Tag Archives: booty call

Krazy Weekends

Any plans for tonight? Fancy cheering a petite blond up???” is what Krazy Girl’s text message said late on Friday afternoon. I’d spent the week coming to terms with what had happened with Pretty Teacher and my Exgf the previous weekend and mulling over my thoughts about English women. I was also starting to doubt my marketability in the online dating scene; I was feeling low. I knew her message was a booty call and that suited me. I wasn’t in the mood for anything serious and good sex was all I could handle.

I fetched Krazy Girl from her parents place, her childhood home, drove us back to my little shag-pad and she made us a meal that involved me going off to the local supermarket while she worked away in my kitchen. It was as if we were a couple, doing normal coupley things on a Friday night, but I’ve come far enough in my emotional development and knowledge of women to know that this was just a glimpse of the life that I yearn for.

I had it clear in my head not to get my hopes up that a relationship was in the offing. I knew not to talk about anything serious and especially not to mention anything to do with her past or even broach anything that might make her think of her past. She had been unemployed for over six months and was probably mildly depressed because of that and it’s consequences. I had to keep things light and positive and my reward would be a good fucking.

Krazy Girl was not fit for a healthy, loving relationship, she was just too emotionally fucked up for that, courtesy of the never-ending fallout from her failed marriage. Her heart was in chains and these chains were the memories and emotions of her divorce. She was by now perhaps indulging in some self-loathing, so anyone who dared love her was ultimately deemed a fool and eventually made a fool of. I’ve come to realize that for a relationship to work, each person involved must love themselves first, before they can love another. Krazy Girl was operating from a position of emotional weakness not strength. On the back of that emotional fragility no man stood a chance with her and she stood no chance with any man.

It wasn’t long before we were naked and enjoying each other’s flesh. We were in missionary position and it felt fantastic to me, physically and emotionally. Her pussy was a perfect fit for my cock and I was often having to think of my childhood pet dog Rusty dying to distract me from cumming too soon. Hers was the best feeling pussy my cock ever had the pleasure of sliding into. Emotionally this was heavenly because it stroked my ego having my dream woman under me. It also gave me a sense of hope that I am marketable, that I am able to land a woman like this. Yes, it was tempered by knowing that emotionally she will never be mine, she’s just too troubled inside her head and heart to be anybody’s.

As I was heaving into her, she started running her hands over my shoulders and arms, then developed a serious look on her face, as if she was studying something. I’ve given up trying to understand what goes on in her head as well as no longer caring because I know that our future is limited and that this could be my last tango in her pussy.

“You really are pure man, aren’t you?” she said, squeezing one of my biceps as hard as she could.

The fact that my cock was buried deep in her seemed irrelevant, almost as if it wasn’t happening. She was more taken by my physique than what my physique was doing to her. Her remark is typical of the oddity and unpredictability that swims around her.

“Do you like it?” I asked, thrusting as deep as I could. I couldn’t care less what she thought.

“It’s rare,” she wheezed in response to my penetration.

I guess she would know better than me but I had other pressing measures to attend to…like pressing her cervix.

She slipped her arms under my armpits and latched onto my shoulders; I think she could sense that I was getting closer. We’d fucked enough times for her to have noticed that my cock swells to its greatest size in the minute before I cum.

As usual I wasn’t using a condom; I’ve never had a good orgasm using one of those things. That pleasant, familiar purple haze descended over my vision and I came with an almighty blast of sperm firing out of my cock. Krazy Girl clung on tight, her nails boring under my shoulder blades. I don’t know if she enjoys that, but feeling her so tight against me heightened the glorious sensation of my pumping and squirting cum into her.

I would be very surprised if I ever have better sex with anyone else. I can’t think of anybody better to have a dysfunctional relationship with, especially when the sex is so good.

The next morning we fucked furiously again and by lunchtime I was dropping her off around the corner from her parent’s house. I said goodbye not expecting to hear from her again, but I was wrong.

The next Friday at lunchtime I got another plaintive text message from her. By the evening we were sitting in an Italian restaurant then caught a movie afterwards. She kept talking during the movie, not fully understanding the plot-line as much as she didn’t grasp cinema etiquette. I don’t appreciate having popcorn thrown at me by strangers in the dark.

That night we just fell asleep with me wrapped around her, soothing her bruised soul while cupping her breasts. The next morning we were fucking the crazy out of her, or at least attempting to. Was I providing more fuel to the fire that was her psyche? Probably. If she wasn’t doing this with me would she be doing the same with some other guy? Definitely.

Our weekends seemed incomplete if it didn’t involve her being down on her hands and knees, my one hand bunching her golden hair together and pulling back, lifting her chin, while my cock was balls-deep in her pussy, pounding away while the thumb on my other hand was buried deep in her arse. That position, that brutal invasion and total domination provided an unspoken release for her that her body seemed to crave and her soul had to have.

By lunchtime we were saying goodbye at our usual spot. I began thinking that this might become a regular thing. Driving home my mind began to wander over the surface and shape of what was going on between us.

She was using sex as a way of numbing the pain that she felt inside her. The confusion that ruled her mind had become an unbearable burden, something that made her feel powerless. Her riding me cowgirl style, bouncing mindlessly on my cock, made it all feel better, perhaps even made her feel powerful again.

It was so hard for me to have this physically perfect woman lying in my arms, but knowing that we had a short lifespan as lovers before us. I knew it was never going to be more than that. Nevertheless I would love nothing more than to have her turn to me, look me straight in the eyes and say, “I love you” and for it to be more than just a lucid moment, but I knew that that was never going to happen. Never and that was a pity, for both of us.

She was in a psychotic state, in a trance, in an out-of-body dream that was real. She wasn’t emotionally connected to anything other than traumatised feelings. Her eyes would be open but she would be a million miles away from me. It would be fantastic if she were to open her eyes and see me, see who and what she has in front of her. See me for who and what I am, but I know it’s not going to happen any time soon and might never happen. Her pain and damage is deep and she seems to be revelling in it, somewhat addicted to it because of the twisted sense of security it provides, while deriving a perverse power from it too because she can hide behind the victim complex.

No amount of fucking was going to make her feel better. No amount of orgasms was going to make her life better. All that sex did was provide a momentary escape from it all. She was hurting more than me, but as much as I wanted to ease her burden, only she could do so.

One night she told me her ex-husband’s name, so the next day I Googled him and found photos of him. In terms of looks we could be brothers, with me being the taller one. It must have been surreal for her to look at me because she must have seen him.

I would like her to snap out of her self-imposed hubris and be happy, not for my sake, but for hers. She is a good person whom life has been unkind to; she deserves better. However, until that happy day, she seems determined to just call me when she’s down, when she can’t face another night with her parents and needs an emotional boost. I could simply be happy to fuck her when she wants it, but in my heart I want more – I want it all.

Good news! I’ve got a job!” her text message read on a rainy November week-night, only a few days after we had last seen each other.

Congratulations. When do you start?” I replied.

Next week. I’ve also got some bad news. I’m afraid we can’t see each other any more. I need a time out to get my head straight. I hope you understand???

Of course I understand. Feel free to get back to me once the way forward is clear. Good luck!” I answer after a bit of thought, realizing that our time together was up but still leaving the option open to get together another time, under better circumstances.

She didn’t respond and like that she was gone from my life again.

LESSONS LEARNED:If she’s hot and on a dating site, then she’s crazy.

Snow Patrol – Open Your Eyes

What to do a.k.a. Oh, F*CK!

I feel as guilty as hell for having fucked Krazy Girl while hoping for a relationship with Pretty Teacher, but that feeling only lasts until the evening when I speak to the latter again. I take a deep breath before phoning her; will she ask me about my day and I’ll have to lie? Her attitude on the phone is frosty, aloof and disinterested. I’m not going to demean myself by asking her what the matter is; it might seem like grovelling. The call ends with her promising to phone me on Wednesday by noon with details about our date that night.

After the call I sit there trying to figure out what is going on with her unpleasant attitude towards me. I did phone her the day after we had sex, not doing so is a big issue to a woman, so I got that right. Maybe she was expecting more from me the next time we saw each other? I know! Chocolate. I didn’t bring her chocolate. I’ve heard good things about what that stuff does to women.

If a woman is upset, throw chocolate

If a woman is upset, throw chocolate

No, that’s just silly. If she’s so easily upset by such a trivial omission then she’s not The One for me. Wait, maybe it’s not me. Of course, it could be that time of the month! Why didn’t I think of that sooner? My Exgf become a bitch from hell when she was on her period. Perhaps Pretty Teacher is PMS’ing? I can’t ask her that; that would be bad.

Girlfriend upset because of period, PMS.

Girlfriend upset because of period, PMS.

Somehow I don’t get the feeling that that’s the issue here either. There’s something else going on but I just can’t figure it out. There are so many things that could be causing her behaviour, vexing her that I don’t know where to begin.

Why could my girlfriend be upset?

Why could my girlfriend be upset?

I sometimes think I’ll never know how to keep a woman happy. I wonder if there is a formula for doing so somewhere out there that I’m just not aware of? It would be nice if someone were to be kind enough to clue me in because this women-dating-relationship thing is such hard work.

How to keep a woman happy.

How to keep a woman happy.

Perhaps there’s a book that I need to read? Women seem to put a lot of faith in these self-help, gender differences, relationship guides type of books and magazine articles. I remember my ex-wife being an avid fan of ‘Men are from Mars’ – wow, that book lead to a lot of arguments. There must be one for men to help them understand women?

Understanding women

Understanding women

Or is it simply a case of her showing me her true colours? I think everybody puts on their best behaviour in the early days of dating someone but it’s only so long before the real person comes to the fore. Is she a Misery perhaps? Is this why she’s single?

Woman shows her true colours.

Woman shows her true colours.

Maybe she’s a control freak and into mind games? Is she testing me so as to see how I deal with this situation? That’s a dangerous game to play with me. I don’t like it and I have no problem meeting women. Granted some of them are seriously messed up in their heads and use their personalities as contraceptives. I think the way to beat someone playing mind games…is to not play.

Women and mind games

Women and mind games

Pretty Teacher phones me on Tuesday night and has very little to say for herself. I have to make all the effort to keep conversation going. The only thing that animates her is tomorrow’s get-together with all her friends at her place. She promises again to phone me afterwards and no later than noon. Then the conversation becomes hard work again and I can’t wait to get off the phone. It shouldn’t be this difficult.

It’s now noon on Wednesday and Pretty Teacher hasn’t called. I’m the type of person to always do as I promise and I value that in my significant other. She was so emphatic about calling by noon that I can’t help but wonder if there’s something else going on. What do I do? A sense of bewilderment stirs in me, then followed by frustration that leads to anger. I’m seething by one o’clock as I sit eating my lunch. Finally my phone comes to life.

It’s a text message…

From Krazy Girl…

I’m still so horny. Can you come over?

Holy shit!

I don’t believe this. What do I do? Time is of the essence here; I need to make a decision quickly.

I’d love to have sex with Krazy Girl again, but I want to have a proper relationship and Pretty Teacher has seemed like a good prospect. I can’t go off and fuck one woman then have dinner with another…who might be expecting sex afterwards. Or can I?

Doing that would be so wrong in my book; it reeks of infidelity. How can I start a real relationship with Pretty Teacher while fucking Krazy Girl behind her back? I’d be the most guilt-ridden non-Catholic in existence. That’s not who I am nor what I’m about. I’m a decent man imbued with a sense of decency and honour that I believe has served me well in life. I’ve never done anything like this before and under these circumstances I’m struggling to discern wrong from right here.

In my head I hear the words of my friend, Vicious Vic, who is the most amoral man I know. We’re at polar extremes in morality and thus we entertain each other. His words are, “Who’s going to know? Go’on son, have some fun!”

I can see the case for servicing Krazy Girl and then taking my chances with Pretty Teacher. The latter’s behaviour has been disappointing and there’s no reason to believe things are going to rebound and hit the heights that I hope for. I’m not saying that she deserves to have me philandering, but I also don’t deserve her attitude. At the moment my strongest feeling towards her is one of confusion, closely followed by frustration.

There is also the practical matter of sex. As a younger man I could easily have rampant sex three times a day. I remember my ex-wife complaining once in our early days by saying, “What have I got myself into?” Now I’m in my early forties and just once a day is all I need. If I exhaust myself with Krazy Girl will I be able to satisfy Pretty Teacher mere hours later? I don’t know. With my luck the Dating Gods will decree that both these women be horny on this solemn day.

If I turn down Krazy Girl I’ll probably never hear from her again. However, I wasn’t expecting her appearance today either, so there’s no telling with her, but I know it’ll end abruptly with her no matter what. The situation with Pretty Teacher is out of my control because there’s no guessing what’s going on in her head. She now feels just as unpredictable.

I mull over the pros and cons, analyse the scenarios and come up with the following. It isn’t my highest priority, but good sex with Krazy Girl is a sure thing. I’d like to keep that option open if things with Pretty Teacher peter out. Matters with the latter feel like they’re a 50/50 at the moment, things can go either way. If I don’t shag Krazy Girl she’s gone from the scene for sure, but then I’m left with a big unknown outcome with Pretty Teacher. I could lose both of them within days.

Vicious Vic wins. I decide to put my morals aside, have some fun with a certainty and take my chances with the other uncertainty. I’m going to fuck Krazy Girl and then visit Pretty Teacher, possibly shagging her too. This is new ground for me, dangerous and exciting, wrong by my former standards. I feel like such a cheat, but I’m going to do this anyway.

I text back to Krazy Girl, “I’ll be there in an hour.

How is this going to turn out?

Bryan Adams – Run To You

Urgent sex

I know she won’t be on the scene for long so I have a small window of opportunity to do as I please with her. I especially want to get video footage of me fucking her in the arse; images to complement my memories of our only anal encounter. Pretty Teacher’s bewildering attitude on our last date has left me in a tailspin where she is concerned. It feels like we’ve hit an invisible wall, so indulging in the best sex I’ve ever known is relatively guilt-free, a bit like a diet cola.

At 9am Krazy Girl is at my front door. She is very well dressed, wearing heavy make-up, as if she is going to a job interview. Is that the lie she told her parents so that she can use her father’s car so early in the morning? Probably, but it doesn’t matter, because she is here to get her holes drilled by my cock and I’m looking forward to obliging her. She is still the best fuck of my life, so I know it’s going to be good.

We greet politely, but no kiss. She comes inside as if she belongs in my home, takes her jacket off and goes to my hallway cupboard where my Winter gear is kept. She remembers well and in a very familiar fashion, as if she has done it countless times, hangs her jacket up. As she does this I’m looking at her body, noticing that she seems to have put some weight on. Her tits are going to be even bigger than before, more than an e-cup now, I think to myself. I know not to get into a serious conversation with her because all I’ll get in return is emotional vomit.

Krazy Girl starts saying something trivial as I step forward to give her one of my slow, gentle kisses that make her knees go weak and her pussy get wet. I cup her face with my hands and keep my lips on hers, as gently as I can, teasing with them, waiting for her to start using her tongue which I know is the signal that she is getting turned on.

She really is horny because it is only a matter of seconds before her slippery little tongue is in my mouth, searching for my tongue. I feel her body rise as she stands on the tips of her toes, our tongues entwining, her breathing growing faster, faster than my cock is hardening. I had almost forgotten how our kissing turned even me on, almost as much as it did her. It’s rare for kisses to have that effect on me.

I drop my hands from her face and slide them down her body, being careful not to touch her breasts. As much as she likes me playing with them, I wanted to build the anticipation in her body, even in excess of what is obvioulsy already there. She can’t have been fucked in a while, given the noises she is letting off, but I have no doubt that a horny little slut like her has been with at least one other guy after me, if not more. She needs sex more than I do; I’ve never met a woman with a sex-drive like hers.

Perhaps since me she has taken on two or more cocks at once – taking a ‘dp’ (double penetration), one cock in her pussy and another in her arse at the same time. Perhaps she had been ‘airtight’ – a ‘dp’ with a third cock in her mouth. I could just see her saying “naughty”, her code word for enjoyment, as all three cocks started cumming in all her holes at the same time. Yes, she’d enjoy that, feeling hot cum in her mouth, pussy and arse at the same time, as it started to drip out, especially out of her gaping arse. The arse that I already had once before the pleasure of fucking until she couldn’t take it any more.

Her innocent Good-Girl routine doesn’t impress me any more, I know what she’s about. I’m not labouring under any illusion that this is the start of a new romantic liaison between us; this is just sex. Frenetic, impulsive, unfettered, urgent sex. That’s all she wants and that’s all she has to offer. In her current emotional state it’s all she’s good for.

In the blink of an eye we’re in my lounge. Krazy Girl is on her haunches, her back is resting against the rear of my sofa and my cock is in her mouth. I’ve never seen a woman get my cock out and start sucking on it so quickly. Has she been thinking about this moment?

“Have you missed my cock?” I ask.

“Yes, and this time I’m not trading him in,” she says before swallowing as much of my cock as her mouth can take.

That remark confirms to me that earlier in the year, when we had first met, there was another man on the scene and she chose to run with him. The truth always comes out, usually at the worst opportune time and anyone who thinks otherwise is a fool. Krazy Girl is such a fool, but for the next little while, she’s my fool.

“Lie on the sofa,” she instructs.

It’s not normal in my world for a woman to take the lead in the proverbial bedroom, but with Krazy Girl I don’t mind because I’m keen and curious to know what she has planned. For a woman ten years my junior she has skills, skills that I don’t want to think about how and where she got them.

I do as I’m told while Krazy Girl stands in front me, undressing herself with an almost evil look on her face. A disturbingly demonic look in her eyes makes me wonder what she’s thinking. She strips down to a sultry black bra and panties with suspenders holding her black pantihose just above the knee. She looks stunning. She is easily the most sensual, desirable woman I have ever seen in the flesh. Yes, she’s carrying a bit more weight than six months ago when I last fucked her, but she’s still totally sexy!

“Wait, I want to film this,” I say, beginning to get up, my cock flopping out of my trousers.

“No, we’re not doing anything like that! You just lie back!” she barks.

I’m not about to get into an argument when I have all this on offer. I know what’s good for me, so I lie back. I have to forget about videoing anything; my memory will have to suffice.

Krazy Girl pulls her panties aside as she straddles me, slowly lowering her pussy onto my cock that she expertly grabs. She’s still got that strange look in her eyes, as if this is the most important thing she has ever done. Her pussy is gloriously warm and wet as she slides onto my dick. She lets off a satisfied gasp and throws her head back. Krazy Girl closes her eyes, swallows hard, then raises her head and looks me in the eye again. Slowly she starts lifting and lowering herself onto my cock, biting her lower lip painfully as she does so.

We don’t talk because we don’t need to; our bodies are doing the talking. I decide to let my fingers do the walking, so I reach up and pull her bra straps down onto her puny biceps. I let them dangle there for a moment as I take in the sight that is Krazy Girl enthralled on my cock. She was dickmatized: only interested in what my cock could do for her. Anything I said or did would be irrelevant or irritating. All she wants is my cock. It’s as simple as that.

I reach up and pull her bra-cups down, letting her perfect breasts tumble out. Cupping them with my warm hands makes Krazy Girl let off an approving sound. It is chilly November and I am unusually warm-blooded; several women have enjoyed sleeping next to me…so that they can defrost their feet.

Krazy girl starts speeding up her motion and lowers herself totally onto my crotch area. I’m still fully dressed, how is my belt and zipper not hurting her? Maybe they are and she likes it? She does have a pleasure-pain thing going on in that mixed up head of hers. She grinds her pussy down onto me, letting my cock fill her up. Again she closes her eyes in satisfaction.

A little over a week ago Pretty Teacher and I were fucking on this fabric sofa. I haven’t had a chance to wash the covers yet. Will Krazy Girl notice any hint of my cum and another woman’s pussy juices? I surreptitiously start scanning for stains on the material. What if she notices some? Is there a smell?

“Take me on the floor,” she suddenly says, getting up off me.

I have a mixed feeling of relief from the stains now becoming a non-issue while at the same time experiencing a sense of deja vu. The very first time Krazy Girl and I got intimate involved us doing it on the floor. I’m not going to quibble. Carpet burns is a small price to pay for the best lay ever.

In a split second I quickly undress and we’re on the floor making the beast with two backs. What is it about women loving having me on top of them? They must like how it feels. In Krazy Girl’s case I think it’s the yin-yang of domination followed by submission. She wants to feel all powerful at first, but then secretly wants to be overpowered. I wonder if she has rape fantasies? I’ll ask some other time, if there ever is one.

There is no better way to put this: our bodies were made for each other. She feels perfect. She looks perfect. Such a damn shame that she’s all messed up in the head and heart. We could have been so good together. I don’t think there’s enough time to fix what might never be fixable. Lusty Lass is still prattling on about her divorce five years after the fact, but her ex-husband was nowhere near as much a mean bastard as Krazy Girl’s was. Her damage might be lasting the rest of her life.

I can feel that I’m getting closer to cumming; it’s way too soon. I pull out of her and start playing with her clit and g-spot. Her eyes are wide in disbelief at what I’m making her feel. Her pussy is tight and I surmise that she hasn’t been fucked in a while. Fuckit, I have to know and I don’t care if she gets upset. I’m not counting on seeing her again after today.

“When last did you have a cock in you?” I ask.

“I saw someone briefly in July,” she answers instantly.

I don’t believe her. She likes sex too much. There’s no way she can go months without it. That’s when it dawns on me that I’m in danger again by fucking her without a condom. One of these days I’m going to pay the price for that.

Krazy Girl starts to writhe and squirm on my lounge floor. Her g-spot has swollen and her pussy is a fountain of lubricating juices. She’s getting closer to cumming. I keep making that ‘come hither’ motion with my finger on her g-spot while running two fingers up and down either side of her clitoris with my other hand. The latter move is, as I discovered earlier in the year, what slowly sends her over the edge.

There’s a series of squelching sounds before ‘squirt-squirt-squirt’ as she ejaculates into the palm of my hand that is fingering her g-spot. She lets off a mixture of a screaming orgasm, a shocked gasp and a sound of embarrassment. I’ve never had a woman have a strong squirting orgasm like that before…and it’s fabulous.

I go wash my hands in the bathroom and return to her. Krazy Girl is still sprawled on the floor, in a daze of sorts. She looks lovely lying there like that, all feminine and vulnerable..and totally fuckable. I bend over, slide my arms under her and pick her up. She instinctively throws her arms around my neck and shoulders, just like Delicate Flower did when I bedded her.

I’m getting too old for carpet burns and cleaning semen off my rugs; to the bedroom I take her. Lying on top of her, my cock buried deep in her pussy, pressing against her cervix, feels like where I belong. I do as Mother Nature intended and, I must confess, I don’t give a damn what Krazy Girl is thinking or feeling. I can’t allow myself the dangerous luxury of becoming emotionally connected to her. I’ve been down that road with her and it’s the Highway to Emotional Hell. I try to learn from my mistakes, after all, they are lessons in disguise. There really is no need to pay twice unless you like the learning part so much.

It doesn’t take too long before I have to cum. I manage to pull out just in time and feed my cock to Krazy Girl who happily swallows my load. She has never shown any resistance to swallowing my cum and I think she might even look forward to it. Does it make her feel used and powerless? Is this act an emotional release for her?

We lie cuddling without speaking for what feels like a blissful eternity before she gets up and goes to the bathroom, grabbing her handbag left in the hallway. She returns a few minutes later, all dressed with her smudged make-up rectified. Only then do I realize that it is approaching noon. Fucking time flies by.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve got to dash,” she says.

“If you wait a minute I’ll get dressed and walk you to your car,” I say.

“No, there’s no need. I know my way out,” she replies and leaves, pulling the front door closed behind her.

As quickly as she had arrived, devoid of pleasantries or chit-chat, she departed.

I don’t expect to hear from her again…unless her need is urgent.

Foreigner – Urgent

Fireworks

I switch off all my dating profiles in an act of fidelity and decency. Pretty Teacher and I are off to a great start, although I’m not convinced that having sex on our second date was the best idea. Nevertheless, it’s happened and I need to move matters forward positively. Yes, I do have some misgivings about her OCD behaviour with her phone. I’m starting to think that OCD means ‘Obviously Confused & Damaged’. Is she?

We arrange to meet the following Saturday, first to watch a game of rugby in a pub, then to partake in a Guy Fawkes fireworks evening. Our banter on the phone each night is positive, upbeat and fun. I think that she’s a thoroughly good person, is someone I can trust and thus far all the signs are that we can be good together.

It’s the first Saturday in November and it’s a blustery one as I arrive at Pretty Teacher’s apartment complex. She summons me upstairs and I’m enthused by her wanting me to see her home. Her place is a two-bedroomed apartment that is very tastefully furnished. One bedroom is her office where she prepares her lessons and other teacherly stuff. Her bedroom has an enormous double bed in it. Will I be spending the night in it? I think it’s safe to assume so.

Again she insists that we go in her car to the same historic market town that we went to last weekend. Is repetition part of OCD behaviour? We find a bustling pub where we watch the game together, albeit sitting largely in silence, hardly talking to each other. I put this down to noisy environment we’re in. She struggles to sit still, is constantly fidgeting and I wonder if she also has ADHD. While I ponder this she grabs her phone and plays a round of online scrabble. At half-time I buy us hamburgers and drinks, which we eat in silence, barely making eye contact. I try to make conversation but her responses are curt to the point of rudeness.

My mind races, trying to figure out what’s going on here. We’ve spoken on the phone every night since Sunday, taking turns to call each other without having articulated plans to do so. I took that as a very good sign. Have I said something that has upset her? I’m not going to ask directly, but will rather let this date play out, let her show me her hand in her own sweet time. I’ll just be me, positive, light and fun. I’ve never been one for letting other people decide my mood.

It’s now early November so it’s gets dark early. The rugby game finishes, which England won against Australia, something that should make rugby-mad Pretty Teacher ecstatically happy, but instead she is still sombre. Is it perhaps because I didn’t gush about her home? I was impressed with it and said so, was that not good enough? What’s bugging her?

We make our way over to the stately home for the fireworks display. It’s blowing a gale and I won’t be surprised if the event is called off on health and safety grounds. On the phone the previous night we’d agreed that extra layers of clothing will be needed, so tonight we stand in a side-street near the venue getting changed into warmer gear that we’ve brought along. So, we both plan ahead and can stick to a plan. This is good, I can have a relationship with someone like that.

The wind is howling and it’s cold, damn cold. With my frame I dwarf her, so I offer to act as a windbreak, which she accepts. As we walk around looking at the stalls selling unspeakable plastic rubbish from China at ridiculous prices, I make an effort at all times to keep myself between Pretty Teacher and the wind. To warm us up I buy hot food and drinks which we consume in silence. Conversation is hard to come by, despite my best efforts. What the hell is going on in her head?

I’ve felt this feeling before, a feeling of confusion and of being scrutinized then rejected. I felt it with Country Girl and Musician Gal. In fact this whole experience so far is a replay of those encounters by way of it starting off with fireworks then quickly petering out. I’m starting to notice patterns here with certain types of women exhibiting types of behaviour that I now think of Hot-Cold. It was the same with Krazy Girl too.

I feel like just walking away because I’m starting to think that this is going nowhere. However, there could be a myriad of reasons for her offish behaviour, so I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt. I also think she might be nervous about us having sex again. It could be anything; I won’t blow my chances by being impetuous. I’ll play it cool, be patient, be myself and let her come to me, physically and emotionally.

The fireworks display doesn’t last long and it’s a bit of a disappointment, just like this date so far. We go back to Pretty Teacher’s car and drive back to her place in silence. I’ve decided that she’s nervous about us having sex again and me spending the night. Maybe it’s all too fast for her? Maybe she’s such a Good Girl that what we did last Sunday is far beyond the realms of her dating or relationship experience.

Back at her place she invites me inside, but a part of me was wondering if she’d make some pithy excuse and I’d be going home alone. She makes me a coffee and we end up sitting side by side on her sofa…in silence and barely making eye contact. This reminds me of the time when I sat with Baltic Babe and all her confessions came out. Is the same about to happen?

“I’m sorry, but it’s late and I’m very tired,” she says, looking me in the eye with a strange look.

I’m not a hundred percent sure what she’s telling me, so I try to clarify with a question, a direct one which I try to put across as tactfully as I can.

“So does that mean I’m sleeping over or not?” I ask.

“Not, I’m afraid,” she replies with an apologetic expression on her face.

What the fuck is going on here?! That’s what I want to say, but I decide to be more dignified.

“Okay, not a problem,” is all I say.

I’m a bit surprised by this, I think about being even more direct and ask her what she’s thinking and feeling, but that would make me seem needy, something that is always a big no-no in any woman’s dating rulebook. We sit in silence staring into our nearly empty mugs of coffee.

I decide to act with dignity, so I get up, return the mug to the kitchen and make my way to the hallway to get my boots and jacket. Pretty Teacher is already there waiting for me, my jacket in her hands. I just smile as I put it on, trying to display some valour.

“I’ll give you a call tomorrow,” I say to her.

“Okay,” is all she says.

We kiss half-heartedly and I go downstairs to my car. On my drive home I’m absolutely fuming. What have I said or done, or NOT said or done to deserve this attitude from her?!

The next day I’ve calmed down to a simmer, telling myself all sorts of convenient lies to excuse Pretty Teacher’s actions and inactions. I tell myself that she just wants to take it slow, something I’m okay with. Then later in the evening I phone her as I had promised and the conversation is almost icy. Her answers are short and she asks no questions of her own. It feels like she doesn’t want to talk to me, wants me to get off the phone…wants me to fuck off and die. Then she surprises me.

“I’m off on Wednesday. Why don’t we go out for dinner? I’ll call you after lunchtime to finalise details as I’m seeing my friends for lunch,” she suddenly says.

This catches me totally off-guard. I agree to her idea and we say goodbye. I lie on my bed, phone in hand, feeling flummoxed by her frustrating, contradictory words and actions. One minute I’m being ignored, the next I’m in demand. I don’t appreciate being treated like this. I start to feel angry. I’m tired of women jerking me around like I’m a monkey on the end of a chain.

At 11PM my phone burps and I assume it’s Pretty Teacher, texting me a goodnight message, perhaps even an apology. I can’t believe my eyes when I look at my phone. It’s a message from Krazy Girl.

I’m horny!

I’m astounded. I haven’t seen her in almost three months. The last contact I had with Krazy Girl was when I wished her a happy birthday six weeks ago. Things have felt done and dusted between us since we last saw each other. I was never expecting to hear from her again. I feel a little bit excited, while also feeling confused, wary and very surprised.

I take a moment to think about things. I think about Pretty Teacher and how it feels like she’s just put me on an emotional roller-coaster. I don’t deserve what she’s doing to me. I think about my Exgf and my pledge to tell her if I’ve slept with anybody else, but remember her leading me on a merry dance for five years. She had the best of me, now she can have the worst of me. I think about the fantastic sex I’ve had with Krazy Girl. I send her a reply.

Be at mine tomorrow at 9am.

Katy Perry – Firework

Wild Child and Temptation – Final Part

Wild Child looks sternly at my now fully-erect dick and I can see the temptation in her eyes. Time stands still. She licks her lips. Is she going to go down on it? Did she want to feel my cock filling her mouth? Would she look up at me with her beautiful blue eyes as she moved her head backwards and forwards with my penis in her mouth? Does she like sucking cock? I reckon she does. I can almost already feel her tongue doing circuits around my bell-end.

“No, I don’t think that I should. In fact, I think I should be going. It’s getting late and I’ve got a long day of viewings tomorrow. I don’t suppose I could trouble you to give me a lift to the train station in the next town over? It’s the line to my town,” she says, sitting up, straightening her clothing and bleached blonde hair that is somewhat dishevelled.

I now give up and stand up, put my cock away and smarten myself up. We get in my sports car and I drive to the station that she needs to catch her train from. I’m not feeling as charitable as to drive her all the way home again. I wait on the platform with her, letting her talk at me as usual. She doesn’t seem upset or shocked in any way about what just happened. Maybe it’s not all over? Everything with Wild Child is so grey; nothing is black and white. I have no idea what she thinks about or feels for me. It’s all so grey.

My phone burps into life with a text message, but I ignore it for fear of seeming rude. Funny, I wasn’t afraid to whip my cock out, but my phone is a no-no? Wild Child’s train arrives and I kiss her goodbye on the lips, to which she giggles.

I get in my car and check the text message. I can’t believe it! It’s from Krazy Girl!

Hi. I’m working night shift on my own in XYZ Town. I’m bored. Don’t suppose you want to come keep me company?

I was sitting in the middle of XYZ Town! What’s the chances of that?! And I’ve still got a respectable chubby in my pants…and I’m horny as all hell now. We’re less than a mile apart. I know that if I went to wherever she was that within a couple of hours she’d have my cock in her mouth and that would just be for starters. She’s the best shag I’ve ever had. I can’t believe my luck.

Oh, the temptation!

No.

No, I’m not going.

Yes, I’d love to have some more of the best fucking I’ve ever experienced, but I know that afterwards my world will be turned upside down again. One thrust into her pussy and I’m hooked like a vegetarian tasting bacon. Tomorrow I’ll be totally obsessed with Krazy Girl, but I know that again she’ll play coy and distant games with me. The pain of that and the inevitable rejection I just can’t handle. I don’t deserve it and I don’t need it. I’m not getting on that roller-coaster again and I’m not going to let that roller-coaster ride me either!

You see, I suffer from what is called White Knight Syndrome. Apparently a lot of young men have this and they outgrow it, but I haven’t. It’s a deep-seated psychological affliction whereby I am irresistibly drawn to women with problems; damsels in distress. I make it my mission to help her with her problems, in the belief that my doing so will result in me looking like a hero to her; I’ll be her White Knight. She’ll get to see just how competent and dependable I am and my reward will be her undying love for me. It gets more sinister in that the focus of the relationship is her problems and issues, thus the spotlight will always be on her, never on me. It’s a very subtle form of control that can never work in the long-run as it will choke the woman’s affections. It’s a fool’s paradise, but at least I’m aware of it. When I learned of this syndrome after my divorce I knew that I had to be less of a White Knight and more of a Grey Knight.

I resist the temptation – the damsel in distress – that is Krazy Girl and I don’t respond, but instead go home, feeling proud of my having done what I know is the right thing for me. I lie in my bed and think more about what is right for me. I come to the conclusion that spending time with women who just aren’t right for me is bad for me in several ways. First, I’m wasting time that can’t be replaced. Second, opportunities to meet The One are passing me by. Third, it’s eating away at my emotional capital, my reserves of goodness that is best spent on someone who deserves and appreciates it.

I resolve that I must say goodbye to Wild Child sooner rather than later.

A few days later Wild Child tells me that she has a function after work on Wednesday night. I’m still deciding how to say goodbye to her; doing this will never come easily to me.

At just before 11pm on Wednesday night Wild Child sends me this text message:

I’m totally pissed and been smoking hashish! Still in London and no idea how I’m getting up in the morning!

I’m shocked, disgusted…and relieved. The latter emotion dominates because it now makes it easier for me to dump her, it vindicates my suspicions about her and makes it obvious just how wrong for me she is. The thought of her drunk and doped up makes my body cringe.

Despite being appalled, I do think of her’s and other’s safety. I offer to fetch her in London and drive her home as she’s in no condition to be driving, but she declines. I offer to fetch her at a nearby station if she gets off there and she can spend the night at mine, but again she declines. I feel no urge to take advantage of her condition, I’m now so disinterested in sex with her. Her irresponsibility only makes things worse for her. She’s reckless; I have no need for someone like that in my life.

The next day I send her a text message, laying out my thoughts and feelings. I emphasize my never tolerating drug use. I tell her that I need to trust my woman to exercise self-control when she’s away from me. I wish her all the best in her search (which I believe will be lengthy). I do this via text message because if I spoke to her on the phone I would lose my temper. As for doing it in person, quite frankly, she’s not worth the effort.

Her response is “That’s absolutely fine. I didn’t think the chemistry was there hence not ripping your clothes off. Good luck to you too. Take care.

LESSONS LEARNED: 1) Don’t go on a date for the sake of it 2) If I don’t instantly like the look of her, I won’t with the passing of time 3) I can’t yet get a grip on what a woman is thinking and feeling when she’s with me; I must develop that otherwise I could be wasting my time 4) Women will go on repeated dates even if they think that the chemistry’s missing.

Heaven 17 – Temptation