An escort life

She is stunning beautiful in her sexy, short black dress and stiletto.

She keeps getting phone calls of clients longing for her cares.

She drinks sweet wine and doesn't like radish because she only wants sweet things. 

She insists she wants to be my slave yet I sense she's not really into it. 

She's just 25, or maybe "barely". 

She can hardly stop checking continuously many various social networks on her two smartphones. So I impose that on her and she resists at least until it doesn't ring again.

She asks me to bring her home because a client is waiting already but, totally unexpectedly she seems to have not the keys. They are likely sitting comfortably on a table next to the entrance door. Poor mindless Brazilian girl.

So we spend two hours together, in the large bed in my moto caravan, and I get to find out that her glamour is but just a very light coating.

She's filled with so much sadness. 

She's crashed from within by such an abysmal emptiness that words barely can express or but her years are indeed quite talkative. 

She misses her home so much that in her memory it is wonderful.

Then finally her friend gets back home and she stamps on my lips a lovely, empty yet not-so-fake, kiss and trots away on her sexy stiletto.

Instructions for cruising apps

Sooner or later one gets involved - entangled? Stuck up? - with some hook up app, such as grindr for example. 

And expectations grow high, with all those pics and profiles and chatting and pics trading as when you were a kid trading football players cards. 

And then usually nothing happens. 

Or one reads about cruising places, dark parking lots or parks and you plan your trips accordingly and there actually are people walking around or standing by the car looking around or maybe caressing their crotch.

Then nothing happens. Again. 

And one gets used to that yet keeps visiting and chatting and planning. People can be optimistic beyond their same general idea and experiences.

Generally speaking you'll get under the impression that everyone you'd meet there is actually waiting for something... different. Unmistakably a meeting of deluded expectations. So sad. 

Occasionally, and at price of becoming a very active bottom, there will be quick, generally unsatisfactory head job you'll give and some touching here and there. 

But from time to time something happens. 

You respond to a very late call - about 2:00 am - and meet a guy that is the only one in a very large parking beside a small lake and he's got a really nice face and an even nicer cock and brought the condoms, even. 

And he knows how to touch you and gets you to moaning for more and his dick just fits nicely into your mouth and he grabs your head with his full hands and make you feel he knows how to be in charge. And even the slight smell of urine - a not perfectly clean penis, one supposes - become sexy and turns you on. 

Things get even nicer when he turns around you and makes you first kneel and then stand on your four legs and starts caressing your ass, slapping it occasionally but with intention and finally some saliva helps his fingers in, and it's one, then the thumb, then two fingers, then three and you moan and enjoy and he appreciates and gets his condom and puts it on. 

You wiggle gently your ass in front of him, your back arched as your head smells the wet grass and your arse is up and ready, while he puts it on. 

And here he comes. And fucks you nice and you hug and hold to his dick and moan and help him in and he thrusts in and out and you bounce back and forth and enjoy it until he gets it out and cums and it's all so sexy. 

I usually don't like sex en-plain aire but some times...

Vibrations on-the-go

Berlin.
Sexy shops, are very common and well established here in Germany. Yesterday I bought two inflatable dildo.
One is a little plug, dick-shaped, and another is a two-beaded plug, inflatable and also vibrating.
I did experience with the first one a little, at home, and I can't wait for having someone to play along and benefit from the shivering it gives me.

Today I had a couple of meetings around, in the morning and some early afternoon alone; I hence decided to give myself a go with the beaded little vibrating joy during the second meeting.

I put it on at 12 and went to my lunch appointment by walking. Ten-fifteen minutes.
I had worn it so that the vibrator control would be in one pocket and the inflating pump run along the belt, hold in place by the loops.
It worked like charm and, from time to time, I could pump it up or down with a swift touch around my belt. Very discreet. Yet I kind of think anyone would actually know and even hear the little think providing internal massage.
Weird.
Great.
Exciting. Thrilling.

So, I thus have worn it in me for the whole rest of the day.
I would switch it on and off to get a thrill from time to time, and regularly deflate it, and then squeeze the pump two or three times so that I would feel it growing inside me.

Viel Spaß!

Only, I could use someone to leverage the effect all this seems to have on my "flexibility" but, most of all I would love it if I would be requested... required... commanded... ordered to operate it accordingly to their desire...

Why?

Why do I see him?
Why do I let him get me laid?
Why do I enjoy that?

Would I still do that were I to live in a larger city, with a wider range of decent men around, to choose from?

I keep meeting with him. I keep having sex with him. And it's always a great sex. M. has just the perfect size for me. It could be larger of course - they could always be larger, when it comes at me thinking about it ^__^ - but it's the right lenght, it is long lasting yet not lasting for ever, which gives me actually enough time to appreciate it and the chance to see it getting to an end.

Veggie pleasure

A no-fail recipe.

Get yourself a (slightly less than) 8" thick (I'm talking the circumference, you greedy one!!) cucumber.

Clean your little hole very well.

Insert. Repeatedly. Vary the position, the rhythm.


Enjoy the feeling of getting yourself crack opened while using it and the relaxing feeling of having been abused so delightedly and the shivers that you just get at every steps you take because your greedy little hole just seems to be wanting more... ^__^


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

It's not easy love...

"It's not easy love but you've got friends you can trust"
That was what Freddy Mercury used to sing. How I loved him!


But to what friends will I revert to, in this distress? 
What I'm finding not easy to, is staying away from this side of me. Staying far away from M. - who possibly is happy like this, since he's not bothering to call at all - so that I don't have to ask myself if I want to have bare back sex with him again.


I fear it.
Kind of dread it, indeed. 


I thought I was ready, but it came out I'm not.


Having just read some news about how HIV is spreading in our province struck me, and I now am frozen in a state between the terrific memories of how great it was last time we had sex together and I had him cum inside me, and the terror I feel that he might have been meeting other people too, and having unprotected sex with them, too...


I would need a friend. But I'm not sure I would be ready to withstand what he'd say to me right now...

Top me up!

Saturdays have often been a magic time for me. Bad moments, magic moments, awful moments, great moment. This saturday one was of the latter kind. And, once again, it was a prime time, and it was with him: M.
We were both very horny, I suppose, because we arranged for a Saturday afternoon rendez-vous and our tongues got interwined before we could almost start to touch each other.
Hands were running across our bodies, I was enjoying him holding me from behind so that I had to lean on him to get and he seemed to have found the right point between pain and pleasure when massaging my little nipples because I kept shivering with pleasure when he did it. What I loved most of that moment was being at his will about kisses; I was holding on his neck and leaning a bit backward so that he had to lean on me to kiss me. I love that.
I took his hand and we moved to the bedroom, where I got him naked and he rubbed himeself against my butt while I was bent over, untieing my shoes. His pleasure in doing that was rather evident, given the hard on he offered to me when I got back straight and looked at him. When it's like that, I usually would kneel on the large queen size bed, legs spread open and hand on my knees, palms facing upwards in sign of submission and offering my head and mouth to his pleasure, but he was looking for something else this time, and he instead lay down and asked me to please him.


I climbed on him, immediately took a mouthful of his big dick and then swiveled clockwise so that he could play with mine while I swallowed his large dick up to my throat and further. I could feel it making his way up and engulfing me totally. I had to take a large breath before doing it: there was no space for breathing, and it was hard to just keep it there because M. was having fun with both my dick and my ass, strocking the former and rimming, kissing and testing the latter with one, then two, then three fingers...
I couldn't stand it any more, I wanted him to get inside me and pound his hard cock in my flesh and have it cum on all of me, and possibly then go and being given a golden shower. So I stood up and with a swift movement I just sat on his dick. It got inside in one shot. I jumped in and out a couple of times, then he got hold of me and three me around and I... I don't remember too well because pleasure kind of numbed my brain but I remember myself screaming voiceless, grasping the blanket, and shuddering and shaking and shivering and trying to nail him while I was unable to stand, four-legged and fucking myself hard by throbbing my ass around his dick repeatdly, pounding with all my weight on him and moaning at the same time...


After some fourty-five minutes like this, he - like an animal - kind of cried "I'm... I'm... cumming" and I just thought I didn't want to stop and - as I have said before - that I wanted to "give him more of me" and thus continued with my cowride until he stopped moaning and grunting and hugged me and crashed down onto me.
We were head to head, his arms where holding me from behind and mine were spread wide open. I could see his red face and I was all wet, sweatting all over. We kissed, repeatedly, and I trembled again - yes, again - when he caressed my sides with the tip of his finger...


Wonderful. Even though I would have started all over, and again, and would have wanted to have him pee on him if he had asked me to get it.

Caresses

I felt abandonment.
I felt warmth.
I felt his hand stroking my hair.
I felt his finger caressing my neck.
I felt his semen flowing down through the fold of my buttocks. I didn't care at all.

I enjoyed it all.
I enjoyed his caresses and his kisses.

I wanted to start all over again.
I wanted to take a step forward.
I wanted to give him more.
I want him to have more of me...

Like a virgin

I wanted that. I've always wanted that, but never dared to.
I was fully aware of how much I wanted it to happen, and yet had never let it be.
This time it had been me to go for it.

Like many others, M. has always wanted to, and during our first times together he had tried several times, until he got how I felt offended by that and he just stopped asking, or trying to do it.

All the contrary, this time I had just let him do it, without even asking, and he just got it right; he understood I was looking for that. He kind of read my thoughts.

It had been great! I was feeling it inside me more than I had ever felt it before. I hadn't thought it would have been that very different!
I climaxed immediately, and I kept moaning all the time - well, more than usual, he would have said later - and when he got out of me and sprayed all my back with his semen, I was shaking in violent orgasms.

We had dinner, afterwards, and we chatted lively and never talked about that again. On MSN, the day after I wrote that we had done it "without it" and he said "ok, next time we'll do with, as usual".


But, the week later while I was leaning on the large queen bed in our room, and he was behind me I found myself asking:
Have you been meeting anybody lately?
No, I haven't... - and he caressed my hair and I could feel his warmth;
How comes? - we never agreed on "waiting for the other one to be free and I knew he could barely hold back for as long as three days.
I don't know - and then added, in a rather soft voice, as if pretending he was to be unheard - maybe was waiting for you?

I had him get into me again, bareback again, and I had one of the greatest time together ever.

Now, the real question is: how is this affecting my life? And my feeling towards him?
What I know, is that I felt "his" both times, and even more the second time. And I enjoyed feeling like that.

Men do cry

Indeed.

Unexpected, yet pleasant.

It was three years ago when he wrote to me "no, please do delete my phone number from your phonebook, I would like you not to contact me anymore; I'm trying to build up a relationship on new basis".
I almost had a car accident when I got that message.
I really liked him.
He really knew how to touch me, how to turn me on, and how to handle it. I indeed found it very hard to accept it that day.
He was physical and I loved the way he was so. He loved the way I loved him, and this was incredibly exciting for me. I knew he wanted me. He knew I wanted to be his. Then, being in the same room was enough to get us into each other's arms and have the most fulfilling sex.
He had been the only one who I wished to have sex for ever. I wanted to kiss him, although he didn't let me. I wanted to stay in his bed all night and I only could do that once and it had been wonderful when I felt his hand  caressing my bare back, such a slight gesture, yet so communicative, and I immediately felt I wanted him to make me his.

It took me three years, and it took the arrival - and establishment - of Facebook for me to decide I wanted to try and find him again. And try my chances and contact him again.
I was lucky, I immediately found his name on the big blue F, and his profile photo, although of a bearded guy was unmistakably him.

It took me five seconds and I was set to sending him a private message.
It took one full day and I got his text message on my phone number.
"It had been nice to read from you, Adam".
"It's great to read from you, too".
It didn't take more than five messages before I was expressing how he had been important to me, how he had been special and how I was glad that he had accepted getting in touch with me again.
It was unexpected, yet so pleasant to read that he had wanted not to have told me to to separate from him the moment after he had told me to.
I told him I was so glad to hear that.
Gently, and proving caring and passionate, he wrote to me that he didn't want now to shake and disturb the peace of my life but that he wanted so much to see me again, and to possess me.
I waited a few seconds then I only replied to him that I could not ask for more, and that I will be always available and willing for him.

We then tried to find out whether we could meet soon but we couldn't find a date.
I was travelling and he was so caring to text me, even with just: "how are you, did you arrive fine?"


Today I wrote him. Just a short note. He replied that he was happy to read me again.
We tried to find a week when he would be home and I would be travelling southbound and try and meet. Again.
"It will be great to once more feel you hands, getting physical. I will love feeling you inside me"
"And I'll love it when I'll possess you fleshy flower, quivering with passion, having you cow-riding me so that I will be given the pleasure to watch you reaching climax the way you do"
"Yes, oh yes, please. Do get me like that. Come inside me, and possess me. And when you'll be done, I'll be there for you to start once more. Get me and take me away"
"Totally mine."


I look forward to it...

Moan while you can

He had been very good.
Very good indeed.

I think he - by now - got to know me so good, that he just, simply, knows how to touch me, when to grab my head and shag it, when to turn me around and fuck me hard. The right moment.
And, on top of this, I think he enjoys me, the way I moan, groan, whine at times :) and how I do shake violently at the peak of my orgasm, how peculiar they are: no ejaculation most of the times, not even a hard on, yet really am speachless, and today I think I would have most probably yelled out loud, screamed even, had he not crushed my face on the pillow when he realised I was to scream my pleasure out way too loud.
It rarely happen I'm in the urge of screaming it aloud. I never scream, actually. Even if he had not pushed me on the pillow, grabbing my hair firmly, I think I would have - as often I do - screamed silently, mouth wide open, eyes closed, and breathless, but no sound. Maybe just a hiss...

He had been great. I really had a great lunch time.

Squirt!!

There sure is some fascination in all this squirting thing.
I'm an inquiring mind, and it could be any different: I want to try it.

She's involved in exploring herself recently, and know I can team up with her in her perusing her possibilities, and her curiosity.
I'm not her only option in this, but I'm pretty sure I'm her best one.

I always knew she was like this, and always wished we could walk on this Oz's "golden path" together.
If only it were a little less of a narrow one, or a little less busy... But I guess easy does it, for anything but sex with women.

What if you'd get to be lucky?

What if you'd get lucky?

So lucky that your wife gets to be your lover.

So lucky that she wants to learn where your hidden spots are, and she unveils her to you?

That she makes things with you she has never ever done with anyone else, and you expose her to sides of you that (almost) noone knows of, or has even seen?

You could be so lucky, too.

Mare

He made me feel as if I were a mare (I'd like to write I was a filly, but given my age...) and he was my stallion.
He kissed me, slapped me, turned me around, and in and out, he scrapped the surface - at time even using the nails - of Adam, grabbed Eve by her hair and pulled her out.
To then pound hard inside her flesh. Repeatedly. Muting her voice with his hand and making sure her lips was busy with two of his fingers, muted trumpet that would otherwise scream out loud her pleasure.

He was magnificient.
I felt his power, and after minutes of him pouring pleasure inside me I became totally his, I did depose my will and left him in charge of controlling my body. I sensed it did lift under his strokes, lifted up by the puissance of his shaft, I was but a a willingless body in his capable hands; he was completely inside me and not only with his strong dick, and he could move my puppet-body with it.

He had me.

And I think I cried warm tears: distilled pleasure.

Thank you, M.

Unplugged

I'll stay unplugged for a while.
It tooks her to bring me back to here, and now I decide I will stay unplugged for a while. This other life can be addicting, in a way I don't think it's positive for me. For my file as a whole, for those whom I share it with.

I'm not saying I won't write here anymore. I can't deny Eve. It's so part of me, I've learned to live with her. But I can't keep wearing Eve's pants everyday, checking how my trousers do look on my buttocks, fancy men's hands on my body when I take a shower and the water flows on me, linger on a hidden Facebook profile where men and couples and T-girls write to me and I reply to them and to their desires, meeting men only to trying to satiate her thirst.

I just think I have to give Adam more space, now it is the time for it.

See you. Stay tuned. I will.

Temperance, and the opposite of.

I would do with a good shag. I would love to feel the large hand of a man on my hip, the warmth of his body on mine and his power pounds his way through my flesh and make me feel as if I were... I am, indeed... at his mercy.
I might bend my will at his will, I would crawl to fulfil his desires, I would let him set a pace for my mouth sliding with lust in and out, and in and out, and in and out of his large, mighty rod for as long as he desires, giving to his shaft warm hospitality in any manner and welcoming him to freely dispose of me. If only I would meet such a man.
I would want to be the mare and be brought to a mighty stallion and left to meet his needs, be the bitch of tens of horny dogs in heat, being pleasing them until I'd fall senseless, and to know that they wouldn't stop yet, until I came back to my senses and to start all over again until I just give up, desert to my own will and leave my body, my orifices at their disposal for their pleasure.
I'm longing for you to be exploring my body, I wish you were here to bend and mould and extend my limits, to experiment on me, to use new toys, new tools. Please, blindfold me. Please, do gag me. Put my resistance to test, stress it and finally break it.

Come. Get me. Please.

No way

Him: "I beg your pardon... but I'm not sure I got it right: would you rather it with or without condom".
Me: "Only way is "with", my dear, unless you're out for a quick shag and would be happy with no getting anything near inside me".
Him: "I'm all but out for quick things, I'm the "hard and long lasting" kind, but only and exclusively "without". How can we sort this out".

Simple: you go your way, I'll go mine.

I'm good at standing delusions, no problem.

Meeting expectations

When expectations grow too much they could get to being overwhelming, and could even be way too much for somebody to bear.

A man, with elegant manners, and rather promising abilities, is flirting with me in one of the many public social networks around the net.
He seems to love every picture I post, every comment I write, and he has so far shown a great ability in pushing my limits.

He wants to meet with me.
"Would you rather a Grand hotel or a private Residence? One near to you, of course."
I couldn't dear say "Grand Hotel", I would have stand failing to meet his expectations so I wrote "I think I enjoy the cosy, yet flirtatious feeling a residence can give you".

He keeps writing comments to pictures of me wearing a G-string, or squeezed in some tight Onyx jeans, or those of me wearing a 6'7" heel sandal, sighing how he would love to see me wear them for his eyes, asking about my "sizes", and saying he longs to "play" with it, or describing - while never being neither rude nor vulgar - how he would take care of my "derriere" and how his "shaft" would lovely fit into it and how he wants to bring me to pleasure heights, and how the sight of my pictures inspire his desires and increase his lust and desire to meet me...

I think I might - for the first time in my life - go for a full hair removal...

Rather unpleasant.

I once had sex with a TG-girl, during a trip for business. I had gone watching a movie - the late show - and I knew there were shemales renting themselves around the place because somebody had told me some years before, I had gone there and had met a wonderful shemale that made me spent a great night. Sexy, smart, witty, bitchy enough and lots human in her behaviours, slightly domina in her attitude towards boys. So I thought I'd check out if I could find her again.
She had moved to Switzerland, one of her mates told me, while looking at me with awesome brown cat-eyes and a glittering smile. Julia.
She was so beautiful. Utterly beautiful. A beauty that was way to hard to resist to.
We went to her place and I had a very unemotional, boring, frozen-cold sex, I thought that had been one of the worst experience in my life, actually. In fact, she just wanted me to cum and go, and I actually know it can be rather common, as an attitude. Only, that was the first time it happened to me, and being the second time I had that kind of sex intercourses... it struck me.
After I had cum, I was expecting to have some more, with her nice dark cock; I had already gone through the fact that I had not to kiss her or caress her too much or "I would have ruined her make up", but I sure wanted more: Adamo had had his gone, but Eva wanted that wonderful shemale to love her. She looked at me, and just asked "you did cum, what do you want from me now". I couldn't explain, so I just sat down, and got to wearing my things up. She appreciated my underwear, but that was too late for me, I suppose.

Today I think I had something even worse than that.
He just seemed to want to have sex with - "to getting to know" me, he said - so much that I couldn't make the occasion slips away and since I was not far from his place, we did meet at his place; not a house, but that sure wasn't the problem.
He had been so selfish, so egotic in his behaviour, so under my expectations, that he didn't even had me to see (!!) his cock, we massaged a lot - mainly, I did it - he didn't lick me, didn't kiss my body, didn't have me kiss his "friend", suck him, and when he turned me around, asked me to take my slip away and got me tight to him, the only thing he did for about five minutes was to masturbate himself, and - finally - cum onto my back.
So annoyingly boring. I could get no emotions out of it. The guy needs a girl! And since he's gay - the queer kind, even - he'll never get to find one and, I'm afraid, odds are against that he gets to understand it.
What a waste of time. But, I'm glad I found it out soon.

Questions.

"If you could change into a woman for 24 hours, what would you do?"


"I would walk around, dressed in a long gown like those in the 60s and a tight top with no sleeves, long hair freely set onto my shoulders and would just have fun, maybe I would buy clothes and would finally be incredibily happy of how they'd look on me, and maybe I'd go in a pub, and would enjoy the look of the men there.

:)

(I really liked it answering to this question, thank you for asking.)"

Yes, Master

I met him on a chat-line, while trying to check out what the local gay scene could offer. He could write, looked smart enough and he had sent me three pictures of a very large cock which I then definetely wanted to worship and get inside me.
We exchanged emails, and then phone numbers, and he texted me right tonight
"are you hungry for sex?"
"I don't have your number in my phonebook, but we sure can talk about that"
"I'm N_____RN"
"Oh! Good news. Are you free tonight?"
"yes, want to come over?"
"I would love to come and have you cum"
"Little bitch, you really are a cheeky whore, you need education".
"Yes Master, I do".
"Good bitch. Do finish your dinner, then come here and you'll have plenty of it"
"Yes Master, I will. Any special assignment before I come".
"Do not wear anything feminine, I want a male whore, and I need relaxing as I have had a hard day"
I arranged it so to go to his place after having had dinner with my colleagues. I rode my motorbike to his place and just entered the living room where he was laying on the couch, slowly wanking but actually "measuring me".
"Hello bitch"
"Good evening, Master".
"..." he did say nothing but his eyes were very eloquent: they wanted to "check me up", so that look did mean I had to undress. I did it, slowly, from gloves to shoes and offered him a best view of my butt while bending down to untie my shoes and to take my trousers off. He seemed to appreciate it, by the slow moaning I think I heard coming from behind me.
"Come here, you whore. On your knees".
"Yes Master", I said as I bent down and started to crawl mimicking a cat slowly crawling to his Master offering him some tasty, delicious food. And his large, hard, missile-shaped cock really lookd very tasty and very delicious so I really was not facking it.
He had me lick all of his body, from toes to fingers, with long stops at his balls and often grabbing my head with no kindness and mercylessly filled my mouth with his huge dick down to my throat. I couldn't do anything but totally resign any will and let any muscle - and any will to move it - desert and be "at his disposal".
"You really like my cock, don't you slut?"
I could but gloam and blabber some sound that could resemble of a "yes, Master", stucked with that large meat-pole.
"Lay down, bitch, I want to relax my feet"
I did lay and he started to use my body to rest his feet, and got his pleasure from fixing his right foot into my butt and his left foot deep into my full wide open mouth. I started to tremble with pleasure more than ever and couldn't stop even when he did lay on me - what an unexpected heavy weight he was... - so to rub his cock in and out of my buttocks. Then he sat back on the couch and asked firmly
"You whore, you really make me hot, you really want it hard, don't you" and without waiting any reply - I was already shaking and I would evidently have been unable to provide any - he added:
"Go, bitch, go get the condoms"
I crawled to my leather jacket and got one and put it on his lap, as dogs do. Well... as a whore does, at least, and then sat on my "hind legs". Waiting for him to put the condom on. I couldn't dare looking at him doing it.
"Come, slut. Come and sit on it. Come on! Get it."
I did as he asked and - oh wow - it was so wonderful, I immediatelly started to tremble and moaning, and wanting for more. I couldn't make him last anything more than finve minutes, I think: I was kind of "sucking" his cock with my inner walls, and by shivering and trembling I think I was giving him a rather strong stimuli.
"Oh, you slut! You really want to make me cum, don't you?"
But I could hear no voice, had no voice, and only just wante to have more of it, my back arched so much I could feel his head.
Until he did cum, very much loudly, his hands on my hips and having me bump on his laps. He then got out of me, and I could only fall down on the carpet, and while keeping trembling rythmically, and reverted to a fetal position even with thumb in my half-open mouth, he just used me a bed-step.
I was happy. Not at all bored by the situation and I really wished he had asked me to stay for the night - I would have then been granted the option of a night or early morning second session... - but he just told me he had to go to sleep, and so I slowly had to put my things back on and get ready to go.
"thank you, Master, I hope you appreciated it"
"well, yes, you're a good little slut, a very decent whore. Good one".
"thank you, Master. Many thanks".

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

China boy

It all started with a glance; I was walking past the corridor to the locker room with towel and slippers and he was heading toward the exit. He glanced at me, and I replied to his eyes with a blink noone did see, but him, who was already looking at Eve without even knowing about her.
He turned around and reached me in the locker room. He sure had been very fast undressing himself because by the time I got out of the locker room he was already there, very much clearly awaiting for me, his towel surrounding his hips and revealing a young, thin yet strongly build body: he was cute, indeed.
I smiled at him and he returned the smile and then did lead the way to the cubicles surrounding the labyrinth's paths.
He opened one door and invited me to get in, and I mildly followed him.
Again, he had been very fast setting his towel on the bed and was already hugging me from the back: I had to lean forward, so not to fall down, and I did help myself against his body on one side, and the soft bed on the other side.
China boys do often look thin, kind of shy, and they are known to have a small cock. He wasn't very much different to what legends say, indeed: thin, shy and with a thin, possibly less than 6" inch cock. But - oh boy - he was cute, and nice, and kind, and he had these hands he kept moving on my skin, caressing my larger body, that immediately made me think of those fishes where females are always larger than males.
And he definitely wanted a female.
He tried to have me with no condom, attempt which I immediately stopped gently yet very much firmly. He asked me to wait there and smiling back to the look of me smirking at him while laying down as if on a roman triclinium, he set himself to the quest of finding the only mean that would have allowed him to have what he clearly wanted: me.
It only took a couple of minutes before he was back and offered me his cute little dick which, to my surprise (and joy), hadn't lost his hard on. I sucked it with lust, lost in the emotional I was getting by his hands keeping caressing my head and strobing and stroking my hair and playing games with my curls.
I kept that going - I was really enjoying it! - for a while until he did grab my hips and kindly yet very firmly - and how strong was his hold! - did turn it upside down and did set me face down on the bed, his body following mine.
I think I already wrote about that (yes, I did it here): I love feeling the weight of my lover on me, it makes me feel "in his hands", "at his disposal", "with no other option but to please him" (and things of the like, you sure got the message.
He was as quick as a rabbit, and i did climax accordingly, one, two then three times, until he then came gasping and with a couple of strong strokes.

I thought it would have then been only a matter of a few minutes until he would have stand up, cleaned himself, opened the door and be gone in the darkness. I was wrong. Very much wrong.
He did cuddle me for - I don't know - what sure was more than half a hour, maybe one full hour who knows! He wanted a lot to kiss me, and I had tremendous shivers by simply letting my mouth full wide open at disposal of his fingers or his tounge while he kept caressing my buttocks laying aside of me, letting me take the safest side of the small bed. How caring!
I can't remember anymore what he was actually doing to me and with my slowly heartquaking body when I finally did climas, it may very much well be caressing my buttocks right after having pulled his full hand out of my little greedy hole.
I did cum in great quantity, something that only happens in occasion of "special events" such as gang bang or a very skilled lover...
It was almost 2 a.m. when we headed to the showers room and did shower ourselves, and a man came to look at us... well, to look at me, and he was clearly trying to understand whether I would have wanted another go.
I would have.
But the China boy was there and I kind of felt... it unfair, going with another man right after. He seemed to appreciate that, and while we were in the finnish sauna (it's the best way to quickly dry oneself after a shower and to dry the towels too!) he asked me "one more time?". I told him I needed to check a watch, and when I did - he brought me to a room where there was on hang on a wall - I understood "there's not time for us", so I headed towards the locker room.
The other man followed me immediately, and had he said something, or made it intriguiing laying on a bed with him (say, with a "casual" gest, showing me his cock, or mimicking a kiss) I reckon I would have wanted: sex only makes me wanting more sex, as usual.
But he didn't, so I dressed back quickly and got to the exit, where the China boy was waiting for him, inviting me for a coffee. But, given how late it was, how seldom I am in his city, how difficult it was to speak to each other, and the fact that he was so much younger than me, I declined and walked back to the hotel.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

To SPA or not to SPA

One cannot imagine how it is - actually - hard to get laid in a gay SPA.
One would think that the mere fact of being in a place where everybody knows way too well that sex definitely is on the cards, where each and everyone goes around naked but for a towel around hips that's only slightly larger than a napkin, condoms and lubricants are largely available everywhere for free (when you're abroad, not in Italy...), would just make finding a partner something of utmost ease and straightforward.
Well, it is not. Indeed.
You've got to get ready to accept the fact that:
-  lots of people isn't actually ready to overcome the physical barriers of lurking around ("general lurkers");
- that most aren't really out for sex because they haven't got at pace with the complexity of human relationships - even when at this primary physical level - and are only there to watch XXX video ("extreme lurkers");
- that some simply don't match your idea of sex, and so they'd rather just have somebody give them some oral sex than extend that shallow idea;
Not to mention all those who just either doesn't match with you (they're out for the same guys you are) or doesn't like you. The latter proving that gay-sex isn't really just sex-with-anybody.
Then, there also is the - indeed fascinating - fact that not every place in a SPA is like every other.
You would more easily find opportunities of having sex in the hammam than (in order of chances) in the darkroom, in the maze, in the jacuzzi, in the finnish sauna, in the lounge. While, typically, chances are that quality of the kind of sex partner you shall have the oppportunity to encounter are inversely proportional. Exceptions apply, of course, given the "local fauna", and the quality and accuracy of "your judgement".
Generally speaking, anyway, a certain degree of both entrepreanurship and of being picky is sure required, if you wanna get laid but also want to get some satisfaction out of it.

It's a tough word, as they say, not just a hard on-...-e ;)

I like it when you like me

I really likes the way he looks at me when I am there, I enjoy - as anybody does, in fact -  being appreciated, he clearly wants me, it clearly shows, and I definitely appreciate it a lot.

I rode the motorbike to their home, and when he  saw me there I could catch a smile on his face  that was saying it all much clear.

We had a little talk, he offered me something  to drink, and we told jokes on some recent news  and played throw an collect with theirs dog.
One would call G. the cuckold, and R. the bull, and would be right, indeed.
They are a couple since more than twenty years and they are lovely to look at and lively to talk to.
 When "the Bull" suggested we moved upstairs I was  glad he had done it. I followed him,  diligently: I like being told what to do, and  he knows that at heart and always, instictively, leverage on that.
He immediately took his clothes off and started  to kiss me, while peeling me away of both my  clothes and the remains of my - usual -  hesitations. It only did take a few minutes  before I could feel his hands on all of me, his  lips on mine, and I was ready to be his little slut. I was there, with only my g-string and shoes on, so  I did bend so to try and take them off, when he reached for my buttocks; the "Cuck"  has arrived and had added his hands to those of his mate: he was kind of getting his share of me for  his own good. Not that I had anything to  complain, it had took me by surprise and that  sure always turns me on.
I saw him sitting on the bed, and wanking himself slowly, while never stopping looking  at me; my Bull reached for my hip and - almost  literally - threw me on their large bed, face down, ass up, softly moaning. The Cuck must have heard me and thus started to caress my head and to gently strobe my hair: I was feeling well and I was at ease and was ready to give them anything they might have asked me.
And what the Bull wanted wasn't much difficult to guess, as I immediately had the distinct feeling of his hands taking my thong apart, without stripping it off of me, and licking my greedy, soft, little hole, while slapping the buttocks from time to time making me moan loudly, at which he always groaned as a sign of appreciation and started licking again.
I glanced at the Cuck: he was smiling. I was too, somehow...
It was then one finger then another fingers then, in what looked to me to be but a bunch of seconds he had worn a condom and had got inside me. He entered softly, but immediately started to pound its large dick inside of me, rapidily bringing me to climaxing loudly and making me shake as if I was shattered. He loves it when I do like that, so he didn't find it a good reason to stop, all the contrary: he got a hold of my hips, lifted me up and started again, with new and fresh vigour.
I couldn't resist it, and I collapsed on the bed, shattered by waves of pleasure making my body tremble with tremors.
He didn't stop at that and just kept fucking me really hard, my legs between his, for a few more minutes, while I was moaning harder and harder, until I screamed, and he did scream too: he'd climaxed and was not laying on me, with no more energies, and yet he was gently caressing my head...
When we woke up and got to dress back - because I really had to go back to the office - I just wispered to me "I like you", and I wispered back "it shows... thanks, anyway" and kissed him.

Out of curiosity.

"Thank you. Very entreprenual, indeed, but fun. And it - definitely - did tickle my self-esteem; it always works: you got my attention".
I had to check it twice before to send it: I wanted to be sure of what I was letting filtering out of me. I wanted to give the anonymous admirer a chance to get back so I had not to nurture my expectations too much, yet signs were this was no mistake.  But I also wanted so badly that it wasn't a mistake...
I got the answer before the remorse of having sent the message had had the time to reach DEFCON 1 warning level...
"I thought I might have copied your number down wrong. I had to learn it at heart because I could not find a pen right in time. My name is Paolo."
Ok, so we then knew we were talking a male. And this made it all more intriguing: I would never have expected such a thing like a man to eavesdrop to guess my phone number so that he could then text me "I found you sexy".
I replied: "Well, you know who I am so I need not introducing myself; you might instead be interested to know that I find it flattering that a man find me sexy enough to try and overhear my phone number, only to let me know he founds me sexy."
Kind. And neat. By then he sure got it that I might be a good catch.
"Did you guess who I am?"
Damn it, no, I didn't know and thies sure had its part in making the first message a surprise: I didn't get any "sneaky glance", nothing of what you may find in erotic novels. I was totally unable to even try to tell how was it that I was messaging with.
"Honest: not at all... How naive of me, isn't it?"
":)"
":)"
... a few, very long, incredibly long couple of minutes...
"Why don't we meet, you may have lunch with me, this time...?" he wrote.
"Ok. What about tomorrow? Same place, same time?" I couldn't ignore the cozy flavour of that  "same place, same time" and again I thought how intriguing all this was.
It took me about 30 seconds to think it, write it, and send it. I was damn curious!

Unexpected.

"Hi. You don't know me; I've seen you at the restaurant and heard you dictating you phone number to your guests. I just wanted you to know how much sexy I think you are".
Really unexpected.

I was talking with this new partner, in the meeting room and I got such a text message on my iPhone. Who in the world was the he? Or she? Or whatever!?
He must have been sitting not far away, though, or I wonder how could have ever listened to me saying to K. my phone number so that he could call me tomorrow morning to arrange for a pick up at the hotel.
A very message going direct to the point, anyway. I appreciated that, and I won't deny I enjoyed the content of it.
It's written in English, he must have thought I was a foreigner, and thought to seize the chance, that it would have been riskless.
Or it could have been some foreigner, here on holiday. Somebody from the campsites around the place here.
Somebody who can make use of punctuation, and likes to use it when texting a message: not a common person.
And a daring one, anyway.

Intriguing, indeed...

The foreigners

"We will be there this week"
"Can we meet?"
I had to reply to him: "how long will you stay?"
"All of this week, can we meet?". He really wanted me...
I could then only say "I don't know, it's a busy week for me here"
"Please do try". Yes, he definitely wanted to lay me down...
"I will try" - I said - "Glad to hear that" - he replied - then we text a smile each.

The "foreigners" are here again. They always call me when they travel around.
And it's always a hard call not to reply to.

Hence, I'm thinking of going there tomorrow, at lunch. I'll try my chances and will text him tomorrow morning, and will see what comes...

The Dark Room.

Spring. 2001. Or 2002, maybe.
So long ago, it's hard being more precise on when it all happened.
But, apart from the exact time of the year or the year we were, I remember all too well what I was doing.

It was a city in in the north west, and I was travelling for business northbound.
It was the time of my life when I was in "wild exploration" mode, and the chat and some specific gay, trans, bisexual web sites were what I was feeding my curiosity with. I did meet many men at that time. I still have a couple of phone numbers, indeed and this fact gives me a chill.
I was having a "relation pornographique" with a married woman, mutually satisfing since she also was so nice to talk and laugh with, and I was putting myself at test on the many roads of kinky: transvestitism, cross dressing, bondage, mental domination, vanilla gay sex...
On one of this chat lines I came to know there was to be a "naked day" on that thursday, in that city, at that gay place.
I had to pass nearby, so I made it so that I would stop there.
I remember parking around, reaching for the door... and then getting back to the car... only to park somewhere else because I knew I wanted to go in and it was meaningless to pretend I didn't.

In fact I did. I did pay my entrance fee, got a towel, a condom, and went to the locker rooms, where other guys were already getting "ready". It was a naked party, so we all were wearing nothing but our shoes.

It then was my first time in a darkroom, a place I didn't know anything about; kind of an easy labirinth, with high, dark walls, with almost no lights but TV broadcasting gay pornos, and some red light here and there. The eye gets quickly used to the dimmed light, though, so apart from a few selected place where it is total darkness - they are meant to be like that! - you know what's going on when you walk among the straits that actually are made of walls of small cubicles where, sooner or later, someone will go.

I couldn't really get how it all worked, I slowly walked around all the place, and first thought that did strike me was that everybody was walking too fast to have the chance to actually meet somebody.
I did walk around a couple of times, slowly, arms slightly open and low as they were they looked as a prey bird's wing, with index fingers writing a silent drawing on the walls.
I did have a short intercourse, just oral sex, in one of the darker region of the labyrith, which proved mostly unsatisfactory: I had had much better time at my place, with a doctor that "used to pay me a visit...".

I didn't know where it came from, and I only think I start to understand it now that I have a name for her, but all of a sudden I just stopped, at the junction of three straits, not far from a double queen size bed no smaller than 13 square feet.
I turned to the darkest of the walls, arms above my head, head slightly leant back, my bare ass protruded towards the "street", legs open wide... and I started to slowly wiggle and moan, as if speaking to myself and showcasing myself.
Didn't take much before somebody noticed me - or just my ass wiggling? - and did caress my buttocks. I moaned even more, and stretched my ass out in search of his hands, which I found. He did rub his cock on my buttocks, and I expressed my appreciation.
I remember turning back to look at him and noticing other bodies, other faces, lurking. Some were close enough for me to reach them - I did choose a narrow junction by instict... - and while some retracted, some other appreciated my interest in their legs, their cocks.
Soon there were no less than two for each of my hand, my mouth, and my ass...
I knew they were giving themselves turns, I was kept "in the right position" by those who were around, and the only thing I wanted to be sure of was if they were wearing a fresh condom, other than that... they could - and they did - dispose of my body at their will.
I did lose any cognition of time, but I could count no less than fifteen people "visiting" and I think everyone around had a go at my hands and mouth before I lost control of my legs and started to shake vigourously and felt on the large bed.... where I laid, for some minutes, arms and leg wide open as if on a St. Andrew's cross, shaking and trembling while some other hands were caressing my skin gently.

No less than six hands, that then reduced to four... which then lifted me up and brought me to that one of the side room where there was a gymnastic horse without pommels and where I was to be laid, legs down, body flat, head out and where the two stud did... abuse of me, with my consent, but with no remaining will to oppose or to decide how and when and who and what.

That had been the most incredibles of the night I have ever had... and which I'll always remember and into which memories I still find refuge, from time to time...

Cross-blogging effect.

I once wrote on some other blog:

I will bow to Mistresses.
And do will respect Masters.
I will please desires and grant
you a sexy wish.

I'll be the lover of a woman. Or of a worthy man.
I'll make (this) life worth living it.

I'm no Vixen. I'm no whore.
I'm a sexy little lady who enjoyes pleasing.
Ask me. Test me. Trust me.
I will make you enjoy it.

*smile*


It was some long time ago, but I think it's the way I live my sexuality. I think it's what he did see in me when he said I'm 50% geisha... and 50% bitch.

I recently wrote:


I trust your appraisal. I entrust in your vision of me and resign into your hands my will. 

Choose the best outfit for me; I'd love to wear what you'd think that best suit me, and that turns you on.

Choose the way you want me to love you; I'll be glad to be yours, pleasing you your way.

Choose to whom you'd want to see me be with; teach me.

E.

... and I thought any single word I wrote her, and chose and picked each word carefully so that I was sure they did best fit my feeling.
I wonder: do they look more geisha's or bitch's words... ?