombing a LOT lately. It's odd to me that in LA I crashed and burned 100%. In Chicago my numbers have been a little bit better, maybe getting the phone number from 1 in 5 women I talk to. It's not a horrible percentage, I'm not a 6'1" alumnus with the face of Johnny Depp, so I push forward. Yet when I go out on first dates there, it's the same ritual: either they jump on me too fast, or they don't give me a single sign of interest.
So that's where I am: a whole slew of pretty girls in my life, and either they're not into me (which is fine) or they're too into me (which is an ego stroke but bad for my sex drive). Yet I'll keep on keeping on, looking for someone to spend time with -- but not too much time; someone to make out with -- but not try to force them to be with me and only me; someone to fuck -- but not force into a love affair that neither of us can handle.
It's not a rough life, bachelorhood, but it does get boring. I never feel lonely, but incomplete without a fun person I can hitch to my wing and fly through life at a slow pace, eating the best foods, drinking the best cocktails, fucking with intensity when desired and passion when required. As the midsummer nights approach, I start wondering if I am doing the right thing turning down those who are too into me.
I think so. I can't break a heart, because it takes a little piece of mine when I do.
Read the rest...
Monday, June 1, 2009
A Touch (A Fantasy, Part III)
This summary is not available. Please
click here to view the post.
Read the rest...
Thursday, May 28, 2009
A Touch (A Fantasy), Part II
This is a multi-part story that starts with Part I.
We continue our embrace, your arms pulling me into you, grabbing my back, my shoulders, my arms and my ass. I keep my hands off of you, pressed up against your head to prevent me from smothering you with my attacking kissing. We break to catch our breath, and I roll you over, me on my back, you on top of me.
I tell you I want your breath on my body. You slink down to my neck, attempting to kiss my neck. I push your head away slightly and feel your breath on my body. I shudder slightly at your warm breath, and you try to kiss me again as I push you away once more time. Just breathe on me.
You pull my shirt off my shoulder and move your mouth to my shoulder, again trying to taste my flesh as I pull you off. Just your breathe. Your hands are on my skin, and your lips are bare millimeters from my tanned body. Your face moved down to my chest and your mouth breaths warm air on my nipples, on my chestbone, on my ribs as you work your way down my body. Every time you try to kiss my body, to lick my body, I pull your hair harder to punish you for violating my rule.
You work down to my abs and I shudder again as your breath runs through my belly hair. Your hands are on my belt as you unbuckle it, popping the fly buttons from my jeans. No lips, I remind you. You pull my jeans under my ass and I lift it as you pull them clean from my body. Your face is less than an inch from my cock, still hidden from my boxers but showing the urgency of my need to be in your mouth, in your throat.
Your breath leaves my boxers and my cock and moved down to my thigh, causing me to slightly arch my back. In doing so, your lips touch my thigh accidentally, but I pull on your hair harder to remind you what you're allowed to do.
Your head shifts down to my knees, one of my most sensitive spots. As you breath on my knees and inhale my body's scent, my cock jumps in my underwear. You look up and notice, an evil smile on your face, mixed with your own frustration from not being able to touch me with your mouth.
As you're down by my knees, you hand snakes up and pulls my boxers down to my knees. You crawl up slowly, using one hand to slide off my boxers and your other hand lands on my hip. Your face is now inches from my cock. You open your mouth, as wide as possible, and try to put your mouth over my cock without touching it. Every time you fail, I pull on your hair, causing you to scream once from the pleasurable pain. To punish me, you hold your mouth over over my cock, now pointing up and ending at my belly button. Off your tongue comes a large drop of spit, dripping onto the underside of my cock head, causing it to jump and emit its first dose of precome.
You breathe your way back up my body, to my face as you breathe onto my mouth. I unzip your jeans and remove them completely, then use my hands and feet to remove your panties, too. You kick off your socks over the edge of the bed, and lay on me, your tits on my chest, your pussy on my cock, your face close to mine. We stare into each other's eyes and kiss again, deeper than before. I can taste your hunger for me on your lips, on your tongue as it enters my mouth.
"Fuck me now" you tell me, pushing your wet pussy lips up and down my rockhard cock. No, not yet. I roll you over onto your belly, my cock resting between your checks as I torment your back with my own breath.
I start at each shoulder, pausing to warm your neck when I pull your hair above your head. After the shoulders, I work down and up each arm, slowly, finding the spots where my breath's warmth and pressure cause you to wriggle. I pin your hands down sideways to prevent you from daring to touch your clit for release and relief. When I get to your spine, I let a little spit drizzle off my tongue, then breath out a warm gust of air following by a slow cold exhale. Your body writhes, goosebumps form, tingles move from your head to your toes.
Your moans get louder. "Please, fuck me, please." I slide my cock from between your cheeks and work my way down your back, stopping at your sides with a large open mouth of slow warm breathing. Your goosebumps appear every time I do this, and when I breath slowly and move across the bottom of your back, the goosebumps follow my breath.
I continue to drip some of my saliva onto your spine, watching your goosebumps disappear for a second and then return as my breath down. I get to your cheeks and breath on them softly, watching the same goosebumps form. I pull your cheeks apart slightly and let my spit fall into your ass, giving you shudders from the touch that you need. I let go of your arms and remind you to keep them there as my face ventures between your slightly parted legs, my breath on your pussy, your clit, your thighs. You squeeze them together tightly to try to grab my head, so I slap your ass hard, leaving a red mark.
Your scream is cut short with a bite of your lip, and I can tell from your scent that you knew you deserved it. As I work my way down your legs, you moan "No, please, lick my pussy, eat it," which I ignore. Your thighs, the back of your knees and your calves are incredibly sensitive, so I focus more on the areas that cause you to stick your gorgeous ass up in the air slightly, as if to meet my cock plunging into your wet pussy. I laugh evilly when you realize I'm not there against you.
Then I get to your feet.
(To be finished in Part III)
We continue our embrace, your arms pulling me into you, grabbing my back, my shoulders, my arms and my ass. I keep my hands off of you, pressed up against your head to prevent me from smothering you with my attacking kissing. We break to catch our breath, and I roll you over, me on my back, you on top of me.
I tell you I want your breath on my body. You slink down to my neck, attempting to kiss my neck. I push your head away slightly and feel your breath on my body. I shudder slightly at your warm breath, and you try to kiss me again as I push you away once more time. Just breathe on me.
You pull my shirt off my shoulder and move your mouth to my shoulder, again trying to taste my flesh as I pull you off. Just your breathe. Your hands are on my skin, and your lips are bare millimeters from my tanned body. Your face moved down to my chest and your mouth breaths warm air on my nipples, on my chestbone, on my ribs as you work your way down my body. Every time you try to kiss my body, to lick my body, I pull your hair harder to punish you for violating my rule.
You work down to my abs and I shudder again as your breath runs through my belly hair. Your hands are on my belt as you unbuckle it, popping the fly buttons from my jeans. No lips, I remind you. You pull my jeans under my ass and I lift it as you pull them clean from my body. Your face is less than an inch from my cock, still hidden from my boxers but showing the urgency of my need to be in your mouth, in your throat.
Your breath leaves my boxers and my cock and moved down to my thigh, causing me to slightly arch my back. In doing so, your lips touch my thigh accidentally, but I pull on your hair harder to remind you what you're allowed to do.
Your head shifts down to my knees, one of my most sensitive spots. As you breath on my knees and inhale my body's scent, my cock jumps in my underwear. You look up and notice, an evil smile on your face, mixed with your own frustration from not being able to touch me with your mouth.
As you're down by my knees, you hand snakes up and pulls my boxers down to my knees. You crawl up slowly, using one hand to slide off my boxers and your other hand lands on my hip. Your face is now inches from my cock. You open your mouth, as wide as possible, and try to put your mouth over my cock without touching it. Every time you fail, I pull on your hair, causing you to scream once from the pleasurable pain. To punish me, you hold your mouth over over my cock, now pointing up and ending at my belly button. Off your tongue comes a large drop of spit, dripping onto the underside of my cock head, causing it to jump and emit its first dose of precome.
You breathe your way back up my body, to my face as you breathe onto my mouth. I unzip your jeans and remove them completely, then use my hands and feet to remove your panties, too. You kick off your socks over the edge of the bed, and lay on me, your tits on my chest, your pussy on my cock, your face close to mine. We stare into each other's eyes and kiss again, deeper than before. I can taste your hunger for me on your lips, on your tongue as it enters my mouth.
"Fuck me now" you tell me, pushing your wet pussy lips up and down my rockhard cock. No, not yet. I roll you over onto your belly, my cock resting between your checks as I torment your back with my own breath.
I start at each shoulder, pausing to warm your neck when I pull your hair above your head. After the shoulders, I work down and up each arm, slowly, finding the spots where my breath's warmth and pressure cause you to wriggle. I pin your hands down sideways to prevent you from daring to touch your clit for release and relief. When I get to your spine, I let a little spit drizzle off my tongue, then breath out a warm gust of air following by a slow cold exhale. Your body writhes, goosebumps form, tingles move from your head to your toes.
Your moans get louder. "Please, fuck me, please." I slide my cock from between your cheeks and work my way down your back, stopping at your sides with a large open mouth of slow warm breathing. Your goosebumps appear every time I do this, and when I breath slowly and move across the bottom of your back, the goosebumps follow my breath.
I continue to drip some of my saliva onto your spine, watching your goosebumps disappear for a second and then return as my breath down. I get to your cheeks and breath on them softly, watching the same goosebumps form. I pull your cheeks apart slightly and let my spit fall into your ass, giving you shudders from the touch that you need. I let go of your arms and remind you to keep them there as my face ventures between your slightly parted legs, my breath on your pussy, your clit, your thighs. You squeeze them together tightly to try to grab my head, so I slap your ass hard, leaving a red mark.
Your scream is cut short with a bite of your lip, and I can tell from your scent that you knew you deserved it. As I work my way down your legs, you moan "No, please, lick my pussy, eat it," which I ignore. Your thighs, the back of your knees and your calves are incredibly sensitive, so I focus more on the areas that cause you to stick your gorgeous ass up in the air slightly, as if to meet my cock plunging into your wet pussy. I laugh evilly when you realize I'm not there against you.
Then I get to your feet.
(To be finished in Part III)
Read the rest...
Monday, May 25, 2009
The Touch (A Fantasy), Part I
You tried it again. You tried to touch me and I smoothly avoided it while looking like I had no idea you even attempted it.
I can be smooth like that. I know you want to touch me again. The first time you did, it took you 3 tries in an hour, I was so good at avoiding it. When your hand finally fell on my back as we walked, I could hear the sizzle that went from your palm, up your arm, into your shoulder, and through your torso. I smiled inside, but my outside was completely smooth.
That second touch took you longer. You managed to snag the cuff of my dress shirt (epic fail reach for the hand), you almost touched my neck but my mop of hair got in the way. When I grabbed you to lift you off your feet, your hands almost made it around my back but I dumped you down, stepped backwards, and asked what you were doing jumping on me like that.
I laughed and turned away. You laughed too, but I could see the look of chagrin on your face, peripherally.
Why do you want to touch me so bad? What do I have to offer you that the other guys harassing you with late night texts and daytime emails don't? They're attractive men or boys, they sort of have a good way of pretending to have their shit together. They've slept with far more women than I have, and you still keep them around. Why aren't you going after them on this gorgeous afternoon? It makes little sense.
Maybe it's because you know I'm avoiding your hands. Sometimes I make it obvious, but most of the time, I don't.
So when you finally push me against a wall and grab my hands, I can see that all the waiting and teasing was worth it. The look in your eyes of anger and frustration and domination melts when I pull you towards me and you kiss me. Is that the touch you're waiting for? The way your body falls limp in my arms leads me to believe it's part of it, but not everything.
When we break from The Kiss, you try to grab my hands but I pull them behind my back, spin away from the wall, and ask you what is taking you so long, we'll be late, get your ass in gear, little girl. There's that face of anger, of frustration, of the desire to dominate me. Not now, little girl.
I can tell you want to scream "I'm a woman," but you know how much I laugh at people that have to use words to explain what they are. It's one reason I don't explain what I do for a living. Words are unimportant. You increase the speed of your step, and when I hear your footfalls are closer I walk faster. We're almost there.
The show was fun. You stood slightly behind me, to my left. I noticed, peripherally again, that your eyes went from the band to my face and back. I never turned around to look. When I felt your body step forward to be closer to me, I turned quickly and said I would go get another round of drinks. There's that face again. Your hand pops up to touch my arm when you say thank you, but I turned and walked too quickly. Another epic fail for you.
We leave the show and you're looking perplexed. I ask if I should hail you a cab as we approach my car. It's obvious what you want and who should give it to you. Or are you taking the cab to meet up with him later? I forgot. I am forgetful, but I didn't forget this. You had late plans, and I am just fine with taking my leave and finding another place to retreat to. You bite your lip, look down at your shoes. If you prefer, I can wait with you here. You know I don't drive women to meet guys. Ever.
"Can we hang out more?" you finally ask. If that's what you want, but I'd hate for you to do this to me if I was the guy waiting for you later. Go see him. I'll be around, we'll hang out again.
You step forward to give me a hug but I unlock my car door and open it. Be safe, and have some fun! No hug. No kiss. Just a wink and I'm in my car. My engine is on before you can say anything, but my window is closed anyway. You wander off and find your own cab.
The date with him wasn't as good as it intended. He pawed at you, grabbed at you, said inappropriate things that sounded funny at first but thinking back were completely a doofus showing his card at a high stakes poker table. He's really not that manly. Sexy, maybe. Attractive, for sure. But he's a wimp on the inside. His muscles could possibly harm my body, but my mind and my depth and my attention to details would leave him panting, bloody, and broken. There's no match for a man, not this man.
When you texted me at 11, I ignored it. You tried hitting me up on chat, I closed the window on my phone. I'm having fun, with a new friend, in some random bar. Finally, you call. I answer. "I'm free, want to come by?" I'm busy, but how about next Tuesday? "Oh. If you free up tonight, just come over." We'll see. Good night.
I could hear your voice cringe at the thought that I might end up in someone else's bed. Maybe she's more feminine, or prettier, or wears nicer clothes. Maybe her tits are bigger (or better yet, smaller). Maybe she shed that tummy fat now instead of 4 weeks from now. Maybe she's a woman, what if I think you're just a girl?
I really don't, We all have issues, we all have frustrations, we all have needs and desires and goals that aren't being met. I'm just better at looking past those problems myself. I'm not Mr. Perfect. I'm not Mr. Right. I'm not Mr. Everything. I'm Sane, and you know me by the way I walk and talk and smile and listen.
I decide to bail on Little Miss Better Than You, so I call you at midnight. You answer in 1 ring. Desperate much? I'm on my way, I hope you're not too tired. You sound it, and I mention that.
I get there and you're nursing a cup of coffee instead of the usual shitty beer you like to drink when you're down. Your eyes are awake, your makeup was recently touched up, and your hair looks fantastic. My hands are behind my back and I display two DVDs for you to choose from. You look at both and smile weakly. Movie night! "Oh, ok."
I sit on the single chair in your living room, leaving the huge, big, make-out-friendly couch for you. Your throw your feet over, aiming at me, and we put in a DVD. I watch, still noticing you watching me. "Do you want to sit over here?" I'm comfortable in the chair, you relax, you need it. "Oh, I don't mind." You deserve it. "Oh." Back to watching the movie.
I offer to pour a glass of wine, but you have none. Beer doesn't do my body justice, so I grab a bottle of water from your fridge and ask if you want anything. When I bring you a glass of cold, filtered water and put it on the table in front of you, your hand covers the hand I have on the glass. I look at your face, and as my hand leaves the glass you pull me down to you, on top of you, covering you. Instead of kissing you, I look at your face, giving you my best isn't-that-cute face. Your face shows stronger anger, desire, need than ever before. Your hands run up my entire body, over my shoulders and neck to my face. You pull me in for another kiss, maybe bigger and better than The Kiss, because you needed this so badly. Why don't people give you what you need, instead taking what they want?
We kiss until you can't stand it anymore. You try to remove my clothes, your clothes, anything that will allow you to touch me much closer, much more intimately. I refuse, pushing your hands above your head, holding them down so you can't remove anything. I kiss you again, then work my mouth down to a button that I deftly remove with my teeth and lips alone. You moan.
I have to remove my hands from your hands, blue from the force I used to keep you at bay. As I move down your torso, slowing removing buttons, you try to force your hands down further to do it yourself. I almost bite your hand in punishment for you moving too quickly. Finally, your work shirt opens, and I work my way back up your body, staying as close to the middle with my lips as possible. Can you even feel my lips, touching so softly as to possibly go unnoticed? Your breathing proves you do.
As I get closer to you, I fend off your hands from my side, from my chest, from my back. I move my face up to yours, and finally allow you to touch my face and my neck, to pull me into you. I accept your kisses, and start to kiss back myself.
"I want to take my shirt off." I already did. "No, completely off." Ok. Close your eyes when you do. You close your eyes, and remove your shirt. You also remove your bra, eyes still closed. I push my body against yours, my chest now unclothed as well. You open your eyes and I kiss you for the first time. Your hands touch my back and you shudder; this time I don't force you away.
To Be Continued in Part II
I can be smooth like that. I know you want to touch me again. The first time you did, it took you 3 tries in an hour, I was so good at avoiding it. When your hand finally fell on my back as we walked, I could hear the sizzle that went from your palm, up your arm, into your shoulder, and through your torso. I smiled inside, but my outside was completely smooth.
That second touch took you longer. You managed to snag the cuff of my dress shirt (epic fail reach for the hand), you almost touched my neck but my mop of hair got in the way. When I grabbed you to lift you off your feet, your hands almost made it around my back but I dumped you down, stepped backwards, and asked what you were doing jumping on me like that.
I laughed and turned away. You laughed too, but I could see the look of chagrin on your face, peripherally.
Why do you want to touch me so bad? What do I have to offer you that the other guys harassing you with late night texts and daytime emails don't? They're attractive men or boys, they sort of have a good way of pretending to have their shit together. They've slept with far more women than I have, and you still keep them around. Why aren't you going after them on this gorgeous afternoon? It makes little sense.
Maybe it's because you know I'm avoiding your hands. Sometimes I make it obvious, but most of the time, I don't.
So when you finally push me against a wall and grab my hands, I can see that all the waiting and teasing was worth it. The look in your eyes of anger and frustration and domination melts when I pull you towards me and you kiss me. Is that the touch you're waiting for? The way your body falls limp in my arms leads me to believe it's part of it, but not everything.
When we break from The Kiss, you try to grab my hands but I pull them behind my back, spin away from the wall, and ask you what is taking you so long, we'll be late, get your ass in gear, little girl. There's that face of anger, of frustration, of the desire to dominate me. Not now, little girl.
I can tell you want to scream "I'm a woman," but you know how much I laugh at people that have to use words to explain what they are. It's one reason I don't explain what I do for a living. Words are unimportant. You increase the speed of your step, and when I hear your footfalls are closer I walk faster. We're almost there.
The show was fun. You stood slightly behind me, to my left. I noticed, peripherally again, that your eyes went from the band to my face and back. I never turned around to look. When I felt your body step forward to be closer to me, I turned quickly and said I would go get another round of drinks. There's that face again. Your hand pops up to touch my arm when you say thank you, but I turned and walked too quickly. Another epic fail for you.
We leave the show and you're looking perplexed. I ask if I should hail you a cab as we approach my car. It's obvious what you want and who should give it to you. Or are you taking the cab to meet up with him later? I forgot. I am forgetful, but I didn't forget this. You had late plans, and I am just fine with taking my leave and finding another place to retreat to. You bite your lip, look down at your shoes. If you prefer, I can wait with you here. You know I don't drive women to meet guys. Ever.
"Can we hang out more?" you finally ask. If that's what you want, but I'd hate for you to do this to me if I was the guy waiting for you later. Go see him. I'll be around, we'll hang out again.
You step forward to give me a hug but I unlock my car door and open it. Be safe, and have some fun! No hug. No kiss. Just a wink and I'm in my car. My engine is on before you can say anything, but my window is closed anyway. You wander off and find your own cab.
The date with him wasn't as good as it intended. He pawed at you, grabbed at you, said inappropriate things that sounded funny at first but thinking back were completely a doofus showing his card at a high stakes poker table. He's really not that manly. Sexy, maybe. Attractive, for sure. But he's a wimp on the inside. His muscles could possibly harm my body, but my mind and my depth and my attention to details would leave him panting, bloody, and broken. There's no match for a man, not this man.
When you texted me at 11, I ignored it. You tried hitting me up on chat, I closed the window on my phone. I'm having fun, with a new friend, in some random bar. Finally, you call. I answer. "I'm free, want to come by?" I'm busy, but how about next Tuesday? "Oh. If you free up tonight, just come over." We'll see. Good night.
I could hear your voice cringe at the thought that I might end up in someone else's bed. Maybe she's more feminine, or prettier, or wears nicer clothes. Maybe her tits are bigger (or better yet, smaller). Maybe she shed that tummy fat now instead of 4 weeks from now. Maybe she's a woman, what if I think you're just a girl?
I really don't, We all have issues, we all have frustrations, we all have needs and desires and goals that aren't being met. I'm just better at looking past those problems myself. I'm not Mr. Perfect. I'm not Mr. Right. I'm not Mr. Everything. I'm Sane, and you know me by the way I walk and talk and smile and listen.
I decide to bail on Little Miss Better Than You, so I call you at midnight. You answer in 1 ring. Desperate much? I'm on my way, I hope you're not too tired. You sound it, and I mention that.
I get there and you're nursing a cup of coffee instead of the usual shitty beer you like to drink when you're down. Your eyes are awake, your makeup was recently touched up, and your hair looks fantastic. My hands are behind my back and I display two DVDs for you to choose from. You look at both and smile weakly. Movie night! "Oh, ok."
I sit on the single chair in your living room, leaving the huge, big, make-out-friendly couch for you. Your throw your feet over, aiming at me, and we put in a DVD. I watch, still noticing you watching me. "Do you want to sit over here?" I'm comfortable in the chair, you relax, you need it. "Oh, I don't mind." You deserve it. "Oh." Back to watching the movie.
I offer to pour a glass of wine, but you have none. Beer doesn't do my body justice, so I grab a bottle of water from your fridge and ask if you want anything. When I bring you a glass of cold, filtered water and put it on the table in front of you, your hand covers the hand I have on the glass. I look at your face, and as my hand leaves the glass you pull me down to you, on top of you, covering you. Instead of kissing you, I look at your face, giving you my best isn't-that-cute face. Your face shows stronger anger, desire, need than ever before. Your hands run up my entire body, over my shoulders and neck to my face. You pull me in for another kiss, maybe bigger and better than The Kiss, because you needed this so badly. Why don't people give you what you need, instead taking what they want?
We kiss until you can't stand it anymore. You try to remove my clothes, your clothes, anything that will allow you to touch me much closer, much more intimately. I refuse, pushing your hands above your head, holding them down so you can't remove anything. I kiss you again, then work my mouth down to a button that I deftly remove with my teeth and lips alone. You moan.
I have to remove my hands from your hands, blue from the force I used to keep you at bay. As I move down your torso, slowing removing buttons, you try to force your hands down further to do it yourself. I almost bite your hand in punishment for you moving too quickly. Finally, your work shirt opens, and I work my way back up your body, staying as close to the middle with my lips as possible. Can you even feel my lips, touching so softly as to possibly go unnoticed? Your breathing proves you do.
As I get closer to you, I fend off your hands from my side, from my chest, from my back. I move my face up to yours, and finally allow you to touch my face and my neck, to pull me into you. I accept your kisses, and start to kiss back myself.
"I want to take my shirt off." I already did. "No, completely off." Ok. Close your eyes when you do. You close your eyes, and remove your shirt. You also remove your bra, eyes still closed. I push my body against yours, my chest now unclothed as well. You open your eyes and I kiss you for the first time. Your hands touch my back and you shudder; this time I don't force you away.
To Be Continued in Part II
Read the rest...
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Women don't initiate sex! Or do they?
An email from another anonymous female reader, this one not so positive. I asked and received approval to answer it publicly. The email is from Shane (a girl's name, I had to ask):
If the kissing leads us to other desires and attractions, we'll sleep together, but even that is a process to increase your desire and your positive result from sex. It won't be me begging you or getting you drunk. I won't take advantage of you. You'll feel like a queen that night and many days and nights afterwards. If you want more, I'll likely be waiting, seeing if you do. If you don't, I promise you it will effect you for a long time to come.
No woman will ask a man to bed so quickly, and not 10 women or whatever you wrote about in time's past. I don't believe it.
If you don't take charge, the women will get bored and find another guy.
My response, written on the plane from Houston today:
I've heard this before. I've heard it from women I've been casual friends with who said they'd never beg a guy for sex, they'd never invite him into their bedroom if he wasn't already grabbing at them or kissing them or making typical snide male comments about sex.
I've slept with some of those naysayers. When? When they begged me to. When they put their mouths on me. When they started showing signs of desire or desperation. I proved them wrong. I don't know you Shane, but I think I can convince you nonetheless.
I'm a gentleman, but I'm not nice. I'm not handsome, but I'm confident of my attractiveness to some of the opposite sex. I don't wear my heart on my sleeve, and I tend to keep my mouth shut even when prompted. My eyes give away everything, if women are attentive enough to realize it.
If I am attracted to someone, you'll know it. My posture will be taller, I'll make casual teasing glances towards you when we're not face to face. I'll face my body away from you instead of towards you. I won't act shy, but confident. I'll walk like a man, and I'll listen like a good man.
All women show signs when you're attracted to men; more laughing, simple touches of the man's body (shoulders, arms, hands, back), touching your own body (mouth or hair or ear or hands). When a woman shows me her desire or attraction, I'll put myself in a closer position to let it increase. It's not hard to be a good tease while still keeping my thoughts mysterious and hidden.
When I'm wooing a woman, I'm open to your questions. I won't prompt for them, but you'll be comfortable in minutes, not hours or weeks or months. I won't be afraid to look at another pretty woman in front of you, but I'll give you more attention than anyone else in the room. I'll remember important things in the conversation, and bounce them back at you for further information. You won't be talking to a man who is looking at your tits, I'll be looking in your eyes.
I don't turn women down, I won't turn you down. We may not have sex, but I'm always open to at least kissing, even with friends. It's just kissing. Sometimes kissing can give us knowledge if more is worthwhile or not. I like to kiss, and women who know me can feel it. I've been kissed first 80% of the time, usually just moments or minutes before I was planning on it anyway.
There will never be uncomfortable silence between us. There will never be a lack of conversation. You will never be bored with me, no matter what it is we're doing. You can sit on my couch with the latest book I received, and I can sit with my notepad and pen. You'll still be excited, just because you're doing something that is exciting with me, rather than boring alone or with other guys.
I'll instill a sense of beauty, womanhood and confidence in you from the start. You're a sexy person, you have skills and talents, no matter what you think. You'll feel your pain and sadness and frustrations with life drain away when you talk to me. It will get better. You will feel better. You'll leave me when we're done for the day and you'll feel that twinge of emptiness, but then you'll feel full and satiated. You'll want more.
Am I cocky? No, actually I'm not. Am I an asshole? No. Casanova? I wish. Am I playing with your mind or your heart? Never. I'm open and honest, even if I am quiet and mysterious.
Even if we don't breech the subject of sex, you'll think about me in bed. I know you will. You may not find my face attractive or my body impressive, but you'll think about it. When I listen, when I see through your eyes to the depths of your pain and happiness, you'll think about it again. There's a tiger there, and most men ignore it. Most men don't give it a chance to come out.
If you decide you want to try my bed or my couch, you'll get frustrated that I won't make a move on you. I don't need to: I want you to want me more than anything else. It'll burn up inside of you, you'll spend a few bucks on new C batteries. But the day will come when you've decided to give it a chance. You'll hate it because you think the man should be completely the suitor. I disagree. I give you choices, and you accept whichever one you want.
So I'll be there, looking strong and confident and assured. I'll help you justify your life as it is today, and you'll desire my body inside of you and on you. You'll be the one who kisses me, likely, but I'll be right there ready to accept it. It won't feel wrong. It won't be wrong.
If the kissing leads us to other desires and attractions, we'll sleep together, but even that is a process to increase your desire and your positive result from sex. It won't be me begging you or getting you drunk. I won't take advantage of you. You'll feel like a queen that night and many days and nights afterwards. If you want more, I'll likely be waiting, seeing if you do. If you don't, I promise you it will effect you for a long time to come.
So, no, women don't throw themselves at me; they just read my desires and let them coincide with their own. It isn't sex to me, it's meeting a need you have. If you have that need, you'll come calling.
Read the rest...
Monday, May 11, 2009
Reminding her of her needs in the bedroom
This is part of an ongoing series on dating (even in marriage).
I was a little bit shocked a few weeks ago when I started to see more married women visiting this site, emailing me questions and sending me really positive criticism or even compliments. I don't write for you, I write for me, but I absolutely love the input. It helps me more than you can ever know.
When some people said they visited from another Momblog, I decided to take a look. As luck would have it, she had given me a link and a really nice run of compliments. I'd like to address some of that today.
She says,
This is something that aggravates me about marriage lately: checking your needs at the door when it comes to raising kids. Yes, kids are a handful. Life is expensive; both time and money are needed in great quantity. Responsibilities inside and out of the house are just overwhemling sometimes, and it leaves little time to dress sexy or even find the energy for sex once you both put your heads to the pillows.
I don't mean tits and ass you celibate pervert, I mean touch her in a way that counts. The next time she tries to fly past you in route to wipe up baby puke from a bib, stop in front of her and look at how beautiful she is. Her eyes and her face, bubba. If she gets mad, grab her hands, stare at that gorgeous face and smile. Don't say a word. "I love you" is a ridiculous thing for a man to say. I only say it in response to the same. Don't tell her she's beautiful, SHOW HER you think that. If she hits you for blocking her vomit run, laugh. When she walks past you, THEN check out her ass when she's not looking.
When some people said they visited from another Momblog, I decided to take a look. As luck would have it, she had given me a link and a really nice run of compliments. I'd like to address some of that today.
She says,
But it also reminded me of a few things I had forgotten. Things about passion and lust and meeting needs and all of those things that we sort of check at the door when we start a family.
This is something that aggravates me about marriage lately: checking your needs at the door when it comes to raising kids. Yes, kids are a handful. Life is expensive; both time and money are needed in great quantity. Responsibilities inside and out of the house are just overwhemling sometimes, and it leaves little time to dress sexy or even find the energy for sex once you both put your heads to the pillows.
That's all bullshit. I'm sorry, but stop. You're passing this on to your children, and it's going to make their lives WORSE than yours. I'm not calling anyone out in particular but the men in the relationships. Men, it is our duty to encourage a sex drive in the women we love, or at least the women we're with.
You don't encourage a sex drive by grabbing their tits and ass and saying "Wanna screw?" You know when you do that? When she's already crazy about you in bed. And here's a little secret: no matter how tired and overworked a woman is, a positive sex drive can erase all of the frustration and tiredness.
Want to increase her sex drive? Stop trying to be sexy. Get rid of your porn, first. I love porn, and use it when I really need fast release. If I'm with a woman sexually and regularly, the porn hits the road. "But I'm not getting laid!" Of course not, all that incredible sexual tension you have could be shared with her, but you're leaving it on a Kleenex when no one is watching. Stupid, stupid motherfucker (literally, in the case of you dads).
Want to increase her sex drive? Do things without her knowing (other than masturbation, which you shold do with her knowing and her starting first). Take the trash out BEFORE she asks, and don't even mention it. Try to cheat on your porn and your sports games with household tasks. I'm not kidding, you morons. Women will catch you in the act eventually. Don't be all cutesy and try to get her to notice, just do it. Those socks on the floor? Make them disappear forever. Ram it into your thick skull that socks on the floor are things that 3 year olds do. Go from foot to hamper. Don't let her see you do it.
How about the crap in your office or studio that is everywhere? Organize it little by little. Don't do it all at once, make it disappear in about 2 weeks. Don't add more, and take away a little at a time. The garage you've been promising to organize? Clean that up too, chump, but do it slowly, so she doesn't notice all at once.
If a bulb is blown, replace it before she ever knows. Imagine how less stressed your gorgeous wife (and maybe your kid's mom?) will be if she never sees a blown lightbulb. You can go a step beyond this, too: pay the bills when you see the envelope open on the kitchen table. Just sneak it out when she's not looking, put a check in the mail, and file it away wherever she files it away. If she asks, just say you took care of it. Don't say when, don't say why, don't say how. Just do it.
When she's cooked you dinner and you've finished it, rather than hitting the living room, go and clean the dishes and pots and pans. Then take out the trash immediately. Do you know that garbage can be thrown out BEFORE the bag is full? Try it, it's not against the law.
Ok, men, so now we've worked at reducing their stress level about 3%. It's miraculous what it will do to her life. She sleeps 6 hours a night, so 3% of 18 hours is about 30 minutes. Guess what you can do in 30 minutes? No, not yet, but it's a window of opportunity. You've got a new step to take: touch her.
I don't mean tits and ass you celibate pervert, I mean touch her in a way that counts. The next time she tries to fly past you in route to wipe up baby puke from a bib, stop in front of her and look at how beautiful she is. Her eyes and her face, bubba. If she gets mad, grab her hands, stare at that gorgeous face and smile. Don't say a word. "I love you" is a ridiculous thing for a man to say. I only say it in response to the same. Don't tell her she's beautiful, SHOW HER you think that. If she hits you for blocking her vomit run, laugh. When she walks past you, THEN check out her ass when she's not looking.
If you have to stare at your wife's body, do it in a way where she can catch you but it could be a mistake. Act smitten (trust me, you'll become smitten doing this). Peek at her through reflections in mirrors or windows. Don't stare, just peak. If she catches you, smile. If she doesn't, look away fast. Getting busted acting like a 15 year old with a crush can send those floodgates pumping.
A woman who has forgotten her sexuality gets there because her man is a boy, or maybe a eunuch. You are probably one or the other. Words don't work here. Grabbing her inappropriately has the oppositive effect because she'll think "Great, this guy fucked me for all of 7 minutes, and now I have a kid because of it." Sorry, but quickies will get you babies. Long, drawn-out, passionate lovemaking with days and days of build up and cute glances and lust in HER eyes will be something she equates with personal feminine release, not masculine release that ends up making her feel fat and want to suck on rocks from the garden for 9 months.
If you don't understand a word I'm saying, drop me an email with your address and your work hours. I'll fix her for you.
Read the rest...
Friday, May 8, 2009
A man with hands, a woman with a scar, Part III
This is part 3 of a 4-part mini-series. Please read the first part here before continuing. Please do not link to any part of this mini-series or email anyone a link to it.
9:15PM
I order a round of drinks. She pays. I don't stop her. "Doesn't it bother you that I pay?" No, I think it's proper. We don't know each other that well. "I think you know me, but I know nothing about you." I don't mind questions. She asks me some, and I give her short, succinct answers. She's frustrated because I always finish with a new twist on her question back at her, which she spends time answering and entering new tangents.
I need to hit the head. "I do, too." We go together, her in front, looking back at me once, twice. We get to the hallway leading to the bathroom and she looks back again. I'm 2 steps closer and I grab her hand, push her against the wall and kiss her. She kisses back and puts her hand on my ass. She moans. I turn into the men's room, catching her perplexity in the mirror in front of me as the door closes.
I'm out before her. She comes out, with new lipstick on and some more eye shadow and her hair is shaken up a bit. Sexier. Much, much sexier. I like messy hair, the kind you see when a woman comes out of a surprise rain shower, when she wakes up next to you, after a night of dancing in a sweaty club. She grabs my hand and squeezes it before she lets go. We get back to the table, and a new round of drinks that I pick up with the $20 in my pocket.
10:15PM
She talks more, but now she's sitting right next to me. She has her hand on my elbow, on my knee, on my shoulder, on my neck. I smile at her inside jokes, at her goofs. I frown at her tragedies. It's getting semi-late for a worknight, almost 10:45pm. I ask her if she needs to get up early. She does, but she has an easy day at work and was already planning on taking the day off using comp time if the weather was nice. "I can get you home if you need to sleep." She yawns, then laughs that I knew before she did that she was tired.
"Ok. I've been up since 5." Me, too. I'm on 10 hours of sleep in the past 3 days total. She's amazed at that, since I am completely awake. We finish our round, and I stand up. She's walking closer to me now, nervous. I ask her if she's OK. "I'm fine." If you prefer, I can catch you a cab, my treat. "Oh no, that's not it at all." Of course I know this, but I wanted to make sure I wasn't wrong. "I'm not like this at all." Like what? "So forward. With information, with sharing, with all that. I'm much more private." There's no need to worry. "Will you write about it?" Not the details. "I can tell you anything, and you'll know what not to write?" Of course. I do it professionally. "Read people's minds and put them completely at ease?" No, but I want you at ease.
"I'm completely comfortable around you. I know nothing about you, not even your last name, and I feel like we've known each other forever." Like a brother. She's silent, staring at me outside of my car door which I can't open with her leaning on it. "No. Like a... like a lover?" I understand. I kiss her, and she's waiting for it when I do. I waited a moment too long, but it is completely fine. I pull away but she holds my hair by the root close to her face. "Will you come over?" Tonight? "Yes," she says, now looking down at her feet. Not if you're that uncertain about it.
She looks up at me again. "No, that's not what I mean." She stumbles her words. Don't be nervous around me. "I'm not nervous. I'm just not very aggressive." I know. You want to be more aggressive in life, not just here. "I do. I think my fear holds me back." You're afraid because you've been scarred. She's staring at me when I say it. "I can't go there." You don't have to, ever. "Is it obvious?" Not at all. It's not a sexual scar or physical abuse. "How do you know that?" I know hurt and pain when I see it. "I used to be very overweight. You can write about that." I know that, too. "How?" I know these things, I pick up clues. "I still feel it coming on sometimes. You look at my face, not my body, and I wonder if you don't like what you see." I kiss her again, more passionately this time. She is still kissing me when I break the embrace. This girl is going to break me tonight.
11:00PM
She locks her eyes to mine. "Will you cover over, tonight?" Yes. I'd like that. "So you do like things" she laughs as she finally lets me open her door. I get in the car, and we drive. "Do you remember where I live?" Yes. "Do you have perfect memory?" I'm quiet for a moment, she picks up on it. No. "Do you forget things?" More than anyone can ever understand. "Is that why you write?" If I don't, it's gone quickly. "You write for you." My left eye wells up, but she doesn't notice. I do. "Do your readers know this?" They will now.
I drive, and she talks more about when she was fat. "I wasn't terribly obese or anything, but I was made fun of." We all were. "Even you?" Look at me. "What do you mean?" she asks, looking at me. My broken nose, my busted teeth, my lisp. "I didn't notice any of that." You looked at my nose when you first saw me. You looked at my teeth when I first smiled. "Oh. But that's not who you are." Really? "No, not at all. You're amazing. I feel like I can't compete. Most guys I date are so beneath me that..." They don't have a chance. "Exactly. I feel like I don't have a chance." I'm taking you home. "And there?" We'll talk. "And?" I don't really know. "Do you want to do more?" All of life is an intercourse with others. What we do with each other is about what we need from each other. Talking, crying, fighting, ignoring, sex, dating, job interviews. It's all the same. "No it isn't." Think about it. Why do we interact with other people?
I'm talking more to her than I have in a very long time. Some people reading this will be very, very mad at me. Or st Stace. Or at themselves. "I guess it makes sense. We need something. We're selfish." Me most of all. "What do you need from me?" I stay quiet. "You haven't tried anything with me that made me uncomfortable. Most guys do in an hour. What is it you want with me?" I laugh and say I want to see how the story continues. "Or does it end?" My story continues, your story continues, our story together effects us no matter what. "If we sleep together and never see each other, how does it effect anything?" I learn. You learn. We remember, or I try to. People may read it and they may get something.
"From a one night stand?" Why do you keep bringing up sex? Maybe we'll play video games. "I don't have any. Ralph got them." And? "I don't know. I have this strange feeling about this entire night." That's OK. She doesn't answer the question. Instead, she talks about her virginity and how she had problems losing it in high school because she was fat.
She didn't lose weight for sex. She lost it because she realized that eating wasn't as important as talking about things with others. "This is why you amaze me. If I met you in middle school, who knows what an effect it would have on me." I've done nothing but listened. "Would you have listened if I was fat?" Of course. "Would you have considered sleeping with me if I was fat?" Why wouldn't I? "Would you have talked to me for hours in a bar if I was fat?" I don't understand the point of the questions.
"I know guys like me." Because you get hit on often. "Sure. I don't know if you like me." That's a hard question to ask, because I don't know you for long enough. I like being with you, right now, right here. "That's enough, I guess. But I can't read you." I told you you can ask me anything. "Am I pretty?" Stunning. We arrive at her place. I find a parking space right in front.
"Are you going to come up?" Only if you want. If you're comfortable. "Of course I am. You're making me crazy because I can't read you." So ask me the questions you're afraid to ask. I have nothing to hide, nothing I'm embarassed about. "Do you want to sleep with me?" Yes. "Tonight?" Yes. "Are you going to?" I don't know. "Do you know how crazy that is? How do you ever have sex if you don't pursue it, if you don't show a woman a sign of interest?" I don't know how to do those things. I am here. I am fully vulnerable because I don't hide anything, I just don't put it out there.
11:20PM
We walk to her door. "I just want to tell you that I don't do this." We haven't done anything. Make tea, let's watch a movie. "I mean it. You're kidding there, but I don't do this." I'm not kidding. Make tea, let's watch a movie. "You'll leave disappointed." No I won't. I don't pursue anything but what happens. "Ever?" Never. "That's a lie." It's the truth. And you know it is.
We walk in. She takes my jacket and I take hers and we hang them up. She points to a nice couch in what looks to be the entire Pier1 collection. I go and sit. She goes to the kitchen, grabs a kettle and fills it with water. I am watching her but I am absorbing every detail in her room. A missing book. A DVD tray that is open and empty beneath the TV. "I'm making tea." she says, "Pick a movie."
To be finished in Part IV. Last smoke break.
Read the rest...
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Why foreplay is unimportant (seriously)
You know you're dealing with a sex amateur when she says (publicly or privately) "Men, we need foreplay!" This is 100% completely untrue. No woman needs foreplay for sex. I believe in foreplay because it's a fun part of sex, but in reality, foreplay can actually happen well outside the bedroom or even the home. Foreplay can start at dinner, or over drinks. It can happen when you're both browsing different aisles at the bookstore, sending casual glances at each other.
The way you treat a woman in your regular life, even a woman who may just be a fuck buddy and not a significant other, has a huge effect on her sex drive when you're alone. Men who have a certain level of confidence about themselves also find themselves considered the masters of the bedroom, and you'd be surprised how many times a woman will jump on you the moment both your sets of underwear hit the floor (or the lampshade or clock radio).
There's a secret word few women talk about, but it's the most important word to know if you want to gauge a woman's sex-drive (towards you, or men in general) and desire for you: throbbing. No joke, guys. We have boners, they have throbs.
Women are all aware of the throb, and it can drive them up a wall if they don't have a lover handy. When they're ready for sex, the throb is a primary indicator. We both have blood rush to our genitals when we're horny; men just have a more obvious indicator of the situation. When she's there, a few teasing kisses, a couple of resisting eye glances, and she's going to attack you with no foreplay. A little tease and sexiness in the sack when a woman is in 100% full throb mode will get her wet and ready (unless she's the kind who needs lube always, but I've yet to meet one of those) in mere seconds.
So how do you get there? Start being sexy always. Here's the difficult part: you're going to have to become a sexy man in steps, and it's a long, hard path. I always recommend two ways to start: floss twice a day, and trim your fingernails as often as you can. Clean under them, too, and wash your hands regularly. Guys with bad hands and fingernails will hurt a woman once too often, and the throbs may end forever. It's not a good place to be.
Foreplay is a great way to get a woman to the point of throbbing. If she's not there when we hit the sack (but she wants sex or at least wants to please me), I use foreplay until she does get there. With some women, it's a difficult process. A lot of kissing and touching of non-sex areas, taking breaks from that, returning to it, and keeping it up until she's there. I won't even go down on a girl (or touch her nipples or clit or pussy at all) unless she is there. Touching any sex-related body part too early is a guaranteed way to STOP any throbbing that may be coming on.
So be sexy, guys, and work what you have in your favor.
More steps on how to be sexy, every day, are coming.
Read the rest...
A Man Offers Two Options
Part of a new and ongoing daily series on dating for men and women.
It's my firm belief that men should pick options and let women decide. Indecisive men are losers, but men who are too decisive can be assholes. By coming up with contrasting options, usually two but limited to three on rare occasions, you'll have a mark of confidence that can't be beat.
This works on dates, in bed (or against the car, in my case), and even in times of stress and argument.
Find yourself a bunch of bars, alone. Visit them during the week and on the weekend. Watch for table access, befriend the doorman and get his name. Meet a bartender (preferably female) and tip well. Learn if they're a beer bar or a cocktail bartender; this is not obvious from the type of bar you're in.
Once you've visited a dozen or two, pick your top 5. Now pick 2: one bartender with a preference for beer pours and selecting, one who makes great cocktails.
When you're on a date and she wants to drink, ask her "beer or cocktails?" Then go. It helps to know a bartender's schedule: tell your bartender you love her service and plan on bringing dates. Note: this has also giving me opportunities to score with bartenders (I've never accepted the offers, but I'll write about them in the future).
Having a cute female bartender who serves you fast and first is a great way to show that you're an interesting guy to your dates.
In bed, I like to tease by offering a girl two options: touch/suck/bite a nipple or not. I'll get close, but she has to pick. If she doesn't force herself on my mouth or lips or hands, I don't touch. The same is true with her clit, her mouth and her ass. Get close, breath soft, and let her make her decision. Do note that you'll come too fast initially doing this; it's just as hot for you as it is for her. Test it on your fuck buddy or sugar baby.
Visit many restaurants, alone, so you can ask "Parisian or burgers?" Hit the botanical gardens and the museums and propose "Flowers or paintings?" Try out local fruit markets and delis, "Cheese or mangos?"
By offering two options, you're almost guaranteed a great date. Don't give specifics until you arrive, just stay generic.
She'll love you for it, and it'll keep things interesting.
By the way, if you can't get head or get her to try something new in bed, offering options is amazing. If she touches your knees or thighs, "Ohh, that's good right there, I want your mouth there right now." While she's tickling your kneecap or thigh with her tongue, she's thinking about putting it a little higher.
Read the rest...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
