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Blog activity was a little slow the week before Christmas, and I was worried that the lack of traffic might last into January, but it seems to have picked up a bit in the last few days, and several of my IM lady friends have been around and willing to chat, including three who I only just met. Plus, twice I got some steamy lingerie pics in my email from a hot chick (Thank you! You know who you are), and even got a delicious cyber fuck from one sweet thing a couple nights ago while I was naked in bed with my laptop. So all in all it's been a pretty nice holiday season, and a pleasant way to wrap up the year. On the downside, one of my good IM friends has been away the whole time and unable to tease me with her feminine charms, although she has been blogging here and there.

I hope everyone has a happy New Year's Eve, and I'll go ahead and wish that every one of you be in the midst of an amazing partner-induced orgasm when the clock strikes midnight. If not, then I hope you will at least find what you're looking for in the New Year. See you all in 2005.

I'm stealing this thought from Kayten. Sort of. I find it an incredible turn-on to read about these girls who are cheating on their husbands for the first time and finding a love for sex that they've never known. It's like peeking into the life of a teenager who has just discovered sex and suddenly wants it all the time. So giddy and happy and enthusiastic. They want to tell everybody and yet they can't. Many of these girls are grown women. Some of them even have grown children. It kind of gets back to a post I wrote a while ago about virginity and how I've always wondered how many women have sex for years and yet never really lose their "virginity" until some unusual event happens that causes them to wake up and realize how wonderful sex really is. It's hard to fault someone who is having so much fun and can't wait to blog about it. I so love to read about people who are having real, playful fun with their lovers.

I must be running out of luck
because you're just not drunk enough to fuck

I heard this Three Days Grace song on the way in to work this morning and it struck me as kind of funny because I had just been listening to the Dead Kennedy's song "Too Drunk To Fuck" yesterday on the way home.

So which is it? Too drunk or not drunk enough?

As far as I'm concerned I never need a drink in order to get into the mood. If I'm awake, I'm ready. Heck, I'm ready even when I'm asleep. But I suppose if you load me up with enough alcohol, I might have trouble getting it up. I don't know. I haven't exactly had an opportunity to test it lately.

My wife, on the other hand, doesn't ever drink. And given her lack of enthusiasm regarding all things sexual I would definitely have to put her in the not-drunk-enough category. But is it possible for a girl to be too drunk? My memory is sketchy on that one because it's been so long, but I have a vauge recollection of trying to eat my girlfriend's pussy back in grad school for like 30 minutes once when she was really wasted and she just could not cum. And we're talking about a girl who would normally cum like snapping your fingers. So if that memory is accurate, I suppose it would support the theory that even for a girl it is possible to have too much to drink.

Someone asked me recently to describe my cock. And this morning I woke up with such a case of morning wood that I figured it would be an excellent time to take some measurements. So here are the stats:

Hair color: reddish brown, same as on my head
Circumcised: yes
Length, along the top, from base to tip: 7 inches
Circumference, at base: 6 inches (which translates to a diameter of roughly 1.9 inches)

I would describe my balls, but I'm not sure what one typically says about balls. They're kind of funny that way. Nothing unusual, though.

Hope that will hold a few of you off until I can get my pics taken.

This is Kim Possible. She's a hottie. And if that's not a "fuck me" pose, I don't know what is. Turns out you can get all sorts of Kim Possible party supplies including paper plates, napkins, balloons, etc. Why do I know this? Because I was at the party store today shopping for my daughter's upcoming birthday. My wife wanted to go with a Disney princess theme, but quite frankly the Disney princesses don't really do it for me. Except for maybe the little mermaid. So now I'm thinking that for my birthday I want a Kim Possible theme. Just check out her breasts. Have you ever seen tits that perky? Everything about her is hot. Her eyes. Her red hair. Her arms. Her belly button. And I can just imagine that mouth of hers wrapped around my dick. And with her "can do" attitude I'm willing to bet she'd be quite a handful in bed. I bet she likes to be on top. 

Merry Christmas everyone!

I think it's pretty safe to say that I have never had sex on Christmas. When I was a teenager there were quite a few years when I didn't have a girlfriend. And as I'm sure you'll agree, finding a one-night-stand on Christmas is next to impossible, unless maybe if you're into homeless chicks. Then there were the years when I did have girlfriends, but they always went home to visit their parents on Christmas, as I did mine. And then finally there have been the married years which are pretty much sexless by definition. So, unless I'm forgetting a particularly lackluster Christmas fuck, I'm pretty sure it has never happened.

But hey, if any of you actually did get some action today I'm sure I speak for everyone by saying that we'd love to hear your account of it. Post something on your own blog or leave a comment here.

After all, this is the season for sharing...

P.S. Oh, and I guess I should mention that I did get a hand-job the morning of Christmas Eve while she sat indian style, facing me, so I could admire her hot little naked body. So at least she hasn't been a total scrooge this weekend...

i masturbated in the ladies' room today. caffeine has a major aphrodisiac effect on me, and i get all aroused after my morning cup. i was at work, at my desk, all turned on, so i excused myself to the ladies' room. it was empty. i went into one of the stalls and locked it, unbuttoned my pants, and slid my hand inside. my pussy was wet. i stood in the stall, leaning against a wall, and rubbed my clit until i came in shudders. i sat down for a few moments and enjoyed the glow, then left the stall, washed my hands, and went back to work.
-Franny

I miss Franny. She hasn't posted in a long time. I wonder what she's up to.

While I was masturbating in the men's room this morning I realized another reason why girls have it easier than guys (other than the obvious reason of not having to worry about cum spraying everywhere). You see, at 6'4" I am taller than the walls of the stall, which means that if another guy comes into the restroom he can see my face. Of course he can't see what I'm doing, and I can do it pretty quietly so he won't hear anything, but still, I'm just not terribly comfortable letting him see my face while I'm cumming.

Blog traffic is way down this week, so I suppose there's not much sense in posting something that few people will even see, but I did notice a site today courtesy of Alex that caught my eye. Check out Kathy's Affair for yet another girl who has decided to seek fulfillment outside of her marriage.

Somehow a backrub I was giving my wife this morning to try and get her to wake up turned into a leg massage which led to a pussy massage and nipple sucking which then somehow turned into an orgasm which is something I don't think she has had in months. So, good for her, I guess. Anyone want to smell my hand? The problem is that it left me extremely aroused with no place to stick my stick. And then we went to a pre-school Christmas performance in which my daughter was singing and I had to sit behind one of the most incredibly hot MILFs I have ever seen. As it was, I was already squirmy enough from getting my wife off, and I couldn't help wondering whether this MILF's husband had given her an orgasm this morning too. If not, I was more than ready to peel those tight pants off of her perfect little ass to do the honors. But sadly, she was too preoccupied with her son who was up on stage singing. But you know, if she had just sat on my lap she could have gotten a better view of the stage.

Sometimes, if the mood is particularly intense and passionate, I like to look into a girl's eyes while making love to her, especially while cumming. Staring deeply into her pretty eyes while my cock is deep inside her, she is squeezing down on me, and our bodies are awash in orgasm just seems to make the bond between us that much more beautiful. But it's not an easy thing to do. We tend to look away from others when we are feeling vulnerable, and so in some ways it's a measure of how comfortable you are with each other to be able to lock eyes for a long period of time while you are giving each other so much intimate pleasure. My previous girlfriend used to love doing it, and if I ever find another girl who can pull it off, she will have me wrapped around her finger for sure.

There is a small but unrelenting group of young ladies who seem to derive some sort of perverse pleasure by making me extremely uncomfortable at work by IMing me and/or emailing me and telling me all sorts of racy things such as, for example, the size of their nipples, the unknown whereabouts of their clothing, why they currently can feel but cannot see their fingers, what exactly they let their boyfriends/husbands do to them last night, etc., etc.

Getting these kinds of messages at work can be extremely distracting, and can quickly cause me to lose my train of thought, costing me and my company untold amounts of valuable work time. Not to mention forcing me to run to the restroom at woefully inconvenient moments.

And so, once and for all, for my sake, I have decided that I am just going to have to ask you ladies to please, please...

...give me more!

Work just isn't the same without you.

The last time I shared a story like this I was called a pervert for hitting on a child. Which I wasn't. We were just making eyes at each other from across the room. But hey, whatever. You're entitled to your opinions. This time, however, I can honestly say that I did absolutely nothing to provoke the situation. Nothing. I swear!

I was standing around near the food court at the mall this afternoon waiting for my wife and kids who were supposed to meet me so we could all go and see Santa Claus. And as I was standing there, minding my own business, I noticed out of the corner of my eye a young high-school girl who was looking at me from about 20 feet away. Just standing there looking at me. I could tell she was in high school because she was wearing a varsity jacket in the colors of one of the local high schools. And as I turned to glance at her she smiled at me.

Instinctively I smiled back, and then quickly looked away. "Pretty," I thought to myself, "too bad she's so young." I glanced around, wondering when my wife and kids would show up, and then as I looked back I could see that the girl had now moved and was walking in my general direction, but not quite directly towards me. As she passed me she looked me squarely in the eye for a few moments and then turned her head and continued on her way.

I watched her walk off, wondering what that was all about when, wouldn't you know it, she turned her head around and looked at me once more, this time smiling again. Now I was really curious, but she was gone. And in a few minutes my wife and kids showed up.

We went to see Santa, got our pictures taken, and then as my wife went off somewhere to find out how to get prints of the pictures, I started to pack things up in the stroller and put the kid's coats on so we would be ready to leave when she returned. And as I was buttoning up my daughter's coat I looked up and, shit, there was that girl again, now standing about 10 feet away from me.

"Hi," she said, fidgeting a little and smiling again.

"Uh, Hi," I said, smiling at her while still trying to button my daughter's jacket.

"OK, I got them honey. Here. Can you hold this?" my wife had returned with the prints and was behind me, handing them to me. I spun around and took them from her, glanced at them briefly, and then turned back around.

But the girl was gone.

A few minutes later we left the mall.

So what do you make of that?

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We had a Christmas party at work today. A lunch buffet kind of thing. To most of the other guys I work with it was just an opportunity to eat a lot of free food, but to me it was an excellent opportunity to mingle and flirt with some of the girls I see in the hallway but rarely get a chance to talk to. Free food was merely a fringe benefit. Unfortunately the one girl that I really wanted to talk to decided not to partake in the festivities even though she was at work today. Come to think of it, I've rarely ever seen her eating lunch in the cafeteria. She always seems to grab something and then head back to her desk which is in a locked wing of the building to which I don't have access. I don't know whether she's shy or just a very hard worker. But even without her I would still consider today a success. Face time with cute chicks is always a plus, even if it's not my absolute favorite chick. And I got good face time with several nice girls today, especially one girl who I talked to for quite a while. The more face time you can get with someone, the more she's going to feel like she knows you, and the more she feels like she knows you, the more likely she will be to let you bend her over her desk. OK, so maybe that's a bit if a stretch, but you gotta start somewhere, right?

Just a couple little things to mention today:

First of all, let me give a hats-off to Miranda who has now made me cum three times during the course of three visits to her site. Literally, I can't seem to go to her blog without having to reach for the Kleenex. Too bad you don't live near me Miranda.

Second, I posted a personals ad. Just a "strictly platonic" ad looking for a girl who would like to go dancing with me from time to time at a night club or a rock concert. Alex says this is a shitty time of the year to post a personals ad, but heck it was free so I figured it couldn't hurt to try.

So if you accidentally cum on your wife's toothbrush, do you wash it off and never speak of it, or do you tell her?

I had a strange dream last night in which there were lots of young, naked girls running around with beautifully perky breasts. Their breasts were so fine that I can't seem to remember anything else about the dream. I couldn't even tell you if they had shaved pussies or not. It was all about the breasts, man.

The down-side was that I awoke this morning will one of the biggest urges to fuck that I have had in recent memory. So much so that it was all I could handle to jump out of bed, run straight into the bathroom, and cum into the sink.

Yes, the sink.

The toilet was basically out of the question because my cock was pointing very much upwards and I was afraid the chances of squirting my cum up into the air and having it follow a perfect arc into the bowl were pretty unlikely and could potentially result in some major cleanup if not executed with exacting precision. And there just wasn't enough time to grab a wad of paper towels and cum into that. So the sink it was.

And, no, I didn't actually hit my wife's toothbrush. But I came dangerously close and ended up having to do some minor cleaning as it was.

So I need to figure out an emergency-preparedness plan in case I ever find myself in this situation again.

Don't send me to the supermarket if you expect me to come home anytime soon. I must have gone up and down the cereal aisle three or four times this afternoon. But not because I couldn't find what I wanted. It was because there was too much of what I wanted. Girls, specifically. No sooner would I get done with an aisle when some hottie would appear out of nowhere and head down the same aisle. And since I am perpetually in search of an opportunity to flirt, I just couldn't help going back down the same aisle again, hoping to cast a smile her way and get one in return. The problem, though, is making eye contact. So many girls seem way too absorbed in their grocery lists to glance up at me. But if they do they almost always return my smile. Lots of fun. Sometimes if I'm lucky I can even get a "hi" out of them. And then at the checkout I purposely decided to get in the longest line there was because the girl at the cash register was just so cute. But, alas, the manager must have noticed that there were too many people standing in cutie's line so he called some more employees up front and I was told to go over to one of the new registers that had just opened up. I thought about saying, "No thanks, I'd rather stay in this line so I can flirt with your hot co-worker," but instead I chickened out and let "Bob" ring me up. But even so, luck was on my side because I had to walk by cutie's register on my way to the exit, and as I passed by her she looked up and gave me nice big smile, so in the end I got what I wanted anyway.

[This story is true. Although I did change a few details to protect the guilty]

"My parents are going out of town this weekend and I want you to come over and fuck me in my bedroom," she said over the telephone.

She was my first girlfriend. It was many years ago but I still remember it vividly. It's not the kind of thing you easily forget. We had been dating for almost a year by this time, but other than an oral quickie in the family room we had never had sex in her parents house, much less in her bedroom.

She said we'd have to be careful, though, because her parent's neighbors were very nosy and my '73 Impala was too easily recognizable. Someone would surely notice it and would end up asking her parents about the strange old car that was parked in their driveway all night while they were out of town. So we decided we would park it in her parent's garage.

I picked her up around 6:00 pm and we went out for pizza and a movie. As usual she looked amazingly hot. And as usual I had a lot of trouble keeping my hands off of her. But this time she managed to convince me to be patient for just a few hours, reminding me that I could do whatever I wanted to her as soon as we got back to her parent's house.

By the time we got back we were both pretty fired up and couldn't wait to get inside. But first we had to hide the Impala. Little did we understand, however, that somewhere along the line home builders had stopped making garages that were large enough to easily swallow a 20-foot-long automobile. Technically, the garage was big enough. Just barely. But to get the old land yacht in there would mean having to move everything else out of the garage. So for 20 minutes we worked feverishly in the heat of the summer night, moving boxes, bicycles, tools, and all sorts of other crap out of the way. By the time we were done we were dirty and sweaty, but thank goodness the huge old behemoth finally slid in with just inches to spare.

I watched her close the garage door and then followed her up to the front porch. Her hair was sweaty and tousled. There was a glistening of perspiration on her bare arms, and her thin, pink, cotton tank top clung to her skin in such a way that, except for the outline of her bra, you could almost imagine it wasn't there at all. When we got to the door she glanced around the neighborhood in a half-hearted attempt to make sure no one was looking and then quickly ushered me inside and closed and locked the door behind her.

No sooner had the lock clicked in the door when I grabbed her and swooped her hot little body up into my arms. Startled and delighted, she let out a shriek and a laugh and dropped her keys on the floor. They would have to stay there. The thought of banging my little angel in her childhood bed had been driving me crazy all evening to the point where I simply could not wait another minute. Not that she would have wanted me to stop anyway.

As she continued to laugh and shriek I whisked her down the hall to her bedroom, tossed her down onto her bed, and then jumped on top of her, pinning her slender arms above her head and smothering her mouth with a long, deep, wet kiss. Then, freeing her arms I slid my hands underneath her and inside her tank top, unfastening her bra, and helping her to wriggle out of it while still keeping the tank top on. Then I reached down and unzipped my shorts, kicked my shoes off, pulled off my shorts and underwear, and tossed them on the floor. Meanwhile, she was already unsnapping her little denim shorts. I reached down and pulled off her sneakers and then, straightening her legs, slid her shorts off over her socks.

Then, spreading her legs, I leaned down and pressed my lips to her underwear, using my mouth and nose to gently massage her pussy through the thin material. She closed her eyes and let out a soft little moan, arching her back and neck. And as she instinctively lifted her hips up to me I slid off her underwear and then kneeled back on the bed to admire her.

Her stomach was firm and flat. Her pussy was neatly trimmed on the edges, but still mostly natural (girls rarely did the full shave back then) and the hair in the middle was wet from plenty of lubrication and anticipation. There was dirt and dust from the garage on her thighs and tank top. Her chest was rising and falling quickly with each breath. Her body was shining with perspiration, and the tank top clung deliciously to her firm little breasts, clearly outlining the shape of her hard nipples. Her pretty eyes looked up at me with an expression of lust, love, and curiosity.

When I took her that night it was hard and rough, mostly devoid of the tenderness with which I usually made love to her, but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to have a certain amount of wild abandon that night that I can't remember ever having seen in her before. Maybe it was the naughtiness of doing it in her childhood bed. Maybe it was the dirt and sweat that we had both accumulated in the garage. Maybe it was the unusually hot sticky heat of that summer night.

After we were done, as we lay there on the sweaty sheets looking up at the ceiling and catching our breath, she said "God you were rough tonight."

"I know," was all I could think to say as I replayed in my mind the pounding I had given her little body. But by the time I turned to look back at her her eyes were closed and she had fallen asleep, still wearing her socks and the dirty pink tank top.

My wife and I are going to a concert tomorrow. This is a rare event. Normally she doesn't go with me because she doesn't like smokey clubs and we also don't like a lot of the same music. Fair enough. But tomorrow's show is at a smoke-free club and it's music that both of us like. Plus, I know she will enjoy getting out of the house for a change. She'll have a really good time.

But for some reason I think she's been trying to get out of it. She's been making little excuses that don't hold up under scrutiny but that wear me down nonetheless. She also procrastinated three days in a row on calling the babysitter (she said she would, otherwise I would have called) until I suggested that maybe she hadn't called because she didn't want to go out with me. She said that wasn't true, though, and then she did call after all. But with all the hassle she's been giving me about it I'm starting to wonder why I even bothered to ask her to join me in the first place.

Maybe it's because I keep wanting to give her one last try before I give up on her. Once I give up it will be easier for me to justify having an affair. I keep thinking that maybe she's just in some sort of a funk that she'll snap out of. But eight years is one heck of a long funk.

So tomorrow we will go out together. We'll have fun. Maybe I'll even convince her to dance a little. When we get home the kids will be asleep. We'll have some rare time to ourselves. But she'll be tired. She'll want to go to sleep too. And that will be that.

And I'll go to bed dreaming of some other girl.

Late the other night I was cutting through a dark alley on my way to the subway station after seeing a rock concert at one of the local clubs. Other than a brief glimpse of a couple rats scurrying away into the dark, there was no one else to be seen. No movement. Just darkness and the occasional muffled sounds of the city filtering in over the rooftops. The sound of my shoes on the pavement echoed up and down the vacant alley.

And as I walked through the alley I started to imagine what it would be like if you had gone to the concert with me and we had ended up fucking each other in the darkness of this deserted alley.

I imagine you in a tight little top and a black leather miniskirt. I am sitting on a low concrete wall with my feet on the ground and my back against a chain-link fence. You are on my lap, facing me, with your feet wrapped around me. Your underwear is lying in the alley where it will stay for someone to find tomorrow morning. There is no one else in the alley, but at this point I don't think we would care if there was. Your arms are around my neck. My hands are behind you, underneath your top, caressing your back after having unfastened your bra. Our mouths are pressed together as our tongues strain to probe and explore. My pants are unzipped and you are riding me hard. Your kegels tighten as you grind your pelvis into me, trying to take every last bit of my cock into your warm, wet snatch. We squeeze each other tightly as our climaxes come, moaning into each other's mouths with sounds that would be screams if our lips weren't pressed so tightly together.

Minutes later, standing on the platform in the subway station, you whisper in my ear that you can feel my cum trickling down your leg. You part your legs slightly for me to see and in the dim fluorescent light of the station I can just barely make out a glisten of wetness on your inner thigh. I look at you and we laugh, embracing and kissing again until the train arrives.

I like the way her underwear clings to her pussy. 

The girl next door does not have a boyfriend. I'm sure of it. Nevermind the fact that she is 24 and, in my opinion, just about the hottest thing on the planet. I'm pretty sure she doesn't have a boyfriend. After all, if you were 24 and did have a boyfriend would you really be spending every stinking weekend at your parent's house in the burbs? And even if you did visit occasionally, wouldn't you bring your man with you once in a while? I have never seen her with a guy.

For those of you who don't remember, this is a girl who was about 18 when we moved into our house. At the time I was (relatively) newly married, no kids, and a lot more interested in my wife than in some 18-year-old girl who was heading off to college.

How things change.

Now I would bend her over the hood of my car in a heartbeat.

But she's sneaky. I keep trying to find a good time to run out in the cul-de-sac and ask her whether she still does babysitting (rumor in the neighborhood has it that she was a darn good babysitter when she was in high school). But for some reason she never seems to linger out there in the street long enough for me to get out there and strike up a conversation.

One of these days... Wish me luck.

Got a new laptop at home. I realized that my posting frequency went way down when I had to give up my old one. I haven't really had any decent way to post from home for months now. And of course I can't post from work. But now maybe things will be better. Maybe.

But if I'm still not filling you often enough, you can always get some hot action from Philip. He's posting again now after a six month break, and I can just imagine that the number of female orgasms per day in Halifax has doubled now that he's back.