Yesterday's orgasm count: 9, and NONE of them self-inflicted! Hah hah!
I had quite forgotten what it felt like to come properly. Last night was the first time in an absolute eternity that I was completely spent and giggling on quite that big an endorphin high.
I'm not sure I'll be writing anything much in the near future... there is sex to be had.
24 February, 2008
22 February, 2008
He came!!!
Today's orgasm count: three, one from a thorough pussy-licking, two from a most epic and excellent shag that resulted in the sort of screaming that makes the neighbours fear what might be going on next door.
Yes, Stripey is here. And I'm gonna go cuddle him now, because I really can't be arsed to write more.
Yes, Stripey is here. And I'm gonna go cuddle him now, because I really can't be arsed to write more.
21 February, 2008
Anticipation
Yesterday's orgasm count: three, self-inflicted.
I just got off the phone with Stripey. He is at the airport now, about to board the plane that will take him home. Or at least, about to board the first leg of his trip. In twenty-nine and a half hours, he will be in my arms again. I am fizzing and bouncing with excitement. Good thing today will be a busy day, it might help keep me distracted.
I just got off the phone with Stripey. He is at the airport now, about to board the plane that will take him home. Or at least, about to board the first leg of his trip. In twenty-nine and a half hours, he will be in my arms again. I am fizzing and bouncing with excitement. Good thing today will be a busy day, it might help keep me distracted.
20 February, 2008
I'm a distracted wanker.
I seem to remember reading somewhere that a woman's tendency to multitask can interfere with her ability to orgasm. Generally, that's not really a problem for me, I just come anyway, and end up with some weird conditioning because of the other things I might have been thinking of or looking at. But tonight, I definitely had a case of the former. It's not unusual for me to get bored while in front of the TV, so my mind wanders, and I get horny, and thus end up with my hands down my pants, irrespective of what happens to be on the TV screen. And usually, I have no problem tuning out the TV and getting off. But somehow, this wasn't working as I was sprawled out in front of House tonight. Perhaps that's because it's just a level up in the mindcandy stakes, and I guess the gross medical images that pop up are kind of a turn-off. Either that, or Hugh Lawrie really doesn't do it for me.
A package arrived in the mail today for my beloved. One of the things he has ordered to arrive here for our impending reunion. It gave me a few hours of bright curiosity before he happened to call and told me what was in it. I suppose I can wait to open it together now. :)
A package arrived in the mail today for my beloved. One of the things he has ordered to arrive here for our impending reunion. It gave me a few hours of bright curiosity before he happened to call and told me what was in it. I suppose I can wait to open it together now. :)
19 February, 2008
What I miss most
Yes, I admit it, my libido is back. At least, I'm wanking again. That being said though, I find that what I miss most is... kissing. My lips feel neglected. It makes me want to lick or suck something, just for the sake of my poor neglected mouth. My fingertips find my lips a lot, just to carress them a little bit. The tip of my tongue rubs against the inside of my bottom lip. I want to be kissed deeply and firmly again.
Speaking of which, it reminds me of the last time I kissed my friend Zac. We have been friends for several years, and, in that time, have occasionally gotten somewhat heated with each other, sometimes to the point of sex. However, these occasions tend to be a year or more apart, and most of the time, we act like any other platonic friends, except perhaps for the occasional little private smirk we might share when something simultaneously reminds both of us of the times we have canoodled.
The last time we kissed, I realised that he is actually a fantastic kisser. On previous occasions, his kisses had been more of a formality on the way to sex. This occasion was different, as I guess he didn't have any intention to sleep with me that night. He had come to my place to hung out, we'd had dinner and slumped in front of the TV with a beer each, and somehow ended up scooting closer to each other. Before long, we were curled up together, almost shyly caressing each other. That's the thing about us: we always have to court/seduce each other anew, which I suppose is why we rarely have sex or even kiss. It's still an aberration from our normal interaction, and having to seduce the same damn person again and again gets pretty tedious. There are other things to pursue, really, which tend to be more rewarding.
Be that as it may, that night, the opportunity presented itself, and after our little courtship, we started to kiss, just for the sake of kissing. I guess that's why it was so nice: kissing was the goal, so he bothered to use his skill. I guess we all have our different preferences in how a kiss should be, which affects our kissing styles: in my case, I like my kisses deep. Sure, a bit of playing with lips only can be wonderful, but if it goes on for too long, and we don't get around to plundering each other's mouths, it gets on my nerves. The tongue seems to have received a bit of a bad rap, which I find a shame. Sure, you shouldn't slobber all over somone and ram your tongue down their throat or anything, but I still like my kisses with a bit of oomph. And Zac had that down to a tee. His kisses were firm, he used his tongue enough to not get on my nerves, but he was still non-invasive about it. One of the best kissers I have had the pleasure to kiss.
Things did progress to some fondling that night, with his nimble fingers dipping into my pussy, and rubbed my juices over my clit, keeping me on the verge of orgasm for who knows how long. I did actually have a very minor climax, but the brunt of my lust was still raging away when he had to leave. Moments after he had left, I was lying on my bed, my fingers plunged into my pussy, wanking to a glorious screaming orgasm.
I guess another reason I'm remembering that night right now is because I needed the same thing that night as I do tonight: someone to share those long, generous kisses with. Sure, sex would be nice, but right now, it's all about the kisses for me. That, and being held by someone who cares about me. Zac was kind enough to provide that last time, though it leaves me glad that we didn't sleep together that night. Much as he is a good friend, he did a bit too good a job of holding me and kissing me as if he loved me. It served to distract me of how I missed my beloved. The jury is still out on whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. But for now, I'm really wanting to kiss my beloved again, more than anything.
Speaking of which, it reminds me of the last time I kissed my friend Zac. We have been friends for several years, and, in that time, have occasionally gotten somewhat heated with each other, sometimes to the point of sex. However, these occasions tend to be a year or more apart, and most of the time, we act like any other platonic friends, except perhaps for the occasional little private smirk we might share when something simultaneously reminds both of us of the times we have canoodled.
The last time we kissed, I realised that he is actually a fantastic kisser. On previous occasions, his kisses had been more of a formality on the way to sex. This occasion was different, as I guess he didn't have any intention to sleep with me that night. He had come to my place to hung out, we'd had dinner and slumped in front of the TV with a beer each, and somehow ended up scooting closer to each other. Before long, we were curled up together, almost shyly caressing each other. That's the thing about us: we always have to court/seduce each other anew, which I suppose is why we rarely have sex or even kiss. It's still an aberration from our normal interaction, and having to seduce the same damn person again and again gets pretty tedious. There are other things to pursue, really, which tend to be more rewarding.
Be that as it may, that night, the opportunity presented itself, and after our little courtship, we started to kiss, just for the sake of kissing. I guess that's why it was so nice: kissing was the goal, so he bothered to use his skill. I guess we all have our different preferences in how a kiss should be, which affects our kissing styles: in my case, I like my kisses deep. Sure, a bit of playing with lips only can be wonderful, but if it goes on for too long, and we don't get around to plundering each other's mouths, it gets on my nerves. The tongue seems to have received a bit of a bad rap, which I find a shame. Sure, you shouldn't slobber all over somone and ram your tongue down their throat or anything, but I still like my kisses with a bit of oomph. And Zac had that down to a tee. His kisses were firm, he used his tongue enough to not get on my nerves, but he was still non-invasive about it. One of the best kissers I have had the pleasure to kiss.
Things did progress to some fondling that night, with his nimble fingers dipping into my pussy, and rubbed my juices over my clit, keeping me on the verge of orgasm for who knows how long. I did actually have a very minor climax, but the brunt of my lust was still raging away when he had to leave. Moments after he had left, I was lying on my bed, my fingers plunged into my pussy, wanking to a glorious screaming orgasm.
I guess another reason I'm remembering that night right now is because I needed the same thing that night as I do tonight: someone to share those long, generous kisses with. Sure, sex would be nice, but right now, it's all about the kisses for me. That, and being held by someone who cares about me. Zac was kind enough to provide that last time, though it leaves me glad that we didn't sleep together that night. Much as he is a good friend, he did a bit too good a job of holding me and kissing me as if he loved me. It served to distract me of how I missed my beloved. The jury is still out on whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. But for now, I'm really wanting to kiss my beloved again, more than anything.
Stats
Orgasm count since last post: five, self-inflicted.
Other than that, I really have nothing interesting to say.
Other than that, I really have nothing interesting to say.
17 February, 2008
Don't ask to give if you're not willing to take.
Orgasm count since last entry: two, self-inflicted.
Internet dating sites are funny things. After a while, you do notice some prevailing patterns, I have found. The site that I have been trawling has a list of ticky boxes on your profile, where you can tick what sort of sexual activities, whether it be vanilla intercourse, oral sex, exhibitionism, softcore kinky stuff, or anal.
A thing that has always struck me is that the vast majority of the men on that site have the "anal - giving" box ticked. I have yet to find a man on that site who says he is willing to receive it. Now, I'm sure there are some good reasons for this: the female population of that site is only a fraction of the male one, and I often see a disclaimer on male profiles saying, "No, I'm not gay, so men, please stop propositioning me." I suppose professing a willingness to receive anal would imply an opening for the homosexual community on that site, pardon the pun. So I do understand why a man would not want to admit a willingness to take it up the arse, even if he might, in fact, be willing. That, and I suspect that a lot of men find the concept of receiving anal sex somewhat emasculating. A friend of mine, when I asked him about that, also pointed out that men are more programmed to stick their penises into things, rather than having one stuck into them.
So I do feel a certain amount of empathy there. But I can't help but think, you shouldn't profess an interest to sticking it in someone's arse if you're not willing to take it. It just seems a tiny bit rude. Which is why I tick neither box. Sure, I occasionally enjoy donning a strap-on and pegging a willing recipient, and I have no problem with being anally penetrated, so long as the phallus isn't absolutely enormous. But I suppose I don't want potential sex partners immediately asking me for anal, either. It's a strange sort of etiquette in my mind, I suppose. Maybe one day anal will be less of a touchy subject, and people will be more readily willing to do it, even with casual encounters, but I don't think today is that day. And perhaps anal will always belong into the category of things you do with someone you trust, rather than someone you have dirty sex on the washing machine with, and then never talk to again. I don't know, are there any people out there who would readily have anal sex in a casual encounter? Double points if it's receiving.
Internet dating sites are funny things. After a while, you do notice some prevailing patterns, I have found. The site that I have been trawling has a list of ticky boxes on your profile, where you can tick what sort of sexual activities, whether it be vanilla intercourse, oral sex, exhibitionism, softcore kinky stuff, or anal.
A thing that has always struck me is that the vast majority of the men on that site have the "anal - giving" box ticked. I have yet to find a man on that site who says he is willing to receive it. Now, I'm sure there are some good reasons for this: the female population of that site is only a fraction of the male one, and I often see a disclaimer on male profiles saying, "No, I'm not gay, so men, please stop propositioning me." I suppose professing a willingness to receive anal would imply an opening for the homosexual community on that site, pardon the pun. So I do understand why a man would not want to admit a willingness to take it up the arse, even if he might, in fact, be willing. That, and I suspect that a lot of men find the concept of receiving anal sex somewhat emasculating. A friend of mine, when I asked him about that, also pointed out that men are more programmed to stick their penises into things, rather than having one stuck into them.
So I do feel a certain amount of empathy there. But I can't help but think, you shouldn't profess an interest to sticking it in someone's arse if you're not willing to take it. It just seems a tiny bit rude. Which is why I tick neither box. Sure, I occasionally enjoy donning a strap-on and pegging a willing recipient, and I have no problem with being anally penetrated, so long as the phallus isn't absolutely enormous. But I suppose I don't want potential sex partners immediately asking me for anal, either. It's a strange sort of etiquette in my mind, I suppose. Maybe one day anal will be less of a touchy subject, and people will be more readily willing to do it, even with casual encounters, but I don't think today is that day. And perhaps anal will always belong into the category of things you do with someone you trust, rather than someone you have dirty sex on the washing machine with, and then never talk to again. I don't know, are there any people out there who would readily have anal sex in a casual encounter? Double points if it's receiving.
16 February, 2008
How to seduce a Nice Guy.
Today, whilst talking to a few friends, they mentioned a mutual friend of ours who had been lamenting her lack of boyfriend during her high school years, or rather, her lack of obviously interested men. A male friend had turned around and said, "I can think of at least five guys who wanted you as their girlfriend at the time!"
This sparked a conversation about how the very attractive breed of woman rarely gets hit on, for fear of rejection, and it's in fact girls with a low self-esteem who get propositioned all the time. Not really a new concept, but when a similar thing came up in Todger Talk, I felt compelled to share one such experience of my own.
I met Derek a bit over a year ago, and quite by accident. I had wandered into a social gathering where a few of my more vague acquaintances happened to be. I found myself sitting next to Derek, and deciding that, given the opportunity, I'd fuck him. As the evening wore on, this escalated to me deciding to create such an opportunity.
The thing was, it was surprisingly difficult to gauge whether he reciprocated my attraction. Over a few weeks, I'd occasionally run into him, and while I generally got the feeling that he was interested, he seemed to actively avoid touching me, and move away when I tried to casually and flirtaciously touch him. Odd, I thought, but the signs were just encouraging enough for me not to be deterred. When he invited me to a party he was hosting, I considered this my opportunity to properly seduce him. It was all a fairly sedate affair, though it lasted deep into the night. I had craftily maneuvred it so that we'd be sitting on the same couch, and curled up in a way that made it impossible not to be in some sort of physical contact with him.
Eventually, the rest of the people present either left, or found somewhere to crash, leaving us alone in the living room. We tried to crash too, me on the couch, him in a recliner, but we ended up talking sleepily instead, wrapped in our blankets as we were. Before long, dawn was approaching, so we hauled ourselves and our blankets out onto the patio, figuring we might as well watch the sun rise. We sat down in the deck chairs, him still seeming to avoid physical contact a little. I can't remember how I ended up with his feet in my lap, but I guess he must have finally decided it was safe. I wasn't going to waste the opportunity, first resting my hand on his bare ankle, then stroking his leg a little with my thumb, which slowly led to our fingers intertwining, and me moving closer to him.
Everything up to that point had been that tentative mating dance. Always testing the waters, venturing further ever so slowly. But once we kissed, that changed. I found myself suddenly yanked out of my deck chair, and pulled into his lap, where frenzied kisses were quickly followed by him fondling my breasts, and then lifting my shirt to lick my nipples. Surprised? I certainly was, considering it had taken four weeks for us to even touch for longer than ten seconds.
Still, I didn't feel like having my breasts exposed for all to see, so after enjoying my initial taste of is affections (no pun intended), I pulled my shirt back down. After all, the windows of the house were large, and if anyone who happened to get up cared to look, they would have found my breasts on proud display. A thing I'd rather avoid, as this was a crowd I didn't consider deserving of that privilege. So we settled for some talking, with the occasional kiss, until our fellow partygoers eventually got up and filed out. One of them had claimed Derek's bed for the night, so when she left, we made sure to claim it back. It kind of impresses me that despite our sleep deprivation, things still got quite heated. We were naked within moments, with him going down on me with great gusto, and taking my advice on the fine art of Getting Queenie Off, so that I came pretty quickly. Due to my being fluid bonded to my beloved, I couldn't return the favour, and the lack of condoms that we trusted (we both had one which was too old for comfort), we couldn't fuck, so I was left with the hand job. The objective was reached, and we fell into an exhausted sleep shortly afterwards, but it still bothered me a little. I was glad that on our next encounter, I could rectify the discrepancy somewhat with my pussy.
In any case, my point is, it took quite a bit of effort on my part to get into his pants. And the impression I got was that he refused to believed that I actually was attracted to him. I practically had to slither into his lap before he believed it! So it makes me wonder just how much the Nice Guys are getting discouraged, to the point of becoming rather difficult to bed. But they are well worth it, trust me.
This sparked a conversation about how the very attractive breed of woman rarely gets hit on, for fear of rejection, and it's in fact girls with a low self-esteem who get propositioned all the time. Not really a new concept, but when a similar thing came up in Todger Talk, I felt compelled to share one such experience of my own.
I met Derek a bit over a year ago, and quite by accident. I had wandered into a social gathering where a few of my more vague acquaintances happened to be. I found myself sitting next to Derek, and deciding that, given the opportunity, I'd fuck him. As the evening wore on, this escalated to me deciding to create such an opportunity.
The thing was, it was surprisingly difficult to gauge whether he reciprocated my attraction. Over a few weeks, I'd occasionally run into him, and while I generally got the feeling that he was interested, he seemed to actively avoid touching me, and move away when I tried to casually and flirtaciously touch him. Odd, I thought, but the signs were just encouraging enough for me not to be deterred. When he invited me to a party he was hosting, I considered this my opportunity to properly seduce him. It was all a fairly sedate affair, though it lasted deep into the night. I had craftily maneuvred it so that we'd be sitting on the same couch, and curled up in a way that made it impossible not to be in some sort of physical contact with him.
Eventually, the rest of the people present either left, or found somewhere to crash, leaving us alone in the living room. We tried to crash too, me on the couch, him in a recliner, but we ended up talking sleepily instead, wrapped in our blankets as we were. Before long, dawn was approaching, so we hauled ourselves and our blankets out onto the patio, figuring we might as well watch the sun rise. We sat down in the deck chairs, him still seeming to avoid physical contact a little. I can't remember how I ended up with his feet in my lap, but I guess he must have finally decided it was safe. I wasn't going to waste the opportunity, first resting my hand on his bare ankle, then stroking his leg a little with my thumb, which slowly led to our fingers intertwining, and me moving closer to him.
Everything up to that point had been that tentative mating dance. Always testing the waters, venturing further ever so slowly. But once we kissed, that changed. I found myself suddenly yanked out of my deck chair, and pulled into his lap, where frenzied kisses were quickly followed by him fondling my breasts, and then lifting my shirt to lick my nipples. Surprised? I certainly was, considering it had taken four weeks for us to even touch for longer than ten seconds.
Still, I didn't feel like having my breasts exposed for all to see, so after enjoying my initial taste of is affections (no pun intended), I pulled my shirt back down. After all, the windows of the house were large, and if anyone who happened to get up cared to look, they would have found my breasts on proud display. A thing I'd rather avoid, as this was a crowd I didn't consider deserving of that privilege. So we settled for some talking, with the occasional kiss, until our fellow partygoers eventually got up and filed out. One of them had claimed Derek's bed for the night, so when she left, we made sure to claim it back. It kind of impresses me that despite our sleep deprivation, things still got quite heated. We were naked within moments, with him going down on me with great gusto, and taking my advice on the fine art of Getting Queenie Off, so that I came pretty quickly. Due to my being fluid bonded to my beloved, I couldn't return the favour, and the lack of condoms that we trusted (we both had one which was too old for comfort), we couldn't fuck, so I was left with the hand job. The objective was reached, and we fell into an exhausted sleep shortly afterwards, but it still bothered me a little. I was glad that on our next encounter, I could rectify the discrepancy somewhat with my pussy.
In any case, my point is, it took quite a bit of effort on my part to get into his pants. And the impression I got was that he refused to believed that I actually was attracted to him. I practically had to slither into his lap before he believed it! So it makes me wonder just how much the Nice Guys are getting discouraged, to the point of becoming rather difficult to bed. But they are well worth it, trust me.
15 February, 2008
I've left my body to science, but I'm afraid they've turned it down.
Yesterday's orgasm count: three, self-inflicted.
Today, in the name of science, I called one of the local places seeking human guinea pigs.
Me: Hello, my name is Queenie. I was wondering whether you have any studies at the moment requiring a young healthy female with no surgical oddities.
Phonegirl: (laughs) Yes, I think we do. One second... how about testing a cervical cancer vaccine?
Me: Sure, why not. Come to think of it, I must be due for a pap smear!
Phonegirl: Alright, let me take you through the questionnaire.
Me: Okay, cool. Ah, a chance to show off with my good habits and even better health.
Phonegirl: Now, some of these questions are personal.
Me: That's fine. Oh, she's about to ask me about my sex life.
Phonegirl: How many sexual partners have you had?
Me: (gives answer... no, I'm not telling you. ;-)) One double take coming up...
Phonegirl: Oh. Well, that knocks you out of that one.
Me: Really? Damn. I wonder if I can take it back.
Phonegirl: Yeah, for this particular study, we can't accept people who have had more than four sex partners.
Me: Wow. Nope. Shit, good luck finding participants.
Phonegirl: (laughs) Yeah, it's pretty hard to find young women in their twenties who match that criteria.
Me: I can imagine! Damn, that really would be hard!
Phonegirl: So anyway, there's another study on...
The rest is irrelevant. But I couldn't help but chuckle at having basically been told that I'm too much of a slut. And it's not the first time, let me assure you. The bloodbank will not accept my blood, mostly because it's rare for me to go a whole three months without acquiring a new sex partner. Also, apparently there is some weird objection to having someone ejaculating in your mouth, even if the ejaculator is definitely approved to be clean. Something to do with the squirting of the cum, and possible mucus membrane damage. No, I don't get it either. I wonder if it's wordlwide, or just regional.
Oh well. I'm not a big fan of huge needles, anyway.
Today, in the name of science, I called one of the local places seeking human guinea pigs.
Me: Hello, my name is Queenie. I was wondering whether you have any studies at the moment requiring a young healthy female with no surgical oddities.
Phonegirl: (laughs) Yes, I think we do. One second... how about testing a cervical cancer vaccine?
Me: Sure, why not. Come to think of it, I must be due for a pap smear!
Phonegirl: Alright, let me take you through the questionnaire.
Me: Okay, cool. Ah, a chance to show off with my good habits and even better health.
Phonegirl: Now, some of these questions are personal.
Me: That's fine. Oh, she's about to ask me about my sex life.
Phonegirl: How many sexual partners have you had?
Me: (gives answer... no, I'm not telling you. ;-)) One double take coming up...
Phonegirl: Oh. Well, that knocks you out of that one.
Me: Really? Damn. I wonder if I can take it back.
Phonegirl: Yeah, for this particular study, we can't accept people who have had more than four sex partners.
Me: Wow. Nope. Shit, good luck finding participants.
Phonegirl: (laughs) Yeah, it's pretty hard to find young women in their twenties who match that criteria.
Me: I can imagine! Damn, that really would be hard!
Phonegirl: So anyway, there's another study on...
The rest is irrelevant. But I couldn't help but chuckle at having basically been told that I'm too much of a slut. And it's not the first time, let me assure you. The bloodbank will not accept my blood, mostly because it's rare for me to go a whole three months without acquiring a new sex partner. Also, apparently there is some weird objection to having someone ejaculating in your mouth, even if the ejaculator is definitely approved to be clean. Something to do with the squirting of the cum, and possible mucus membrane damage. No, I don't get it either. I wonder if it's wordlwide, or just regional.
Oh well. I'm not a big fan of huge needles, anyway.
14 February, 2008
Be still, my thrashing lover!
I know I have mentioned before that I dislike having to keep quiet during orgasm, especially when it's with a partner, rather than just my hand. But I fucking hate it when I have to stay completely silent. It pisses me off that sex and pleasure are so un-PC that even I am too embarrassed to wank loudly when my flatmate's boyfriend happens to be in the next room. At times like this, I don't even allow myself to gasp, which is a major problem, as I get less of a supply of oxygen from the shallow, quiet breaths I take, so my body says, "Nope, I'm not gonna orgasm, not enough oxygen." Of course, I manage to convince it, which means that yes, I do come, but I can feel how the lid is on my orgasm, and my body is starved for oxygen because I can't even take the bloody gasping breaths needed.
No wonder sex is a reasonably common cause of death for old people.
Seriously though, anonymity makes loud monkey sex so much easier. I mean, it's not like I've never been heard mid-noisy-orgasm by an acquaintance, but there is that one group of acquaintances, I find, whom you really, really don't want to be heard by. To the point of resorting to starving your poor innocent body of oxygen. Bravo, society, your conditioning has truly enriched my life!
No wonder sex is a reasonably common cause of death for old people.
Seriously though, anonymity makes loud monkey sex so much easier. I mean, it's not like I've never been heard mid-noisy-orgasm by an acquaintance, but there is that one group of acquaintances, I find, whom you really, really don't want to be heard by. To the point of resorting to starving your poor innocent body of oxygen. Bravo, society, your conditioning has truly enriched my life!
Feminism, Lolita, and Valentine's Day
Yesterday's orgasm count: two, self-inflicted. I guess you can sort of tell that I'm sick of my hands, considering my average wank per day count has dropped considerably.
I was going to write a great big rant about men's unfair advantage in the workplace vs the female prerogative, but I don't think I have the drive right now, nor the adequately collected thoughts. That being said though, at the risk of betraying the sisterhood here, I spent a lot of today feeling like a vast proportion of my fellow women is full of shit. Then again, that's a fairly normal state of affairs for me.
More frivolously, I got mistaken for a teenager again today. It's always an ego-boost when that happens. Though frankly, I don't think people look that closely at your face or anything when they guess. Rather, they tend to look at your clothes and your surroundings. A girl in pigtails and tie dye at the candy shop is going to appear younger than a girl with slicked-back hair in a suit at the reception desk of some company. Two totally different personas, even if they are both the same person.
In any case, it is now time for be to take dirty pictures for my beloved. While I find myself profoundly indifferent for the commercialised monster that is Valentine's day, it's as good a time as any to do something nice for your beloved. Especially when you can give all those commercial cunts the finger by doing something that's completely free.
I was going to write a great big rant about men's unfair advantage in the workplace vs the female prerogative, but I don't think I have the drive right now, nor the adequately collected thoughts. That being said though, at the risk of betraying the sisterhood here, I spent a lot of today feeling like a vast proportion of my fellow women is full of shit. Then again, that's a fairly normal state of affairs for me.
More frivolously, I got mistaken for a teenager again today. It's always an ego-boost when that happens. Though frankly, I don't think people look that closely at your face or anything when they guess. Rather, they tend to look at your clothes and your surroundings. A girl in pigtails and tie dye at the candy shop is going to appear younger than a girl with slicked-back hair in a suit at the reception desk of some company. Two totally different personas, even if they are both the same person.
In any case, it is now time for be to take dirty pictures for my beloved. While I find myself profoundly indifferent for the commercialised monster that is Valentine's day, it's as good a time as any to do something nice for your beloved. Especially when you can give all those commercial cunts the finger by doing something that's completely free.
Endorphin low
Yesterday's orgasm count: zero. ::sigh::
I have found my black hotpants, which had gone missing. Very glad about that. Shows what tidying up can do for you.
I have found my black hotpants, which had gone missing. Very glad about that. Shows what tidying up can do for you.
12 February, 2008
A shamedfaced admission.
Yesterday's orgasm count: two, self-inflicted.
Usually, I don't like to write entries that point to my home country, but I have to admit something here: The Biggest Loser has become something of a guilty pleasure for me. No, it has nothing to do with the hideously commercialised ways of bullying fat people into facing their demons in public and humiliating ways. It has everything to do with the sexy bitch that is Shannan Ponton, one of the trainers. Even though, if given the opportunity, I probably wouldn't screw him silly, I still purr and tingle every time I see him. He's my porn, at the moment, except that there's nothing overtly sexual about him on TBL. Not only do I drool over his obviously gorgeous physique -- he has the muscle balance just right -- but I also love his demeanor and range of facial expressions. Of course, he has that firecracker energy of a physically fit person -- always a very attractive thing to me -- but I also giggle girlishly whenever he gets tough and forces his fat trainees through vigorous work-outs. And, this is probably a very girlish thing for me to say... he has a beautiful smile.
But what really got me all atwitter today was that he took his shirt off on today's show. Oh, someone revive me! I do lament it when he wears something that covers his shoulders, and rejoice when he's in a singlet, but when he takes the thing clear off, I'm in Heaven. Oh, baby. Of course, there was plenty of lovely footage of his muscles rippling over that magnificent torso of his, but his nipples were also pronounced as all hell! They were sticking out like bullets, to steal The Girls's pet phrase, almost as if they were taunting me. When nipples like that are in my presence, they're just begging to be licked, fondled, pinched, and stroked. Oh, Shannan. It has made me a very happy woman tonight.
Shannan, if you ever happen to read this, I am sorry. I do not mean to objectify or embarrass you, and I love you for more than just your body. Own the fact that many a woman you will never meet has probably masturbated whilst thinking of your delightful nipples.
And now, I shall go assure my beloved that I still think he is the sexiest thing alive. :-) Sorry, Shannan, you've been usurped!
Usually, I don't like to write entries that point to my home country, but I have to admit something here: The Biggest Loser has become something of a guilty pleasure for me. No, it has nothing to do with the hideously commercialised ways of bullying fat people into facing their demons in public and humiliating ways. It has everything to do with the sexy bitch that is Shannan Ponton, one of the trainers. Even though, if given the opportunity, I probably wouldn't screw him silly, I still purr and tingle every time I see him. He's my porn, at the moment, except that there's nothing overtly sexual about him on TBL. Not only do I drool over his obviously gorgeous physique -- he has the muscle balance just right -- but I also love his demeanor and range of facial expressions. Of course, he has that firecracker energy of a physically fit person -- always a very attractive thing to me -- but I also giggle girlishly whenever he gets tough and forces his fat trainees through vigorous work-outs. And, this is probably a very girlish thing for me to say... he has a beautiful smile.
But what really got me all atwitter today was that he took his shirt off on today's show. Oh, someone revive me! I do lament it when he wears something that covers his shoulders, and rejoice when he's in a singlet, but when he takes the thing clear off, I'm in Heaven. Oh, baby. Of course, there was plenty of lovely footage of his muscles rippling over that magnificent torso of his, but his nipples were also pronounced as all hell! They were sticking out like bullets, to steal The Girls's pet phrase, almost as if they were taunting me. When nipples like that are in my presence, they're just begging to be licked, fondled, pinched, and stroked. Oh, Shannan. It has made me a very happy woman tonight.
Shannan, if you ever happen to read this, I am sorry. I do not mean to objectify or embarrass you, and I love you for more than just your body. Own the fact that many a woman you will never meet has probably masturbated whilst thinking of your delightful nipples.
And now, I shall go assure my beloved that I still think he is the sexiest thing alive. :-) Sorry, Shannan, you've been usurped!
11 February, 2008
Puttanesca
I had pasta alla puttanesca tonight. It was extremely tasty. But I found myself thinking of the little comment written with the recipe: the name of the pasta was inspired by women with "loose morals".
Is there even any point in me bitching about how "female morals" were equated with chastity, as if sex were immoral? ARGH!
That is all I have to say, really. Good night.
Is there even any point in me bitching about how "female morals" were equated with chastity, as if sex were immoral? ARGH!
That is all I have to say, really. Good night.
Talk to me
Yesterday's orgasm count: two, self-inflicted.
Suddenly, people are paying attention to me again. Last night, I found myself in profound conversation and vague flirtation with Oliver, the fellow I met up with, canoodled in the car with, and then got ignored by. Apparently there had been some social engagements keeping him from talking to me. Riight. Well, if I get to shag him, then that's nice, but I'm not going to waste my time angsting over him.
I also found myself talking to my other hot prospect today, after a week-long silence. And after some idle banter, and me explaining that yes, my beloved does know about my antics, he revealed that not only does he have a girlfriend, she also has no idea about him talking to me, and probably wouldn't be impressed. Well, good to know. I explained that in that case, I won't be able to misbehave with him, as it's one of my personal rules not to shag a taken man without his woman's knowledge and permisssion. The only exception to that rule is if the couple have an agreement to continue seeing others, but not telling each other about it. It does exist, though it's not for me, personally. He agreed, and it turned out that he had never "cheated", as it were. Apparently he converses with attractive women for the sake of fantasy fodder. Huh.
In any case, I ended up explaining to him the can of worms that polyamory can be. His reaction was fairly generic: he didn't believe that he'd be able to live that way, because jealousy is just too much of an issue. I suppose society's conditioning is alive and well.
Suddenly, people are paying attention to me again. Last night, I found myself in profound conversation and vague flirtation with Oliver, the fellow I met up with, canoodled in the car with, and then got ignored by. Apparently there had been some social engagements keeping him from talking to me. Riight. Well, if I get to shag him, then that's nice, but I'm not going to waste my time angsting over him.
I also found myself talking to my other hot prospect today, after a week-long silence. And after some idle banter, and me explaining that yes, my beloved does know about my antics, he revealed that not only does he have a girlfriend, she also has no idea about him talking to me, and probably wouldn't be impressed. Well, good to know. I explained that in that case, I won't be able to misbehave with him, as it's one of my personal rules not to shag a taken man without his woman's knowledge and permisssion. The only exception to that rule is if the couple have an agreement to continue seeing others, but not telling each other about it. It does exist, though it's not for me, personally. He agreed, and it turned out that he had never "cheated", as it were. Apparently he converses with attractive women for the sake of fantasy fodder. Huh.
In any case, I ended up explaining to him the can of worms that polyamory can be. His reaction was fairly generic: he didn't believe that he'd be able to live that way, because jealousy is just too much of an issue. I suppose society's conditioning is alive and well.
10 February, 2008
Dilemma
Yesterday's orgasm count: one. ::sigh:: And yes, self-inflicted
I'm getting sick of my hands. Actually, I'm getting sick of anything that tries to simulate the real thing. I want a cock, damn it! But at the same time, I really don't feel like dealing with the bullshit that tends to go hand in hand with picking up.
I'll be so fucking glad when my beloved returns.
I'm getting sick of my hands. Actually, I'm getting sick of anything that tries to simulate the real thing. I want a cock, damn it! But at the same time, I really don't feel like dealing with the bullshit that tends to go hand in hand with picking up.
I'll be so fucking glad when my beloved returns.
09 February, 2008
Checking in
Orgasm count for the last two days: seven, all self-inflicted.
I haven't really felt like blogging these last few days. Perhaps my libido is calming down a little at the moment, but mostly, I don't feel like playing the manipulative games so commonly needed to get laid, evidently even for a woman. It does kind of baffle me though when someone chooses not to do me, when given the opportunity. I guess it shows that no matter how hot you are, there certainly are other aspects to take into consideration when it comes to such things.
I suppose I'm also getting increasingly fixated on my beloved again, as we will be together again soon.
Also, on a bit of a tangent, my amorous Indian friend has hinted that he will be sending me two gifts soon. I am both curious and mildly disturbed. I suspect he might be trying to weasel his way around the fact that I have no sexual interest in him.
I haven't really felt like blogging these last few days. Perhaps my libido is calming down a little at the moment, but mostly, I don't feel like playing the manipulative games so commonly needed to get laid, evidently even for a woman. It does kind of baffle me though when someone chooses not to do me, when given the opportunity. I guess it shows that no matter how hot you are, there certainly are other aspects to take into consideration when it comes to such things.
I suppose I'm also getting increasingly fixated on my beloved again, as we will be together again soon.
Also, on a bit of a tangent, my amorous Indian friend has hinted that he will be sending me two gifts soon. I am both curious and mildly disturbed. I suspect he might be trying to weasel his way around the fact that I have no sexual interest in him.
07 February, 2008
Apathy and dirty pictures
Yesterday's orgasm count: two, self-inflicted. I suppose the fact that I was feeling a bit crabby yesterday didn't really help matters.
As for today: well, I have finally heard from my fellow from the other day. He tried to start a conversation over MSN while I was away, and by the time I noticed it, had logged off. Oh well. Suppose we'll get to talk again sometime. But after the long wait, my attention for him has kind of run out, so I'm less fussed about it now. Though it does show that I have a short attention span, as it's only been two days.
Well, for now, there is time to be wasted online, and elsewhere. Speaking of which, I have received my first random mail from a stranger with slightly kinky photos. Mildly perplexing, but I can't help but think of it as positive, somehow.
As for today: well, I have finally heard from my fellow from the other day. He tried to start a conversation over MSN while I was away, and by the time I noticed it, had logged off. Oh well. Suppose we'll get to talk again sometime. But after the long wait, my attention for him has kind of run out, so I'm less fussed about it now. Though it does show that I have a short attention span, as it's only been two days.
Well, for now, there is time to be wasted online, and elsewhere. Speaking of which, I have received my first random mail from a stranger with slightly kinky photos. Mildly perplexing, but I can't help but think of it as positive, somehow.
06 February, 2008
Double standard
Yesterday's orgasm count: three, self-inflicted, the last one epic and intense. I'm not counting the two tiny peaks I had getting fondled in the car.
Speaking of which, I suspect I have chased off my hot prospect. Unintentionally, of course. At least, he has been silent for an uncharacteristically long time, so I choose to jump to this conclusion. And that irritates me, because I get the feeling that it has something to do with my quick willingness when I'm actually attracted to someone.
It has me wondering whether a perpetually horny woman is the female version of the "nice guy", in the sense that she gets ignored because she will probably hang around for the possibility of sex, so meanwhile, a man can focus on chasing the "hard to get" girl, and then get the perpetually horny girl while he's having a drought. I suppose at the end of the day, the "nice guy" and the "horny girl" are the straight-forward, upfront ones, while the "hard to get girl" and the "bad boy" are the ones who play the stupid games.
Frankly, what pisses me off is the prospect of having to possibly emulate that kind of crap if I want to get laid more reliably. But at least it does explain why I attract nice guys, and why I tend to prefer them, maybe.
Well, I probably am jumping the gun here, and I suspect I might be made slightly bitter by having Bridget Jones's Diary playing in the background.
Speaking of which, I suspect I have chased off my hot prospect. Unintentionally, of course. At least, he has been silent for an uncharacteristically long time, so I choose to jump to this conclusion. And that irritates me, because I get the feeling that it has something to do with my quick willingness when I'm actually attracted to someone.
It has me wondering whether a perpetually horny woman is the female version of the "nice guy", in the sense that she gets ignored because she will probably hang around for the possibility of sex, so meanwhile, a man can focus on chasing the "hard to get" girl, and then get the perpetually horny girl while he's having a drought. I suppose at the end of the day, the "nice guy" and the "horny girl" are the straight-forward, upfront ones, while the "hard to get girl" and the "bad boy" are the ones who play the stupid games.
Frankly, what pisses me off is the prospect of having to possibly emulate that kind of crap if I want to get laid more reliably. But at least it does explain why I attract nice guys, and why I tend to prefer them, maybe.
Well, I probably am jumping the gun here, and I suspect I might be made slightly bitter by having Bridget Jones's Diary playing in the background.
05 February, 2008
Semi-success
I met up with my hot prospect tonight. Neither of us had ever been in the pub where we chose to meet, and immediately upon finding each other, decided not to stay there. Instead, we ended up walking through the nearby parklands for no less than three hours, just walking and talking. It was very pleasant. He then drove me back to my place, and once he had coasted to a stop, I requested to kiss him. So kiss we did, for the better part of half an hour, and I became increasingly aware of my arousal, which was practically turning into an ache. We ended up fondling each other too before the mood was killed by my housemate turning on the outside light. So we said our goodbyes, and he took his leave.
Fuck, I'm horny now.
Fuck, I'm horny now.
My favourite penises
Yesterday's orgasm count: three, self-inflicted.
I've been meaning to try out a little dress-up combination of mine for a while now: I own various interesting black rubber and or vinyl garments, you see, and one of my more recent acquisitions, a black lace-up vinyl bra, goes with a lot of things. Today, my pair of vinyl hotpants came to mind, so I decided to go in search of them. Alas, no dice! They seem to have mysteriously disappeared. It's really quite annoying how some of my toys do that, and take months to resurface again. It did happen to my black vinyl halterneck corset, which has thankfully resurfaced. My copy of The Mistress Manual, however, seems to have disappeared as well. How vexing!
Well, one thing has chosen to resurface today though: my medium-sized black vibrator/dildo! I am so very pleased, it had been missing for months! I had already given up on finding it. How it got to the back of my shelf, I don't know, because the last time I remember seeing it, it was standing proud beside my bed. Maybe I grabbed it and hastily threw it to the back of the shelf when someone who didn't need to see it came into my room.... I suppose that's possible. But it does make me realise that I now own several phallic toys. Apart from my red giant and my black all-rounder, there's also my tiny blue travel-sized dolphin, and my Mould Your Man kit, which I will need to make use of sometime soon. There is a beautiful cock just begging to be immortalised.
Well, I do hope my hotpants and my book turn up.
I've been meaning to try out a little dress-up combination of mine for a while now: I own various interesting black rubber and or vinyl garments, you see, and one of my more recent acquisitions, a black lace-up vinyl bra, goes with a lot of things. Today, my pair of vinyl hotpants came to mind, so I decided to go in search of them. Alas, no dice! They seem to have mysteriously disappeared. It's really quite annoying how some of my toys do that, and take months to resurface again. It did happen to my black vinyl halterneck corset, which has thankfully resurfaced. My copy of The Mistress Manual, however, seems to have disappeared as well. How vexing!
Well, one thing has chosen to resurface today though: my medium-sized black vibrator/dildo! I am so very pleased, it had been missing for months! I had already given up on finding it. How it got to the back of my shelf, I don't know, because the last time I remember seeing it, it was standing proud beside my bed. Maybe I grabbed it and hastily threw it to the back of the shelf when someone who didn't need to see it came into my room.... I suppose that's possible. But it does make me realise that I now own several phallic toys. Apart from my red giant and my black all-rounder, there's also my tiny blue travel-sized dolphin, and my Mould Your Man kit, which I will need to make use of sometime soon. There is a beautiful cock just begging to be immortalised.
Well, I do hope my hotpants and my book turn up.
04 February, 2008
Eat me
Yesterday's orgasm count: three, self-inflicted.
I notice that I'm lubricating very easily these days, which is nice. I do wonder what the cause of it is though. Perhaps it's increasing fitness... I went for a run in the park today. What saddens me is that I got an endorphin high out of a relatively short run. I'm obviously out of shape.
As a bit of a non-sequiter, I've really been missing receiving oral sex lately. I mean, generally I'm not that big on it... don't get me wrong, I like it well enough, but a lot of girls seem to prefer oral to intercourse, which I certainly don't. I guess I haven't really encountered any pussy worshippers lately... a lot of men just seem to get down there out of politeness, or because they want a headjob in return. How disappointing. Every now and again, it is nice to have a man enthusiastically dive between your legs and hungrily eat you out, humming in delight and telling you how delicious you taste.
I think I need a pussy-eating slave. ;-)
I notice that I'm lubricating very easily these days, which is nice. I do wonder what the cause of it is though. Perhaps it's increasing fitness... I went for a run in the park today. What saddens me is that I got an endorphin high out of a relatively short run. I'm obviously out of shape.
As a bit of a non-sequiter, I've really been missing receiving oral sex lately. I mean, generally I'm not that big on it... don't get me wrong, I like it well enough, but a lot of girls seem to prefer oral to intercourse, which I certainly don't. I guess I haven't really encountered any pussy worshippers lately... a lot of men just seem to get down there out of politeness, or because they want a headjob in return. How disappointing. Every now and again, it is nice to have a man enthusiastically dive between your legs and hungrily eat you out, humming in delight and telling you how delicious you taste.
I think I need a pussy-eating slave. ;-)
03 February, 2008
Frustration
Yesterday's orgasm count: four, self-inflicted.
Nothing of great interest to report. I've been flirting online with my hot prospect, Oliver. I confess to having gotten a bit hot and bothered about it.
I've also been receiving some mildly flirtacious attention from Gabe again. I wonder.
Fuck, I'm tired.
Nothing of great interest to report. I've been flirting online with my hot prospect, Oliver. I confess to having gotten a bit hot and bothered about it.
I've also been receiving some mildly flirtacious attention from Gabe again. I wonder.
Fuck, I'm tired.
02 February, 2008
Thrill of the hunt
I have a date of sorts with one of my two hot prospects (the cheeky smiling one). Nothing big, just catching up over a drink after work, but I'm still quite pleased about it. He actually seems very nice, that is, somewhat less depraved than me. But it's becoming increasingly more normal, I find, for men ten years my senior and more to be less experienced than me. That's a bit of a shame, really, because that would imply that I am unusual.
Me vengo, me vengo!
Yesterday's orgasm count: seven, all self-inflicted. Horny day.
I actually reckon I am getting closer to my goal of ejaculation, which is pleasing. And this morning I came to the conclusion that there is no doubt about it, I do know where my G-spot is. I felt it expand this morning and increase in sensitivity as I approached orgasm, and post-orgasm, felt it sort of recede again. I actually think mine is a little deeper inside me than most, if the various instructions on how to find your G-spot are to be believed.
Maybe I should have breakfast and have a shower, instead of sitting in front of my computer in the nude.
I actually reckon I am getting closer to my goal of ejaculation, which is pleasing. And this morning I came to the conclusion that there is no doubt about it, I do know where my G-spot is. I felt it expand this morning and increase in sensitivity as I approached orgasm, and post-orgasm, felt it sort of recede again. I actually think mine is a little deeper inside me than most, if the various instructions on how to find your G-spot are to be believed.
Maybe I should have breakfast and have a shower, instead of sitting in front of my computer in the nude.
01 February, 2008
Past throbs: a flashback
He turned off the last of the lights, and slipped his arms around me. We kissed for a while, me standing bare-foorted on the carpet in my expensive dress. He was already naked, having peeled out of his uncharacteristic tux only moments after we had entered the room. He was certainly more familiar to me this way, nude and aroused, rather than bundled into some expensive tailored suit because people expected him to.
His hands went over my body in the dark, trying to find the zipper of my dress. I unzipped it for him, and as I slipped the straps off my shoulders, it fell away from me in a perfect imitation of any cliche movie scene. He sighed with pleasure in the darkness at the rustling sound that my dress had given. "I didn't see that, but I could imagine it," he said, and pulled me close again. We continued to kiss, and I lost my G-string somewhere along the way.
We made that slow, stumbling dance of two people not wanting to stop kissing towards the bed. Once we had reached it, he lowered me onto it, and kissed his way down my torso. He gave a growl of approval as his mouth drew level with pussy, and began to lick me with gusto. He was a real pussy worshipper, that one, and he didn't give a damn about the fact that my being fluid-bonded to my partner meant that I wasn't going to return the favour. He would head down there whenever he could, and gleefully eat me out. This time, he seemed to be teasing me deliberately, bringing me close to orgasm several times, only to ease up. After the third or fourth time, he resurfaced, and drew back up so our faces were level again.
"Yummy," he remarked, and I could hear the smile in his voice. I kissed him, tasting my own juices on his tongue, and reached for his cock. He was still mostly soft, and I cautiously squeezed him. He had told me on a previous occasion not to be shy about touching him firmly. He growled approvingly as I tried it. His cock twitched in my hand. I got a little more confident, and continued to squeeze him, feeling his cock harden in my hand. "Yes, squeeze it nice and hard," he whispered encouragingly. I complied, and he reached full hardness in my hands, gasping quietly.
Suddenly, he replaced my hand with his in a very business-like way. "I'm putting that inside you," he informed me, and quickly donned a condom before slinging my legs over his shoulders and entering me. I looked up at him as he started to thrust, my eyes now having adjusted to the darkness. He continued to growl and exclaim approvingly as we moved together, though I soon drowned him out, crying out with each thrust. As I felt him building up towards climax, I started rubbing my clit, feeling my pussy tighten around him as I did so. He came to a shuddering climax, with me moments behind him. He collapsed next to me, still twitching and shuddering. We both laughed breathlessly as we curled up together.
"You know we have to be up in four hours?" he asked after looking at his watch.
I laughed. "Shit."
We went to sleep shortly afterwards.
His hands went over my body in the dark, trying to find the zipper of my dress. I unzipped it for him, and as I slipped the straps off my shoulders, it fell away from me in a perfect imitation of any cliche movie scene. He sighed with pleasure in the darkness at the rustling sound that my dress had given. "I didn't see that, but I could imagine it," he said, and pulled me close again. We continued to kiss, and I lost my G-string somewhere along the way.
We made that slow, stumbling dance of two people not wanting to stop kissing towards the bed. Once we had reached it, he lowered me onto it, and kissed his way down my torso. He gave a growl of approval as his mouth drew level with pussy, and began to lick me with gusto. He was a real pussy worshipper, that one, and he didn't give a damn about the fact that my being fluid-bonded to my partner meant that I wasn't going to return the favour. He would head down there whenever he could, and gleefully eat me out. This time, he seemed to be teasing me deliberately, bringing me close to orgasm several times, only to ease up. After the third or fourth time, he resurfaced, and drew back up so our faces were level again.
"Yummy," he remarked, and I could hear the smile in his voice. I kissed him, tasting my own juices on his tongue, and reached for his cock. He was still mostly soft, and I cautiously squeezed him. He had told me on a previous occasion not to be shy about touching him firmly. He growled approvingly as I tried it. His cock twitched in my hand. I got a little more confident, and continued to squeeze him, feeling his cock harden in my hand. "Yes, squeeze it nice and hard," he whispered encouragingly. I complied, and he reached full hardness in my hands, gasping quietly.
Suddenly, he replaced my hand with his in a very business-like way. "I'm putting that inside you," he informed me, and quickly donned a condom before slinging my legs over his shoulders and entering me. I looked up at him as he started to thrust, my eyes now having adjusted to the darkness. He continued to growl and exclaim approvingly as we moved together, though I soon drowned him out, crying out with each thrust. As I felt him building up towards climax, I started rubbing my clit, feeling my pussy tighten around him as I did so. He came to a shuddering climax, with me moments behind him. He collapsed next to me, still twitching and shuddering. We both laughed breathlessly as we curled up together.
"You know we have to be up in four hours?" he asked after looking at his watch.
I laughed. "Shit."
We went to sleep shortly afterwards.
January's orgasm tally
Total orgasms for January: 127.
Self-inflicted: 100.
Assisted: 27.
I suppose I should work out percentages for the hell of it, but not right now. What I'm impressed about though is that I have wanked to exactly 100 orgasms in that month. Talk about a fluke!
Self-inflicted: 100.
Assisted: 27.
I suppose I should work out percentages for the hell of it, but not right now. What I'm impressed about though is that I have wanked to exactly 100 orgasms in that month. Talk about a fluke!
Past throbs
Yesterday's orgasm count: three, two of them self-inflicted.
After an already relatively busy day yesterday, I made my way to the beach, where Luke and I had agreed to meet up. I was twenty minutes early, so I sat down on a bench, enjoyed the sunshine, and watched a few children playing by the fountain in the square. I eventually caught sight of Luke sitting some distance away from me, keeping an eye out for me. Because he kept scanning around, I was able to sneak up from him from the front, and he only saw me when I was maybe four paces away from him. I had to grin at his exaggerated double-take. When he snapped off his sunglasses and grinned at me, I found myself thinking, "Damn, he's still one hell of an attractive man". We greeted with an enthusiastic hug and a peck on the cheek, and then headed for the actual beach.
Whenever I actually catch up with Luke, I am reminded of how much I had missed him. Last time we caught up would have been in September last year or so... our lives are just so very seperate, and it takes a bit of effort to make sure we actually see each other. Even when we were "lovers", we only saw each other maybe once a month. I consider Luke to be proof that meeting people over the internet has its merits. We never, ever would have met without it, as we are from completely different social groups. Apart from being fifteen years my senior, Luke never went to university, goes to completely different events, and we seem to have no mutual acquaintances whatsoever, which is a relatively unusual thing around here. But despite appearing so different, we get on like a house on fire, and I am really really glad to have him in my life, even if it is sort of sporadic.
We took our shoes off and walked along the beach, talking about everything that had happened since the last time we saw each other. He's heading off on a big Europe trip in a few weeks, so he told me in great detail where he was going to go. At one point, when we saw a huge flock of seagulls hanging around on the beach, we ran at them and chased them up, barking like dogs.
We eventually sought out dinner, and ended up eating at the same place where we had eaten on our first outing, two and a half years ago. We watched a flock of preening teenage boys nearby, comically shaking our heads at today's youth. It's particularly amusing, considering that it's not been that long since I was a teenybopper myself. Luke has told me on more than one occasion that I am a rarity, in being so young, and still being someone he enjoys spending time with. He reiterated it then, saying that apart from me, there is only one other person below the age of 25 whose company he enjoys. We shared some fish and prawns and chips for dinner, and I found myself increasingly needing my willpower to keep my hands off him. While I do not conciously smell his pheromones, something about him attracts me like crazy. I suppose it's partly that our dynamic has not changed, except that we no longer stop for the occasional kiss, and things like that. Though at one point, with his explicit permission, I found myself playing with his short whiskery beard. When we first met, he was clean-shaven, but since then, he has cultivated that little beard of his, and I actually really like it. But then, I have a thing for stubble. For some reason, I think it's sexy as hell.
After dinner, we moved on for some coffee and gelati, taking in the pretty sunset as we went. Over our gelati, he showed me some photos of his girlfriend on his phone... she's a real cutie! I was actually surprised, because something about her reminded me of myself, though I'm not quite sure what. I guess Luke does have a type he prefers. I suppose I hadn't expected her to be so youthful, though come to think about it, that seems silly now. Luke is a very youthful man himself, very few people peg him to be in his late thirties. In fact, I can completely understand why some people would guess him to be in his late twenties, early thirties. He is in very good shape, and I have certainly met plenty of men his age who seem a lot older than him.
After our gelati, we went for another walk, happily chatting away. Our conversations had been slowly moving more and more towards sex. It did actually get to the point where we both admitted that it was taking some effort to behave ourselves. For a moment, we both put our hands in our pockets and whistled innocently before laughing and continuing to walk and talk. I was amazed, actually, at how happy and at ease I felt. I hadn't really felt this happy since I last was with my beloved.
Eventually, we had to head back, and he gave me a lift home. We're hoping to catch up before he leaves on his trip, and, if it's doable, have me meet his girlfriend. She does sound very nice, I now find myself not in the least bit put out that I had to give up the sexual aspect of my relationship with Luke for her. I think it is an impressive thing when a man who has experienced the kind of variety that Luke has will happily settle for a basically monogamous relationship. And I must admit I am really curious about seeing this girl in person.
We parted with another hug and a peck on the cheek, and I wanked myself into oblivion before going to sleep. I suppose it didn't help that we had briefly reminisced about the last time we had shagged. Well, that had been a very fun night, and a great way to go out with a bang, so to speak.
I am also very pleased because he has promised to burn me a copy of Shortbus, which I have been meaning to see ever since I read about it in The Girl's blog.
It's really such a pity that Luke leaves before my beloved arrives here. I'd really be interested to see what the four-way dynamic is like...
After an already relatively busy day yesterday, I made my way to the beach, where Luke and I had agreed to meet up. I was twenty minutes early, so I sat down on a bench, enjoyed the sunshine, and watched a few children playing by the fountain in the square. I eventually caught sight of Luke sitting some distance away from me, keeping an eye out for me. Because he kept scanning around, I was able to sneak up from him from the front, and he only saw me when I was maybe four paces away from him. I had to grin at his exaggerated double-take. When he snapped off his sunglasses and grinned at me, I found myself thinking, "Damn, he's still one hell of an attractive man". We greeted with an enthusiastic hug and a peck on the cheek, and then headed for the actual beach.
Whenever I actually catch up with Luke, I am reminded of how much I had missed him. Last time we caught up would have been in September last year or so... our lives are just so very seperate, and it takes a bit of effort to make sure we actually see each other. Even when we were "lovers", we only saw each other maybe once a month. I consider Luke to be proof that meeting people over the internet has its merits. We never, ever would have met without it, as we are from completely different social groups. Apart from being fifteen years my senior, Luke never went to university, goes to completely different events, and we seem to have no mutual acquaintances whatsoever, which is a relatively unusual thing around here. But despite appearing so different, we get on like a house on fire, and I am really really glad to have him in my life, even if it is sort of sporadic.
We took our shoes off and walked along the beach, talking about everything that had happened since the last time we saw each other. He's heading off on a big Europe trip in a few weeks, so he told me in great detail where he was going to go. At one point, when we saw a huge flock of seagulls hanging around on the beach, we ran at them and chased them up, barking like dogs.
We eventually sought out dinner, and ended up eating at the same place where we had eaten on our first outing, two and a half years ago. We watched a flock of preening teenage boys nearby, comically shaking our heads at today's youth. It's particularly amusing, considering that it's not been that long since I was a teenybopper myself. Luke has told me on more than one occasion that I am a rarity, in being so young, and still being someone he enjoys spending time with. He reiterated it then, saying that apart from me, there is only one other person below the age of 25 whose company he enjoys. We shared some fish and prawns and chips for dinner, and I found myself increasingly needing my willpower to keep my hands off him. While I do not conciously smell his pheromones, something about him attracts me like crazy. I suppose it's partly that our dynamic has not changed, except that we no longer stop for the occasional kiss, and things like that. Though at one point, with his explicit permission, I found myself playing with his short whiskery beard. When we first met, he was clean-shaven, but since then, he has cultivated that little beard of his, and I actually really like it. But then, I have a thing for stubble. For some reason, I think it's sexy as hell.
After dinner, we moved on for some coffee and gelati, taking in the pretty sunset as we went. Over our gelati, he showed me some photos of his girlfriend on his phone... she's a real cutie! I was actually surprised, because something about her reminded me of myself, though I'm not quite sure what. I guess Luke does have a type he prefers. I suppose I hadn't expected her to be so youthful, though come to think about it, that seems silly now. Luke is a very youthful man himself, very few people peg him to be in his late thirties. In fact, I can completely understand why some people would guess him to be in his late twenties, early thirties. He is in very good shape, and I have certainly met plenty of men his age who seem a lot older than him.
After our gelati, we went for another walk, happily chatting away. Our conversations had been slowly moving more and more towards sex. It did actually get to the point where we both admitted that it was taking some effort to behave ourselves. For a moment, we both put our hands in our pockets and whistled innocently before laughing and continuing to walk and talk. I was amazed, actually, at how happy and at ease I felt. I hadn't really felt this happy since I last was with my beloved.
Eventually, we had to head back, and he gave me a lift home. We're hoping to catch up before he leaves on his trip, and, if it's doable, have me meet his girlfriend. She does sound very nice, I now find myself not in the least bit put out that I had to give up the sexual aspect of my relationship with Luke for her. I think it is an impressive thing when a man who has experienced the kind of variety that Luke has will happily settle for a basically monogamous relationship. And I must admit I am really curious about seeing this girl in person.
We parted with another hug and a peck on the cheek, and I wanked myself into oblivion before going to sleep. I suppose it didn't help that we had briefly reminisced about the last time we had shagged. Well, that had been a very fun night, and a great way to go out with a bang, so to speak.
I am also very pleased because he has promised to burn me a copy of Shortbus, which I have been meaning to see ever since I read about it in The Girl's blog.
It's really such a pity that Luke leaves before my beloved arrives here. I'd really be interested to see what the four-way dynamic is like...
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