TMI Tuesday

1. Have you ever dated/married purely for money?

Unfortunately, no. I would love the opportunity, but alas in most cases I think that such a luxurious position is something only women can enjoy.

I did have an online ‘thing’ going with a very wealthy woman (my first affair, although never consumated) and she wanted to pay for luxurious hotels, meals and all the trappings, merely wanting me for my body. Unfortunately circumstances dictated otherwise and we never got it together; currently she is going through a messy divorce which means she might end up losing her wealth to her husband.

From my point of view, such a proposition would have been ideal; not because I wanted the money or materialistic side of things, but more from the angle of simplicity. An affair necessitates expenses (such as lunch costs, hotel bills, etc) and therein lies the biggest risk, I think. It’s easy to ‘lose’ a few hours in the day, but losing a hundred pounds here and there might get noticed, particularly if it’s regular.

2. What is your type?

Female?

If I have to be more specific than that, I would say physically I go for slim, small-breasted women (I find from experience that smaller breasts have harder and more sensitive nipples, and I love sensitive nipples). I like small frames (I want to be able to pick my partner up and manipulate her with ease…). I don’t have a hair colour preference, although I do prefer hair at all – for some reason I don’t find shaven women such a turn-on. Neat, trimmed but something to nuzzle in please! Mind you, that opinion is not borne of hands-on experience, so if anyone would like to demonstrate the benefits of a bare venus, I’d be more than willing to alter my position (possibly several times).

As for the less physical attributes, I want (no, need) a woman with absolute confidence. I spend my life reassuring and cossetting and saying “yes I love you” and “yes I think you’re attractive”, but it’s just wasted breath. The irony is that the only thing that’s really unattractive about people is their continuing obsession with whether they’re attractive or not. I want somebody who knows, implicitly, that they are comfortable with themselves, and exudes that confidence in their clothes, their mannerisms, the way they carry themselves and with their sexual confidence. Somebody who takes instead of waiting for it to be offered. Somebody who doesn’t care if the destination is wrong, because the journey is the bit that matters.

So really, I’m pretty relaxed, not fussy at all. There must be hundreds of you out there just waiting to meet me, and I just have to pick the one(s) I like best….

3. What is the best sex game you have ever played?

This one.

Blogging is fun. I love meeting new people, talking to them about sex, and sharing rude pictures. It’s the best game ever.

But in ‘real life’ I’ve never really played sexual games. Or if I have I never considered them a game. There are lots I’d like to try – many documented in forensic detail in other posts I’ve written. Go and delve back in the archives if you haven’t already…

4. Have you ever given or received an orgasm from a person whose last name you did not know?

I don’t think so, but my memory is a bit hazy. I’ve certainly given and received orgasms to women the surnames of whom I have absolutely no recollection now.

Actually, come to think of it, yes, there was a girl I met in a club once and we got up to some finger fun but then went our separate ways. I couldn’t say if she actually orgasmed though – probably not.

Of course there are a few people reading this who have brought me to orgasm indirectly, either with words they’ve written, pictures they’ve sent or posted, or a combination of both. Does it count if I don’t know their first name either?

5. Have you ever masturbated in front of a sexual partner?

Maybe twice. And I’m pretty sure I didn’t come either time. I have to be honest, I can (and do, and have to) wank myself silly at any given opportunity, so it strikes me that when you’ve got a partner with you why would you? As the saying goes, why have a dog and bark yourself?

More to the point, I don’t think I’ve ever had a sexual partner/relationship that’s continued long enough to get to the point where that would be a novelty. All my partners have either wanted to wank or fuck me themselves, and frankly in that situation you’ll get no complaints from me!

Bonus (as in optional):At what age do you think men and women reach their sexual peak? Do you think you have hit yours yet?

Interesting (and difficult) question. I believe women probably reach their physical peak around 30, and men about 21. Ironically, that means that I have had very little sex since my sexual peak, relatively speaking.

Mentally, though, I think it’s a different story. Women seem to get hornier throughout their 30s, and I certainly feel my sex drive has increased, not decreased, in the last few years. Perhaps, though, that is a by-product of writing a sexblog.

Of course I’ve no idea whether my sex drive would be more, less or the same if I’d had continual regular sex for the last 10 years, so unless I can go back and have another go for comparison, it’s all rather academic….

I Need Help

I had very odd (and slightly disturbing) dreams last night.

I was walking through a hotel weilding weapons (a big samurai sword) fighting people. Kindof like a movie. But I was just killing people left right and centre. Worst of all, I was telling the women to get on their knees and suck my cock, and those that didn’t I dispatched with a single stroke of my blade.

When I woke up, I was wet – I’d come during this dream.

Now, I’ve only wanked twice this year (seriously, I kid you not – not enough stimulation, I think) so may have needed a release, but even so….

This kindof stuff is often the prologue to an event that usually ends in a news report containing the words “before turning the gun on himself”.

I’m not a violent person, and I normally don’t take much notice of dreams, so I think my mind is just going a little crazy. But if you girls see me with any sort of knife in my hand, I’d recommend you just drop to your knees and open wide, for your own safety.

Weird, isn’t it – the human brain….

But enough of the psycho-babble, I have more writing to do.

Late for Work

My alarm went off at the usual time.

I sat up and slipped into the bathroom, leaving the sumbering figure in the bed beside me.

As the hot water thundered down on my head, streaming over my face and snaking down through my chest-hair in shimmering rivulets, my cock raged, my morning glory holding it erect and proud, pink taut glans shining under the harsh bathroom light, my balls swinging loose as I vigorous foamed gel over my arms and belly. But today I didn’t grasp it in my hand, stroking it back and forth, tentatively deciding whether I’d bring myself off or just get on with the job of getting ready for the office. Today I tried to ignore it, and instead lathered up my chin.

Clean and shaven, I stepped out of the shower and towelled myself off, before padding through to the spare room. I quickly dressed, first pulling on black boxers, then a shirt, trousers, pullover and brogues. I headed into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of juice and a couple of slices of toast, before pulling on my coat and heading out of the door.

As I sat down on my usual train, in my usual seat, I contemplated how today would be more than a little unusual. It had taken some planning, but I’d organised some fake meetings, and was scheduled to see several people across the campus – or so they thought. My usual schedule involves several meetings, so nobody would be suspicious if I wasn’t at my desk for the first couple of hours of the day.

As the train pulled into the 2nd station, it began to get crowded. People were standing, or sitting on the floor. By the 3rd station, the aisles were starting to fill up; today was busy and in another 2 stops it would be packed to the limit. So when I got up and stepped off the train, the usual faces I see every day sharing the same journey, didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow – they were all more interested in whether they could commandeer my seat.

As I alighted onto the platform I felt odd, apprehensive, out of routine; I also felt incredibly excited. My trousers bulged as my erection swelled with renewed vigour, and I was glad I had a coat to conceal my rigidity. I followed the other passengers through the barrier and ticket office, and out onto the road, glancing around at my fellow passengers. Was the guy I just brushed past him? He was due to catch his own train around this time, after she’d dropped him off. Pure speculation, I reminded myself – I wouldn’t know him if he asked for directions, and had no wish to recognise him.

I looked up and down the street and, casting my mind back to the plans we’d made, sauntered towards the right-hand bend. Right on time, the car pulled up alongside me, and the passenger window slid down. She must have been waiting for me, and recognised my description immediately. I leant into the window, and paused, taking in the vision of loveliness before me.

I’d seen pictures of her before, some semi-naked, some dressed, many photoshopped to keep her anonymity. We’d decided not to swap face pictures to reduce the risk, and so I was not ready for her pretty smiling features, framed by blonde hair, a pink tinge in her cheeks where she was slightly flushed.

“I’m looking for the business park”, I said, with an intentionally wooden cadence – as passers-by strode past behind me. “Can you help?”

She grinned at my comedy acting skills, and responded as scripted: “Sure. Actually I’m going that way. Would you like a lift?”.

I nodded, probably too enthusiastically, and straightened up, unzipping my coat and opening the door. I paused for a few seconds – ensuring that the thick bulge in my trousers was clearly in her line of sight before sitting down and pulling the door shut.

As we sped away, she laughed nervously. “Perfect timing – it’s almost going too well!”. “Yes”, I chuckled. “best laid plans, and all that”.

“And will they be best laid?”, she asked, giggling at her own double-entendre.

I looked her up and down. She was wearing long, knee-high boots with a slim stiletto, and what I presumed to be hold-ups. Barely covering their tops was a little mini-skirt – the skirt she’d told me about so many times before. It was topped off with a thin white blouse, and clearly no bra – I could see the dark circles of her areolas through the translucent material, and her hard nipples were pushing against it. I looked around the car, and saw her long coat in the back seat, explaining how she’d managed to take her husband to the station dressed like this, without him asking questions.

She looked like she’d dressed purely for my pleasure, and I didn’t wait for an invitation.

I reached my hand across and took her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, testing its hardness; immediately she arched forward, pushing her breast into my hand, and hissing “oh yes” under her breath. I began to squeeze and knead her breast, and she squirmed to my touch; I could tell she was struggling to concentrate on the road, but I didn’t let up.

Her hand dropped from the steering wheel to my lap, and her fingers wrapped around my thick shaft through the fabric of my trousers, I groaned, as she began to stroke my length with her fingertips. She parted her knees, and I took the hint, dropping my other hand between her thighs, feeling the stocking-tops and riding her skirt up to her navel.

“Mmm… just like you said” I whispered, as my fingers slipped across her knickerless pussy, the soft hair tickling before yielding to moist curls, and soft swollen flesh.

“Uuuh… we’re here”, she breathed, and we pulled into her driveway. Her house was set back away from the road, and the drive surrounded entirely by hedges, so no neighbour could see I was with her. It was dangerous, and I’d suggested we just stay in the car, but she’d insisted she wanted me to take her in her own bed.

We jumped out of the car, and she led the way to the front door. It took her a few seconds to fumble the lock open with her keys, and I don’t think it was helping her co-ordination that I’d slipped the back of her skirt up to her waist, and was admiring the feel of her tight arse by running my fingers over it and squeezing it.

The door swung open, and we stumbled into the kitchen and out of sight. As I kicked it shut with my heel, she dropped the keys and her hands went straight for my shoulders, shrugging my coat off and then working down the buttons of my shirt. I slammed her up against the wall, pushing my lips against hers in a forceful kiss, my tongue slipping into the depths of her mouth. My pelvis pushed against her navel, the stiff rod of my cock hard against her.

She pulled my shirt off as I kissed her, and I began to unbutton hers. Halfway down it fell away, and I took her soft breasts in my hands, squeezing and rolling her hard nipples, twisting them and tugging them as she moaned in ecstacy. I slipped one hand down under her skirt, lifting the plaid material up and plunging between her legs, finding my way to her wet slit and slipping my finger up between her lips. She was soaking, open, and my fingertips slipped deep inside her causing her to bite down on my lip as she lifted herself up onto her toes.

Her hands were down on my trousers now, and she slipped my zip down, slipping her fingers in and taking my shaft between her fingertips. I gasped at her first touch, and as she slipped my cock free and enveloped it in her hand I kissed her hard and deeper. Our eyes met as she began to stroke my length back and forth, and I could sense the smile in her mouth as we kissed, her eyes sparkling.

“Right here”, she hissed into my ear, breaking the kiss. “Right now”.

I unbuckled my belt, and let my trousers and boxers slip to the floor, kicking them away. She flung her arms around my neck and lifted herself off the floor, wrapping her legs around me, her chest pushed against mine. Her skirt rucked up around her waist and her tits pressed against me, and I reached down to hold her tight little arse with one hand, reaching for my cock with the other. As I guided my cockhead towards her slit we looked each other directly in the eyes, grinning and savouring the last few seconds of our long wait for this moment as they faded away.

And then she relaxed her arms, dropping herself down on me, sliding her hungry cunt onto my cock and engulfing me in her warm wet softness. We paused for a second as her muscles grasped my thick shaft, and then I pushed her back to the wall and began to fuck her, gently at first, but building up speed and vigour until I was pounding her against the wall. She tasted sweet in my mouth as we kissed, and the sharpness of her nails in my back as she hung onto me was turning me on more and more. I could feel the softness of her miniskirt against my navel, and could see the lacey stocking tops out of the corner of my eye where her legs wrapped around me, ankles crossed and thighs pulling her down onto me, greedily wanting every inch of my cock.

I turned her around, away from the wall, and lowered her onto the kitchen table, still inside her. She leaned back, slipping her arms from around my neck and using them to support herself as she sat. Her legs dropped from my waist and she spread them wide, showing herself to me, and as I slid in and out of her, her breasts bounced gently up and down.

She lay back across the detritus on the table, not noticing it, and watching me hold her hips, lifting her as I thrust in and out of her. “Yessss”, she cried out, “harder!” and slipped her hands down between her legs, fingertips brushing my moist shaft as it slid into her cunt, and then finding her clit, rubbing and caressing it as I fucked her. I gazed at her, watching the ripples across her chest as she began to squirm and shudder, biting her lip but still willing me to fuck her more forcefully.

As her climax began to build, the table was rocking with my thrusts, pens rolling off and dropping into the floor. I slammed into her, giving her every bit of me, feeling the muscles deep inside her clenching around my tip. And then she arched her back, dropping her hands away from her pussy, grabbing the table edges and gasping for air. “Yessss… oh yes… fuck… yeeesss!!” she screamed, and writhed in front of me, beads of perspiration breaking out across her chest and belly as it hit her, wave after wave. Her cunt tightened around my cock, heightening the sensations, her juices running down the base of my shaft and dropping off my balls. I felt the knot in my stomach tighten, as my own release coiled and then erupted, my hot seed surging out of me and filling her, mixing with her own sweet nectar, and then surging back out along my shaft as I thrust back deep inside her again.

“Cock” she whispered, barely able to breathe. “I need your cock, now, give it to me” she begged, slipping me out of her and swinging onto her side. I stepped around and fed my beating, sticky cock into her mouth, drips of my come smearing across her lips. She licked and swallowed, lapping up the spunk from my shaft, smacking her lips. My hand slipped between her thigh and cupper her pussy, smearing our mess through her pussy, trailing my sticky fingers through her soft hair.

Finally, when I was clean, and she was sated, she lay back and I leant against the wall, watching lie still, topless, legs spread, skirt around her waist, as she calmed, breathing slowing.

“What time is it?”, she asked. eyes still closed.

“Half-eight. I should get back to the station soon and get into the office” I replied, somewhat dejectedly.

“Yes, you should”, she responded, her hands drifting back between her legs, and idly fonding the remains of my sticky gift on her hair. She opened her eyes and looked at me, a wide grin and twinkling eyes.

“But you’ll need to shower first…. won’t you?”

HNT #16

Jeans.

Not particularly inspired or original this week, but it’s been pretty hectic…. but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

What I really need is some quality time and somebody to hold the camera for me. Volunteers?

TMI Tuesday

‘Would you rather…’ edition.

1. Would you rather be stranded on an island alone or with someone you dislike/don’t get along with?

Definitely with somebody I dislike – as long as she is female and not unattractive. There would be a challenge to either find common ground and negotiate a truce, or to find a way to seduce her without actually speaking to her.

Or is that cheating? If it has to be a man or somebody unattractive, I’ll have my own company, thanks.

2. Would you rather accidentally walk in on your parents having sex or have them walk in on you?

Tricky. Since my parents separated 30 years ago, and one of them is dead, walking in on them would be reasonably yukky. On the other hand, having the one that’s alive walking in while I make love (to my hand – my only current sexual partner*) would be pretty nasty too. Erm, I think I’ll pass on both, actually.

3. Would you rather be snapped by paparazzi during a nipple slip or while exiting a car with out any underwear?

This one doesn’t have quite the same ring for a man. But let’s just presume that I’m a) shy about my nipples and b) wearing a kilt, I think I’d take the 2nd option, as I’m actually quite proud of my little guy, and quite enjoy the idea of ladies ogling him.

4. Would you rather not have sex for two years or not be able to use the Internet for two years?

Hmm. Well, having had full and regular use of the internet for the last 10 years, but no sex during that self-same period, swapping the two would be quite a novelty.

5. Would you rather find true love or 1 million dollars?

Probably the first serious Q/A, this one. I’d choose the cash. Having alread found and experienced true love, I’d say it’s over-rated, and given the chance or opportunity to give it up I would gladly settle for spending my days in a shallow orgy of cash-fuelled sexual depravity, possibly mixed with a sprinkling of class-A drugs, and a good deal of alcohol.

The problem is that the grass is always greener, as I found my true love during a period of cash-fuelled drug and sexual excess, and at the time I remember wishing for the opposite.

Of course in reality, a million isn’t enough and would barely cover the expenses for the first 6 months. But it’d be a good start.

Bonus (as in optional): If you had to choose *one* sexual position for the rest of your life, what would it be? Why?

My favourite position is, undoubtedly, sitting-face-to face, chest-to-chest, her sitting in the well of my lap with legs wrapped around my waist, impaled on my cock.

Why?

Well, what’s not to like? I get to look at and feel her breasts against my chest, her shorter frame is elevated slightly as she sits on my thighs so I can kiss her lips and play with her hair. Either of us can lean backwards, she arching her back and exposing her neatly-trimmed pussy for me to ogle and fondle, or me laying back and letting her ride my cock in full control as I gaze up at her writhing face and bouncing tits.

Why on earth would anyone choose any other position?

* I’m lucky that I have a passionate, frequent and stunningly attractive sexual partner right now. Me.