The horn again

I feel like I was a horny monster today. I was in that state where I look over and seriously (and more leniently) assess a man's sexual potential than I usually would. My gropey little fantasies about the bloke at my work were cranked up a notch. Not only was I staring at his veiny arms with misty eyes, but I found myself contemplating what his skin might taste like, and what it might be like to snog him. I was even seeing the sex appeal in one of my fellow trainees, whom I frankly would never shag. But the mental image did cross my mind. And on a few occasions, I found myself contemplating dashing off to the toilet for a quick fiddle, despite the relatively high traffic in the toilets. As it was, I fluttered my PC muscles to exercise them, trying not to let on when it sent chills up my spine.

Breaking a minor dry spell

The phone rang. I briefly caught sight of the caller ID as I picked it up: Gabe. Ah.

Me: Hel-lo!
Him: Okay, I'm just about to have a shower, then I'm coming over.
Me: Okay, cool!
Him: So I'll probably be there in about an hour.
Me: Great, see you then!
Him: Bye!

I pottered around for a while, full of gleeful sexpectation. It had been over a month, and I was gagging for it.

When he knocked on my door and I let him in, I once again noticed a slight awkwardness about him. Two nights before, when he had just arrived in town, we both ended up at the pub with the same group of friends. We had sort of gravitated towards each other, and a few kisses had been exchanged. Enough to get me fired up, though he had made a comment at one point, that I was making it hard for him to keep his hands off me, as if keeping his hands off me was what he should be doing. I shrugged it off, as I knew him to be quite private with his affections, as a general rule.

In any case, a bit of flirtation was all it took for us to start kissing when he arrived at my place. One thing that had always stood out about him to me was that he tends to keep his kisses closed-mouthed. But this time, he parted his lips and snogged me properly, which pleased me. Pressed against him as I was, I could feel him getting excited very quickly, his body generating insane amounts of heat, and his breath coming in gasps as our hands went under each other's shirts. He pulled mine off me, and I returned the favour, pressing myself against his hot skin, and letting my breath and a few kisses trail down his throat to his chest. I was surprised to hear him moaning and whimpering, as I had always known him to be fairly quiet. I wondered briefly whether he was taking a leaf out of my book: the other night, he had asked why I set off so easily, and why I'm so noisy. I had explained that I didn't like suppressing my pleasure for the sake of embarrassment, or wanting to keep my dignity, so I just let go, and enjoy my sex life to the fullest.

We stumbled towards the bed, him kicking off his shoes in the process. We clung to each other again, still standing, and continuing to snog. I ran my hands down his naked torso, and unbuttoned his jeans. He unbuttoned mine, and as we took them off, we lay down on the bed together. He was on top of me very quickly, grinding against me and moaning. A few times, the tip of his cock pressed against my vulva, with only our underwear in the way. I reached into his underpants and trailed my fingertip over the head of his cock, before taking it in my hand and stroking him. A few times, it looked like he was going to relieve me of my underwear, but instead he would rub my pussy through my undies, which actually brought on my first orgasm. He slipped his hand into my undies and trailed his fingers along my slit. I could tell that I was wet and slippery. In the end, I took off my underwear myself. He kept his undies on until I got out a condom -- I suspect he might still be a little self-concious, which I found mildly amusing. It didn't stop him from putting the condom on and sliding his cock inside me though. I ran my hands over his back and arse as he fucked me, in short, shallow thrusts to start with, then going deeper, plunging into me right to the hilt.

My second orgasm hit within moments, melting into my third and fourth, by which time I was screaming at the top of my lungs. He only briefly paused to exclaim over the amount of noise I was making -- I certainly drowned him out. We switched so that I could ride him, me still shaking and uncoordinated from the orgasms I'd already had. When I straddled him and lowered myself down onto his cock again, we rocked together urgently, and I clenched all my muscles around him. I think I came again at some point there, and I could feel him building up too, before he suddenly stopped me and pulled out, throwing me back onto my back. "I don't want to come yet," he explained, and stuck his cock inside me again, fucking me hard and fast. I just held on for dear life. I'm pretty sure I had another orgasm before the last one hit, and I screamed again as he came inside me.

I still twitched and spasmed after he pulled out and collapsed next to me, breathing heavily. "That was insane," he murmured as I still twitched and arched, before winding down myself. Once I had done so, we lay next to each other with one arm lazily draped over each other.

"Well, another dud root," he observed, tongue firmly in cheek. I chuckled at that. "Oh, well I'm sorry." He paused. "That was deepest sarcasm, you know." I grinned and snuggled into my pillow. "Yeah, I know."

We had a brief break, during which we discussed musicals that we had both seen, which was kind of fun. I got up and pottered around a bit, half-clothed again, before he beckoned me back to bed as I walked past. A thorough snog led into a second round, though this one was a little less raucous. I rode him to climax this time, sometimes drawing it out by moving very slowly. When he came, he set me off too, and we curled up together.

He had to leave shortly afterwards, as he had a few things to do. He also informed me that this would probably be our last encounter, as he has a real relationship that has appeared on the horizon. Oh well. I suppose it does explain that slight awkwardness I had noticed about him. I was amused though to find out that our dalliance had lasted longer than any of his real relationships thus far. Well, I hope he has better luck with this girl. We had a cup of tea together and exchanged some sound files before he went on his way. We parted with a hug and a peck on the lips -- personally, I would have liked to give him a last devastatingly sexy snog, but that just wasn't going to happen. Oh well.

As it was, I still wanked myself to another five orgasms throughout the evening, and one more when Stripey called to have a lovey dovey chat and hear how my day had been. It brought my grand total of orgasms for the day to 14. Not too shabby.

Randomly, I got a visit from a former shagrat today. Back in the day, I had always jokingly referred to him as Fabio when people asked me about him, due to his prettyboy appearance, so I suppose that's what he will be known as here. Our dalliance had ended over a year ago, but we had caught up once, platonically, since then. As it turned out, his phone had met an untimely end, and he had thus lost my phone number, and his only way of contacting me was visiting me, so there he was at my door. I was mildly perplexed, but pleased enough to see him. I'm not sure if he wants to start something again or what... last thing I'd heard was that he had a girlfriend, but he said nothing of that now. Well, we'll probably be catching up sometime soonish, so I guess I'll find out what the go is. I'm not sure if I'd do him again... the sex was pretty damn good, but that had been pretty much all that was keeping us together. Sure, we occasionally went out and did something together, and he is pleasant enough company, but I don't find him terribly stimulating outside the bedroom. Still, it should be nice to catch up with him.

Yeah but no but yeah but

I wonder: has anyone here ever had that weird syndrome where you find someone insanely attractive, but the tought of sleeping with them almost kind of repulses you? I know that at least one of my female friends has had that, so I'm wondering if it's a girl thing, or a rare thing, or totally common.

I'm currently trialling for a new job, and there is quite a bit of training involved. One of the people who does the training is, to put it mildly, a sexy bitch. Of course, there is the whole professional relationship thing, so it's a no go anyway, but even as I perve at him, I know deep down I don't want to actually fuck him, even if it weren't for the social barrier. And I'm not even sure what it is. The other day, when he was addressing us newbies as a group, I found myself surreptitiously staring at where his shirt was tucked into his pants, neat and smart as you please. And my hands had a deep urge to untuck that shirt and stroke his torso, knowing full well that I'd encounter rock-hard muscle. The man is very fit, and on occasion, his shirt drapes in a way that showcases a beautiful set of pecs. When I'm lucky, I catch a glimpse of an erect nipple poking through the material. And another thing that makes him almost intolerably sexy: his veins pop out of his arms like crazy! I can see them criss-crossing over the backs of his hands, and running up his arms into his short sleeves.

Actually, now that I'm not looking at him, I'm even having thoughts of my hands not leaving it at untucking the shirt, but also opening his belt buckle, unbuttoning his pants, and trailing into his pubes, assuming he doesn't wax or anything like that. But beyond that, my brain won't let me get any further. I suspect that if he were standing in front of me now, I wouldn't even be able to go as far as the pubes, in my imagination. My brain just sort of baulks. I have, experimentally, tried to build him into a sexual fantasy, and it just won't work, which I find intriguing. I still blissfully perve at him nonetheless, but something about him just puts it totally out of the question for me, and I just can't put my finger on what it is. It makes me wonder if it is really something about him, or perhaps the professional relationship that puts him in a superior position to me. I wonder if that's the big turn-off. Because apart from his gorgeous body, he is also a pretty good-looking man, and he has that kind of neatly cropped hair that I have developed a strange obsession with. But, to tell you the truth, I can't even really imagine him having a penis (let alone the ability to get an erection), though I assume that he must have one, of course. I mean, the chances of him being a eunuch are kind of remote. And, if I try to play the completely unrealistic scene of him propositioning me, my reaction in that scene, every time, is a double-take followed by "What the fuck? Um, no."

It's an interesting phenomenon. It's almost as if my appreciation of his body were purely aesthetic, but it can't just be that, because I know that I got pretty wet perving at him the other day, and I actively avoided him at lunch, for fear of my heart jumping into my mouth.

By contrast, there's another fellow, on the same level as him, but who has not actively trained any of us. I have had the occasional brief chat with him, and when we parted after our most recent one, I found myself thinking, well yeah, I would. He's nothing to be sneered at, either, though perhaps a tiny little bit more on the cute side. I've certainly not spent anywhere near as much time ogling him, but my subconcious does come up with possibilities of seducing this one, though I'm pretty sure that that would be a terrible idea, too, and I have no intention of finding out. But the question remains: what the hell is it about the other guy? Do I just have a very effective "professional relationship, no touchie" filter? Or does the previously mentioned bloke just totally not smell right? Actually, I don't think I would know, because I haven't really come in a close enough vicinity of him to get a whiff of his pheromones. Mind you, impeccable as he is, I suspect he somehow manages to not sweat, and thus not smell sexy. And he also carries himself in a somewhat unapproachable way, and smiles only rarely. That could be it, actually: a broad smile is one of the sexiest thing a man can have, and he doesn't have it. There's something kind of stern about him, and it wards me right off.

Odd. Very odd. I suppose I should be grateful that I'm not consuming myself with an actual desire to fuck him senseless, and am instead left with this little puzzle, but it still occupies my mind at times. I don't know, has anyone here experienced anything similar, or am I just weird?

Would you like cheese with that?

I find it kind of interesting how within a few months, I have developed a bit of an aversion to mainstream erotica. I never liked it much in the first place, but now it actually kind of makes me shudder. I have just gotten so used to the stuff I've been involved with, which is all au naturel, and proud of it.

I only realised it now, when I was randomly directed on to the Australian Penthouse Aussie Babes Gallery. Sure, some of them still look reasonably nice, but many of the popular ones seem incredibly cheesy. It always makes me wonder. How did that become sexy? And I don't just mean things like Penthouse. I mean the straight out cheesy porn, too. It's not like say "Ooooh yeah, baby, your cock is so big" when I'm in the sack with a fellow, whilst clumsily groping my own boobs.

I wonder if it's as simple as the fact that mainstream porn is a primarily male-run infustry, fuelled by male fantasies. How many of these men who make mainstream porn have seen a genuinely vocal, enthusiastic woman in the sack? Do they even know what it's supposed to be like?

I suppose it's no wonder I get a kick out of having people witness the way I orgasm. It feels like I'm putting the word out there. And I know that few men are prepared for it when they first experience me coming. I have come to very much enjoy that wide-eyed, stunned, and ultimately gleeful expression on their faces. Many of them spend some time groping for words. My favourite reaction thus far actually came from Luke. The first time he experienced me having an orgasm, he looked at me in wide-eyed astonishment, and a big grin slowly spread over his face before he said, "Wow! Cool!"

So I can't help but think, surely the faked orgasms in mainstream porn can't be more interesting than a real woman mid-enthusiastic climax. It's certainly not for me. It's always going to be the latter that makes my heart pound, and I'm only vaguely bisexual, really.

I guess what I'm getting at is, maybe women should be less afraid to showcase their sexuality and be proud of it. Many women complain about how they hate porn, but I'm starting to think that perhaps the everyday woman does have the power to change the mainstream idea of what female beauty is. I just find myself shrugging at best, and cringing at worst when I see one of those stereotypical big-boobed, bare-pussied, bleach-blonde bunnies. But only recently, a masturbation video of a dreadlocked hippie girl with a fairly normal physique got my pulse racing. But yet many a woman tries to emulate the former, or at least looks to the big-boobed bunny for a standard in beauty, instead of the earthy hippie goddess.

Well, at the end of the day, I suppose it does still come down to taste.

Hormonal analysis

It's funny how the presence of regular pelvic floor muscle exercise, combined with lack of sex, can make a woman acutely aware of her cycle. At least, I have been finding this over the last few weeks. The peaks in randiness are astounding, I had forgotten how my body does that. I suppose it helps that I have been working out lately too... that does tend to contribute to the horn. I am back in that state where I can be horny without really realising it.

Case in point: after plopping down on the couch to watch No Reservations (it was a movie-renting kind of night), I ended up with my hands sneaking down my pants. This, in itself, is not in the least bit unusual. Idle hands and all that... no, much more notable was that as soon as I flexed my fingers to brush my G-spot, I was coming, and coming hard. Not only that, but I kept coming, for maybe thirty or forty seconds. This is by no means by record, but over the last few months, it has certainly been harder to get to that point. But tonight, it was unintentional, and I surprised myself so much that I almost fought my extended orgasm. Not only that, but I brought myself to three more, which were of a similar caliber. I admit that Aaron Eckhart was sort of doing it for me, despite that cleft in his chin.

Looks like I have surmounted that wall that had built up between me and my extended orgasms. I'm glad.

The first few glimpses

Hah! I am so fucking stoked! I have seen the first preview photos available of my nude adventures in the world of erotica. Only two photos, and backstage ones at that, but it still fills me with utter glee.

Also, gmail is being an absolute fucking twat at the moment. It's not letting me send anything! Grrrrrr.