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... ?

Lie on me.

There's a lot of fuss, recently, on the TV show "Lie to me", and I'll admite I had a second thought when I first heard the name of the TV serie, because what I really love when I'm with a man, is him to lie on me.

While looking for something "graphical" to depict it, I found this (mmm, the blog is nice), and also this other one (oh, goodness!).

As a matter of fact this really is something I long for when I'm with a man. I really enjoy the feeling of being at his disposal, to be his, to be there to please him, and him wanting me to feel I'm his property.
I want him to possess me. And feeling his weight on my body, his arms holding me from beneath, holding my shoulder tight as you would do to hold someone in place makes me squirm and squeak and sometimes... it makes me squirt. Not always, as my orgarm style is rather peculiar, and non-manly - I've been said.

P. knows that at heart. I never had to ask for it. He got to it by himself, not even had I to guide him. And everything from his body size, dick size, hands size and weight is absolutely perfect.
We only had the chance to lie on a bed once, and he "took the position" immediately. He even drove me to that, actually.
Everything felt stronger doing it like that, and I - oh, so much - long for doing it again.
I think I could just be sleeping with him on me, and inside me from time to time, and that  would definetely be the most resting of the nights.

Stress....

I just texted him: "May I ask you to be my anti-stress today? (which is: do make my day, please...)".

There are days when one can only hope to get laid soon, as the only resort to a dreadful night and a dreadful dawn at home, a dreadfully overwhelming morning at the office, and a dreadful feeling that the afternoon won't be any better.

Help me...

Taping vs. tucking

Taping is often done on top of tucking.

It makes everything stay in place much better, gives you a continuous feeling that reminds you who you are, and grants you the bonus of being paying an effort.
It will let you wear literally everything, any garment you might want and you would have that "flat look" you treasure and long for.
And you will be able to pee like a woman, you will look at you pubis and it will just be... empty. It gives you such a feeling! It's priceless.

But, come on! We all know everything has its price, and good things comes at a cost.

You can do a decent, sexy, effective tucking in seconds. I can, at least. You might want to purchase a thong one size smaller (I can actually do without), but that's it.

Not with taping!
It will take, at least, minutes, not seconds. And that's just to do a fair one. A decent one would also mean you found the right tape for you and figured out some tricks. Doing a good one would take your time, and sure you shaved perfectly, and you master the technique and all the tricks.



I think I'll write a note of this very detailled link, just in case I'd need to review it ;-)

Thrill

At the airport, waiting for someone I was asked to go pick up, I had to pay a visit to the toilet.

I reached for the nearest one, in the new wing where I was waiting for this man to arrive, and entered one of the aseptic cubicles modern toiliet are built from.

Once there I kind of had a flash, and I left the door ajar, and did sit, head down looking at my feet, knees touching, peeing with my "little one" still tucked in, better said: trapped in, with the scotch tape holding my male attributes hidden, filling me with shivers and trying to imagine what might happen if somebody had come in...

Regret.

I'd love to go.

I'd want it... so much.



If I'd go, I sure wouldn't behave.
I would sure be a bad girl.
Oh, sure I would.

Temptations

This morning, I had been strongly tempted by the idea of going to the office with my wife's low-waist jeans.
I did let her go to office and went to our room, open her wardrobe and picked that pair of low-waist trousers that does wear so wonderfully on my ass, and looks great when I stay all day long tucked in.

I gave up, of course. I couldn't think of a real good excuse to the eventual questions from my new colleague C. She sure would have noticed it, fabric is the one you wouldn't expect for male trousers, and sure the design of neither the waist (no buttons, super-small pouches, no back pouches, no way to fit a belt in it) nor the leg (so 70's, so Holly Hobbie...) would have gone unnoticed. Even if worn with a jumper over them.

I think I should find a way to do it, though.
And wear it with high heels, too.

If I only had a hourglass figure...

Switch it on

Tucking it is kind of switching something on inside of me.
I am at the mall, I hide from people in the loo and tuck it in, and I get out of the toilet, I exit as if I were different. I am different. I feel different. I walk slightly different.
Each step, when I tuck it in, sends me something less than a shiver, it's as if someone were caressing my intimate place, and my body react posing with a different posture, shorter steps, legs closer one to each other.

And I just can't stop it, and I'd accept being laid right then right there if somebody would be smart enough to note that and to ask.
Well, now you people at the Mall, or anywhere else out there, DO know ;)


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Pandora's jar is flowing....

She kind of set me on a libido path. And - well, yes - I did let her do it.
The special link we share made it easy for her, I could oppose little resistance, since she was entering in me at night, or during the day, through gates that were left unconsciously open.
At time I wasn't even aware of them being there. Of her coming. Some other times, I could barely recognise her "signature", but yet did little - when nothing - to stop her.

And now that she's in, restraining is quite harder. As could have been easily predicted, one would add.

I reached back to my little blue address book, I did revert to "fate" to help me when I had to choose whether I would stop by "that gay spa I know" or not when in town, I texted people I know they were just waiting for a message from me to open the door of their house so that I then would open those of my greedy body.


I met a man of my age for lunch, and - well mannered girls do not kiss at their first appointment - it might have looked as if I did restrain, but I actually did rub my knee on his leg behind the table all of lunch time. And teased him with some messages on this subject afterwards. A teasing he must have appreciate, if we have already scheduled a meeting at "his place", for lunch, later this week.

I opened back my MSN connection and I immediately got an appointment from a sicilian stud, not much tall of a man, but one with a lovely, large, rock solid, long lasting, hard cock. And we scheduled an early morning session.

The jar is ajar...

Feeling frenzy

I'm in the state of mind when I'm more vulnerable to desires.
Lust.
I'm ready to give away my body. I'm willing to do it, indeed.

I learned how to tell when it is about to come: it starts by taking more care into shaving my buttocks, my intimate body parts, goes on by choosing more carefully what kind of underwear to put on, by looking at my body reflected by mirrors more and more often... posing... caressing.

And it can go as far as finding myself logged in on irc cruising channels, where it is mostly the complicate lives of my chat-mates that makes meeting unlikely, surely not my willingness to feel hands caressing my body, exploring my intimate parts, taking control of my body, disposing of it.

I'm kind of a Pandora vase, and I'm a jar... ajar.

I feel it inside.

It's hours now.
I did it this morning, about 10 am, and I did use some tape, because I want to try peeing like that.
At beginning, my "little friend" kind of didn't want to do it, so it stayed half-way hard and sitting had been a nasty feeling for about half a hour.

He finally surrendered, and I could then sit leg crossed, even with left ankle touching my right calf, the most feminine of the positions. I wish I was wearing high heels shoes!

And when walking I distinctly perceive the difference. Not to mention how my slip looks better worn like this.

I think I could get addicted to this feeling. As it has been for having a clean butt, clean scrotum's skin...


UPDATE:
I just went to the loo and had my "intimate time". I have to admit it: I DID enjoy it.

Shopping

Sight-shopping, at least.

There were so many options, so many little treasures to discover.
Yet I definitely would only pick some when enclosed in my avatar.
This one, for example, would do great on Eva D., or rather: it sure it's something of the kind she might already have in her digital wardrobe.

The one here on the left, too, and this one with spiked heel, would make her day with all its tickling tickling toe while walking.

But in Real Life is a much harder choice to make.
Yes, the Paola model, here on the left definitely triggers my submissive part, which is so much Eva, in fact.
But this one here is oh! so feminine. And this one too!
Not to mention THIS one!

How in the world is a girl ever going to choose one?

Let's enumerate what and which details do trigger my fantasies:

• I am not afraid at all of higher heels
• I don't like boots much, unless ankles is kept tight, or it wouldn't look feminine to my eyes
• I don't like platforms
• I'm a bit scared off by sandals, because I kind of am afraid I might find them too... slippery
• I'm not obsessed at all by pointed shoes and would often feel fascinated by "old standards"
• Although I think I'd rather put on closed shoes, open one do often surprise me.
• I am very classical when at choosing colours, and "less is more".
• I'm a bit kinky, but sort of a classical one :)

Oh! How I love them all (almost, of course)!

To tuck or not to tuck

I think I'll explore the possibility of tucking one's own penis... I'm growing more and more curious about the subject...

Does this mean something, or am I just "being frenzy" :)










p.s. Incidentally: I'll meet her tomorrow night. And the night after, and the evening + night after, and the night after again...

p.p.s. I did it. I googled around about it and I found a crossdesser page that explained it all. Maybe even too much: I could achieve a really satisfying effect with less steps, using a paper tape. I particularly like the fact that I could pee as a woman and that, when wearing some nice pants or thongs I could not wear easily, I now get "that perfect look"... :D