logo by Thursday, September 30, 2004
I just wanted to give a quick shout-out to all those girls who like to be topless at home. Whether you are watching TV, eating a snack, reading a book, or whatever. My wife first started doing it when she was nursing our son. She said it was a lot easier and more comfortable than having to deal with nursing bras, tops, etc. And regardless, you know your man appreciates it.
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
I sent naked pics to a girl once. Freshman year in college, when I was 18, I managed to get my name, age, and address published in this cheezy teen heavy metal magazine, and all of a sudden I started getting about 10 letters a day in the mail from teenage girls all over the world who wanted to meet me. I got well over 100 letters in all. Several of them sounded very interesting, and some even asked me to send them a nude picture of myself.
So one afternoon when I was by myself in my dorm room, being my usual horny self and not wanting to disappoint these lovely ladies, I disrobed and proceeded to take a bunch of nude pics using the timer feature on my point-and-shoot camera.
Back then there were no such things as digital cameras so when you got your film developed you only got, at most, two prints of each picture. Wanting to keep one set for myself, I sent the other set out to one lucky girl who was, at the time, 16 years old, and who lived fairly close to where I was going to college. She quickly wrote back and was extremely appreciative. Too appreciative. She said I had "one hot bod," and she wanted to meet me and fuck me silly.
The problem, however, was that at the time I was under the grossly mistaken impression that it was illegal for an 18-year-old to have sex with a 16-year old. And since there were plenty of perfectly willing 18-year-old girls on campus, I decided that this poor 16-year-old was going to have to make do without me.
In retrospect I discovered that the age of consent was actually 16 in that state at that time. And furthermore, it was OK to have sex with any minor above 12 as long as you were no more than four years older than her. But I didn't know that back then, so I declined her offer.
But she wouldn't take no for an answer. She told me she wanted me to take nude pictures of her. She said she was coming to campus and I better have my camera ready. She said her brother lived in my college town and she could just tell her parents that she was staying with him for a few days. The address I had given her was actually a PO box rather than my dorm room, but somehow she got ahold of a university student directory and got my phone number. When she called, I didn't know what to do so I hung up on her. I guess she finally got the message because I never heard from her after that.
I've regretted hanging up on her ever since. From time to time I wonder where she is now and what she's doing. She probably has a husband and kids by now. Hell, she's 32. I wonder if she would still like to fuck me silly. I wonder if I still have her old address somewhere. And even more importantly, I wonder if I still have that extra set of prints. I'm curious to see what I looked like, nude, at 18.
So one afternoon when I was by myself in my dorm room, being my usual horny self and not wanting to disappoint these lovely ladies, I disrobed and proceeded to take a bunch of nude pics using the timer feature on my point-and-shoot camera.
Back then there were no such things as digital cameras so when you got your film developed you only got, at most, two prints of each picture. Wanting to keep one set for myself, I sent the other set out to one lucky girl who was, at the time, 16 years old, and who lived fairly close to where I was going to college. She quickly wrote back and was extremely appreciative. Too appreciative. She said I had "one hot bod," and she wanted to meet me and fuck me silly.
The problem, however, was that at the time I was under the grossly mistaken impression that it was illegal for an 18-year-old to have sex with a 16-year old. And since there were plenty of perfectly willing 18-year-old girls on campus, I decided that this poor 16-year-old was going to have to make do without me.
In retrospect I discovered that the age of consent was actually 16 in that state at that time. And furthermore, it was OK to have sex with any minor above 12 as long as you were no more than four years older than her. But I didn't know that back then, so I declined her offer.
But she wouldn't take no for an answer. She told me she wanted me to take nude pictures of her. She said she was coming to campus and I better have my camera ready. She said her brother lived in my college town and she could just tell her parents that she was staying with him for a few days. The address I had given her was actually a PO box rather than my dorm room, but somehow she got ahold of a university student directory and got my phone number. When she called, I didn't know what to do so I hung up on her. I guess she finally got the message because I never heard from her after that.
I've regretted hanging up on her ever since. From time to time I wonder where she is now and what she's doing. She probably has a husband and kids by now. Hell, she's 32. I wonder if she would still like to fuck me silly. I wonder if I still have her old address somewhere. And even more importantly, I wonder if I still have that extra set of prints. I'm curious to see what I looked like, nude, at 18.
Monday, September 27, 2004
I'm naked right now. I don't want to get dressed. But I have to go to work. I took the morning off partly because I was up too late last night and partly because I wanted to clean the house before my wife gets home (she took the kids to visit her parents). So I've spent the past two and a half hours cleaning in the nude. Nakedness is by far the most comfortable outfit I own. I wish I could wear it more often.
Oh, and by the way, I had a very good time with that beach picture this morning. Seeing as how you girls liked it so much, let's just say that one or two of you were on the beach with me this morning.
Oh, and by the way, I had a very good time with that beach picture this morning. Seeing as how you girls liked it so much, let's just say that one or two of you were on the beach with me this morning.
Sunday, September 26, 2004
Hmmm. Anybody care to join me at the beach next weekend. The weather's still pretty warm.
Saturday, September 25, 2004
I've just discovered that G is posting again. Some people might feel sad for him. I'm happy for him. And I'm jealous. And I'm sad that I'm jealous.
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Just one more quick commment before we head out on our trip.
Is it wrong to be mentally undressing a girl with your eyes when she happens to be a pregnant mom with two kids in tow?
Note to self: Uh, dude, I think she's already taken.
But, damn, she sure was cute. No wonder she's pregnant.
Is it wrong to be mentally undressing a girl with your eyes when she happens to be a pregnant mom with two kids in tow?
Note to self: Uh, dude, I think she's already taken.
But, damn, she sure was cute. No wonder she's pregnant.
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
[Sometimes when I lie awake at night I imagine what it would be like to have an affair. And as I fall asleep these imaginations often turn to dreams. One such dream, a particularly nice one, has recurred several times--most recently last night. So this morning I decided to see if I could put it into words and maybe post it as a story. I had to embellish a little because some of the details aren't clear, but I had no idea it would be this long. I guess when you're asleep at night you've got plenty of time to kill. Anyway, here it is. I'm going away on a little extended weekend vacation with my family tomorrow, so if you want you can read this post in chunks and spread it out until I get back next week. Goodness knows it's long enough. Regardless, I hope everyone has a nice weekend.]
The dream is about a girl that I met from blogging. She doesn't really exist, but rather, she seems to be a composite of several people. She is a second-year grad student at some university out west. For the sake of argument, let's say it's in Seattle, although its not totally clear from the dream. She had a boyfriend for a few years when she was an undergrad but eventually they grew apart and decided to go their separate ways. He meant a lot to her. He was her first boyfriend, and she gave her virginity to him. And although she knows it was time for them to break up she still misses him sometimes. She moved away to Seattle for grad school partly because she wanted to start a new life, a new beginning, in a new city. But like many grad students she discovered that grad school isn't quite the same as undergrad. She lives in an apartment off campus and hasn't had much opportunity to make new friends. She's met a few of the students in her classes, but a lot of them are married and some are starting families, so they don't have much time to socialize. She is a confident, independent young woman, but sometimes she admits that she is a little lonely. Sometimes she longs for the crazy times as an undergrad. All her friends, the parties, her boyfriend. Somehow her small bed seems too big for one person, and some nights she lies awake in bed wishing she had someone to hold her tight.
Of course I have my own kind of loneliness to deal with. I have someone in my bed, and I can hold her any time I want. I can usually even take off her nightie when I feel like I need to have her naked body against me. But that's about where it usually ends, so to me the relationship is incomplete. I need more.
In my dream this girl doesn't have a name, but let's call her Maddie. Maddie and I become good friends through comments, emails, and IM. We like to tease each other. Sometimes things get a little racy, but never quite to the point of cybersex. I find myself checking my email more often because her messages always make me smile. Sometimes we stay up way too late at night IM'ing each other, saying nothing in particular, but keeping each other company. There's no need to hold anything back, so we tell each other a lot--even more than we might share if we were dating. There are no expectations. No plans.
And then one day my boss asks me to go to a week-long conference in Seattle. All of a sudden I feel butterflies in my stomach. Seattle? OMG. Do I tell Maddie? Of course I should, but... Will she want to see me? Should I see her? What would we do together? Meet for lunch? Go out in the evening? I could see things getting out of hand very quickly. Of course I've thought about what it would be like to have sex with her. I've masturbated to a mental image of her, but... Wait a minute, though. I'm jumping the gun here. Maybe she won't even want to see me. Maybe she'll be too busy that week or maybe we'll decide that it's just not a good idea to get together.
But you know that's not what happens. And the next thing I know I'm on a plane to Seattle with Maddie's phone number in my wallet. I'm supposed to call her when I check into my hotel. By then it will be early Monday evening and her classes will be done for the day. We're going to meet for dinner.
I get to my hotel room and unpack my bag. I call my wife to let her know I arrived safely. I tell her I love her. When I hang up the phone I hold my finger on the switchhook for a few moments, nervously playing with the piece of paper that has Maddie's phone number on it. Tentatively I release the switchhook and hear the dial tone. I dial 9 for an outside line. I hang up. What am I doing? I have a wife. I shouldn't be doing this. But Maddie is waiting for my call. And it's just dinner, right? There's no harm in meeting a girl for dinner is there? I complete the call. It's ringing.
"Hello?" Her voice is pretty. Soft. Young.
"Maddie?" I say, "It's KT."
I can tell she's a little nervous too, but she also sounds glad I called. I give her my hotel room number and she says she'll be over in about an hour. Time to kill. Too much time. I turn on the news but I don't hear anything they're saying. I pace around the room. I decide to take a shower and shave. We decided we would dress casually so I put on a pair of cotton slacks and a polo shirt. The clock by the bed says 6:32 when I hear a knock at the door. I open it, and there she is. Just like her picture, but then again not at all like her picture. She has the look of a grad student. Studious, intellectual, very slightly geeky. But beautiful. She's wearing jeans and a long-sleeve shirt that is stretchy, kind of tight, with a boatneck collar that shows off her neck and shoulder blades. We hug. It feels good. Very good. Too good.
I invite her in and ask her where we're going for dinner. That was part of our plan. She has to pick the place since she lives here. But I'm paying since it's really just going on the company per diem anyway. She has made reservations at an Italian place near my hotel which turns out to be excellent. The place is dark and intimate. Brick walls and gas lights give it an older charm. Our table is quiet and secluded with a little candle. There is some initial awkwardness, but that fades and soon we are both feeling relaxed and comfortable. We talk through the meal and before we know it it's time to pay the check. I ask her if there's anyplace we can go for a walk and she suggests the waterfront since it's just a few blocks away. Outside it's misty, not quite drizzling, but enough for a jacket. The water in the air creates a halo affect around the street lamps. Without even really thinking about it I reach for her hand and she accepts it. We walk, hand in hand, down to the piers and along the waterfront, past the shops and the ferry landing. Sometimes talking, sometimes savoring the silence and the sounds of the city at night.
Eventually we stop and turn to face the water. The lights across the sound cast interesting patterns in the wakes of the ferries and other boats. I stand behind her and look over her head. Her hair smells nice, like shampoo, not perfume. I place my hands on her shoulders and she gently leans back against me. My heart is thumping. I'm feeling feelings I haven't felt in years. Slowly I move my hands down along her arms to her waist and then forward, clasping them in front of her. This feels so good. So right. How can something that feels this beautiful be wrong? I move my head down and gently press my lips against the back of her head. She sighs gently and clasps her hands around mine. We stay that way for a long time. And as we stand there, watching the lights of the boats moving back and forth on the water, I make a decision that may well be the most important decision of my life. I'm not going to fight it. Eight years of marriage and I am lonely. I need this. Really, it's come down to this or a divorce, and I don't want a divorce. That would be awful. Bad for the kids. Bad for my wife. Bad for me. Maybe this is the answer. I know it's not ideal. It certainly isn't what I had in mind eight years ago. But then again I also didn't plan on being ignored by my wife.
"Would you like to come back to my room?" I ask, breaking the silence. She turns around and looks up at me. Her eyes are beautiful. She's nervous. She looks down and buries her face in my chest. "I don't know," she says, her voice muffled. "I mean... yes... I do... but..." She looks back up at me. Silently, I reach down and take her hand. She doesn't say anything. We turn and head towards the hotel.
"You know, if we do this," I say, "We can only have this one week. Then it's over. You know that, right? I mean, once I go back home..."
"I know," she says, "The last thing you need is to have me calling you while you're eating dinner with your family. Don't worry, I won't. Once you leave it'll be like it was before. Just IM and stuff."
I think about that for a moment and then say, "It won't be the same."
She doesn't say anything for a few seconds and then, "Maybe not."
We continue on in silence for a few more minutes and then I say, "I've got a wife and kids to go home to. But you, you know, you're here all alone. I want to do this, but I just want to make sure you're up to starting something that's going to end so quickly."
"I'll be OK," she says, looking off into the distance. I can tell she's not sure about it. But I don't know what else to say. We walk the rest of the way to the hotel in silence.
When we get back to the hotel room I put on the "do not disturb" sign and lock the door behind us. But the awkwardness has returned. We sit on the bed making smalltalk, neither one of us wanting to be the first to make a move.
"Would you like a toothbrush?" I ask.
She laughs, "What? Does my breath smell?"
"No!" I say, realizing how that must have sounded. I laugh too. "I was just realizing that you don't have anything with you, and there's one of those complimentary hotel toothbrushes in the bathroom. You know, if you're going to spend the night and all."
"Oh, right." she laughs again. But it's still awkward.
Then I have an idea. "Maybe we shouldn't go too far tonight," I say. "You know? I mean, God knows I want to have sex with you..."
She looks down at her lap and smiles. I think she's blushing. I continue, "But maybe we should just, kind of, take it easy? I do want you to spend the night, though. That is, if you still want to."
She looks back up at me, smiling, "OK," she says. "It feels kind of weird what with you being married and all, and I just... I don't know. I mean..."
"Believe me," I say. "It's not exactly an everyday occurrence for me either! Let's just not push ourselves, OK? I want to enjoy our time together. I don't want it to be stressful."
"OK," she says. "That feels good."
We decide that we should watch a pay-per-view movie. I don't know what movie it is--the dream isn't clear on that--but I'm guessing it's some sort of romance film. At the risk of sounding kind of metrosexual I'll admit that I like romantic movies. Maybe because they fill a gap that's missing in my life. I don't know.
"Do you have a t-shirt I can wear?" she asks as I'm getting the movie set up.
"Yeah. Check in my bag over there. I brought several t-shirts to wear in the evenings, after work."
She finds a shirt that says "Microsoft" on it. "Microsoft?" she asks with a giggle. "That's kind of geeky. Why do you have a Microsoft shirt?"
"It was free," I laugh. "They give them out at these conferences. I got that one a few years ago at a show in Boston."
And then my heart skips a beat as I watch her take off the shirt she's wearing. She has on a plain, white bra with just a tiny bit of lacey trim. Practical. Nothing fancy. I had already noticed her breasts much earlier in the evening. The stretchy shirt she had chosen was very flattering in that respect. She wasn't big. A B-cup? Maybe an A? I'm not too good at determining that sort of thing. Whatever size they are, they are perfect. I have to shift a little to allow some more space in my pants. And the next thing I know she reaches around behind her back and, looking off at nothing in particular, she undoes the clasp, pulls the straps down off her shoulders, and takes off her bra. Then, still looking off into space, she picks up my t-shirt and puts it on. Next, she lies down on the bed, unzips her jeans and pulls them off. She's wearing a pair of plain white cotton bikinis. She then gathers her jeans, her shirt, and her bra up in a ball and tosses them on the other bed.
"I guess I'll go use that toothbrush now," she says, standing up. The big t-shirt looks like a nightshirt on her, coming down to her thighs. She heads for the bathroom. But in the doorway she pauses, turns, and looks back at me, smiling. OK. She knows what she just did to me. Was she teasing me? No. I don't think so. Not really. She seems comfortable now since the pressure of sex has been lifted. I think she really just wanted to show me a bit of her body because she knew I'd like it. I give her a big smile in return and she disappears into the bathroom. While she's in there I change into boxers and a t-shirt. The movie is about to start so I turn down the lights and hop into bed. In a minute she comes out of the bathroom and climbs into bed with me.
Under the covers, sitting up against a pillow, with Maddie snuggled against my shoulder I feel like I haven't felt in years. I feel like a teenager again. I put my arm around her and she snuggles a little closer. After the movie we fall asleep in each other's arms. It is the best sleep I've had in a long time.
For the next four days things continue in largely the same pattern. During the day I attend the conference and she goes to class. In the evening we get together. It's clear that, even though she's lived here for over a year, she really doesn't know too much about the city. What little exploring she's done has been mostly on her own with no one to show her around. And even that has been limited as she has spent the majority of her time focused on her school work. But this week is different. Almost like a vacation. She lets a few things slide at school, and the two of us spend our evenings checking out the city. One evening we take a car ferry across the sound and stop for dinner at a waterfront seafood restaurant on the other side. Another evening we explore the Space Needle. And another evening we just drive out into the suburbs with no particular destination in mind, ending up at a nondescript chain restaurant. But it doesn't matter what we do. The fun comes from just being together. At night, back at my hotel room, we cuddle and fall asleep together, exploring a little bit, but holding back at the same time. We briefly consider spending a night at her place, but then I realize that I have to stay at the hotel in case my wife should call in the middle of the night. I call my wife each night while Maddie sits on the bed and listens, sometimes smiling. She especially likes to hear me talk to my kids.
The days at the conference go by slowly, but the nights go by fast. And before long it is late Friday evening and she's sitting there on the bed wearing the same "Microsoft" t-shirt that she's worn every night this week. She watches as I pack for my return flight the next morning.
"I better call the front desk and make sure I can get a taxi to the airport tomorrow," I say.
"No. I'm driving you, silly," she says, "I'm not gonna let you disappear that easily."
"Oh, OK. Are you sure? You'll miss your first class."
"I'm sure," she says.
Then it finally hits me. Our week is over. Tomorrow I'll be heading home. And the reality of it is that I may never see Maddie again. Suddenly I feel an incredible wave of sadness come over me. I look over at her and I realize that she feels it too.
"It's been so fun this week, Maddie. I don't want to go home."
"I don't want you to go," she says quietly. "But there's no two ways about it. You have to go. Your kids are waiting for you. Your wife is waiting for you."
"We may never see each other again," I say.
There is a long silence as I finish packing. She continues to sit on the bed, watching. And then, as I finish putting the last item in my bag I hear her say my name, but it sounds funny. She clears her throat and says it again, "KT?"
I look over at her. And then, looking back at me, she slowly and deliberately takes off the "Microsoft" shirt. She wads it up in a ball and holds it tightly in her lap, still looking at me. "Come here," she says, her voice seeming to shake a little.
And once again I am struck by her plain, no-frills beauty as she sits there. Her hair down around her shoulders. The piercing, determined gaze of her pretty eyes. The pale skin of her naked chest. The soft pink of her nipples. Her bare legs, crossed indian style. And those white cotton bikini undies, hidden mostly by the balled-up t-shirt that she is clutching so tightly.
There is no stopping this time. No more hesitation. I climb onto the bed and kneel in front of her.
"I'm ready now," she whispers.
"We're both ready," I say.
Normally some sort of foreplay would be in order, but I realize that that's what we've been doing all week. All week long we've been skirting around the issue of sex. Flirting. Teasing. And now the desire is so strong that it is crushing. Burning. The need to physically bond is overpowering. She is so ready. Before I know it I have laid her down on her back. Her bikinis are off. My t-shirt and boxers are off. I move to spread her legs, but she beats me to it, lying there open for me. And as I thrust into her our eyes lock and we become as one. Feeling the same feelings. Thinking the same thoughts. When we cum it is like nothing either of us has ever felt before. And as she screams I see the tears running down her face.
We give each other everything that night. Over and over our bodies convulse with orgasms as we taste and touch and explore. And in the pre-dawn hour when we finally fall asleep we hold each other so tightly, never wanting to let go.
Later, at the airport, the tears come again. This time for both of us. We hold each other tight for what seems like an eternity. But eventually the plane is ready to depart. I am the last one to board, and as I walk down the gangway and turn the corner I look back and wave. I almost can't handle it. The image of her standing there at the other end of the gangway with her hand in the air and tears in her eyes will be forever engraved in my mind.
I am in a trance most of the way home. But as the plane starts to descend and I see the familiar landscape of my city a wave of happiness overcomes me. Maybe things will be different now. After all, I got what I wanted, right? As the plane taxis to the gate I make a vow to myself. From now on my marriage will be better. I will try to love my wife for what she can give me, and I will stop keeping score. I won't tell her about my affair with Maddie. Some people would say that's wrong. But there are worse wrongs. And frankly, if this wrong keeps us from divorce then maybe it's not so wrong after all.
When I come in the door at home they're all waiting for me. There are hugs for everyone. But the biggest, longest hug is for my wife. For the first time in a long time I am genuinely happy to be in her arms.
And as the days turn to months and the months turn to years, things do get better. The kids get older and easier to handle. Our stress levels drop. And wouldn't you know it, my wife's desire for sex actually begins to come back.
Do I have other affairs? Yes. A few. Once you start it's hard to stop. But they happen less and less as time goes on. And Maddie? I never do see her again. But we remain friends. It is different than it was before, but it's still fun to IM her from time to time. Eventually she gets married and I don't hear from her so much anymore. But I think she's happy. She would tell me if she wasn't.
Oh, and she still has the "Microsoft" shirt. She says she wears it to bed sometimes when her husband is out of town.
[Well, there you go. That's the dream. I'm glad I wrote it down. I like most of it. But in a way it's kind of sad too. I'm not sure I like the way it ends so abruptly with Maddie. Anyway, see you next week.]
The dream is about a girl that I met from blogging. She doesn't really exist, but rather, she seems to be a composite of several people. She is a second-year grad student at some university out west. For the sake of argument, let's say it's in Seattle, although its not totally clear from the dream. She had a boyfriend for a few years when she was an undergrad but eventually they grew apart and decided to go their separate ways. He meant a lot to her. He was her first boyfriend, and she gave her virginity to him. And although she knows it was time for them to break up she still misses him sometimes. She moved away to Seattle for grad school partly because she wanted to start a new life, a new beginning, in a new city. But like many grad students she discovered that grad school isn't quite the same as undergrad. She lives in an apartment off campus and hasn't had much opportunity to make new friends. She's met a few of the students in her classes, but a lot of them are married and some are starting families, so they don't have much time to socialize. She is a confident, independent young woman, but sometimes she admits that she is a little lonely. Sometimes she longs for the crazy times as an undergrad. All her friends, the parties, her boyfriend. Somehow her small bed seems too big for one person, and some nights she lies awake in bed wishing she had someone to hold her tight.
Of course I have my own kind of loneliness to deal with. I have someone in my bed, and I can hold her any time I want. I can usually even take off her nightie when I feel like I need to have her naked body against me. But that's about where it usually ends, so to me the relationship is incomplete. I need more.
In my dream this girl doesn't have a name, but let's call her Maddie. Maddie and I become good friends through comments, emails, and IM. We like to tease each other. Sometimes things get a little racy, but never quite to the point of cybersex. I find myself checking my email more often because her messages always make me smile. Sometimes we stay up way too late at night IM'ing each other, saying nothing in particular, but keeping each other company. There's no need to hold anything back, so we tell each other a lot--even more than we might share if we were dating. There are no expectations. No plans.
And then one day my boss asks me to go to a week-long conference in Seattle. All of a sudden I feel butterflies in my stomach. Seattle? OMG. Do I tell Maddie? Of course I should, but... Will she want to see me? Should I see her? What would we do together? Meet for lunch? Go out in the evening? I could see things getting out of hand very quickly. Of course I've thought about what it would be like to have sex with her. I've masturbated to a mental image of her, but... Wait a minute, though. I'm jumping the gun here. Maybe she won't even want to see me. Maybe she'll be too busy that week or maybe we'll decide that it's just not a good idea to get together.
But you know that's not what happens. And the next thing I know I'm on a plane to Seattle with Maddie's phone number in my wallet. I'm supposed to call her when I check into my hotel. By then it will be early Monday evening and her classes will be done for the day. We're going to meet for dinner.
I get to my hotel room and unpack my bag. I call my wife to let her know I arrived safely. I tell her I love her. When I hang up the phone I hold my finger on the switchhook for a few moments, nervously playing with the piece of paper that has Maddie's phone number on it. Tentatively I release the switchhook and hear the dial tone. I dial 9 for an outside line. I hang up. What am I doing? I have a wife. I shouldn't be doing this. But Maddie is waiting for my call. And it's just dinner, right? There's no harm in meeting a girl for dinner is there? I complete the call. It's ringing.
"Hello?" Her voice is pretty. Soft. Young.
"Maddie?" I say, "It's KT."
I can tell she's a little nervous too, but she also sounds glad I called. I give her my hotel room number and she says she'll be over in about an hour. Time to kill. Too much time. I turn on the news but I don't hear anything they're saying. I pace around the room. I decide to take a shower and shave. We decided we would dress casually so I put on a pair of cotton slacks and a polo shirt. The clock by the bed says 6:32 when I hear a knock at the door. I open it, and there she is. Just like her picture, but then again not at all like her picture. She has the look of a grad student. Studious, intellectual, very slightly geeky. But beautiful. She's wearing jeans and a long-sleeve shirt that is stretchy, kind of tight, with a boatneck collar that shows off her neck and shoulder blades. We hug. It feels good. Very good. Too good.
I invite her in and ask her where we're going for dinner. That was part of our plan. She has to pick the place since she lives here. But I'm paying since it's really just going on the company per diem anyway. She has made reservations at an Italian place near my hotel which turns out to be excellent. The place is dark and intimate. Brick walls and gas lights give it an older charm. Our table is quiet and secluded with a little candle. There is some initial awkwardness, but that fades and soon we are both feeling relaxed and comfortable. We talk through the meal and before we know it it's time to pay the check. I ask her if there's anyplace we can go for a walk and she suggests the waterfront since it's just a few blocks away. Outside it's misty, not quite drizzling, but enough for a jacket. The water in the air creates a halo affect around the street lamps. Without even really thinking about it I reach for her hand and she accepts it. We walk, hand in hand, down to the piers and along the waterfront, past the shops and the ferry landing. Sometimes talking, sometimes savoring the silence and the sounds of the city at night.
Eventually we stop and turn to face the water. The lights across the sound cast interesting patterns in the wakes of the ferries and other boats. I stand behind her and look over her head. Her hair smells nice, like shampoo, not perfume. I place my hands on her shoulders and she gently leans back against me. My heart is thumping. I'm feeling feelings I haven't felt in years. Slowly I move my hands down along her arms to her waist and then forward, clasping them in front of her. This feels so good. So right. How can something that feels this beautiful be wrong? I move my head down and gently press my lips against the back of her head. She sighs gently and clasps her hands around mine. We stay that way for a long time. And as we stand there, watching the lights of the boats moving back and forth on the water, I make a decision that may well be the most important decision of my life. I'm not going to fight it. Eight years of marriage and I am lonely. I need this. Really, it's come down to this or a divorce, and I don't want a divorce. That would be awful. Bad for the kids. Bad for my wife. Bad for me. Maybe this is the answer. I know it's not ideal. It certainly isn't what I had in mind eight years ago. But then again I also didn't plan on being ignored by my wife.
"Would you like to come back to my room?" I ask, breaking the silence. She turns around and looks up at me. Her eyes are beautiful. She's nervous. She looks down and buries her face in my chest. "I don't know," she says, her voice muffled. "I mean... yes... I do... but..." She looks back up at me. Silently, I reach down and take her hand. She doesn't say anything. We turn and head towards the hotel.
"You know, if we do this," I say, "We can only have this one week. Then it's over. You know that, right? I mean, once I go back home..."
"I know," she says, "The last thing you need is to have me calling you while you're eating dinner with your family. Don't worry, I won't. Once you leave it'll be like it was before. Just IM and stuff."
I think about that for a moment and then say, "It won't be the same."
She doesn't say anything for a few seconds and then, "Maybe not."
We continue on in silence for a few more minutes and then I say, "I've got a wife and kids to go home to. But you, you know, you're here all alone. I want to do this, but I just want to make sure you're up to starting something that's going to end so quickly."
"I'll be OK," she says, looking off into the distance. I can tell she's not sure about it. But I don't know what else to say. We walk the rest of the way to the hotel in silence.
When we get back to the hotel room I put on the "do not disturb" sign and lock the door behind us. But the awkwardness has returned. We sit on the bed making smalltalk, neither one of us wanting to be the first to make a move.
"Would you like a toothbrush?" I ask.
She laughs, "What? Does my breath smell?"
"No!" I say, realizing how that must have sounded. I laugh too. "I was just realizing that you don't have anything with you, and there's one of those complimentary hotel toothbrushes in the bathroom. You know, if you're going to spend the night and all."
"Oh, right." she laughs again. But it's still awkward.
Then I have an idea. "Maybe we shouldn't go too far tonight," I say. "You know? I mean, God knows I want to have sex with you..."
She looks down at her lap and smiles. I think she's blushing. I continue, "But maybe we should just, kind of, take it easy? I do want you to spend the night, though. That is, if you still want to."
She looks back up at me, smiling, "OK," she says. "It feels kind of weird what with you being married and all, and I just... I don't know. I mean..."
"Believe me," I say. "It's not exactly an everyday occurrence for me either! Let's just not push ourselves, OK? I want to enjoy our time together. I don't want it to be stressful."
"OK," she says. "That feels good."
We decide that we should watch a pay-per-view movie. I don't know what movie it is--the dream isn't clear on that--but I'm guessing it's some sort of romance film. At the risk of sounding kind of metrosexual I'll admit that I like romantic movies. Maybe because they fill a gap that's missing in my life. I don't know.
"Do you have a t-shirt I can wear?" she asks as I'm getting the movie set up.
"Yeah. Check in my bag over there. I brought several t-shirts to wear in the evenings, after work."
She finds a shirt that says "Microsoft" on it. "Microsoft?" she asks with a giggle. "That's kind of geeky. Why do you have a Microsoft shirt?"
"It was free," I laugh. "They give them out at these conferences. I got that one a few years ago at a show in Boston."
And then my heart skips a beat as I watch her take off the shirt she's wearing. She has on a plain, white bra with just a tiny bit of lacey trim. Practical. Nothing fancy. I had already noticed her breasts much earlier in the evening. The stretchy shirt she had chosen was very flattering in that respect. She wasn't big. A B-cup? Maybe an A? I'm not too good at determining that sort of thing. Whatever size they are, they are perfect. I have to shift a little to allow some more space in my pants. And the next thing I know she reaches around behind her back and, looking off at nothing in particular, she undoes the clasp, pulls the straps down off her shoulders, and takes off her bra. Then, still looking off into space, she picks up my t-shirt and puts it on. Next, she lies down on the bed, unzips her jeans and pulls them off. She's wearing a pair of plain white cotton bikinis. She then gathers her jeans, her shirt, and her bra up in a ball and tosses them on the other bed.
"I guess I'll go use that toothbrush now," she says, standing up. The big t-shirt looks like a nightshirt on her, coming down to her thighs. She heads for the bathroom. But in the doorway she pauses, turns, and looks back at me, smiling. OK. She knows what she just did to me. Was she teasing me? No. I don't think so. Not really. She seems comfortable now since the pressure of sex has been lifted. I think she really just wanted to show me a bit of her body because she knew I'd like it. I give her a big smile in return and she disappears into the bathroom. While she's in there I change into boxers and a t-shirt. The movie is about to start so I turn down the lights and hop into bed. In a minute she comes out of the bathroom and climbs into bed with me.
Under the covers, sitting up against a pillow, with Maddie snuggled against my shoulder I feel like I haven't felt in years. I feel like a teenager again. I put my arm around her and she snuggles a little closer. After the movie we fall asleep in each other's arms. It is the best sleep I've had in a long time.
For the next four days things continue in largely the same pattern. During the day I attend the conference and she goes to class. In the evening we get together. It's clear that, even though she's lived here for over a year, she really doesn't know too much about the city. What little exploring she's done has been mostly on her own with no one to show her around. And even that has been limited as she has spent the majority of her time focused on her school work. But this week is different. Almost like a vacation. She lets a few things slide at school, and the two of us spend our evenings checking out the city. One evening we take a car ferry across the sound and stop for dinner at a waterfront seafood restaurant on the other side. Another evening we explore the Space Needle. And another evening we just drive out into the suburbs with no particular destination in mind, ending up at a nondescript chain restaurant. But it doesn't matter what we do. The fun comes from just being together. At night, back at my hotel room, we cuddle and fall asleep together, exploring a little bit, but holding back at the same time. We briefly consider spending a night at her place, but then I realize that I have to stay at the hotel in case my wife should call in the middle of the night. I call my wife each night while Maddie sits on the bed and listens, sometimes smiling. She especially likes to hear me talk to my kids.
The days at the conference go by slowly, but the nights go by fast. And before long it is late Friday evening and she's sitting there on the bed wearing the same "Microsoft" t-shirt that she's worn every night this week. She watches as I pack for my return flight the next morning.
"I better call the front desk and make sure I can get a taxi to the airport tomorrow," I say.
"No. I'm driving you, silly," she says, "I'm not gonna let you disappear that easily."
"Oh, OK. Are you sure? You'll miss your first class."
"I'm sure," she says.
Then it finally hits me. Our week is over. Tomorrow I'll be heading home. And the reality of it is that I may never see Maddie again. Suddenly I feel an incredible wave of sadness come over me. I look over at her and I realize that she feels it too.
"It's been so fun this week, Maddie. I don't want to go home."
"I don't want you to go," she says quietly. "But there's no two ways about it. You have to go. Your kids are waiting for you. Your wife is waiting for you."
"We may never see each other again," I say.
There is a long silence as I finish packing. She continues to sit on the bed, watching. And then, as I finish putting the last item in my bag I hear her say my name, but it sounds funny. She clears her throat and says it again, "KT?"
I look over at her. And then, looking back at me, she slowly and deliberately takes off the "Microsoft" shirt. She wads it up in a ball and holds it tightly in her lap, still looking at me. "Come here," she says, her voice seeming to shake a little.
And once again I am struck by her plain, no-frills beauty as she sits there. Her hair down around her shoulders. The piercing, determined gaze of her pretty eyes. The pale skin of her naked chest. The soft pink of her nipples. Her bare legs, crossed indian style. And those white cotton bikini undies, hidden mostly by the balled-up t-shirt that she is clutching so tightly.
There is no stopping this time. No more hesitation. I climb onto the bed and kneel in front of her.
"I'm ready now," she whispers.
"We're both ready," I say.
Normally some sort of foreplay would be in order, but I realize that that's what we've been doing all week. All week long we've been skirting around the issue of sex. Flirting. Teasing. And now the desire is so strong that it is crushing. Burning. The need to physically bond is overpowering. She is so ready. Before I know it I have laid her down on her back. Her bikinis are off. My t-shirt and boxers are off. I move to spread her legs, but she beats me to it, lying there open for me. And as I thrust into her our eyes lock and we become as one. Feeling the same feelings. Thinking the same thoughts. When we cum it is like nothing either of us has ever felt before. And as she screams I see the tears running down her face.
We give each other everything that night. Over and over our bodies convulse with orgasms as we taste and touch and explore. And in the pre-dawn hour when we finally fall asleep we hold each other so tightly, never wanting to let go.
Later, at the airport, the tears come again. This time for both of us. We hold each other tight for what seems like an eternity. But eventually the plane is ready to depart. I am the last one to board, and as I walk down the gangway and turn the corner I look back and wave. I almost can't handle it. The image of her standing there at the other end of the gangway with her hand in the air and tears in her eyes will be forever engraved in my mind.
I am in a trance most of the way home. But as the plane starts to descend and I see the familiar landscape of my city a wave of happiness overcomes me. Maybe things will be different now. After all, I got what I wanted, right? As the plane taxis to the gate I make a vow to myself. From now on my marriage will be better. I will try to love my wife for what she can give me, and I will stop keeping score. I won't tell her about my affair with Maddie. Some people would say that's wrong. But there are worse wrongs. And frankly, if this wrong keeps us from divorce then maybe it's not so wrong after all.
When I come in the door at home they're all waiting for me. There are hugs for everyone. But the biggest, longest hug is for my wife. For the first time in a long time I am genuinely happy to be in her arms.
And as the days turn to months and the months turn to years, things do get better. The kids get older and easier to handle. Our stress levels drop. And wouldn't you know it, my wife's desire for sex actually begins to come back.
Do I have other affairs? Yes. A few. Once you start it's hard to stop. But they happen less and less as time goes on. And Maddie? I never do see her again. But we remain friends. It is different than it was before, but it's still fun to IM her from time to time. Eventually she gets married and I don't hear from her so much anymore. But I think she's happy. She would tell me if she wasn't.
Oh, and she still has the "Microsoft" shirt. She says she wears it to bed sometimes when her husband is out of town.
[Well, there you go. That's the dream. I'm glad I wrote it down. I like most of it. But in a way it's kind of sad too. I'm not sure I like the way it ends so abruptly with Maddie. Anyway, see you next week.]
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Hmmm. It's been a while. I think it's time for a rant about marriage.
I'm dropping a little card in the mail today for my wife. It's one of those any-occasion just-wanted-to-say-I-love-you cards. I send them to her from time to time when she's least expecting it. I like to surprise her and make her feel loved. Add to that the flowers that I give her, roughly once a month. And the fact that I spend more quality time with our kids than any dad I know. And the fact that when I am home I am almost always either playing with the kids, doing housework, yardwork, cooking, washing dishes, laundry, grocery shopping, fixing one of the cars, or some such thing. I virtually never watch TV anymore. And I only ever sit down to read a book or use the computer after we've put the kids to bed. Ditto for going out with my friends--I only do it after everything else has been wrapped up for the evening and the kids are asleep. And yet I encourage her to go out and see her friends whenever she wants, even if it's not very convenient for me. I tell her I love her. I tell her she's pretty. I tell her she's a great mom. Honestly I can't really imagine how I could do anything more to be a better, more loving husband or father.
All this and yet why can't I get any sex? It's not like I'm some sort of clueless clod who just wants to ram her with my dick. I've very sensitive to her wants and desires. I make love to her whole body. I really go out of my way to make her feel good.
I swear I wouldn't ask for anything else from her and I would be forever faithful to her if I could just have some really hot sex a couple times a week. I even told her that earlier this year when she asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I said I didn't care about presents or a cake or my favorite meal. Just give me an amorous wife who likes to romp around a little between the sheets. Sheesh. Is that so much to ask for?
OK. End of rant. Calming down... Back to work...
I'm dropping a little card in the mail today for my wife. It's one of those any-occasion just-wanted-to-say-I-love-you cards. I send them to her from time to time when she's least expecting it. I like to surprise her and make her feel loved. Add to that the flowers that I give her, roughly once a month. And the fact that I spend more quality time with our kids than any dad I know. And the fact that when I am home I am almost always either playing with the kids, doing housework, yardwork, cooking, washing dishes, laundry, grocery shopping, fixing one of the cars, or some such thing. I virtually never watch TV anymore. And I only ever sit down to read a book or use the computer after we've put the kids to bed. Ditto for going out with my friends--I only do it after everything else has been wrapped up for the evening and the kids are asleep. And yet I encourage her to go out and see her friends whenever she wants, even if it's not very convenient for me. I tell her I love her. I tell her she's pretty. I tell her she's a great mom. Honestly I can't really imagine how I could do anything more to be a better, more loving husband or father.
All this and yet why can't I get any sex? It's not like I'm some sort of clueless clod who just wants to ram her with my dick. I've very sensitive to her wants and desires. I make love to her whole body. I really go out of my way to make her feel good.
I swear I wouldn't ask for anything else from her and I would be forever faithful to her if I could just have some really hot sex a couple times a week. I even told her that earlier this year when she asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I said I didn't care about presents or a cake or my favorite meal. Just give me an amorous wife who likes to romp around a little between the sheets. Sheesh. Is that so much to ask for?
OK. End of rant. Calming down... Back to work...
Monday, September 20, 2004
A couple of observations, plus a question for everyone.
The other day when we dropped our daughter off for her first day of preschool the parents were supposed to go into another room for an information session. Aside from noticing that I was just about the only dad there, I also noticed that all the moms in the room, with the sole exception of my wife, were quite unattractive. And that got me to wondering: were these women always so unattractive, or did they just get that way as they got older? Were we in the wrong room? Was there another room down the hall for attractive parents?
Then, last night we went out to dinner and it just so happened that there was an entire girls softball team, plus parents, siting at the next table. There were roughly 15-20 girls in their early teens and a more or less equal number of parents all sitting at a very long table. And wouldn't you know it, once again the moms were barely even average in the looks department, with some of them bordering on wolf-ugly. But yet their daughters were cute--every single one of them. Even the plainest of the girls was quite pleasant-looking. They say that if you want to know what your girlfriend is going to look like when she gets older you should look at her mom. Scary. It's dissapointing to think of all these cute kids morphing into hideous old hags as they approach their 30's and 40's.
But wait a second. My wife is cute. And my boss' wife is cute. In fact some of the guys here at work have wives that make me think I could totally be into spouse-swapping if I could convince my wife to go for it. And the girls I knew from college were still cute when I saw them at my 10th reunion a couple years ago. And the pasty-white chick who always hung out in my dorm room but would never fuck me was still cute when I got together with her for a few drinks earlier this year (I still couldn't get her to fuck me, though). So clearly it's possible to still look good--very good--at 30, and even into your 40s.
Looking back on it I realize that when I was a teenager most of the girls my age were very pretty. And even the rest weren't half bad. But, now I'm starting to realize that the majority of girls my age are just not holding together well.
So where am I going with this? I want to hear some opinions on how us guys are holding up. From a girl's perspective does the average 30, 40, or even 50 year old guy look hot to you? Or are they mostly just messed-up tubs of lard. And what about the younger guys? Are they all hot? If someone offered to set you up on a blind date but you had to pick his age, what age would you pick? Who do you feel more relaxed hanging out with? Who would you most want to marry? And, of course, who's better in bed?
Oh, and, if there are any guys reading, please feel free to comment too. What do you think is the best age for pussy?
The other day when we dropped our daughter off for her first day of preschool the parents were supposed to go into another room for an information session. Aside from noticing that I was just about the only dad there, I also noticed that all the moms in the room, with the sole exception of my wife, were quite unattractive. And that got me to wondering: were these women always so unattractive, or did they just get that way as they got older? Were we in the wrong room? Was there another room down the hall for attractive parents?
Then, last night we went out to dinner and it just so happened that there was an entire girls softball team, plus parents, siting at the next table. There were roughly 15-20 girls in their early teens and a more or less equal number of parents all sitting at a very long table. And wouldn't you know it, once again the moms were barely even average in the looks department, with some of them bordering on wolf-ugly. But yet their daughters were cute--every single one of them. Even the plainest of the girls was quite pleasant-looking. They say that if you want to know what your girlfriend is going to look like when she gets older you should look at her mom. Scary. It's dissapointing to think of all these cute kids morphing into hideous old hags as they approach their 30's and 40's.
But wait a second. My wife is cute. And my boss' wife is cute. In fact some of the guys here at work have wives that make me think I could totally be into spouse-swapping if I could convince my wife to go for it. And the girls I knew from college were still cute when I saw them at my 10th reunion a couple years ago. And the pasty-white chick who always hung out in my dorm room but would never fuck me was still cute when I got together with her for a few drinks earlier this year (I still couldn't get her to fuck me, though). So clearly it's possible to still look good--very good--at 30, and even into your 40s.
Looking back on it I realize that when I was a teenager most of the girls my age were very pretty. And even the rest weren't half bad. But, now I'm starting to realize that the majority of girls my age are just not holding together well.
So where am I going with this? I want to hear some opinions on how us guys are holding up. From a girl's perspective does the average 30, 40, or even 50 year old guy look hot to you? Or are they mostly just messed-up tubs of lard. And what about the younger guys? Are they all hot? If someone offered to set you up on a blind date but you had to pick his age, what age would you pick? Who do you feel more relaxed hanging out with? Who would you most want to marry? And, of course, who's better in bed?
Oh, and, if there are any guys reading, please feel free to comment too. What do you think is the best age for pussy?
Saturday, September 18, 2004
I've changed my email address to playwithandy [at] gmail [dot] com. Since it's not quite as racy as koochietaster I should be able to check it from work which will help me reply to you sooner. Plus I like Gmail's interface better than Yahoo's. So if you're sending me an email be sure to use the new account. I'll be retiring the old one.
Friday, September 17, 2004
My wife and I were talking the other day and I was mentioning to her how most guys at anyplace I've ever worked tend to talk a lot about sex when their female coworkers aren't around. She didn't believe me, or rather, she suggested that maybe it was just the guys who hang around me. Go figure. But I've worked at three different companies over the years and at each one I can recall having some pretty graphic conversations, not initiated by me, mind you. And I find it hard to believe that I, alone, am somehow responsible for this sort of thing. Believe it or not, I tend to put out a pretty conservative image at work. Of course, when, inevitably, someone comes up to me and starts describing how he poured champagne down his wife's stomach last saturday and drank it as it dripped from her pussy, or describes how he nearly blew the back of her head off this morning while she was giving him a blowjob, or how he'd like to lay the hot secretary down on the copy machine and eat her out while making copies of her ass, I'm all for continuing the discussion. So maybe I perpetuate this sort of thing, but I swear I don't start it in the first place. Anyway, I told my wife that her boss, back when she was still working, probably used to sit around with the guys and talk about how he wanted to bend her over her desk. But she absolutely insisted that there was no way her boss would ever talk like that about her. Yeah, right. Not that I'm necessarily condoning such talk, but to say it doesn't happen is, well, pretty naive.
But what I don't know is whether the girls in the office are guilty of having the same sort of conversations...
But what I don't know is whether the girls in the office are guilty of having the same sort of conversations...
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
I really, really, really would like a blowjob right now. It's on my mind today because we were at a restaurant last night and this beautiful young girl at the next table had a tounge piercing with a nice big stainless steel ball stud. I was getting all squirmy and bothered every time she opened her mouth, thinking about how nice that ball would feel bumping against the underside of my cock. She was with four older people who I'm guessing were her parents and one set of grandparents, and she was making it completely obvious that she was bored out of her mind. She kept sighing and rolling her eyes every time one of them tried to talk to her. Clearly she wanted everyone to know that she had much better places to be than sitting in a restaurant with these older people. After a while she and I started stealing glances at each other, and for the rest of the meal she had me totally under her spell with that damn tounge. She probably knew exactly what she was doing, teasing me, but damn if I didn't have to run to the bathroom and yank one out the moment we got home.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
I know who you are baby
I know what they call you girl
Never put you down baby
I'm just like you baby, I'm on the hunt
-Lynyrd Skynyrd
I know what they call you girl
Never put you down baby
I'm just like you baby, I'm on the hunt
-Lynyrd Skynyrd
Saturday, September 11, 2004
For me it was something I didn't realize until years later. It wasn't my first sexual experience. It wasn't the best (although it was pretty damn good). And it didn't even involve intercourse. But looking back at it I have decided that I lost my virginity with my first college girlfriend on the night that I met her. I met her at a party. We got to talking. At some point a guy walked into the room and when she looked at him she immediately burst into tears and ran out of the room. He looked at me and I looked at him. He just shrugged and walked past me, so I left the room to see if I could catch up with the girl. When I found her she had left the house and was outside sitting on the curb, sobbing uncontrollably. I sat down next to her and didn't say anything for a long time. As her tears subsided she started to talk. Apparently the guy who had walked into the room was her ex-boyfriend. He had dumped her because she wouldn't have sex with him. So we sat there on the curb. She told me she was a good girl. A virgin. She barely knew me but she told me a lot of personal things while we sat on that curb. I didn't say much. Just sat there and listened, occasionally making a comment here and there. Eventually she said she was chilly but she didn't want to go back to the party. She asked if I had a car. I did, so we went and sat in the car for a while and talked a little more. After a while I said it was getting late and I had better head on home. I offered to walk her back to the party if it was still going on. She said "No thanks," but she didn't get out of the car. I asked if I could drive her back to her dorm. She said no. She just sat there. So I started the car, pulled out into the street, and headed back to my own dorm. Halfway home I asked again if I could take her home. "No thanks, is it OK if I just go to your place?" she asked. Her eyes were still red from crying, so I was a little curious as to where this was leading. When we got back to my dorm room I told her she could crash on my roommate's bed if she wanted to. He was home visiting his parents for the weekend. I found two pairs of boxers and two t-shirts. I handed one set to her in case she wanted to change into something more comfortable. Then I went down the hall to the bathroom to brush my teeth and change into the other set. When I got back to the room she had changed into the boxers and t-shirt and was in my bed. Yes, my bed. And she was asleep. I crawled into bed next to her and turned out the light.
When I woke up the next morning she was already awake, lying on her back, looking at me across the pillow. She smiled. I propped myself up on my elbow and reached over to put my hand on her far shoulder. I realized that she must have taken off her bra before putting on the t-shirt. As I caressed her shoulder I decided to take a gamble. I leaned down and kissed her on the lips. She kissed back. She opened her mouth and our tongues met. And as we kissed she reached one hand up under my shirt, gently touching my side and back. I moved over, climbing on top of her, and slid my hands under her shoulders. She reached her other hand up and under my shirt and tugged it up ever so slightly. I took that as a cue and, pulling my mouth away from hers, I sat up briefly, kneeling astride her hips, and lifted my shirt up and off. I smiled down at her and she smiled back, lifting her hands up to touch my chest and then around behind my back, pulling me towards her. I reached down with both hands and lightly brushed them against the sides of her breasts, cupping them ever so slightly through the soft white cotton of the t-shirt. She closed her eyes and sighed. Her arms dropped back down onto the bed and she reached back and clasped her hands behind her head. Her nipples were now hard and easy to make out against the thin material. I traced them with my fingers, playing with them a little. She giggled and looked up at the ceiling, biting her lip. I slid my hands up along her arms, leaning down to kiss her again. And then, sliding down towards the foot of the bed, I lifted her shirt up a few inches and kissed her tummy. I think it tickled her because she laughed. I moved up a little, kissing here and there. I tried to pull her shirt up a little higher, but it was caught under her back. I was just going to let it be, but then she wriggled a little, sat up, and, smiling and looking me in the eye, lifted her arms above her head. I pulled the shirt up and off of her, and then sat back and took a moment to drink in the beauty that was sitting there in my bed. I had seen the occasional topless girl on beaches in Europe and Hawaii, but never this close to me and certainly never in my bed! There was that one girl the morning after my high-school prom, but she had kept her clothes on the whole time. I guess I stared for a little too long because she finally laughed and said "What?" I told her how beautiful she looked. She looked down at the bed and smiled sheepishly. I reached out and motioned her towards me, and we wriggled into a position where she was sitting on my lap with her legs and arms around me. I pulled her tightly against me and we sat there and hugged for a long time, savoring skin on skin, chest against chest. It was beautiful, hot, erotic--so many emotions all at once. I will never forget that moment.
Eventually I motioned for her to lie back down on the bed and I pulled the boxers off of her as she lifted her hips up to make it easier. She still had her underwear on. I started to massage her legs, one at a time, starting with her feet and moving up to her calves. By the time I got to her thighs she was really starting to get wound up, and any remaining shyness seemed to have disappeared as she spread her legs and started to make little humming sounds. After a moment or two of hesitation I reached up and placed my hand on her undies, cupping the shape of her public mound and then gently locating and tracing the outline of her slit with my finger. She sighed and started to rock her hips. Then, tentatively, I moved my hand up and slid a finger under the elastic, reaching in to touch the top of her tuft of hair. Her sighs started to become moans. Slowly, I moved my finger down into her slit. How incredible she felt to me! As my finger slid into her folds it was met with moisture. A lot of it. Warm and smooth. I began to slide my finger back and forth. She started to breath faster and more eratically, pausing and gasping every few seconds. And then a wave of boldness hit me. I wanted to taste her. I had never done it before. I had no idea how to do it, but all I knew was that I wanted my mouth down there. I wanted to taste that warm wetness more than anything I could imagine. And so I pulled her undies off. As I did she lifted her head and looked at me with a curious look that seemed to be part alarm and part lust. But when I lowered my head down towards her pussy she dropped her head back on the pillow. "Oh my God," she cried, "Oh my God!" I paused just above her pussy, hesitating. "Yes, please! Do it! Please!" she cried. She spread her legs even more. I'm not sure exactly what happened from there on out. I just know that I started licking and she started groaning, cursing, and then yelling. By the time it was all over my face was soaking wet and she was lying there spent and exhausted. I crawled back up on top of her and kissed her on the lips. She opened her mouth, tasting her juices on my face. We kissed and kissed. Deep, wet kisses. And before long her face was as sloppy wet as mine.
And then finally, as if it was an afterthought for both of us, we both remembered my penis. I had had so much fun exploring her body and eating her out, and she had had so much fun being explored and being eaten that we both almost forgot my poor rock-hard cock. Pulling away from our kiss she reached down into my boxers and grabbed it. Then, telling me to lay down, she pulled off my shorts. This was the first time I had ever been completely naked with a girl, but I wasn't embarrassed. In fact it felt great. She then spat in her hand a few times and applied the saliva to my shaft. When she decided it was good and wet she started stroking. I could tell she had done this before. The use of saliva and her technique seemed well-practiced. Odd, I thought. Didn't she say she was a virgin? Up and down she stroked with just the right amount of grip and travel. I was so totally relaxed and into it. Pretty pleased with myself, in fact. And before long I knew I was going to come. Up until now all my orgasms had been self-induced and planned in advance with a paper towel or a rag handy to catch everything. But this time nothing was prepared. But no time to worry about it now. Before I could think another thought I came. I came hard. Cum went flying everywhere in that odd not-quite-liquid not-quite-solid way that cum tends to fly around. It ended up on her hand, my stomach, my leg, the sheets--everywhere. And wouldn't you know it, the first thing out of my mouth was, "what a mess!" But she didn't seem to mind, so I laughed. We both laughed.
Eventually we cleaned up. It was the weekend so we didn't have to go to class, and we spent the rest of the day together. We went out to lunch. We went to the park. We had a really good time. We ended up dating for almost two years after that, during which we had lots and lots of sexual fun, but, interestingly enough, we never had intercourse. She wanted to remain a virgin. Looking back on it I find it hard to think of her as a virgin, but if that's what she wanted to call herself I guess that's fine. I, however, had lost my virginity that morning. When I did finally have intercourse with a girl it was pretty lackluster. Mostly, I think, because the girl couldn't relax. I don't think it would have been that way with the other girl, but that wasn't for me to find out. Whatever lucky bastard finally did pop her cherry, I'll bet he had a ton of fun. Good for him. I had my fun too...
When I woke up the next morning she was already awake, lying on her back, looking at me across the pillow. She smiled. I propped myself up on my elbow and reached over to put my hand on her far shoulder. I realized that she must have taken off her bra before putting on the t-shirt. As I caressed her shoulder I decided to take a gamble. I leaned down and kissed her on the lips. She kissed back. She opened her mouth and our tongues met. And as we kissed she reached one hand up under my shirt, gently touching my side and back. I moved over, climbing on top of her, and slid my hands under her shoulders. She reached her other hand up and under my shirt and tugged it up ever so slightly. I took that as a cue and, pulling my mouth away from hers, I sat up briefly, kneeling astride her hips, and lifted my shirt up and off. I smiled down at her and she smiled back, lifting her hands up to touch my chest and then around behind my back, pulling me towards her. I reached down with both hands and lightly brushed them against the sides of her breasts, cupping them ever so slightly through the soft white cotton of the t-shirt. She closed her eyes and sighed. Her arms dropped back down onto the bed and she reached back and clasped her hands behind her head. Her nipples were now hard and easy to make out against the thin material. I traced them with my fingers, playing with them a little. She giggled and looked up at the ceiling, biting her lip. I slid my hands up along her arms, leaning down to kiss her again. And then, sliding down towards the foot of the bed, I lifted her shirt up a few inches and kissed her tummy. I think it tickled her because she laughed. I moved up a little, kissing here and there. I tried to pull her shirt up a little higher, but it was caught under her back. I was just going to let it be, but then she wriggled a little, sat up, and, smiling and looking me in the eye, lifted her arms above her head. I pulled the shirt up and off of her, and then sat back and took a moment to drink in the beauty that was sitting there in my bed. I had seen the occasional topless girl on beaches in Europe and Hawaii, but never this close to me and certainly never in my bed! There was that one girl the morning after my high-school prom, but she had kept her clothes on the whole time. I guess I stared for a little too long because she finally laughed and said "What?" I told her how beautiful she looked. She looked down at the bed and smiled sheepishly. I reached out and motioned her towards me, and we wriggled into a position where she was sitting on my lap with her legs and arms around me. I pulled her tightly against me and we sat there and hugged for a long time, savoring skin on skin, chest against chest. It was beautiful, hot, erotic--so many emotions all at once. I will never forget that moment.
Eventually I motioned for her to lie back down on the bed and I pulled the boxers off of her as she lifted her hips up to make it easier. She still had her underwear on. I started to massage her legs, one at a time, starting with her feet and moving up to her calves. By the time I got to her thighs she was really starting to get wound up, and any remaining shyness seemed to have disappeared as she spread her legs and started to make little humming sounds. After a moment or two of hesitation I reached up and placed my hand on her undies, cupping the shape of her public mound and then gently locating and tracing the outline of her slit with my finger. She sighed and started to rock her hips. Then, tentatively, I moved my hand up and slid a finger under the elastic, reaching in to touch the top of her tuft of hair. Her sighs started to become moans. Slowly, I moved my finger down into her slit. How incredible she felt to me! As my finger slid into her folds it was met with moisture. A lot of it. Warm and smooth. I began to slide my finger back and forth. She started to breath faster and more eratically, pausing and gasping every few seconds. And then a wave of boldness hit me. I wanted to taste her. I had never done it before. I had no idea how to do it, but all I knew was that I wanted my mouth down there. I wanted to taste that warm wetness more than anything I could imagine. And so I pulled her undies off. As I did she lifted her head and looked at me with a curious look that seemed to be part alarm and part lust. But when I lowered my head down towards her pussy she dropped her head back on the pillow. "Oh my God," she cried, "Oh my God!" I paused just above her pussy, hesitating. "Yes, please! Do it! Please!" she cried. She spread her legs even more. I'm not sure exactly what happened from there on out. I just know that I started licking and she started groaning, cursing, and then yelling. By the time it was all over my face was soaking wet and she was lying there spent and exhausted. I crawled back up on top of her and kissed her on the lips. She opened her mouth, tasting her juices on my face. We kissed and kissed. Deep, wet kisses. And before long her face was as sloppy wet as mine.
And then finally, as if it was an afterthought for both of us, we both remembered my penis. I had had so much fun exploring her body and eating her out, and she had had so much fun being explored and being eaten that we both almost forgot my poor rock-hard cock. Pulling away from our kiss she reached down into my boxers and grabbed it. Then, telling me to lay down, she pulled off my shorts. This was the first time I had ever been completely naked with a girl, but I wasn't embarrassed. In fact it felt great. She then spat in her hand a few times and applied the saliva to my shaft. When she decided it was good and wet she started stroking. I could tell she had done this before. The use of saliva and her technique seemed well-practiced. Odd, I thought. Didn't she say she was a virgin? Up and down she stroked with just the right amount of grip and travel. I was so totally relaxed and into it. Pretty pleased with myself, in fact. And before long I knew I was going to come. Up until now all my orgasms had been self-induced and planned in advance with a paper towel or a rag handy to catch everything. But this time nothing was prepared. But no time to worry about it now. Before I could think another thought I came. I came hard. Cum went flying everywhere in that odd not-quite-liquid not-quite-solid way that cum tends to fly around. It ended up on her hand, my stomach, my leg, the sheets--everywhere. And wouldn't you know it, the first thing out of my mouth was, "what a mess!" But she didn't seem to mind, so I laughed. We both laughed.
Eventually we cleaned up. It was the weekend so we didn't have to go to class, and we spent the rest of the day together. We went out to lunch. We went to the park. We had a really good time. We ended up dating for almost two years after that, during which we had lots and lots of sexual fun, but, interestingly enough, we never had intercourse. She wanted to remain a virgin. Looking back on it I find it hard to think of her as a virgin, but if that's what she wanted to call herself I guess that's fine. I, however, had lost my virginity that morning. When I did finally have intercourse with a girl it was pretty lackluster. Mostly, I think, because the girl couldn't relax. I don't think it would have been that way with the other girl, but that wasn't for me to find out. Whatever lucky bastard finally did pop her cherry, I'll bet he had a ton of fun. Good for him. I had my fun too...
Thursday, September 09, 2004
If there is any girl out there who lives near me, has a bit of a penchant for punk-rock, and would like to go with me to see Social Distortion, please let me know. I'll buy the tickets.
...but you have to wear something hot.
...but you have to wear something hot.
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
To me virginity has very little to do with penetration and everything to do with sexual innoncence. It's all about the difference between a child and an adult. A middle-school child may overhear discussions of sex on the school bus. He may come across some porn on the internet. He may masturbate daily with a pile of dog-eared Playboys. But he has not yet experienced a sexual bond with another person. He still has the innocence of a child. He is still a virgin. A college girl is saving penetration for the right man. But at the same time she lets her boyfriend bring her to orgasm through intimate touching and oral sex. She hasn't actually felt his penis inside her, but nevertheless she knows what it's like to make love. She no longer has the innocence of a child. In my opinion, she is not really a virgin anymore. But other situations are not so obvious to me. What about the closet homosexual who still doesn't understand his sexual feelings? Maybe he has had heterosexual sex but has always felt unsatisfied like something is missing? Is he still a virgin? Or the 30-something computer geek who has never really had a girlfriend? Maybe there was the time when he was so desperate that he went to a massage parlor or saw a call girl. Maybe he knows what it feels like to come inside a woman. But has he ever really made love? Is he still a virgin? Or what about the woman in her forties who is married with three kids but has never had an orgasm. As a child she was told that masturbation is a sin. Her husband is an unemotional jerk who uses her body several times a week but cares only about pleasing himself. She has never really made love. Is she still a virgin?
What does virginity mean to you? Are you a virgin? If not, what happened to you that made you feel you had lost your virginity? Was it obvious when it happened or was it a conclusion that you came to only way after the fact? Did it make you happy or sad? Would you do it differently if you could?
Coming soon--how I lost my virginity...
What does virginity mean to you? Are you a virgin? If not, what happened to you that made you feel you had lost your virginity? Was it obvious when it happened or was it a conclusion that you came to only way after the fact? Did it make you happy or sad? Would you do it differently if you could?
Coming soon--how I lost my virginity...
Sunday, September 05, 2004
I love a woman in uniform.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
This morning I was walking along a paved trail through a wooded section of a park near my house and I came across a pair of girl's panties alongside the trail. They were white cotton bikinis with a bit of lacey trim and a light blue flowered print. They didn't look dirty or ripped or anything, so I got to wondering exactly what prompts a girl to take off her underwear right in the middle of a trail. A neighbor of mine said he saw the pool lifeguard girl fucking some guy on the swingset one evening while he was walking his dog. I can see that. After all, what is the play equipment for but to play on, right? But these panties I found were nowhere near the play equipment. In fact, there was nothing in the vicinity but brambles and poison ivy. Not exactly the kind of place where you want to be romping around in the nude. A mystery that shall remain unsolved, I suppose. And a girl somewhere who is running around with no underwear.
