Tag Archives: on the hook

Who can it be now?! – Final part

“Get undressed,” I order.

The Saffa complies without any hesitation. All that she is wearing now is the mask. I’m still sitting back in my chair and the camera is capturing everything, including the sound of Darth Vader finally cumming in the Princess’s mouth.

“Sit down,” I say, pointing to the footstool.

She sits down on the edge, facing me. Her nipples are hard. She smiles at me from under the mask.

“Lie back,” I say.

The Saffa lies back and drops her head down over the edge of the footstool.

“Spread your legs as wide as you can,” I command.

She obeys, moving her feet far apart and revealing a freshly shaven pussy. Hmm, she came here wanting to be fucked.

I get up and go over to her, getting down on my knees between her beckoning thighs. I’m not sure she can hear my movements because of the sounds of satisfaction emanating from the screen near her head. It turns out Princess Leia loves to swallow; who knew?

The Saffa lets off a loud moan of pleasure as my tongue slides up her slit and makes contact with her nubby clit. Unsurprisingly her pussy is dripping wet. For someone who claims to have a dryness problem hence the KY jelly, I seem to have no problem getting and keeping her wet.

A copious amount of T.L.C. leads me to developing a mild case of lockjaw, so I pull away. The Saffa’s motor is running full speed now. With her head still dangling over the end of the footstool and surely a mild headache brewing from the rush of blood to her head, she nevertheless reaches towards her pussy with one hand and starts rubbing her clit.

I hold her legs open so that the camera can see this furious finger action, but it also has the effect of heightening what she’s feeling because restricted movement feeds her need for being dominated. Suddenly she stops playing with herself. I take the opportunity to slide a finger into her vagina, play with her g-spot for a few seconds, then slide another finger in. She’s moaning constantly, so I slide a third finger in.

Hang on, I’ve never been able to get three fingers in before. Has she been recently fucked by another cock?

Now is not the time for my trust issues.

I stand up and back away. This big-breasted blonde with her legs wide open makes for a magnificent sight. I should make the most of this; we’re perhaps not going to be together like this again. I want a memento.

My hands slide under her calves as I lift her toward me, then swivel her forty-five degrees so that she is almost vertical toward the camera, getting her head on an even surface on the sofa for her own well-being. I part her legs as wide as they can go.

“Play with yourself,” I instruct as I back away out of shot.

Instantly she reaches for her crotch and starts rubbing herself in a sideways motion which causes her to close her legs. That’s a shame, I was hoping for footage of her doing that, but now I’m busy getting undressed.

The Saffa keeps rubbing her clit and she brazenly open her legs as wide as she can. She knows the camera is filming her; she’s enjoying this now. Like all the other women I’ve filmed, she too starts off reluctantly but then gets into it, playing up to the camera, enjoying being an exhibitionist.

For half a minute I let her play with herself then I step over to the sofa, straddle her face and let my penis fill her vision. She sees it bobbing and pulls it down towards her mouth, commencing sucking on it. With one hand playing with her clit and the other gripping my cock The Saffa pleasures us both like that for several minutes.

I don’t want to cum too soon and I want different footage of her in action; I want to capture as many of her skills as possible. Without a word I get up and stand where I think it’s best for what I have in mind.

The Saffa stops playing with herself and she’s looking at me with uncertainty, her eyes begging for direction. I reckon she wants my cock in her now, but she’s just going to have to wait.

“Come over her and get on your knees,” I say.

She quickly wriggles up and off the sofa, throws the mask onto the floor, lands on her knees before me, my erect penis inches from her face.

“Suck,” is all I say and she eagerly complies.

After a second I take step back so that she has to lean forward, causing her breasts to dangle perfectly and sway as she gobbles my cock. After a minute of this it’s time to mix it up a little, so I grab the camera and hold it above her head, pointing it down towards her face. She has her eyes closed and doesn’t notice this. After another minute of expert cock-sucking she opens her eyes, notices the camera watching her, smiles a little then closes her eyes and resumes doing what she does best.

“Suck it like its Darth Vader’s cock,” I say, to which she laughs, keeping my cock in her mouth. Having a sound reverberate around the chambers of my cock is wonderful. I love it when women do that.

“Show me how you’d suck Darth Vader’s cock,” I say, just for the hell of it. Again she guffaws.

The Saffa now grips my shaft with both her hands and speeds up her head motion, keeping her lips locked around the head of my penis and the rest of the shaft that her hands can’t cover. No doubt her mouth tiring she opens her eyes, looks squarely into the camera and, just like Busty Czech did, she starts slapping her face on either side with my cock, smiling as she does so.

Now she starts flicking her tongue at and around my bell-end and shaft. She certainly knows what she’s doing. How many cocks has she sucked on, I wonder? Stop the negativity, just enjoy it!

She swallows as much of my cock as her mouth can handle and, impressively, she doesn’t choke. Most women who’ve done that invoked a gag-reflex. Now she’s looking up at me with pleading eyes. I think I know what she wants now.

“Do you want that cock in your arse?” I tease, knowing it will shock her.

“No, I want it in my pussy,” she answers.

“Do you want me to stretch your pussy?” I ask.

“Mmm…” is her reply.

“Get over there,” I bark, pointing to the footstool.

Instantly she jumps up and assumes doggy-style position on this over-used piece of furniture.

My cock slides into her pussy like it’s on rails. The Saffa lets off sounds of approval and I realize that she’s quite close to cumming. The foreplay has been hours for her.

I suck on a thumb and it glides into her arse. She let’s off sounds of pleasure as she feels the full force of being on The Hook. Less than twenty seconds later she’s squealing like a piglet as she cums, her body shuddering, her back arching and her pussy clamping tight onto my cock.

After ten seconds of this she relaxes, managing to stay in position. I’m close to cumming too but there’s an important order of business that needs addressing.

“Where do you want my cum?” I ask, checking for naughtiness and safety at the same time. I’m not entirely sure where she is in her cycle, so it’s best to ask. She’s not the type to trap a man, but accidents do happen. That’s why I’m here, as my mother often told me.

“My period starts next week. Just cum on my back,” she answers, huffing and puffing as she does so.

My left thumb is still deep in her bum as my cock stiffens totally and my balls spring to attention, propelling a blast of baby-batter up the chamber. Just in time I pull out and watch as a salvo of creamy sperm flies out the tip of my penis and arcs through the air and lands on her back.

With the other hand that was on her hips I tug on my shaft a few times and lazier dollops of cum jump out and plop onto her back. She’s still on The Hook and doesn’t seem to mind, but makes “aah” sounds as she feels the warmth of my ejaculate sliding across her back as gravity does its thing, pulling smelly trickles down towards her ribs.

I let go of her once I get my breath back. Without looking at me she gets up and goes to the bathroom while I switch the camera off.

Once cleaned up she returns and we try to cuddle on the sofa, but my heart isn’t in it. I want her to leave, I need to process everything that has happened today. After all, hours ago I wanted to break up with her but good sex got in the way.

At the end of the encounter, as we are getting ready to return to the train station, she says, “It feels like all the romance is gone between us.”

In my heart I couldn’t agree more. I feign surprise and disappointment at her words, but I know she is right. Is she now starting to make noises indicating that she wants to end it? I too feel like the best days are already behind us; the bloom is off the blossom. We simply clash too much, it’s not a harmonious relationship, there’s far too much drama in it.

I’m not going to dump her just yet. I don’t know where things might be headed with The Cockaholic, matters with The Saffa might improve and if they don’t I’ll just use her for sex. I suspect she’s doing the same with me.

Later in the evening I phone The Cockaholic. She seems pleased to hear from me and we have a pleasant, laughter-filled chat. She doesn’t ask too many questions about my day, but those that she did got little lies in reply. She doesn’t press for more; it looks like I got away with it.

It is so much more pleasant dealing with her than with the Saffa who, by comparison, is such hard work and slightly negative. The Cockaholic’s attitude reminds me of Busty Blonde in that nothing is too much and is very eager to please me.

I like that.

Again I’m having it both ways with two women; I like that too.

Who Can It Be Now? – Men At Work

Narrowing the field while playing it

The Russian MILF can go play in the traffic, I have no time for flaky people like her. It’s always about them, these Takers. I decide to not contact her, letting her think whatever she chooses because I’ve learned that the greatest disservice you can do anyone is to just let them carry on as they are. We are all our own worst enemy until someone enlightens us. She doesn’t deserve enlightening from me.

As for the other Russian, the Tiny one, she’s not for me either. She at least merits a phone-call from me, so I call her intending to let her know my thoughts. On Tuesday night Tiny Russian cheerily answers and we fall into a polite conversation about nothing in particular. Sadly it isn’t long before she starts telling me about the gory details of the court case against her ex-husband in an attempt to wring more money out of him for their daughter’s needs. I would love to hear his side of the story. After all he made the effort to give her a better life outside of Russia and fathered a child with her. As I listen to her belittling him I feel vindicated in my decision to bid her goodbye. I think of all the other Russian women I’ve encountered on my quest and conclude that getting involved with a Russian woman feels akin to a spider wrapping a web around me that is made of sickly sweet syrup.

After listening to her then moaning about her work situation I decide that I’ve heard enough. I interrupt her and deliver my preferred and practised series of words that let a woman know that I’m not interested in her. I always find this part of modern dating tricky because I have no idea how a woman feels about me. Finding the right balance of words and ideas isn’t easy but I proceed as thoughtfully as I can. As I say my piece it dawns on me that rarely has a woman contacted me to let me know that she’s not interested in me. They seem to sit in their ivory towers feigning disinterest when it suits them, preferring to have men making all the running while steadfastly espousing gender equality when it pleases them. It still falls on the man to make the first move in a nightclub or on a dating site, for a man to suggest a venue for the initial rendezvous, for a man to always pick up the phone first in the early days of a relationship, if he ever gets that far risking and enduring possible rejection every step of the way. It always amuses me when I hear a woman say, “all men are the same” because I’m certain that such a woman has treated all men in the same way. Perhaps there are times when the right of rejection should be reserved for men. If I respect the woman then I make the effort to end matters as gracefully as I can. If I don’t respect the woman then I make no effort to contact her again, such as I have done with the Russian MILF.

I detect a sense of disappointment in Tiny Russian’s response of “oh…okay.” My days of rescuing damsels in distress are behind me. I say my final goodbye and it doesn’t bother me as much as it would have a year ago. I wonder how she’d feel about me knowing that after I saw her I spent the afternoon with another woman and then fucked another woman later that night? How would she like me now?

On Saturday I meet Busty Blonde and it’s an uplifting experience. She is bubbly and positive, traits that are in short supply with the majority of women whom I’ve met through online dating. We go to the Natural History and adjoining Science Museum in Earl’s Court where we spend most of the day wandering around, talking about what we’re seeing and know of. She does have an intellectual bent to her, something I might be accused of too upon occasion. Our brains entwine and time flies by; she is good company. We brave the rain to find an Italian restaurant for a late lunch. Conversation never ceases and not once do I feel bored. There’s a wonderfully relaxed feeling between us and I find it liberating after some of the horror dates that I’ve endured.

Darkness grips London and we make our way back to her place where my car is parked…with my dirty weekend bag in the trunk. Busty Blonde invites me inside for a coffee which I gratefully accept because my bones feel cold. We indulge in a light bout of kissing on her sofa which she enjoys more than me. She probably hasn’t had sex in a while; her response to my lips tells me that. I can quite happily spend all night talking to her, but I make my excuses about having to leave to meet a “friend”, a detail that offers no meaning to her. She’s such an innocent, but I like that because it makes me feel safe with her. That feeling is rare to come by nowadays it seems.

I wonder how she’d like me now if she knew I was about to go spend the night with another woman?

I drive for almost two hours to get to Travel Gal and during the drive I find myself wondering what tonight would bring. I’m dying to know why she won’t give me head. I know that that’s not the best reason to be seeing someone, but it’s the truth. Yes, I do want to get to know her better as a person and see if there is relationship potential between us, but this sexual puzzle is foremost in my heads.

This time Travel Gal has a light dinner waiting for me. Unfortunately she has a bad cold and is lethargic. I’m sympathetic and easily agree to her request to stay in and watch movies. There isn’t much else around to do for almost an hour’s drive in any direction anyway. Sitting indoors on a cold Winter’s night, snuggled up in front of a television is not the worst way to get to know someone. However, she doesn’t seem quite herself and I wonder if she’s having reservations about me. It’s usually around the third or fourth date when women seem to drop their mask and exhibit bad or their behaviour with me. Eventually she tells me what’s bugging her and my thoughts are misplaced.

“My dog is poorly too. He’s been struggling to walk the last few days. I took him to the vet today and she said he might have an inoperable hip condition,” she says.

Right, so that explains her reserved attitude on top of her not feeling well. I guess tonight will be something of a dead loss. We sit in near silence, like an over-married couple who are together out of habit more than anything. This is only our fourth date and it’s starting to feel stale already. As we sit mesmerised by the screen I start wondering about what future dates with her will be like. There’s nothing much to do out here in the Styx. You can only fuck each other so much before that becomes stale too.

“Time for bed,” Travel Gal announces.

The dog slowly raises his head, apparently understanding her words before gingerly and painfully raising himself. Labradors are famous for their hip complaints and this old fellow might be nearing his long sleep, but I’m not going to say anything like that to her. I suspect that the thought has crossed her mind.

I expect to only spoon with Travel Gal tonight. Her cold is raging and she’s barely moved or said anything all night. However, she has other ideas.

She comes into the bedroom where I’m just finishing getting undressed. Her robe drops to the floor and she’s naked, standing like Botticelli’s Venus, except she’s making no effort to modestly hide her lady bits. Travel Gal has a serious look in her eye. Does she want me to take her?

Before I can decide or do anything she steps forward and pushes me backwards onto the bed. She starts kissing me all over. Where has all this energy come from suddenly? Ah, she’s been thinking about this and her cold isn’t going to stop her from making her fantasy come true. Kisses rain down on my body and it feels good. It isn’t long before before she’s kissing, licking and sucking my balls. We haven’t said much all night so it’s not anything I’ve said that has led to this course of action on her part. Her brain was turned on before I arrived.

Travel Gal takes her time licking up and down the shaft of my penis. Is she finally going to suck the head? Has she just been playing a silly game? Has she been working up to this, building the anticipation, because that’s what she really enjoys?

“Lie with your head on the pillows,” she says, gesturing towards the headboard.

I do as instructed and move myself ninety degrees. She obviously needs more space.

Travel Gal clambers onto the bed and then mounts me, slowly sliding herself onto my erection. Her pussy feels tighter tonight, perhaps because I haven’t fingered her. I put my hands either side of my head; I want to see what she’s going to do. She puts her hands on my chest which causes her beautiful breasts to bunch up and rest on the top of her puny biceps. Her eyes are closed as she starts to ride me. Why does she have trouble with eye-contact during sex?

With a touch of urgency her hips start grinding down onto my groin. She tilts her head back and her hips speed up. I can feel the bed under us starting to move in time with her. Travel Gal starts letting off her chant of “oh yeah…oh yeah” as I lie there, transfixed by the sight of her riding me. Only her fingertips are touching the bottom of my ribcage now and I watch her tits starting to bounce around. The bed is squeaking but I don’t think that she can hear it. She raises her hands, puts them behind her head and brings her elbows together in front of her face. Why does she do that? I know now that that’s her sign of being close to cumming, but I find it an odd thing to do.

The joints of the bed are very loose and the frame is now rocking backwards and forwards with her hip motion. She couldn’t be going any faster. No woman has ever ridden me like this before; it’s quite impressive. I hope she cums soon because this bed is about to fall apart. Now that would make for quite a story. Hang on a second. These joints have been loose for quite some time. Just how many guys has she fucked like this?

Just then Travel Gal lets off an almighty scream that the neighbours must have heard. Her body shudders and shakes as she slows down her riding motion. My pelvic bones suddenly feel a little sensitive. She collapses into a heap next to me and adopts a fetal position with her eyes still closed.

My heart is pounding and I want to cum too. Normally I’m happy to cuddle for a few minutes before taking my turn, but tonight things are different. My raging boner demands instant satisfaction. Seeing her riding me like that was quite a turn-on.

I get onto my knees and roll her over onto her knees. Her arse is pointing upwards while she’s still panting into the bedding. My cock slides easily into her pussy. Usually I fuck a woman for at least a quarter of an hour, but normally for an hour before I put her on The Hook. Tonight I shall dispense with that courtesy, largely because she’s already very turned on…and she won’t suck my cock. I have to get my kicks in other ways.

My cock has only thrust into her vagina a couple of times before I suck my thumb. How’s she going to react to this now? I slowly slide my thumb into her arse and I take a peek at her face as I do so. Her face doesn’t change and she lets off a subtle “oh yeah”. Travel Gal likes having things in her arse. That just has to be why she won’t go down on me because she expects my cock to go into her arse.

It doesn’t take long for me to cum. I usually do shortly after putting a woman on The Hook. There’s a naughtiness to it that does things for me. Again I’m grateful for pumping my cum into a woman who has been through menopause and can’t fall pregnant. I don’t know what I’d do if I got a woman pregnant.

We fall asleep without saying a word to each other. This has been a strange night. Am I starting to see her true colours? Is she a Misery?

The next morning, just like last Sunday, Travel Gal gets up to let her dog into the back yard and she starts making breakfast. I have no choice but to get dressed and join her. We start our day together with a kiss and a hug. She starts telling me about her hobby of baking and how she enters competitions that she usually wins something for. Again breakfast is excellent, but her cold is still gripping her. Conversation is stilted.

The day drags by as we sit in front of the television watching chick-flicks. I don’t mind movies like that because it gives me an insight into the female psyche. However, there are limits and by sundown I’m bored. I’m not easily bored but my options in this environment are limited. I’m tempted to say my goodbye claiming to fear catching her cold, but then I realize something about Travel Gal: she’s lonely. Vestiges of my White Knight Syndrome come to the fore of my behaviour.

I start doing DIY chores around her house. I’m quite good with my hands and not just in the g-spot sense. Unassembled, badly assembled and broken wooden things get assembled or fixed. Bottles and jars that she could never open are finally opened for her. Electrical devices that are troublesome are put back in full working order. Her television aerial which only allowed her to watch three channels gets seen to so that she has five channels now.

I spend the night with her, but we don’t have sex. She’s too ill for that. While she falls asleep in my arms I wonder about how future dates – a relationship even – with her will look and I don’t like what I see. It’s going to be too repetitive, too restrictive, too boring…and she won’t go down on me.

On the Monday morning I get up first and let the dog out. I watch him hobble around before having difficulty taking a dump. Poor old fella; he’s in pain. His mistress isn’t much better when I go back upstairs. She has a fever and I convince her to not go to work. I make her breakfast in bed, load her night-stand with medicines, make her her favourite tea just how she likes it and turn on the television in the bedroom to distract her, handing her the remote that I had fixed. I can see in her eyes that she’s not used to this level of service from a man.

I say my goodbye to Travel Gal with a kiss on the forehead, then head downstairs where I pour water and pellets into bowls for her dog. I pull the door to her cottage closed behind me. As I do so I wonder if I’ll ever be back here.

I drive home on a blustery Monday morning with my head full of thoughts about Busty Blonde and Travel Gal. What would each of them say if they knew about the existence of the other? Would they like me now?

The Heavy – How You Like Me Now

Travel Gal tail – final part

“Um, aren’t you going to suck on the head?” I blurt out in disbelief, suddenly feeling like a spotty-faced teenager as I realize my ineptitude.

“No, I don’t do that,” she says, crawling onto her hands and knees on the bed, then bunching a pillow together and pushing it under her stomach.

I’m in a mild state of shock. No woman I can think of has refused to suck my cock. Those lips are not going near my bell-end, I know this now. This is most unexpected and unwelcome too.

My emotions cycle quickly through the stages of shock but I’m left mostly angry. Why does this sort of thing keep happening to me? In that moment it seemed that Travel Gal was not The One.

Snap out of it. There’s a naked woman on all fours wiggling her arse at me. Make the most of this situation. To borrow a South African rugby expression, I should ‘go for the gap”. I’ll go for her gap alright.

This pose that she’s assumed strikes me yet again as being something odd. Again she’s averting eye-contact, looking away from me, facing the headboard. The pillow tucked under her belly I’ve only ever seen in a manual for advanced sexual techniques. Either she’s a natural or has had an educated lover in the past or she’s read the same manual as me. The latter option I discount in my head because I don’t recall there being a chapter about being a cock-teaser.

Maybe this is what she does: she gets men all worked up, then disappoints them which results in angry sex. Is that it, she wants angry sex? Let’s find out…

I position myself behind her and slide a finger into her pussy. It’s like a white chocolate fountain in there, she’s that wet. It’s also a bit like the Royal Albert Hall, a cavernous space. I can easily fit two fingers in her pussy. Either she has had sex recently, or had a lover with an enormous cock or has had many, many cocks in her pussy. My trust demon springs up in his cage. Down boy. Maybe she has a vibrator as big or bigger than Tech Titan’s Purple Pussy Eater? I’ve learned that almost every woman has a vibrator or two stashed away in her bedroom, usually in the bottom shelf at the back of something, either in a box or a fabric bag with a drawstring.

Fuckit, I can feel myself going soft; I need to keep moving. I pull my fingers out of her and she doesn’t make a sound. I move closer on my knees and slide my cock into her. Travel Gal makes a slow sound of approval, but I’m struggling to feel much because this pussy is spacious; too spacious. If I was wearing a body bag for my cock I’d feel nothing for sure.

I start rocking my hips but I still don’t feel much. Shit, I’m going to go soft and then it’s awkward talk time, something along the lines of “don’t worry, it happens to all men from time to time”. I don’t need that pity-party going on. I know, I’ll get naughty and see what happens.

Raising a hand to my face I suck on my thumb. I wonder how she’s going to react to this? Will she baulk like a bronco and catapult me off the bed? She’s a sophisticated country lady, this might be new to her, so there’s no telling how she’s going to react. I am curious though…

I gently slide my wet thumb up her bum as my cock rhythmically flails about in her pussy. Travel Gal doesn’t move or make a sound. Most woman would tense up at this surprise anterior intrusion, but not her, she stays relaxed. My thumb slid easily into her arse and I could swivel it around if I wanted. Having something in her arse was nothing new to her. It was the most spacious arse my thumb has ever been in. Was anal sex her thing?

Wait a second…maybe that’s why she won’t suck my cock?! She’s used to having a cock in her arse and therefore won’t suck on one. Could that be it? She thinks the tips of dicks are dirty? Well, they are, given their variety of uses, but I’m not arguing that case. In my head I start debating this possibility.

While I’m indulging in my penile monologue I fail to notice that she’s close to another orgasm. It’s only when she starts making louder sounds that I snap out of my errant orbit.

Travel Gal cums with a scream that she propels into a pillow that I didn’t notice her grab and put in front of her face. Has she done that before too? I know that we’re all second-hand lovers, but some of her moves are new to me and I consider myself very well read.

Reality check: She came while I fucked her pussy and had my thumb up her bum. This prim and proper country lady likes it dirty. I don’t know what’s going on in her head, but I need to cum too. I can analyze this later.

I haven’t let go of her and she’s still in position. My turn now.

Travel Gal is now more vocal, uttering that classic immortal line of “oh yeah”, almost chanting it like a mantra every my cock slams into her. As the front of my thigh slaps a buttock, each time she mutters “oh yeah”, over and over again. Her pussy has tightened and somewhat clamped itself around my shaft. She starts to feel good.

There I was, one of her big breasts in my hand, my cock in her pussy and a thumb up her arse…and she was loving it. This is not what I expected of her, but it’s probably not what she expected of me either.

Shall I be really naughty and put my cock in her arse and pump my cum into her there? It’ll easily fit; her arse is looser than most women’s pussies. No, after the anal sex incident with Krazy Girl I swore I won’t do anal again. I was fretting about it for months afterwards, scrubbing myself raw in the shower in a frenzy of pointless angst, driven by the fear of AIDS.

Remembering that Sunday morning with Krazy Girl leads to the memory of the time I fucked Tech Titan in the arse because it’s what she wanted too and…oh, I think I’ve just cum…

Yes, the greatest sexual organ is indeed the brain.

Travel Gal wriggles off The Hook, grabs a robe strategically hanging from the back of the door and minces off to the bathroom down the short hallway. A minute later she rejoins me and we cuddle up, making polite pillow talk until she drifts off away from me. I lie blinking at the stars who, through a gap in the curtains, were watching us and they blink back as my mind races, as I try to make sense of what just happened.

She wouldn’t suck my dick, that’s for certain. I can see us having this conversation:
Why Blowjobs Are More Intimate Than Sex

The next morning she stirs and goes downstairs to let her dog do his morning ritual in the back yard. I guess it’s part of her routine to rise early and just keep going because without much being said she goes downstairs and starts making us breakfast. I get dressed, give her a hug and kiss before going to my car to get my dirty weekend bag. I shower and ready myself for what I’m thinking is an unpredictable day.

Breakfast is one of the best full English breakfasts I’ve ever had. She’s quite good in the kitchen. Then we go for a walk around her hamlet, allowing the dog to do his thing. Even out in the boonies people are expected to pick up their dog’s shit. I watch Travel Gal expertly wrap a plastic bag around her hand and bend over, scooping her pooch’s pooh into her hand before pulling the bag over it and tying it up before dropping it in what must be the only doggy droppings bin for miles. She does this twice a day? How does this square up with my notion about her and anal sex?

We spend the day watching slushy romantic comedies such as ‘The Holiday’. Travel Gal has a romantic side to her. I can see it because I have it too. Sitting cuddled on the sofa seems like the logical thing to do as it’s another miserable, cold Winter’s day. I’m aware of not feeling the urge to go back to bed, but I’m also conscious of the fact that we haven’t said a word at all about last night’s sexual encounter.

Travel Gal makes an impressive dinner before we walk the dog one more time. The hands that cooked that meal pick up dog shit twice daily? Does it follow that the cock that goes in her arse will not go in her mouth? She will not eat shit. Is that what’s going on in her head?

Darkness overwhelms day and I make my excuses about leaving. She has to work the next day and I don’t want to overstay my welcome, that’s what I tell her. Her mouth smiles but her eyes don’t. We kiss passionately at her front door. I get the impression that she doesn’t want me to go, but I have to.

I get into my car intent on driving back to London…because I have another date lined up. It’s with the Russian MILF. I’m giving her a chance to redeem herself after our unsavoury first date. We should be good together, that’s what OKCupid’s system indicates, so maybe a second date will be better? I wonder if she’ll smell pussy on me? I drive for a little while until I have a signal for my phone. The Russian MILF has sent me a WhatsApp message saying that she can’t make tonight because she’s ill. The next message she sends me has a photograph attached. It’s of her and some guys at a fancy-dress party and her caption reads: “Me at a party last night”.

Well enough for a party last night but not well today? She can just fuck off. I can easily replace her. I respond with “Ok, no problem.

What are these women like? Okay, I won’t lie, a part of me is enjoying the unpredictable nature of this dating life. It’s certainly stretching my boundaries, perceptions and beliefs about life, women, relationships and sex. However, I feel that it’s coming at a price whereby I don’t feel enriched by it all. Instead I feel that a part of me is slowly dying and being replaced by something I don’t recognize.

I drive home hearing the “oh yeah” chants of Travel Gal echoing in my ears.

Yello – Oh Yeah

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

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


“I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I’m horny as hell,” my Exgf says to me on the phone. Was it because I had put her “on the hook”? I know that this call is about a booty call and that is exactly how it turns out. The following night, a Friday, she’s at my front door. We go to a local pub for a quick drink and a light snack…which she pays for. I can count on my one hand the times that she paid for something during our five years together. Now that she wants me back she’s going out of her way to do anything and everything she can for me.

As I sit listening to her moaning about her work situation it occurs to me that she is just as selfish as a some of the women that I have lately had the dis-pleasure of dealing with: Country Girl, Musician Gal and The Irish Cougar. It seems that we all have a type that we are attracted to and often they are the type that is wrong for us. If I came across my Exgf’s dating profile today I wouldn’t even click on it, but if we were to meet for a date, I probably wouldn’t think much of her. I’m thinking that a stronger selection criteria will keep me away from someone like her who took me for granted and didn’t appreciate what I did for her. Funny how things change; there was a time I’d have caught a grenade for her.

I have two regrets in my life. The first is that my father and I quarrelled the night before he died. I stormed off in a huff (I was a week away from turning fourteen) and the next time I saw him I had to hold the drip-bags as the paramedics tried to revive him from his heart attack, but they couldn’t. I had to watch my father die at my feet. I can still hear his death rattle. Because of that I don’t go to bed angry with anyone who matters to me. What was our big argument about? He was trying to get me to believe that the more you do for people, the less they appreciate it. My naivety caused me to dismiss his assertion as bitter and cynical. If I could have just one minute with him again, just one minute, the first thing I would tell him is that he was right.

Should I tell her about The Irish Cougar? No. She’d freak out and our play-dates would be over. I was lucky to get away with telling her about the Wanderer, better not push my luck. Besides, the scene with the cougar is history now anyway. Even though we had promised to tell each other if we were shagging someone else, I’m going to explore unfamiliar territory and just keep quiet. My Exgf’s all about deceit, so she can have a dose of it.

“I need to have a shower first,” my Exgf says as we get back to my place. She heads off to the bathroom as if she lives here.

I’ve realized something about her: she likes to be the centre of attention. So often in a social setting she embarrassed herself and me because she wanted the spotlight on her. So often she would do things in other settings that made no sense to me, but I know now that she was doing it to get attention. A spin-off from that need is that she likes to be watched. She’s a bit of an exhibitionist on top of that. I know that in the Summer she liked to go somewhere semi-public, like our back garden, then strip off and masturbate under the sun. She didn’t really care too much if someone could be watching; I suspect the danger of that made it the more naughty and exciting for her. It’s what allowed her to make those sex tapes with me. It’s what made her go off to a dogging site with me. My education of late has helped me to understand that side of her.

My Exgf is behind the shower curtain and she’s nearing the end of her shower. In a scene out of ‘Psycho’ I yank the curtain aside.

“For fuck’s sake! You’ve scared me!” she chides, her breasts wobbling from her little jump.

Good, I think to myself, that’ll get your adrenaline flowing. That’s all part of sex. This is just a different way to get you turned on.

“I want you to put on a little show for me. I want you to show me how you play with yourself in the shower,” I instruct, keeping a dead-pan facial expression.

She looks at me for a couple of seconds, smiles and then starts fiddling with the shower-fitting removing the head. Water is spurting out of the end of the lead which is essentially a hosepipe. My Exgf lowers the torrent of water down between her legs and directs it upwards onto her clit. She takes a deep breath that makes her breasts swell as the water-pressure finds the spot. I’m standing a couple of paces away, watching her. Her eyes are trained on mine, but I’m taking in this scene. It’s quite a turn-on for me, but it’s not just the spectacle before me, but it’s also being able to get a woman to do this and especially this one who has always been so deceitful to me.

There’s something about a woman being dripping wet with water that is quite alluring. I think it’s subliminal in that it hints at hot, sweaty sex. I watch as drops of water slide down her smooth, hairless body. The pressure of the water on her clit is having its expected effect and I can hear that she’s getting closer to cumming. I know her well enough to know when she’s faking; if it’s real her eyebrows meet and she has an anguished frown. Those things happen as she cums now, her body shakes and droplets of water fly in all directions; her tits wobble beautifully.

We don’t say a word as she climbs out the shower and dries herself off. There’s an electricity in the air and words will destroy it. She never was one for cumming six times in a night, despite my best efforts. Once she’s cum, that’s her done for the day usually. It’s now implicit between us that it’s my turn to cum and it’s up to me to make the move to let that happen.

She walks naked into the lounge with me following her like a good little puppy. This time the puppy has ideas of his own. She’s walking next to the back of the sofa. I slap a hand on her shoulder which brings her to a stop; she keeps her back toward me. I walk up behind her, bumping my chest between her shoulder blades, then turn her to her right. Sliding my other hand around her stomach, I pull in with that hand and push down with the hand on her shoulder. She folds over and rests her hands on the back of the sofa in front of her.

“Stay like that,” I command.

I unzip my jeans fly and pull my cock out of my underwear. She can’t see this, but I know she knows what’s going to happen; she’s done this enough times with other guys. I wonder if she finds this boring or exciting? Is it possible to have had too many sexual partners before sex becomes boring? I hope that I never find out.

I take her from behind, sliding my cock up her pussy and it feels a curious mixture of warm wetness from her pussy juices and cold water from the shower. I put both my hands on her shoulders and her skin feels clammy. For a minute I fuck her like that. She doesn’t say a word and the only sounds she makes are the involuntary ones a woman makes when she’s getting fucked.

“Get on that stool,” I instruct, pointing over her shoulder towards the stool in front of the sofa.

I pull out of her and we walk over to what I know will be our final position for the night. She obediently positions herself on the stool, kneeling for doggy-style, carefully spreading her weight out. She’s naked and I’m fully clothed; I like this. I don’t think that a paid-for whore would be this compliant. I’m enjoying having all the power in this relationship. I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts because I know it isn’t going to last much longer; she’ll eventually run out of patience and wise up.

My cock slides easily into her wet pussy. She lets off her customary “ugh” sounds as I slam into her. Hardly ever did I touch her hair during sex because I know how fussy she is about it, but tonight I just don’t care. Did the random strangers she let fuck her care about her hair during her countless one-night stands? I think not. I bunch her hair up into a tight little knot and gently pull back on it, expecting some verbal resistance but none is forthcoming.

I suck on the thumb of my free hand and drop it down between her butt-cheeks. I find her butt-hole and push onto but not into it. She doesn’t flinch or say a word. The whole time my hips are in motion and my cock is repetitively ramming into her pussy. Can she feel what my hands are doing? If so, is she enjoying it? I don’t care, I’m going to do what I want with her.

Slowly I push my thumb up her bum and she doesn’t make a sound. In the final hours of our relationship I found out that she had secretly been having colonic irrigation sessions several times a year. Having something in her arse is nothing new to her, despite her saying otherwise.

The naughtiness of all this is too much for my brain and it seduces my cock into cumming sooner than I would like. As I feel my man-milk starting to make its move for the exit, I say to my Exgf, “Quick, lie on your back” and she rolls over surprisingly quickly. I rush forward like a fireman with a hose and try to direct my cock at her face, but baby-batter is starting to shoot out already.

Giving a woman a facial is not something I’ve felt the need to do or even thought of doing because I’ve always been more interested in making love, not just having sex. The first time I saw it done in a porn movie I thought it disgusting and it is obviously demeaning and degrading. However, given how I feel about my Exgf, how she demeaned and degraded me emotionally during our relationship, I feel that she deserves the same in return.

To be continued…

Booty duty

There’s a sexual moon overhead as I arrive at my Exgf’s place – what used to be my home too – and we immediately go upstairs to her bedroom. This is a booty call; why waste time? The bedding is disturbed, her laptop is playing a porn movie, her vibrators are lying on the fitted sheet. The familiar smell of her pussy juices lingers in the air.

“I’ve got started without you,” she says slyly, letting her robe drop to the ground and revealing her naked body. She throws herself back onto the bed and spreads her legs, showing me a freshly shaved pussy. She’s been thinking about this; I know her.

“Well, don’t let me stop you. Carry on as you were. Show me what you’ve been doing,” I respond, wondering if she will or if she has something else in mind.

My Exgf slides the bigger vibrator inside her pussy and stares at the laptop screen, occasionally darting her eyes towards me, then reverting them to whatever she’s watching. I can’t see the screen and I don’t care. I’m more turned on by the fact that we’re doing this; it’s so far removed from what we used to do as a couple. I find this bizarrely refreshing, her lying there putting on a show for me.

“Take me on my mother’s bed,” she says after a minute as I hear a climax being shrieked on the computer.

The kinky fucking slut that I had read of in her sordid diaries was now coming out to play. I liked it for it’s honesty, finally and for the endless possibilities that it suggested.

We walk to her mother’s bedroom and she gets on the bed with her knees without us saying another word or even looking at each other. She falls forward and rests her elbows on the bed, her backside facing me. I grip each butt-cheek and pull them apart, exposing her pussy and arsehole. I take a good look at the holes that so many other cocks have fucked and cum in. All sorts of shapes, lengths and thickness of cock had been in there, pleasured themselves for as long as it took, for as long as they wanted, before pumping and squirting their hot, sticky, smelly cum in there. She would just lie, sit or stand there as they used her; she must have liked it because she did it so fucking often, sometimes with two cocks in one day.

A sense of anger warms my blood further as I unzip my trousers and take my erect cock out. I step forward and ram my cock into her pussy. She likes it rough and hard, she always did. Having read her diaries and knowing just how many cocks have fucked her pussy, I realized that she had, literally, a loose pussy and that my above-average sized cock filled her. She always said that she liked my cock, now I knew why; her cunt had been stretched by all sorts of dicks and only a big cock would do.

As I jam my cock as deep as it can go into her, I imagine all the guys who had fucked her standing around us, naked and with their dicks in their hands, playing with themselves to get hard, waiting for their turn to fuck her again. They couldn’t all fit in the room, in fact, they would fill every room in the whole house and would be forming a line at the front door stretching out into the street. They would be standing in public, naked and wanking. A passerby would ask, “What are you guys are waiting for?” and in unison they would answer, “We’re waiting to fuck the big-titted slut!”

The thought of this scene makes me angry. My soul still demands vengeance for her deceit, to punish her for being what she was, to punish her for what she had done to me!

Never before had I put anything in her arse because I knew that she would have freaked out, but today, under these circumstances I just didn’t care – I wanted my revenge.

I sucked on my thumb just like I had with all the other girls and put it squarely on her butthole, then started to make small concentric movements around it.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” she hisses.

In my frame of mind in that moment her words serve as encouragement to me. I gently push my thumb into her arse. I expect her back to arch, her legs to close, trapping my cock momentarily as she jumps away from me. Instead she doesn’t move; her back sinks lower and she lets out a little “ugh” sound as my thumb pushes past the outer wall of resistance of her anus. It pops into the soft wilderness of her arse where no part of me had ever been before. She doesn’t say another word.

I continue fucking her, all the while enjoying the novelty of having my thumb deep in her arse, relishing this new experience. I look down, watching her tits bouncing around as I slam into her. That repetitive “slap-slap” sound as my thighs collide with her butt-cheeks is all that is to be heard. I notice her hands clenching the duvet cover, just like Tech Titan did when I fucked her in the arse. Memories of that experience make my cock harden even more and Exgf lets off a satisfied grunt. She loves having a big cock deep in her. Being ‘On the Hook’ must add something to it for her.

“Is this what you like?” I ask.


“Is this what you need?”


“Is this what you want?” I ask, thrusting my thumb as deep in her arse as it could go.


“Is this what you’re good for?”

There’s a moment’s hesitation, then she says “Yes”.

Like that I took all the power in our relationship, whatever that was.

I just didn’t give a damn any more about what she thought and felt. She had shown a flagrant, callous disregard for me and my feelings; she deserved the same in exchange. I was going to treat her like the good-for-nothing unpaid whore that she was. I was going to get my fill and more. I was going to do to her anything that I wanted and if she couldn’t take it any more then so be it. I was going to use her for as long as I could. I didn’t need her for anything; she now realized that she needed me. The power was all mine.

How far was she willing to go to appease me? Just what was she willing to do to satisfy me? What could I get her to do that she never would have before? Could I get her to do all those things with me that I had read about her doing in her sex diaries? Would she let me fuck her in the arse, the ultimate act of submission? I want to find out.

I think her build-up before my arrival plus what I was doing to her had a cumulative effect of her bucking like a bronco as she came. I keep my thumb and cock jammed in her holes as the climactic waves cause her body to jump. It’s a sight I’ll never forget.

The encounter isn’t over though; I want to cum too and damn it, I’m going to!

“Don’t you move,” I order her. She complies.

I proceed to fuck her while keeping my thumb stuck in her butt, which feels surprising wet. She might even be enjoying this; I am.

I’m learning that there’s ‘making love’ and then there’s ‘sex’. The former is sweet, affectionate and caring, characterised by respect and consideration. The latter is raw, unaffectionate, selfish, disrespectful and sometimes demeaning. It’s this latter aspect that I find the most interesting because it hints at various things, but to my mind, it revolves around power. I think that many men get a mental kick out of dominating a woman physically, it’s an ego-boost thing especially in the lesser-thinkers. For some men it’s that transference of power that it’s all about. Having a woman surrender physically and then allowing him to do as he pleases with her has very little do with love. It is submission and domination, plain and simple. This is what my experiences with fuckbuddies has shown me. That is what I was doing with my Exgf.

I have learned that most women want a man who is not afraid to dominate them physically, a man who has the backbone to assert himself over her. I suspect that this phenomenon is a multi-faceted thing. From the women I’ve had sex with it is clear that they want the man to take the lead, to initiate and see things through to whatever he wishes. Women then reserve the right to assign a degree of satisfaction over his efforts, such as “that was alright”, or “not bad” or “gawd, that was great” or “you’re a great lay”. I’ve always thought “where did you learn to do that?” to be a bit ambiguous though.

Some women want dastardly or unsavoury things done to them, borne out of self-esteem issues it appears. They want to be defiled and then to blame it all on the man for being some kind of pervert. Secretly they enjoy being slightly abused because it’s naughty and exciting, but they never want to feel raped. It’s a fine line and men should take the time to find out what their lover’s fantasies are, then work towards them in a non-judgemental fashion. Once achieved it would be under the guise of fairness that his fantasies are indulged. Ladies should always cum first.

My own build-up started in the afternoon with Cat Lady. By the end of the massage that I gave her I had a raging hard-on and I’ve been horny since then. Seeing my Exgf playing with herself brought it back witin seconds and now my cock is buried deep in her pussy…and it feels good. It seems that her orgasm has lead to her pussy tightening around my cock. I love it when that happens; it’s another reason why a man should make his woman cum first. It doesn’t always happen but when it does, it feels damn good, like her pussy was made for his cock, irrespective of his size.

I decide quickly how I’m going to cum.

“Now you keep still because I’m going to cum on your back,” I instruct.

Her silent acquiescence feeds my ego-trip and it’s the last impetus required for me to blow my load. As always I’m not using a rubber on her. I reckon it’s a safe bet because I believe her when she says that she’s not been with anybody else since I left her. I have the self-control to pull out, something that I know other men struggle with, given what other women have told me. My self-control is driven by a life-long fear of getting a woman pregnant.

My hips take on a life of their own and I can feel something moving from my testicles up through my shaft. It’s time to pull out and as I do so I let go of her hip and pull my thumb out of her bum, then use the clean hand to direct my cock up the centre of her back, all in one quick movement.

Sperm flies out of the tip of my swollen cock and lands haphazardly over her lower back as more clumps join the first eager batch. My Exgf lets off a sound that I can’t make sense of because I’m concentrating on tugging on the end of my penis to make sure that every drop in my sac lands on her.

She remains stationary, unflinching as I move slightly back to catch my breath. As I do so I take in a mental picture for my memory bank. Her submission is total, her compliance unquestioned. I can’t recall her ever being so submissive before. I’m not entirely sure what to make of it. It’s a bit like being a kid wanting a toy for Xmas and when he gets it, the moment quickly wears off.

My Exgf breaks the spell by climbing off the bed and announcing, “I’m going to shower now. You’re welcome to join me.”

I do so and we hardly speak in the shower, save for a few neutral words about our work situations. Without her offering or my asking we climb into bed together, just like we used to and fall asleep together. We don’t talk about what just happened and it suits me.

We both knew that this wasn’t love, but what she thought was lust, was revenge in disguise.

With notions of deceit and it’s inevitable punishment – revenge – in my head, I fall asleep thinking of my upcoming encounter with The Irish Cougar.

Chris Isaak – Baby Did A Bad Bad Thing