Tag Archives: foreplay

Who can it be now?! – Part 2

I can’t believe this is happening! The Cockaholic is about to arrive and The Saffa is standing in front of me with pussycat eyes. I’m speechless because of this predicament while The Saffa takes my silence for something else. My heart is pounding in my mouth, I can’t talk.

“I’ve come to make you breakfast,” she says.

What?! I don’t why you’re here, but I’ve got to get rid of you. Breaking up with you now will take too long. Shit, what do I do?!

“How about you take me out for breakfast?” I quickly come up with.

“Okay. Where do you want to go?” she counters.

“How about down into the high street. I know a great place for breakfast,” I say, reaching for my phone, keys and wallet. Got to get out of here quickly.

“Ja, cool with me,” she says.

Shit, what about The Cockaholic when she gets here and I’m not here?!

“I haven’t been to the toilet yet, I’ve just got up. Wait in the lounge and I’ll be with you in a few minutes,” I improvise.

I go hide in the bathroom and start texting The Cockaholic that a friend had a crisis and that I was now having to spend the day with him. Will my message get to her in time? Will she believe this bullshit? Will she question my texting rather than phoning? That’s all out of my hands now. I’ve got to get The Saffa out of here pronto before The Cockaholic arrives!

I’m scared that these women would meet. If either or both of them physically attacked me then I’d deserve that. It wouldn’t be the end of the world though as just a few clicks on the internet would have me back in the game. I’ll try and avoid that unpleasantness nevertheless.

I collect The Saffa and walk fast to the side-walk cafe a couple of blocks away. Has The Cockaholic seen us?

“Geez, man, what’s the hurry?” The Saffa complains.

“I’m really hungry. C’mon, let’s get there,” I reply, stretching my stride as The Saffa skips along sporadically trying to keep up.

Mercifully the only free table at the cafe is inside, so I bundle The Saffa in there. Was I quick enough? I look over my shoulders, half-expecting a slap but none is forthcoming. Not yet, at least.

“Doll, I’m really sorry about last night. It was very rude of me to end the call like that,” The Saffa begins.

Right now I don’t give a shit about that; my eyes are darting around the place and I’m trying to see who’s outside at the tables. Again The Saffa misinterprets my silence for stony disapproval, all the while my heart is racing, my mouth is dry and I’m trying my damnedest to look unperturbed.

“Ja, I can see you’re upset with me. I would be too. Ag man, I’m really sorry. I know you’ve just been trying to help,” she continues.

Did I just see The Cockaholic’s sports car drive past? There aren’t too many of those around here.

“Listen, can we try and patch things up?” she asks.

Silence on my part. I might just get away with this. My heart is sliding down from my mouth to where it normally resides.

“Please?” The Saffa says, leaning towards me across the table, almost pleading.

I’m getting hungry.

“How about we order some food?” I suggest, aware that I’m ignoring her words.

My heart-rate slows down to a mere gallop as we order and then eat our breakfast. I can’t taste the food while The Saffa talks the hind-leg of a race-horse that is missing its heart. All the while I’m pondering what to do next. I can’t assume it’s safe to go back home because The Cockaholic might be waiting there. An idea finally arrives.

“Hey, how about we go for a drive in the countryside?” I suggest which The Saffa gleefully accepts.

She’s probably thinking that my actions mean that she’s in the clear. So far I have hardly said a word to her about anything, least of all about ‘patching things up’. The few times I felt inclined to say anything she simply spoke over me, as usual.

We scurry back to my apartment complex and I lead the Saffa straight to my car for fear of The Cockaholic waiting at my front door.

“Doll, can I go to the loo first?” The Saffa asks just as she gets comfortable in the passenger seat.

I ignore her and slam her car door shut before she says or does anything else. I don’t make eye contact as I get in the driver’s seat. I start the car in record time and we speed off into the countryside using all the back streets, heading in the opposite direction of The Cockaholic’s town.

Only once we are several miles in the middle of nowhere do I remember an isolated pub. We should be safe there. Just to make sure I park away from where any passing car on the road might spot us.

“About bladdy time. I’m about to burst!” The Saffa complains as she makes for the ladies’ at the pub.

We spend a couple of hours sitting in the beer garden at the back of the pub, drinking cider and nibbling on tapas. For good measure The Saffa spoke at me for the duration, as she is prone to do. Some women have nothing to say and they keep on saying it. At least she paid for the drinks and nibbles.

Deciding it’s safe to head back home I coax her back into my car. While she spoke at me and over me I’ve decided that once we get back to my place I’m going to break up with her. The drive back is more leisurely now that it’s after lunchtime.

“I want to suck your cock,” The Saffa blurts out.

“What?! I’m driving,” I answer in shock.

“Ag, c’mon man, it’s a fantasy of mine, to suck a guy off while he’s driving,” she continues.

I think about it for a second, it’s tempting but I decide it’s just too risky.

“Is somebody horny?” I ask.

“Ja. You know how much I love your cock,” she answers with a mischievous smile, then licking her lips.

An idea comes to me, it’s one of my naughty ideas. I press my foot a little harder onto the accelerator.

“Tell me another of your fantasies,” I say.

“Well, I’ve always wanted to have sex while wearing a mask,” she replies.

“Tell me another fantasy,” I say.

“You’re going to laugh, but I’ve always liked the idea of giving Darth Vader a blowjob,” she says, surprising me.

“I think we can arrange some of that back at my place. Until then you just imagine all the things you want to do with my cock,” I reply, remembering that I just happen to have an eye-mask like Zorro’s that has never been used.

My words have a profound effect on The Saffa: she shuts up. Finally, some peace and quiet. Knowing to tune a woman’s brain into the prospect of sex is an useful thing. How am I going to pull off the Darth Vader thing? I only have a naval aviator’s costume, the type Richard Gere wore in ‘An Officer and a Gentleman’. Ah, I know what to do.

We don’t talk much until we’re back at my place. I find a porn movie on the internet that involves Darth Vader and I cast it to my television. When we get to the inevitable scene of The Dark Lord getting a blowjob from a reluctant Princess Leia lookalike, The Saffa is enthralled watching this, her mouth hangs open.

She’s ready.

I go fetch the mask from the shelf in my cupboard reserved for adult toys and return to the lounge. I don’t think The Saffa noticed my absence. Coy Princess Leia is still greedily sucking Darth’s dong.

“Here, put this on and stand there,” I instruct, handing her the black mask. Her perfect blue eyes should look good through the slits.

The Saffa stands up, puts the mask on and steps towards where I pointed.

I sit facing her in a chair next to a table, grab my nearby camera, switch it onto video, position it on the edge of the table and press ‘record’. The Saffa looks at it, bites her bottom lip and then looks at me, but says nothing.

Something I’ve figured out about her and many women I’ve encountered is that they want a man to take charge. The Saffa’s enjoyment of being strangled while being fucked speaks of her secretly wanting to be utterly dominated by a man. The sense of powerlessness, helplessness does something for her; the fear is a turn-on.

To be continued…

Screamer

I’m not expecting to fuck Busty Czech tonight, but to be safe I’ve run around my apartment getting rid of any trace of The Saffa. New bedding and a spray of air freshener to get rid of the smell of ammonia-laced cum is a must. I’m getting good at this now. How many times have I bedded two women in the same day? I don’t know any more.

I wasn’t expecting to even see Busty Czech today, nevertheless I’m not hoping to have anything happen between us on the what might be our first night together; her fragile state of health I have to keep in mind. I’m just wanting her to feel totally safe with me in my home. I’m also feeling a little unsexual because of my shenanigans this morning which has left my balls feeling satisfyingly drained. If she stays over I might get physical with Busty Czech in the morning.

The scent of the air freshener has just settled after lunchtime as I meet Busty Czech at her car in my car park. The bulging bags at her feet hint at her spending the night. She gives me a cheery smile as we kiss hello. Can she smell another woman on me? My sense of guilt lingers like an unwelcome fart in a spacesuit.

“It’s quaint,” is all she says as we dump her bags and nibbles in my apartment.

I take her for a slow stroll around my town, yes, the exact same route as I had taken with The Saffa the previous day. Her bouncing breasts attract the attention of other men who leer like salivating dogs. Men are sometimes an embarrassment to me, but I fear that in my own way I am becoming just like them. My eroding morals and treatment of women is bothering me if I am brave enough to think about my actions of late.

After savouring the delights of the fringe of English countryside, once safely ensconced on my sofa, I introduce Busty Czech to Californication. Yes, the same episodes that I had watched yesterday with The Saffa. By now I know the storyline off by heart, so I analyze the dialogue, tone and tempo of each episode. She’s laughing her head off while I wonder to myself how funny she would find it if she knew what had been going on before she arrived. She’s an innocent with a monster sitting next to her.

We hadn’t discussed her sleeping over, it hadn’t crossed my mind because I was expecting her to bail out on me. Now it was implicit that she would and I needed to go with it, because if I showed her the door she would be disappointed. Her intent pleased me as it showed a degree of commitment that I was beginning to think was lacking. However, I feel conflicted because this morning’s lover might be coming back for more than to suck me off, while by my side I have someone else who is committing acts of relationship towards me.

I rustle up an impromptu dinner after which Busty Czech asks to watch more Californication; she’s addicted. I’m in serious danger of getting her so turned on that she’s going to rape me. She could lose control; I think she can be that passionate. I’m still not frisky – The Saffa did an excellent job – but what if Busty Czech wants to have sex?

I’m starting to think that relationships are like London buses in that for ages there’s nothing then two come along at the same time. This isn’t the first time that this has happened to me. My other double-dating/double-fucking situations come to mind: Tech Titan and Baltic Babe, Teacher Gal and Delicate Flower, Career Girl and Musician Gal, Pretty Teacher and Krazy Girl, Travel Gal and Busty Blonde, The Finn and The Brazilian.

The Saffa and Busty Czech are nothing alike. It’s another time of Fire and Ice. Why does this keep happening to me?

“I’m getting a little tired. Is it okay if we go to bed now?” Busty Czech asks, snapping me out of my despicable chain of memories. It’s only nine o’clock. Oh, are we now going from memories to mammaries? This could get tricky because what if I can’t perform?

“All right, if you insist,” I reply with a mischievous smile.

I’m expecting us to just lie down together, chat a little more then fall asleep with her in my arms.

Busty Czech has other plans, other needs.

It is only a matter of minutes of us lying on my bed still fully-clothed before the passionate kissing begins. She is getting really turned on, her sounds increasing in volume and her hip movements become more pronounced, more urgent, almost aggressive as she rubs herself against me.

“Is somebody horny?” I ask, trying to keep a straight face.

“I was horny already for you hours ago in the lounge,” she purrs in her sexy Slavic accent. My sphincter tightens.

I slide my hand down the front of her jeans and feel warm, slippery, wetness between her legs. There’s no hint of pubic hair. Busty Czech looks me dead in the eye and lets off an almighty moan of pleasure as I brush her clit.

There’s no way I can’t fuck her tonight; that would cause all sorts of problems. I’ll just have to rise to the occasion.

Clothes go flying as passion spirals us out of control. I take a split second to take in the scene before me. She’s lying on her back, smiling at me. Her pussy is freshly shaven and I can make out juiciness between her labia. My gawd, she has a fantastic body on her, almost as good as Krazy Girl’s, but her tits are even bigger. She has the biggest breasts I have ever seen in real life. I thought Busty Blonde was big, but this woman is huge. Most amateurish lovers would go straight to playing with her boobicles, but I know enough to be different.

My manhood has reacted as Nature intended so we’re good to go; I’m relieved. I grip the heels of her feet and raise them to my shoulders, then slowly slide my cock into her pussy, all the time keeping eye contact. Her eyes go wide as she feels my cock filling her up. That moment I cherish has arrived, that instant when a woman’s mouth opens in a silent scream, as if the tip of my cock is about to pop out of her mouth and say hello to me.

This time there is no silent scream. Busty Czech lets out a loud staccato choking sound as my cock pushes past what feels like little areas of resistance in her pussy. For a moment I think that I might have accidentally penetrated her arse and not her pussy, but I realise it has been a while since she last had a cock in her, so things are a little tight down there – just how I like it.

I’m going to give her a good fucking and then she will be ravenous for my cock; I have seen this before with other women. They hadn’t been fucked for a while and as long as the next fucking was a good one, whichever cock was involved, they would almost become addicted to it. I know that she is going to be addicted to my cock, but how long for would be anybody’s guess.

“Aren’t you going to use a condom?” she blurts out plaintively.

“I hate those things. I can’t feel anything and then I go soft,” I reply, continuing to rock my hips.

“I’m in the middle of my cycle. I don’t want to fall pregnant,” she says with a pleading look in her eyes.

“I’ll pull out before I come. I won’t get you pregnant. I promise,” I say and it seems to soothe her fears because within seconds she closes her eyes and is enjoying herself, so much so that the decibel level to her sounds is becoming quite high. After about a minute of thrusting into her, my cock rubbing her g-spot no doubt, she is now screaming with pleasure.

I’m not talking about a loud moan or a high-pitched squeal, but a full-throated scream and as loud as she can.

Could it be pain? I not sure whether she’s acting, but it doesn’t seem like it. I’m enjoying the sight of her breasts wobbling about as I fuck her, but a concerned look comes over my face and I end up focussing on her mouth. She is screaming so loud that I worry I’m hurting her and also concerned that my neighbours, whose bedroom is on the other side of the wall, can hear her.

“Am I hurting you?” I ask.

“No, it’s great. I’m just very noisy,” Busty Czech answers.

“Are you always noisy?”

“Yes, always. My other boyfriends couldn’t handle it,” she replies, laughing.

I can see why. I’m used to women giving off little squeals of tormented delight, but this is something unbelievable! I always thought that the notion of a ‘screamer’ was an urban myth. Now I’m experiencing it and I don’t like it because it’s distracting me.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Travel Gal tail

Travel Gal better give the best blowjob known to mankind. That’s what is going through my head as I slowly make my way to Travel Gal on this January night. Driving through unfamiliar country roads of endless twists and turns in the dark during a raging storm is not my idea of fun. I don’t want to drive one-way for 2 hours only to not get a blowjob. If she refuses to go down on me, she just has to go. There are a few sensation in life that I love: the taste of milk chocolate hobnobs, tiramisu, cheesy doritos, a meat feast pizza, a cold cider…and a blowjob. No blow, she go. Simples.

I eventually find her home which is part of a series of stone cottages in the middle of nowhere next to a pub. I use the knocker on her door and her dog inside goes ballistic. Good guard doggy. Please don’t bite me. I wonder if Travel Gal will? I’m holding a bottle of wine in my hand, leaving my dirty weekend bag in my car. If I arrived holding that it might seem presumptuous, although from our last conversation the other night I got the impression that I’d be spending the night. I decide that discretion is the better part of valour.

Travel Gal greets me warmly and gives me a kiss on the lips; quite a welcome. Doggy recognizes me and his tail starts swatting furniture. I present the wine and she disappears into the kitchen with it. Her home is cosy, a stereotypical English cottage like the one in The Holiday. Hmm, is she going to be my Cameron Diaz?

“I haven’t prepared a dinner because there’s a pub I’d like to take you to,” she says.

“Oh, perchance the one next door?” I ask, trying not to sound like a smartass.

“No, the one we’re going to is a little drive away in the next village,” she says pouring fresh water for the dog then putting her leather coat on.

“The one next door no good then?” I ask, wondering if it’s a horrible dive. She’s quite classy, so will naturally avoid places like that.

“No, it’s my local and it’s good. I just don’t want people seeing us together in there just yet,” she says opening the door and ushering me out.

I’m not too sure what to make of that and just smile mawkishly to preserve the peace. Without a word I get into the passenger seat of her car which smells like soggy doggy. It seems like she has this all planned. This night is going to be interesting.

Travel Gal drives at breakneck speed through blackened lanes of murky ink that are obviously familiar to her. This reminds me of Pretty Teacher’s driving habits. I resist the urge to turn into a driving instructor. Must preserve the peace if I want my knob polished. I wonder if she swallows?

The quaint pub we end up in is deserted, so we have privacy by the cartload out here. The staff have different English accents, I’m so far from home. The food is surprisingly good, the wine suitable and the conversation sparkling. Travel Gal and I have no problem keeping each other intellectually stimulated, challenged and amused. All through our banter I’m treating our words as foreplay because I know that a woman’s mind needs to be turned on before her body is. I’m as subtle as can be, lacing witticisms with double entendres.

Yes, my highest priority for this encounter is sex. I’m incredibly curious about what happened on our last date which led to her being satisfied a few times but left me befuddled. Does she have an aversion to penises? Are we sexually compatible? These two things I have to know. Of course I want to get to know her better as a person, finding out what makes her tick, seeing if we have relationship potential, but those are secondary in my mind. Will the evening be ending with a long drive back home for me, or am I sleeping on the sofa with the dog’s farts for company? Or is something entirely unexpected going to happen?

Back at her place she sets about her evening routine of seeing to the dog and securing her home. I don’t know what to do with myself so I go upstairs to investigate the bedroom arrangements. We’ve not said a word about if I’d be spending the night but that has been implied, well at least I think it’s been.

The bedroom is something that Beatrix Potter would approve of. Old wooden furniture is in daily use, the bedding and curtains are chintzy. The bed is of the four-poster type of a good height. If I take her from behind then she can hold onto a corner post. I’ve always thought that that’s what those were for.

Travel Gal joins me in the bedroom having brushed her teeth. I’m not 100% sure what to do next, but I know that it’s up to me to initiate what I think she’s expecting. Have I done enough to get her in the mood? Shit, if I get this wrong it’s going to backfire horribly and I’m going to make a fool of myself and be overcome with embarrassment, but I have no choice but to go for it.

I gently pull Travel Gal to me and we begin to kiss. In what must have resembled a scene from The Flash, a flurry of frenetic activity sees clothes go flying around the room. One thing is definite: she fancies me.

Within a minute we’re both naked and she’s lying on her back on the four-poster double bed that dominates the room. I’m going down on her and, for an older woman who told me that she’s been through menopause, she has no problem getting juicy. Travel Gal must be healthy because there’s no funny smell to her natural lubricant; I’ve always appreciated that in a woman.

I introduce a finger to the mix and it finds her g-spot.

“I read up about the g-spot,” she says.

“Oh, really?” Should I stop what I’m doing? Is that her innuendo? I lift my head.

“Yes, I don’t think I’m a g-spot girl. I’m very much a clitoris girl,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Okay, noted,” I respond, releasing her g-spot.

“Stroke my clit gently up and down, not sideways,” she instructs.

That’s what I’m liking about older women: they know what they like and aren’t afraid to ask for it.

Did The Graduate get this degree of instruction from Mrs Robinson? Every woman has her own style or requirement. I’m learning that no two women are the same in bed. The single best thing a man can do in bed with a woman is to pay attention to her needs and preferences. If he doesn’t, a clock somewhere starts ticking. Naturally that works both ways.

I do as instructed and it doesn’t take long before she cums with a suppressed scream…and that sit-ups-like position with her hands behind her head, elbows almost touching so as to hide her face. What the hell is that about? I won’t ask. Okay, I’m going to, just not tonight.

Cuddling with a woman after I’ve made her cum is one of life’s sweet moments for me. That raw vulnerability mixed with trust makes me feel alive, valued and manly. I caress her as she lies against me. Her skin is like velvet and I like stroking her. She likes it too. Most women like to be stroked and not just between the legs.

Travel Gal pushes herself away from me. Going to the loo I suspect. I’m wrong. She starts kissing my face, my throat and shoulders. God, her lips feel wonderful. She’s taking her time about it; I love it when a woman does that. Wait a sec, I didn’t tell her that this is what I like! How does she know?! She doesn’t; it’s what she wants to do.

Oh lordy, have I found someone sexually compatible in Travel Gal? Could I finally get this lucky? After all these months of disappointments, false starts and lies, am I finally being rewarded?

Travel Gal is kissing the inside of my thighs and is working her way up to my groin. Her hair falls playfully onto my skin and that heightens what I’m feeling…heavenly. All my troubles, worries and responsibilities gently fade away as I feel her lips making their inexorable way to my genitals.

I love that feeling of anticipation that builds as a woman’s mouth is heading for my cock. The physical pleasure is obvious, but with me it also comes with a sense of giving that I appreciate. This woman is giving me pleasure, giving me wondrous sensations, giving me what I want and, to an extent, what I need.

Her tongue is warm and slippery as it glides slowly over my testicles. I’m so glad I manscaped down there this morning. The itching next week will be worth it.

Sensually she sucks one testicle into her mouth, swirls her tongue around it…wait, where’d she learn that?!…no woman’s ever done that before!…shut up, lie back and enjoy it, you dumbass. She does the same with my other testicle.

Oh yeah, now we’re getting to the main event. She’s gripped my cock, is holding it upright in front of her face and has begun tenderly licking the shaft like it’s a giant ice cream. Not long now until she’s sucking on the head of my penis. All eight thousand of my nerve endings collected there will be jangling in her mouth and I’m going to enjoy every second of it. Yes, almost there, any second now, all that life-reinforcing warm wonderfullness around my knob…

“Right, that’s enough of that,” Travel Gal suddenly says, letting go of my cock and it flops onto my belly like a dead fish.

What the fuck?!!!

Whaaat…the…fuuuuck?!

To be continued…

Another guy and paranoia

I’ve never been inside Krazy Girl’s parent’s home; I’ve always been made to hide in my car around the corner. Today I get to go inside and fuck her there. I wonder where her parents are or is she now so horny that in teenager-style she wants me to fuck her while they’re in the home? The more daring the sex, the more she likes it. As I knock on the door I’m filled with feelings of shame because I know that Pretty Teacher might be trying to call me as she has promised but I’ve now switched my phone off.

Krazy Girl comes to the door and greets me like I’m a friend returning a bowl of sugar. She leads me to the kitchen and I’m shocked at how shabby this home is. All the furnishings are from the 1970s and it smells musty, like an old-age home. It’s an end-of-terrace, double-storeyed dwelling with the bedrooms upstairs. No wonder she didn’t pull up her nose the first time she saw my place.

“So where are your folks?” I ask, concerned about the obvious.

“They’re at a funeral, then they’re going to the wake afterwards, but I don’t really know when they’ll be back, so we’ll have to be quick,” she says with a pained expression on her face.

Be quick? That suits me just fine. I want to splash and dash too.

“I’m going to have a quick shower. Why don’t you go upstairs to my room? It’s the only one on the left as you get to the top,” she gestures while heading off to what I surmise is the bathroom.

I get to the landing and notice three doorways, but none of them have doors, they only have curtains that are about four inches above the floor. Did her parents really bring up three kids in this house like this? Then I remember that Krazy Girl’s brother had hung himself in one of these rooms and that she was the one to find him first. I can’t imagine how she feels about having to move back here after losing her job earlier this year. I feel sorry for her. Her tortured, twisted heart and emotionally befuddled state has some extenuating circumstances.

Walking into her room I almost stumble over cardboard boxes that look strangely familiar. Ah, I had last seen them in her place, but now they’re all stacked up here. There’s no sign of a wardrobe for her clothes, just a series of suitcases strategically placed on top of boxes. Her prize cat is sitting imperiously on top of pillows on her bed; it blinks at me. The only free floor-space leads from the bed to the doorway; it’s so cramped in here.

Krazy Girl joins me, a towel wrapped around her. She pulls that off and starts rubbing her hair dry. I stand and watch as her breasts wobble. My eyes wonder up and down her body, as if it was the first time I’ve seen it. Ridiculous considering that we got carnal less than 48 hours ago.

She tosses the towel aside and starts undressing me. When she does know what she wants it’s a very impressive sight. I like the assertive her; I find it quite sexy. She lets my clothes fall to the floor, somewhat to my annoyance because I need to put those back on later and make my way over to Pretty Teacher’s, so they need to look fresh.

As she gets me naked, I notice a couple of bruises on her thighs, not ones which indicate an accident but several deliberate acts by someone. They weren’t there on Monday. Has she been seeing another guy? We saw each other on Monday and today is Wednesday, so what did she get up to yesterday?

“Where do those bruises come from?” I ask, expecting to hear a lie.

“Oh, that’s from my gym. I tried a bit of kick-boxing,” she says after a split second of thinking.

It was the “oh” that confirms her lie to me. Whenever I knew that she was telling a lie in the past, it also began with that nonchalant “oh”. Has she been fucking some other guy and he didn’t satisfy her, that’s why she put out a booty call to me? She knew I’d satisfy her, give her what she wanted, always have, possibly might always be able to.

My mind goes into overdrive, thoughts of deceit and incessant lies fill the vacuum between my ears. I start to doubt myself. Has all the experiences of late twisted my perception of things to such an extent that I’m becoming paranoid? Perhaps, but I need to know more to make certain.

“I thought you said you had given up your gym membership because you couldn’t afford it?” I probe. The thing about lies is that one begets another.

“Oh, I got a day pass,” she answers after another second of contemplation. Day passes at gyms don’t come with sessions to kick-boxing. The little liar, I’m going to fuck her so hard. I become angry, but try my damnedest to not let it show. I decide to transmute my feelings into actions.

I don’t say another word and don’t even bother kissing her to kick things off. I just put a hand through her hair, cup the back of her head and gently pull her face down to my cock which she instantly takes in her mouth, like a good little cock-sucking slut should.

Krazy Girl sucks away on my cock while my brain continues to ricochet around inside my skull, convulsing with negative ideas at the speed of thought. What if I’m wrong and she’s telling the truth? Am I becoming paranoid about every interaction with a woman? Am I going crazy? Is Krazy Girl making me crazy?

All that women seem to do to me is fuck me around!

Pretty Teacher is fucking me around. Krazy Girl might be fucking around. Now I’m fucking around too.

I become filled with a sense of rage that makes my blood boil. All that that serves to do is to make my cock bigger and harder. I look down to see Krazy Girl is now seated on the edge of her bed and is happily sucking away on my now fully erect cock. Her eyes are closed and she has a serene look on her face. It seems she’s in a cocknotic state.

Suddenly she stops, stands up, spins around and climbs onto her bed. She assumes doggy-style position and reaches back with one hand, pulling a buttock askance, inviting me to penetrate her. Does she want both holes drilled? My rage is such that ramming my cock into her pussy is an instinctual thing to do.

Her pussy is slippery, which surprises me considering the lack of foreplay. Ah, she’s horny, probably woke up wet this morning. Maybe the sense of urgency, the danger, is a turn-on for her? She wants it hard, fast and rough, I guess. Okay, let’s find out.

I suck on one of my thumbs and slide it gently up her arse. Krazy Girl doesn’t make a sound, nor move or offer any kind of reaction to what I just did. Yep, she’s totally turned on and anything goes now.

I wriggle my thumb around in her arse, my cock plunging into her wet pussy as she pulls the window-blind back with one hand and peers out at the street, looking for signs of her parents returning early. She is so wet that the squelching sound as I force my cock in her probably has some of her juices squirting out as my cock goes in. I don’t look down to check as I take this spectacle in. I love having my way with a woman like this, especially one as big-breasted as Krazy Girl. Her tits are swaying all over the place and I’m mesmerised by them like a puppy watching a kitten.

Her focus is entirely on the street outside, oblivious to my thumb flailing around in her arse and the tip of my cock hitting her cervix. I couldn’t be any deeper in her holes and she doesn’t mind at all. I think it’s what she wanted, to feel used, to feel degraded; it’s all in keeping with her own self-image issues.

She is just a piece of fuckmeat to meet, no longer someone to be loved or cherished. She was beyond redemption and only good for being my sex toy. She is treating me in the same way; her primary interest is my cock, plain and simple. We’re using each other and neither one cares.

The clarity of this insight makes the whole thing uncomplicated for me. It sets me free to enjoy myself, to feed my carnal needs, unencumbered by unnecessary, complicating emotions. It is pure fucking, nothing more, nothing less…and it feels good.

God, her holes feel amazing, her skin is flawless and her tits perfect. She has the face of an angel. I’m in heaven. I know that below her surface dark demons pervade, but that doesn’t matter right now.

Krazy Girl starts making sounds, so I look down and realize that she’s getting closer to cumming. With my free hand I bunch as much of her lustrous golden-blonde hair up as I can and I pull back initially gently, then forcefully. My hips go as fast as they can for as long as they can while I hold her like this, on the hook. Her shoulders start making strange movements as she cums. She lets of an unnatural sound, like an angry spirit being exorcised from her body might sound.

Her arms collapse and I have to let go of her hair. I keep fucking her pussy with my thumb up her bum while she lies slumped and panting. Shall I put my cock in her arse? I reckon she’ll let me. However, I don’t want to take too many chances with her. Again I’m in danger because I’m not wearing a condom. Anal would be going too far. Before my internal debate resolves itself I feel that I’m about to cum.

“Where do you want my cum?” I ask.

“Wherever you want. I don’t care,” she answers.

“Roll onto your back,” I instruct, pulling my appendages out of her holes.

Krazy Girl slumps over onto her side, then flattens herself out, her eyes closed and breathing heavily through her nose. I’m in an aggressive frame of mind, so I direct my cock at her face. It takes just two tugs before my cum explodes out of my cock and goes flying, most of it landing on her face. She barely flinches nor makes any kind of sound and just keeps her eyes closed. Obviously she’s used to this.

A few more tugs and I’m empty. Krazy Girl still has her eyes closed, but opens her mouth and her little tongue makes an appearance. It roams around the perimeter of her mouth, collecting whatever semen it can find before she withdraws it to swallow whatever it has found.

Only then do I notice that her cat has been sitting there watching us the whole time. I don’t think I’ll ever like or even get used to that, being watched by a pet while having sex.

“I’ll go shower again,” she says, getting up and walking off without making eye contact with me.

That was damn intense and I feel electrified. Still, this all feels so unnatural to me. Thoughts of Pretty Teacher spring up in my mind. I get dressed as quickly as I can before switching my phone on. It’s now almost four o’clock. I see that she has called, but only five minutes ago and has left a message. In a thief-like fashion while Krazy Girl showers I listen to her message in which she simply asks for me to call her back. I need to get out of here, pronto. I switch my phone off and hide it in my pocket.

“I’m sorry, but we can’t have my parents catching you here,” Krazy Girl says as she comes up the stairs.

“I understand. I’ll leave now,” I say, trying to sound as neutral as possible. This sneaking around thing doesn’t come naturally to me.

We kiss politely before I slip out the front door. As I walk to my car my inner dialogue resumes.

If she is seeing another man, then I’m ‘the bit on the side’, I’m now somebody else’s ‘other guy’. I don’t like how that makes me feel. This whole situation is all so wrong for me. If I never see Krazy Girl again it won’t bother me.

Once in my car where it is quiet I call Pretty Teacher and she apologizes for calling so much later than she had promised. I make nothing of it, largely because I’m starting to feel guilty again. We agree for me to be at hers in the next hour so that we can have an early-ish meal. I’m not too sure what to make of that. What does she have planned?

I realise that I should have showered at Krazy Girl’s to get her scent and the smell of sex off me. As a precaution, before leaving home, I had put a small can of deodorant and face wipes in my glove compartment. I get to work using them, hoping to hide my sins. I nearly gas myself in my car, such is my level of concern. Ever practical, I’ve also brought along a little purple helper, just in case I need to satisfy Pretty Teacher too. I’m not counting on that happening because everything is so uncertain with her.

One thing is for certain, I need to calm down, get my head straight and go visit Pretty Teacher. My emotions are running quite high, am I going to be able to not let anything slip about this afternoon? Will she smell it on me?

Rupert Holmes – Him

Fucking Irish Cougar

An Autumnal drizzle is trying to douse the embers of anger in my being as I arrive at The Irish Cougar’s friend’s home. I’m helping The Irish Cougar move today to her rich friend’s pad in central London. I’ve driven in motorway traffic during rush-hour for well over an hour. I’ve pre-paid the London Congestion Charge of £11, a toll-charge for driving through the centre of London on a weekday; she better not change her mind or not have the keys for her new place.

Again her friend greets me at the door and as I enter I see boxes crowding the hallway. Good, today’s move seems to be happening. Again the friend ushers me into the kitchen and makes me a coffee. After a few minutes of banter The Irish Cougar joins us and we kiss each other hello on the lips, which makes the friend smile.

Within minutes I’m carrying boxes out to my car in the rain while The Irish Cougar finishes up a few loose ends. Not once does she come out in the rain as I single-handedly pack my car to the gills. I’m a little disappointed in her lack of offering to help me. This serves to feed the seething sensation I have inside me.

We say goodbye to the friend and I squeeze The Irish Cougar into my heavily-laden car. She’s overly chatty and I guess it must be because she’s moving onto a place more private. After almost two hours of dealing with London traffic on a rainy day we arrive at the millionaire’s apartment overlooking Hyde Park. We eventually find a parking spot near the property and I begin unloading the car while The Irish Cougar goes to check the property out, to make sure it is as she expected and that no unwelcome surprises await us.

All is in order and I load as many boxes and whatnot into the lift, unloading again when we get to the upper floor where the three-bedroom apartment is. The Irish Cougar starts unpacking in the apartment while I go off to make another trip with the lift. I really am starting to feel like a hired hand being used for my body. My seething becomes simmering.

Parking in the area is by resident’s permit only so I drive a few miles to go park at a friend’s place. I’m counting on my car being there overnight, because tonight I intend to fuck this woman. Her deceit and selfishness typifies what I feel I have been enduring at the hands of women for years now. I feel justified in exacting a revenge that might just appease my overwhelming sense of outrage that I am beginning to feel towards women.

I catch a bus back to the apartment and that journey takes an hour, so by the time I see The Irish Cougar again she has pretty much finished unpacking. She gives me a tour of this apartment that is easily worth more than a million Pounds, possibly twice that. The lounge alone is bigger than my apartment and it has a raised ceiling, so there’s an impressive feeling of space. The furnishings are new, tasteful contemporary and obviously expensive. The centrepiece is the biggest television I’ve ever seen mounted into a wall and an enormous, plush tan sofa faces it. The adjoining open-plan kitchen is filled with expensive integrated mod-cons that I can only dream of having. Everything is shiny, new and white. The two large bathrooms are floor to ceiling Italian marble, each having a bath big enough for two adults as well as a large shower cubicle. A third smaller bathroom leads off from the main bedroom. The two “smaller” bedrooms are bigger than my bedroom; each has a kingsize bed with built-in wardrobes and ample space for two people to get dressed and not be able to touch each other. The main bedroom has a super-kingsize bed and enough space around it to play a game of badminton. That’s not the game that I have in mind for later though.

“I’m starving. Let’s go have an early dinner,” Irish Cougar squeaks.

Only then do I realize that it’s mid-afternoon; we’ve both been on the go all day. Must keep my energy level up for later I tell myself. The Irish Cougar and I walk along a street that runs parallel with bustling Oxford Street so as to avoid the mindless crowds. As we wait to cross a street I feel that someone is looking at me and my eyes meet a pretty face that I recognize. The woman staring at me is someone I’ve swapped messages with on a dating site but she couldn’t bring herself to actually meet face-to-face. Maybe when I’m done with The Irish Cougar I’ll contact her again. We cross the street and give each other knowing looks and suppressed smiles.

The Irish Cougar wants Italian food so we end up in a little-known side-street littered with quaint eateries and pricey clothing boutiques. It’s after the lunchtime rush and before the evening stampede, so we have the place to ourselves. As she starts telling me more about her friends who have loaned her this amazing property free of charge, it dawns on me that not once today has she said thank you for anything that I’ve done for her.

A small fire of anger sparks in me and it glows while she talks. I’m now not much in the mood for talking. She’s very talkative so she doesn’t notice that I’ve gone quiet. Anybody who truly knows me will tell you that if I go quiet, well, something’s going to happen.

Dessert ends and she asks for the bill. Ah, this must be how she’s going to say thank you, by buying me a meal. It’s the least she can do, right? After all, I laid on a vehicle, petrol, paid the congestion charge, did all the carrying, drove elsewhere to park my car for the night and caught a bus back. I could have spent my day doing other things.

The bill lay on the table, like a piece of shit that nobody wanted to acknowledge. It felt like a showdown between us as to who would blink first, like in a stand-off scene out of a spaghetti Western. The Irish Cougar’s green eyes occasionally peek at the bill from under her dusty sombrero. I chew on a piece of invisible straw, trying to keep my hand away from my wallet that is my side-arm. Shoppers scurry away and a tense silence descends. A plastic bag rolls by like a tumble-weed. A waiter raises his eyes from behind a counter to see if a card has been presented, then slowly lowers his head.

Like that we sit for several minutes, not speaking, barely making eye contact. Nothing and nobody around us is moving. The forlorn bill must feel as welcome as a fart in a space-suit.

Taker!

She’s a fucking Taker!

Why did I not spot this sooner? How did I miss this? My mind races and I realize that all along I’ve been paying for almost everything. Even if someone might have money problems, it’s just a common courtesy to at least say “thank you”.

I decide to end the stand-off, to move the day along, so I pull my wallet out and pay with a credit card. As the waiter leaves The Irish Cougar becomes chatty again. Bitch. That’s what resonates in my mind. Bitch. Shall I say something? Before I get a chance she speaks.

“Can we quickly pop into a Marks and Spencer’s to get some groceries?” she asks.

“There’s also a Tesco nearby,” I respond, testing for any budgetary issue. Tesco is almost half-price by comparison.

“Oh no. I don’t shop at places like that,” she says as we stand and leave.

Places like that? What the hell does that mean? That you’re a snob to boot?

We find the local Marks and Spencer’s and I carry the basket for her. As we go around the store not once does The Irish Cougar ask me if there is anything that I would like. It is my understanding that I’ll be spending the night, so a little breakfast might be called for? Nope, she’s only shopping for herself. As I carry the three little carrier bags that came to seventy Pounds, it occurs to me this is more than the meal I just paid for. The meal I paid for? Hang on, she didn’t say thank you for that either!

Selfish fucking bitch.

It dawns on me that I have felt exactly this way before. It was with Country Girl. I wined and dined her, took her to a concert and she didn’t say thank you either. I should have taken Country Girl back to my place and fucked her. At least then I would have got something for my efforts and money.

Hmm, I’m learning. Fucking an ungrateful bitch is exactly what I’m going to do now. The Irish Cougar has shown me scant respect, consideration and appreciation. I’m going to give her the same. I’m going to do exactly what I want with her. She deserves it.

We pack her groceries away and I start to wonder if The Irish Cougar’s now going to show me the door. After all, she’s done with me now; my purpose for today is served. It has been implied that I’d be spending the night but now I’m not so sure given that I know for certain that she’s a Taker.

“How about we have a bath together?” she says with a naughty look in her eyes.

Game on! It’s playtime!

The Irish Cougar starts running a bath but the water isn’t hot because, as I discover, the hot water cylinder had been switched off. It was going to be a while before the water heated. It’s already dark outside and nightlife in London has started. I’m tired of wasting time, it’s time for action.

I’m standing behind her in the bathroom and pull her towards me, resting her back against my stomach. I start slowly running my hands up and down her body as she tilts her head back and rests it against a shoulder. An earlobe is in easy reach so I kiss it, then lightly suck it, but I resist the urge to give it a little nibble; too early for that, she needs to be more turned on.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Cat Lady capers

It’s a drizzly Sunday morning as I meet Cat Lady at my station and walk her back to my apartment. I have no plan and no idea how today will turn out. If it wasn’t rainy we could go for a lengthy walk in the countryside but it looks like today is going to be an indoor day. Oh dear, how shall we spend the time? Cat Lady is chatty and all that she says of my place is, “It’s a typical bachelor’s pad. It needs a woman’s touch.”

I set about making a barbecue on my balcony and she keeps me company as I tend to the kangaroo, zebra and ostrich meat. As compatriot South Africans we like our meat exotic and perfectly cooked. I start sweating from not just the heat of the fire but also from a self-induced pressure to get the meat just right. Once we sit down to eat she starts telling me all about her love of cats. It’s clearly her favourite topic and she goes on and on about cats. I become bored of this and become naughty in my mind.

“I just love cats. They’re such good company and very low-maintenance,” she says.

Good company, huh? I wonder what your cat would say about you if it could talk?

hush

“How many cats do you have?” I ask.

“Just, the one for now, but I want another one soon” she answers.

“So how many cats would like to have if money and space wasn’t a factor?” I ask, trying to sound interested.

“Oh, I’d have as many as my home could allow,” she answers.

cat-lady-feeding

“Don’t you think that you run the risk of becoming a crazy cat lady then?” I jest.

“No, not at all,” she says with a smile.

Cat lady

“Do you let your cat sleep on your bed?” I ask, thinking that I already know the answer.

“Of course I do!” she exclaims.

Bingo. I can just see what sleeping in her bed would be like.

Cats

“So, do you talk to your cat?”

“Of course,” she says indignantly.

answer

I’ve always been a ‘dog person’ because as a kid we had dogs; bull mastiffs and fox terriers. The latter dug holes and the former filled them with drool. I’ve not spent much time with cats and they don’t really appeal to me. I could see that if Cat Lady and I were to have a relationship that things would become, er, complicated.

complicated

There’s nothing wrong with her being a fan of cats, that’s her ‘thing’. There’s nothing wrong with someone being a cat-lover. A lot of famous people have had cats.

mittens

It’s just that I’m pretty clueless when it comes to cats.

Found

Then I remember that a couple of other women whom I’ve dated were also fans of cats. Teacher Gal had two cats, the Wild Animal Tickler had three and the best pussy of them all, Krazy Girl, had one.

What is it about single woman with cats being eccentric characters?

give up

Well, at least I know what to get Cat Lady for Christmas or her next birthday…

kat kit

Before I say something to offend her, I switch on my television and start showing her ‘Californication’. We sit side by side on my sofa, transfixed by the shenanigans on the screen. Cat Lady laughs out loud at the funny bits and doesn’t seem phased by the naughty bits. By the end of the second episode other women have found themselves juicy and open to persuasion of the sexy kind. I’m somewhat aroused. I wonder if she’s getting turned on by all this; only one way to find out.

“I did a massage course last year. Would you like a massage?” is all I have to say for her eyes to light up.

“Ooh, I love massages,” she gasps.

I have yet to meet a woman who doesn’t.

“We need to go to the bedroom. There isn’t enough space here,” I say, trying to sound as professional as possible.

She’s almost as tall as me and this sofa isn’t conducive to a decent massage. Without a word Cat Lady gets up and starts walking to my bedroom; I follow her.

Why am I doing this? Do I want to have sex with her? I wouldn’t mind. Would that complicate things between us? Hell, yeah. Do I want to have a relationship with her? I’m not sure.

I stand in the doorway behind her as Cat Lady takes her top off and then, to my surprise, she takes her bra off too before lying face down on my bed. I catch a side glance view of a boobicle and it’s of a respectable size. I guesstimate that they’re at least C-cups. She’s certainly no prude; this could get interesting.

Once my hands are lathered up in massage oil I get to work on Cat Lady’s back which is riddled with knots. It’s obviously been a long time since she was last massaged. I wonder if she’s tried to train her cat to walk on her back? After almost half an hour I finish and lie down next to her. I’m happy for her to lie there, enjoying whatever she’s feeling, not having to talk to me.

Cat Lady comes to life almost instantly and rolls onto her side, deliberately fully exposing her breasts to me, which are indeed of a decent size, but I try not to stare and just give a polite peek that makes her smile.

“Did you enjoy that?” I ask.

“Yes, very much. Thank you,” she answers.

“What do you feel like doing now?” I ask, trying to see if she’s interested in sex or wants to retreat to safer ground. My ambivalence towards sex surprises me. Pretty much any other guy on the planet would be trying to push his luck with her, perhaps her mind works in different ways. Mine certainly is at the moment.

We lie facing each other, making small talk, the entire time she’s still topless and her nipples remain very erect. They’re of more a redder tinge than most woman’s, but it might be because she’s quite turned on now, I start to realize. If I don’t try something with her she might be offended and I’ll never see her again because she now equates that negative emotion with me.

I slowly raise a hand and gently cup her breast, which is cold and she hunches her shoulders from what must be the pleasurable warmth of my hand. She smiles broadly which I take to mean that she wants to go all the way with me. It would be rude not to at this point; no turning back now.

Her breast fills my hand and I squeeze it gently. For a woman in her mid-forties her breasts are remarkably firm. They’re not fake because I know what those look and feel like from my nights in strip clubs in Prague little more than a year ago.

Cat Lady says nothing, keeping a straight face that gives nothing away, except for a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. Words often lie but actions never do, so her actions, or rather her inaction, tell me it’s permissible to continue. I’m not entirely sure where this is going as I lower my mouth towards her breast. She closes her eyes and tilts her head slightly back, all in anticipation of my mouth making contact with her smooth, flawless skin.

I slowly tease around her areola with the tip of my tongue, to which she exhales audibly. What I have learned over the last year is that taking my time with a woman reduces her almost literally to putty in my hands. Cat Lady is probably still relaxed from my massage, perhaps in need of a catnap after the heavy lunch I’d made, so a little physical pleasure is irresistible to her.

Sucking her entire breast into my mouth causes her to let out an “ugh” sound of satisfaction. My little trick of running my tongue around the nipple in a circular motion leads to more sounds of pleasure. I wonder if she’s amongst the small percentage of women who can an orgasms from nipple stimulation?

Cat Lady rolls away from me, a popping sound is heard as her breast detaches from my mouth, which makes us both laugh. Her other breast is now closer to me, so I make a move to repeat my trick there too.

“I think we should stop there,” she says unexpectedly.

“Oh, okay,” is all I say. I’ve learned not to force it when a woman says “stop”. That stop might just be a pause for a reason, such as her wanting to talk about something in particular or to just talk some more in general because she’s not totally comfortable yet. Some women like the foreplay so much that they break the mood so that it can begin all over again until they feel turned on enough to see it through to Nature’s desired outcome…or is that ‘out cum’?

“There’s something you need to know,” she says.

Oh jeez, now what?

“I have a rare condition in which my period lasts for two weeks at a time,” she says.

“Oh, I see,” are the lame words that fall from my surprised lips, but I quickly follow up with, “So are you on your period now?”

“Yes, I am. I’m sorry,” she replies with plaintive eyes.

“Oh, sweetie, no need to apologize. It’s just one of those things. Not the end of the world,” I say to console her. I appreciate her candour about such a sensitive topic.

To make her feel better I tell her about someone I knew who was permanently emitting light period discharges. It ruined this woman’s life in terms of physical stamina, relationship status, daily mood and obviously sexual life. Cat Lady starts to relax her face again, which pleases me. Inwardly I’ve accepted that nothing sexual is going to happen between us today and I’m okay with that.

“Tell me something, what kind of relationship are you looking for?” she asks.

“I want the works. I want to be with The One, to love her and for her to love me back. I want to share my life with someone I’m crazy about, someone I can’t imagine living without and having her feel the same about me. Stupid, huh?” I answer.

“No, not stupid. Lovely and sweet,” she says and leans over to me and kisses me on a cheek.

Her gesture is affectionate, but I’m not too sure what to make of it. Before I can ask Cat Lady gets up and starts getting dressed. Our fun is over and I’m a little disappointed because I was quite turned on. My instincts tell me that her and I would make each other feel good, very good.

Once dressed she turns and smiles at me, so I get up and we go back to the lounge to watch more episodes of Californication. It’s a strangely comfortable feeling I have sitting next to her on my sofa, like we’ve done exactly this many times before. It feels natural and good, like words aren’t necessary, like we’re the only occupants of our own private universe.

Like that we sit for hours, transfixed by the screen showing a well-intentioned man being undone by an unspoken conspiracy of cruel fate and scheming women, that which is the life of the lead character in the series I feel an affinity for. I’m starting to think that I’m living my own version of the Hank Moody reality.

As Cat Lady and I sit there, with her especially entranced by the greatest relationship crutch going, I silently gather my thoughts about her. She has a good heart and also has been let down. I feel that I can trust her and I now know just how rare that is. I respect her because she has a strength of character that is equally rare. She says what she means and means what she says, the same as me. Do I think I could love her and she me? Far too soon to know the answer to that one.

“Right, it’s getting dark and my fluffball will need feeding soon,” she says as an episode ends.

I snap out of my spell and help her get her coat on. In her haste I forget to give her a little lunch-box of leftover meats that I had made for her earlier. We walk to the station in the persistent drizzle and I keep her company on the lonely platform until her train arrives. We kiss goodbye on the lips, just a perfunctory kiss, nothing passionate.

Minutes later I’m sitting back on my sofa, thinking about what just happened. My phone lights up with a message from Cat Lady and we start swapping messages. It seems she had something on her mind too:

Cat Lady: I was quite comfortable which is nice
Grey Knight: It felt like we are a good fit, natural almost…which is more than nice.
Cat Lady: :-)
Cat Lady: We have a good connection & great understanding, on most levels it seems
Cat Lady: But I have to warn you – I have a lot of unfinished business emotionally that I am sorting through slowly
Cat Lady: That is why I am not ready for any serious relations
Cat Lady: You look ready for a serious relationship, & I not the right partner for that
Cat Lady: That is why I ask, if you’re ok to enjoy & have some fun, all good,  but if you want more than that you need to know I am not your girl right now xxxx
Cat Lady: You should please think on that – I do not want to cause any hurt xxxx

I sit staring at her message, now painfully aware that she’s definitely not The One. Yes, there is scope for a friends-with-benefits scene, but I want true love, not it’s poor in-bred cousin that might have a mystery disease. I think her to be a case of ‘Right Person at the Wrong Time’. Her previous boyfriend had done much emotional damage, had wronged her.

My brain injects thoughts of The Irish Cougar and my feelings change to ones of revenge for a sense of being misled, being wronged myself. I start to feel angry.

Just then a text message from my Exgf arrives:

What’s a horny girl all alone at home to do?

Your place or mine?” I ask.

Mine.”

I’ll be there in 20 mins.

Crowded House – Private Universe

Seduction scene set

I’m going to seduce The Irish Cougar, then I’m going to dump her. When the day arrives that she fully realizes this, she’ll go cold inside then start wondering why I did this to her. With more thought she’ll realize it is because she tricked me from the outset and now I’ve done the same to her. She’ll complain to her closest friends to help her make sense of it all, but as they huddle in their oestrogen bubble like haggard witches of old around a simmering cauldron, deep down they’ll know that playing games with men can backfire.

The Irish Cougar and I have fallen into the habit of calling each other every night. I suppose it’s normal practise for a dating couple, but to me it’s just part of wreaking my revenge on a woman trying to deceive me. I keep the conversation light and it almost always centres around her working day. From having lived with two other women for almost twenty years I have come to accept that part of life as a couple involves the woman talking or complaining about her working day for about an hour to her man. They claim it’s called ‘venting’, while I call it a waste of time.

Women seem to have a need to unburden themselves emotionally and once having done so they feel better for it. Not so for men. Men do a far better job of compartmentalizing or suppressing their feelings about their working lives from their home-life. We spend enough time at work, why squander free time by talking about it? I guess it’s just a gender difference that nobody tells us about. I think that most men find this aspect of a relationship a nuisance while women think their men insensitive.

I use The Irish Cougar’s need to vent as opportunity to draw her closer to me. Like a motionless spider on the edge of a web, her talking is like a fly moving closer to the centre of my web. When the time is right, the spider that is me will make its move. She’s not the only one who can play games.

We agree to get together on the coming Saturday, but that’s not when I’ll strike. I’m going to have to be a little bit more patient. Besides, I’m seeing Cat Lady on Sunday; who knows what will happen then.

On the Thursday I start swapping emails with The Irish Cougar while she’s bored at work. I use it as an opportunity to raise the temperature of the cauldron that the witches will pontificate over later. Is that ‘witches’ or ‘bitches’? I’m not quite sure.

I say this because I’ve been thinking about her motives and actions. From talking to my other dates I’ve learned that the typical woman on a dating site has a small team of confidants/cheerleaders/advisors behind her, helping their friend along, guiding her away from danger, passing judgement on men they’ve never seen, living vicariously through their friend’s experiences. It’s a rare woman who is dating all on her own without anybody else’s input. Did one or more of The Irish Cougar’s circle convince that trying to pass herself off as being ten years younger was the way to go?

My experience with Lusty Lass and naughty emails gives me the confidence and skills to indulge in a naughty exchange of messages. I turn the conversation sexual because I want The Irish Cougar fixated with me.

Grey Knight: Food can be fun, we agreed the other day…. :)

If it’s Summer, I like to squirt some whipped cream along the contours of a woman’s body…watch and feel her recoil from the cold sensation…then slowly lick it all off with my warm tongue…

If it’s winter, I do the same with maple syrup…

Would you like that?

Irish Cougar: Why not cream in summer and winter :)

I would like that …….

Grey Knight: I’m not set on anything in the bedroom…everybody has their likes and dislikes, that much I know.

I’m a giver, not a taker. Giving my woman pleasure IS my pleasure.

What do you like?

Irish Cougar: I love penetration, I also love being watched while I make myself come….love to have my back kissed, my hair pulled….

Grey Knight: I LOVE watching a woman making herself cum…one of my joys in life!

There is something delicious, from a man’s point of view, of having a woman on her knees before you ready for doggy style, then slowly penetrating her, listening to the sounds she makes as I slide in to her, feeling her body react, hearing her catch her breath, rocking slowly then… ever quicker…deeper…then bunching her hair in my hand and slowly pulling her head back…

What else do you like?

Irish Cougar: Foreplay is vital…sometimes a quick ‘tear each others clothes off’ and make each other come is good too……:)

kissing, licking, sucking works for me……

Sitting astride you, very sexy, riding you……

Grey Knight: Are you getting turned on?

Irish Cougar: most definitely, while trying to look professional here at the office :)

you……

Grey Knight: I’m aroused, but I’m like that most days, most of the day. I have a very high sex drive…but I have never cheated nor will I.

Are you wet right now?

If I were in the office now, what would you like to have happen?

Tell me…

Irish Cougar: I am wet too….

Take me the other other office, remove my dress keeping my stockings and high shoes on and fuck me hard…….

Grey Knight: Have you ever gone to the restroom at work and played with yourself?

Irish Cougar: no….enjoying the feeling of being turned on :)

Grey Knight: Would you like to go to your restroom and play with yourself?

Irish Cougar: I would like to lay down and make myself come…..

Grey Knight: Have you ever photographed or videod yourself doing that?

Would you like to?

Irish Cougar: no I have not, mmmm…no not sure I would want to…..

Grey Knight: It’s a life-enhancing experience…you should try it sometime…

Tell me how you make yourself cum…

Irish Cougar: I would rather show you……….. when the time is right :)

what kind of things have you been daydreaming about……

Grey Knight: I’m daydreaming about discovering what gets your blood flowing, what you love, how you’re going to react to the things that I can do to you and for you…the sounds you make, how you smell…I’m especially dying to know how you taste…I reckon you taste sweeter than you realize…

Irish Cougar: very turned on here….I love sex, have a high sex drive, ‘frisky’ time, I love morning sex and would say night time and spontaneous sex …

Grey Knight: What have you been daydreaming?

Tell me…in detail…

Irish Cougar: non…I already talk too much….. :)

Grey Knight: Would you like to be turned on some more?

Irish Cougar: yes …I would…..

Grey Knight: Do you like being massaged?

Imagine lying on your stomach…

Naked…

I straddle you…

I have warm oil in my hands and spread it slowly across your back…

Irish Cougar: I love to be massaged…….go on…more …….

Grey Knight: I stretch my hands over your back, starting at the base of the spine and gently push up towards your shoulders…

My hands sliding over the oil, your skin cresting like waves before my hands…

I glide my hands back down to your spine, and repeat…

Increasing the pressure gradually every time…

I can feel your body relaxing under me…

Irish Cougar: More

Grey Knight: I massage your muscles, finding the knots and releasing them…

Your body is warming up to my touch…

The force in my hands is strong, but your body doesn’t mind…

Once I feel your body is totally relaxed, limp even…

I lean forward and start kissing your back…

Starting at the base of the spine, kissing either side of it…

Kissing upwards, slowly, surely…

Tasting the oil on my lips…

Irish Cougar: hmmm…

Grey Knight: I reach the top of the spine…

Brushing your hair to one side…

I kiss the nape of your neck…your ear…your cheek…

You make interesting sounds…approving sounds…that start to turn me on…

I lick your neck and ear…

My hands are near your shoulders…

reach the top of the spine…

Brushing your hair to one side…

I kiss the nape of your neck…your ear…your cheek…

You make interesting sounds…approving sounds…that start to turn me on…

I lick your neck and ear…

My hands are near your shoulders…

Irish Cougar: More

Grey Knight: I turn you over…

Exposing all your femininity to me…

With barely pausing to enjoy the sight of you…

I kiss your throat…then neckline…then shoulders…

Irish Cougar: Hmm

Grey Knight: Are you wet?

Irish Cougar: very…..

Grey Knight: I kiss down the side of your shoulder, along the top of your arm…

Occasionally giving a little lick…just for variety…

Arriving at your breast…I don’t do what every amateur lover does…

Instead, I kiss the side of the breast…ignoring the nipple…

Kissing in a big concentric motion all around the breast…

Slowly drawing the circle smaller…

Eventually my lips arrive at the nipple… 

Irish Cougar: Hmm

Grey Knight: Do you feel like playing with yourself?

Irish Cougar: I so feel like playing with myself…..

Grey Knight: I want to watch you playing with yourself…I want to video it so that you can see how sexy you look when doing that for me…

I ignore that nipple…and kiss across your chest to the other breast…

Kissing in a big circle all around it, once again closing the circle…towards the nipple…

I ignore this nipple too…kissing along your side…down toward your hips…

Kissing over the pelvic bone..ever downwards…

Down towards where you want to feel my lips and tongue…

Irish Cougar: I do……

Grey Knight: I kiss the top of your thigh…in a straight line down to your knee…

Down towards the inside of the knee…

You can ‘t help but spread your legs wide for me…

Inviting me…

I keep kissing the inside of your thigh…slowly…gradually…

Up to your groin…

I lick your groin…

Irish Cougar: I feel I want to spread my legs here at my desk……..

Grey Knight :And do what…

Irish Cougar: for you to lick and kiss and suck me……

Grey Knight: I’m looking forward to doing that…and a whole lot more.

What other people call fantasies…I call plans…

Do you have fantasies/plans you want to make come true?

Irish Cougar: oh I do and I am not talking about them with you in email, face to face……

Grey Knight: We have lots to look forward to… :)

Hungry and horny now…

Gotta get some lunch…

Irish Cougar: It is mental here so much going on…that was fun and has me feeling flushed :)

I’ve now set the scene to seduce The Irish Cougar. All through this exchange I’m very aware of the fact that I’m dealing with a woman who is significantly older than me, but who is still trying to have me think that she’s younger than me. She wants to play games with men; fine, let’s play.

Shakespeare taught me that all is fair in love and war. I’ve always found that statement ambiguous because it hints at sinister and dark deeds. That’s a side of life that holds no fascination for me. I even fear it somewhat because I am naïve to it, but I am learning, whether I want to or not.

Machiavelli’s ‘The Prince’ has long fuelled a debate on the back of his assertion that “It is better to be feared than loved”. Of course he was writing about early sixteenth-century political and military machinations between small Italian republics. As a young man when introduced to this debate I took it to heart as gospel and it has served me well in the workplace. I also apply it to personal relationships. I let people choose to trust, respect and even love me, but if they choose not to, then I reciprocate in kind.

I have found that this approach to life has been most sound in that I have surrounded myself with people whom I can rely on. In return they get the same and the best of me at all times. Life has been pretty black and white for me as I have found that keeping things simple is glorious. However, as I progress on my quest through the Kingdom of Dating, I find my world becoming increasingly grey. I’m encountering people whose methods and motives are questionable and I fear that some of it is starting to rub off on me.

Depeche Mode – Policy of Truth