What the fuck did I do?

Finally, finally, I get to renew my acquaintance with F (she of the truthful vagina).  It's not for want of trying, but dates and illness and fate have kept me from her.  And then (my fault) we only had an hour (although full use was made of the 15 minute window...i.e. I jumped right through it).

She's such a breath of fresh air is F.  Right. Okay. F is no good as name.  She needs a nom de blog.  Well I can't call her Jim because that would send out entirely the wrong message and just confuse you all, and me for that matter.  By the way, she's in the first five (see below).  Midfield holding role, on account of her firm grip (on reality?!?). 

What I like about F is there's no artifice.  She says what she thinks.  She's not shy.  But she's also perceptive and bright and articulate.  We talked about The Tempest (I could call her Miranda, but this is not a girl who has lived a sheltered existence http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miranda_%28Shakespeare%29) and Laurence Olivier amongst other things. 

As soon as I arrived she kissed me like she'd missed me.  She remembered our last meeting (James and the red dress...it needed dry cleaning, because if it hadn't my chance of being the next PM was out of the window).  Wine was consumed, kisses were shared and we headed to the bedroom.  She sat astride massaging my chest.  Before long I was naked and Jim was feeling spring-heeled. She licked and caressed my balls and then took me in her mouth and slid her lips up and down.  I could feel the temperature rise.  I suggested she stop, but she didn't want to and I was in no position to argue (it is true what they say girls, give head and he'll agree to anything).  She kept moving her head up and down and I felt myself pass the point of no return.  Tensing my whole body I came as she continued to sucking and licking not stopping until my whole body relaxed, drained.  Thank you I said.  You're a pleasure to pleasure she said (she also said tastes of chicken, but that doesn't sound so sexy!).   She's pleasure to pleasure too.  So I did.  And then the condom never got used, she gave me a hand job as I fingered her.  What's a boy to do in the hands of a master...well mistress to be precise.  I had to leave, wanting more. Best way.

I am soo glad I finally got back to her embrace, but next time I need longer and next time we fuck. 

But a name.  That's what I need.  This needs more thought.  Got it.  Sandie Shaw, that's who she is.  She looks like her.  And Morrissey worships her.  And she worships Morrissey.  In fact she likes lots of unattainable men, most of them gay.  Maybe that make me gay.  Hmm, that throws a whole new light on my life.  Now I really need a lie down despite the Americano boost I've just drunk.

Another font another day.  I should be working, but I get so easily distracted.  I've noticed that my blogs tend to be quite long.  Too reflective me.  Think too much and your foot falls off. 

But for now, a vote.  Anal sex...am i missing out? Yes or No?

...or lack of it.  So many things have been rushing through my mind these last forty-eight hours that I can't decide what to write down...or more accurately I don't have the time to write it all down.  Do I write about my introduction to  haemospermia, my return to running, my typology of escorts or why I think I'm addicted to Peach.

Okay typology first. My experience is limited but there are two groups of women/girls that dominate the professional end of the market (i.e I'm not counting exploitation of East European or any other immigrants).  Type 1 is the overtly sexy girl who may also work elsewhere in the sex industry; lap dancing, modelling, maybe porn.  She is usually very confident, feisty, knows what she likes and knows what she can do for you.  She may be less empathetic, trusting that her body built for sin is sufficient to make you part with your cash.  Sex can often involve role play, games, toys, etc.  Maybe it also involves things much more out there (watersports etc) but that ain't for me.  This may be her primary source of income.  Type 2 is the student.  The student is more likely to be the GFE.  She's likes sex and she's pretty liberated in her views, but she plays a more conventional part.  She trades on her youth and her intelligence both of which will appeal to the successful middle aged man.  Often she's more likely to be an introvert, or at least is better at putting up a mask for the time you are with her.  Of all the girls I've met they probably split 50:50.  There are a lot more subtle differences too, but I'll explore that another time.

Peach is Type 2.  She fascinates me, because I've never seen the same escort more than three times until her.  And that's usually because by Meeting no. 3 I've explored all she has to offer and I've come up to the limits of our common ground.  One who I adored on meeting 1 and 2, by meeting 3 I realised had an act (understandably) that was always the same.  Let's go to the bedroom (no kissing until).  Standing up she'd remove my clothes and then go down for head (she was good though).  Then on the bed, but she resisted naked.  I always fucked her with her knickers on.  Then chat and dress and bye.  Beautiful girl.  Very dark and mysterious.  Very sexy laugh.  But we'd run out of novelty by the end of meeting 3. So one moves on.

It's different with Peach.  Each time is different, subtly so, but different.  But more importantly I've not run out of conversation.  Although she's an introvert we do talk a lot.  And the silences are comfortable.  And all that makes for sex that is real sex.  Except for her not cumming (as described before).  And I don't ask her why this is. Introverts tongue tie me.  So maybe that's not good.  I need to think more!  Just to say though, on Friday we had great sex.  She rubbed me with her beautiful breasts, brought me so close, then sucked me and brought me close again, then gently stroked me.  Finally "I want you inside me", she was on all fours on the bed and i entered her and watched in the mirror to the left me fucking this beautiful, curvy, youthful, sexy, smart, sweet girl and I came with such force (and she locked herself around my cock so tight)...and then there it was...the haemospermia or blood in my semen. Inside the condom and then a drip on my leg when I removed it.  She went to get a glass of wine, I wiped the signs away.  I don't know if she saw.  Neither of us said anything about it.

I was freaked.  But I acted calm.  I'd booked 2 hours, but the last 45 minutes were talking, no more sex, I'd completely lost all desire. After I left, I drove around the block and parked again.  Embarrassingly, she walked past the car 15 minutes later, on her way home, but she didn't act like she saw me.  If she did she probably thought I was stalking her!  I wasn't.  I just couldn't go home until I felt more composed and being near the apartment felt secure.  This was a new one on me. 

But since Friday I've read loads (this Internet thing is great, I'm sure it will catch on one day) and I feel a lot calmer.  It's very common apparently and not something to be alarmed about.  So I'm not alarmed. I've also masturbated and there was nothing.  I'll keep doing that to be sure, before I have sex with another.

And I've been running yesterday and today..and that makes me feel better.

Oh and I bought Esquire with its Monica spread...and that makes me feel even better!

So that's my weekend...what was yours?

I am you know.  My little sexy sojourn in Birmingham created all sorts of evidence for my misbehaviour.  And I keep forgetting how much evidence I created and where I put it all.  I just found another paper trail ten minutes ago, seven days after the event.  Get a grip.  You see officially I was in another town altogether.  Maybe I'm consciously pushing the limits of the lie...trying to see just how much I can get away with.  No that's not it.  I think it's because each time you take a risk and you get away with it, it stops being risky behaviour.  So you try something else.

But I'm smiling because tomorrow is another peachy day.  Oh yes.   

Here's a couple that were dashing through my head at 3 this morning as the most almighty storm crashed around the house.

Okay that's quite enough of that...back to work.  

What is the consensus on oral sex?  Do we like it?  What do we like about it? 

I've written above about how I like to give (and receive obviously...but more of that later).  And what I like is the pleasure it gives, because the pleasure it gives, gives me pleasure. 

What do Iike? I will confess I like a well trimmed bush, but it doesn't have to be smooth (in fact that's perhaps a little freaky, too much like a child not a woman).  But too much hair is a mouthful, so to speak, and distracts from the target...lol.  I like the taste and smell and sound when she gets real wet and I love it when she kisses me full on the mouth when I've been down on her.  And I love to hear her moan and to squirm (isn't squirm a great word?).  I like to squeeze her bum and breasts as I eat her.  And best of all is when she cums, particularly if she locks her legs around my head at this point...lol.

Now I'd like to know what you girls like.  You see, I focus on two or three aspects.  First teasing the clit with the tip of my tongue.  Second, long slow licks from along the labia from vagina to clit.  Third encompassing the whole labia with my lips and breathing and gently sucking.  Any tips?  And I have been complemented on my technique...lol, but one always seeks continuous improvement!

And to receive from an expert is awesome, but a poor attempt is worse than none at all.  One girl kept scraping her teeth as she nodded like a parcel shelf dog (whilst telling me her head would be the best I've ever had...it wasn't).  Another focussed on speed over attention to detail.  One girl (and only one to date) could deep throat and it was brilliant, but it's not essential.  One girl almost killed me with her ethusiasm.  She was a beatiful very curvy, but petite (5ft 1) black girl. We were making like 69, but the height difference (I'm 6 ft 2) was a bugger for my neck.  But she tasted so sweet. 

Anyway she had the most gorgeous, kissable lips and she gave the most sensual, enthusiastic head.  My understanding with escorts is that you don't cum unless they explicity say so, but before I knew it I had exploded in her mouth.  I expected her to stop, but she didn't, she just carried on sucking, and kissing, through the point, post-ejaculation, when the cock hurts and she got me hard again and then she made me cum again.  But still she didn't stop, she just kept going, giggling as she coaxed another erection and a third orgasm.  All this in the space of 20-25 minutes.  I thought I would have a heart attack, the feeling was so so intense. And then God knows how, she got me hard again and made me fuck her missionary.  She holds the record God bless her.  I've never cum four times in one hour previously or since.  But I've never been back to see her again and I don't know why.  I've loved every minute but maybe I was not comfortable with her being so subservient.  This was eighteen months ago and I have been thinking a lot recently about a repeat visit, but I don't suppose it can ever live up to that first time so maybe it's best preserved in memory...maybe that's whay I've not been back.

Nicolasconfessions wrote about making rugga man cum in the shower on her face.  Not had that experience.  I think I'd like that.  One girl gave me a hand job and then licked the cum off the tip of my cock.  Two others swallowed, but the vast majority don't keep going to completion. And that's fine by me. Most of the pleasure is in the build up and if every so often it goes further with someone I'm a very happy bunny.  So what's the view like from your perspective?  

Check this out guys...http://www.myspace.com/cherryghostband.

I'm off to The Fav to see him live tonight...be there if you can...you won't regret it.

As sweet, soft and succulent as a perfect Tuscan summer.

And I would walk 500 miles and I would walk 500 more....well Friday felt like that.  500 miles around Blighty in an old tin can and rain rain everywhere.  West Midlands and Yorkshire were hit worst.  And where were my 500 miles?  West Midlands and Yorkshire, that's where.  It wasn't meant to be like that. 

I left the Artist Formerly Known As Peach at New Street on Platform 9 waiting for the 7.03 to Edinburgh.  Trains north and south  were falling like flies and lo and behold 10 minutes later the 7.03 changed from delayed to cancelled...followed by service suspensions across the network.  I'd waited on the walkway over the platform, not returning to my room because I needed to know that she was on her way.  Now I knew I had no choice but to return to the platform and do the decent thing.  She wasn't in the waiting area where I'd left her fifteen minutes earlier, but further along hunched down on a footrail.  I paused for a second before walking up to her to triple check in my head that I was doing this because I felt responsible and not out of some mad act of vane folly.  No I was clear in my head.  She needed to be back in Leeds, I had a car and  a round trip would mean cancelling only one of my day's meetings in the Midlands.  I stood before her and told her the train was cancelled.  She said the announcement was still saying delays.  I made my offer.  She told me not to be silly.  I persisted.  Waiting for a train could take all day.  Even a coach would have meant getting back in the afternoon.  She relented and we walked back to the hotel where I hurriedly packed, while she ordered coffee.  Of course my gallantry prevented her buying the pink dress in the window of Harvey Nicks that we'd seen the night before from our hotel window.  So really I was being mean.

Oh the night before.  What a great night that was.  I'd met her after 7 at the station and we walked through the rain with my big umbrella, her holding my arm.  Back at the hotel we took a shower together.  Don't want to get my hair wet she said and then abandoned that intent as soon as we started kissing and caressing.  She magicked up a condom saying we'd not done it in the shower before...who was i to refuse as she turned her back to me and bent over.  I held her hips and thrust hard to cum quickly.

We dried off, dressed and headed to the bar.  She chose a glass of Rioja (good choice, my favourite wine) and I had bourbon and coke, a drink revived from my youth.  We sat on a long leather sofa and talked.  Discovered a mutual love for (amongst other things) olives, Italians and New York.  She told me about Latin and child psychology, I talked of America and books.  At dinner we shared asparagus, agreed on fish and skipped dessert (that's me she said).  Over coffee we discussed first times and significant birthdays.  She looked so pretty and delicate in her loose little black dress.  The men's heads turned as she walked through the bar and I felt their desire.

Back in our room we kissed as we removed clothes item by item.  She knealt before me as i sat at the foot of the bed, undoing my trousers, removing the layers of material to take me into her mouth.  She does like to suck my cock and she does it so well.  Many girls have been there, some have boasted of their prowess, but only 2-3 have really known what they're doing.  She kisses and caresses, pushing it into her cheek with her tongue, holding it firmly but lovingly.  She's not a speed queen, she understands the slowness and gentleness of love making.  I believe she loves the pleasure that she can bestow upon a man in this way.  I never come like this.  I assume she doesn't want that and although I would love it, at the same time for a girl to take you like that signifies either something very very intimate and loving in its honesty or something uncontrollably horny.  Obviously our relationship is not the former and she is not the latter (or at least I don't arouse the latter in her).  But that's fine, I'm happy just to see her naked, feel her skin against mine, taste her breath, eat her flesh and be around her and inside her.

She climbed onto the bed and I went down on her, returned the favour so to speak.  I love tongue.  I love the feel of a girl's soft, wet, hot pussy against my rough tongue.  I like to lick and kiss and nibble and suck.  She tells me I'm good at it and she's not the only one to say that.  I'm never sure whether it's true or not, but women cum when I do it so maybe I'm not all bad.  She wriggled and squirmed and pressed my hand against her ample breast (she does that a lot; I believe she likes to be held in this way).  She'd never squirmed so much before.  But with her I don't think she cums.  Ever.  If I'm wrong she's very quiet about it.  Maybe she consciously stops.  She never says and her body does not appear spent. As I wrote before, she clenches her pussy real tight when she gets aroused, as if she's going to cum, but I don't think she ever gets there.  I guess that's me.

I slept fitfully, as before, and looked at her silhouette. Her curves.  I've not told her, but I think the curve from the base of her spine to the rise of her buttocks is probably the most beautiful I've ever seen.

The beautiful 12 hours in Birmingham were preceded 36 hours earlier by the most angry exchange with another.  I'm a believer that business is best done face to face and texts, e-mails and even phone calls make for misunderstandings and miscommunication.  The nature of this business, the one where I buy my moments, is not face to face, it's all electronic.

This is not an affair.  I had one of those.  They are very destructive.  I'm not doing that again.  This is an anti-affair.  It's brilliant and I love it.  I thoroughly wholeheartedly recommend it.  And two years ago I never thought I'd say that.

Damn...I didn't put a title on before I saved and now the title i chose...designed to lure you in with its hint of intrigue and obscurity...is not in the list. Bugger

Well I think it's fair to say that I have a bit of a one track mind...the principal subject of this blog is sex.  Well, I do do other things and think about other things, but here is where I think about sex.  Of course that is not to say that this is the only place where I think about sex, my word no, but it is the main reason for this blog.

On Saturday me and the GEG (I think I might start calling her The Peach as that was how I first thought of her).  On that thought, you must, if you haven't already, watch Wild At Heart...no not that crappy ITV series, the David Lynch film.  It's my favourite Lynch movie and contains some of my favourite Lynch lines:

1 . "Did I ever tell ya that this here jacket represents a symbol of my individuality, and my belief in personal freedom?"
2. "Uh oh. Baby, you'd better get me back to that hotel. You got me hotter than Georgia asphalt"
3. "She turns over, peels off them orange pants, spreads her legs real wide and says to me..."Take a bite of Peach."

Hence The Peach.  No she never said that to me.  She's far too sweet to utter such a line (and she is very sweet).  Actually the peach reference originated from me humming the song "Peach" by Prince for several hours after I first saw her.  Anyway, she still is a peach.  On Saturday, she ran out of the living room naked (in search of a condom) and the sight of that perfect bum running will be seared forever in my mind.

"How do you want me" she asked upon her return as she sat astride me rolling the condom down my cock.  Every which way, but how to choose.  I was speechless.  Like the kid in the sweet shop who wants it all and is frozen by indecision.  I took the easy option and just lifted my hips towards hers until I slipped inside as she sat astride me.  And then I hammered...lol. What? Have you got a better word?  Sex descriptions are not easy you know.  Anyway after a few minutes she lifted herself off me, rolled onto her back and beckoned me back in.  More fucking ensued until I exploded inside her.  God it was good.  I only wish I could stay inside her longer, but you know, practicalities with condoms demand you get out fairly quickly if the rubber's coming too.  We showered together and talked. She said yes, before I plucked up the courage to ask, and questioned why I'd think she'd say no...cos i'm dumb?  So Malmaison here we come.

I need to write something, but I've lost my muse (no, not that CD...I'd be mortified...I love that CD).  Monday was bad....seriously bad...but by Friday life was good...and yesterday, well, life was utterly perfect.  But I'm off to the shower now.Three showers, (count 'em) yesterday, one walk, one run, one brilliant fuck (carpets and sweat, showers and yesses), one finger and thumb keep moving, and I am merry and bright.  Back later...

The world keeps giving me shit, but I'm still here.  For how much longer, well there's a question!  I'm avoiding work by writing this.  But it's not working!  I've not got the muse.  Too much to do, too little time and not enough wine women and song.  Roll on the weekend.  Oh well the grande americano with an extra shot is working its magic, even if nothing else is.

More GEG time at the weekend and she promised to be Pretty In Pink

Stuck in a fugitive motel, far from home, without a connection to the outside world. And then up pops “Wireless connection found”…hope at last.  But then hope dashed as the signal’s too weak.  So I’ll write this tonight and upload it tomorrow.

It’s been a long drive down here from there.  Plenty of time to think.  Not that I reached any great conclusions.  Been a productive day though. Started with sex…always a good start methinks.  Made up for missing out the morning before. The sad thing is though that after all this time I still don’t know if she enjoys it.  She had an affair, well she sort of had two.  Some years ago now.  But the second time was very sexual.  Did things with him that she doesn’t do with me; sucked him off which she’s always been reluctant to do and took it up the arse too.  We did that once after her affair, but never since.  It’s not for me. Maybe we ain’t sexually compatible.  We don’t kiss during sex.  Makes me feel inadequate.  Maybe I am, but she doesn’t tell me.  I think this is the root of the problem.  I don’t know what she thinks of sex, but I think we are both better at it with other people.  So maybe we should stick with that.  But can a marriage last like that?  It better because I’m not looking for it to end.  We’ve got too much in the plus column to make this negative sink us.  But how do I make it better?  Or does it not matter?  As long as I am getting “pleasured” elsewhere and am therefore happy is that not enough?  Lots of questions here…if anyone is reading I’d welcome some answers.

I’m knackered.  I’m off to bed.  Good night all of you out there.

PS This was uploaded finally a day late at a Wifi point in Starbucks...thank God for coffee!

Have you backed it up yet?  Do you need me to show you how? What do you think of the show so far?

She's out and about right now.  I'm on my ownsome. Physically, not metaphorically.  I woke up at 7 and curled up around her, held her hand tight.  Hoped for some sign that she wanted me.  I imagined a sleepy fuck; warm and cosy.  It didn't happen and we both fell asleep again.  Woke up again around half eight still curled together.  Still no sign.  She got up to make breakfast.  I lay there for a further 15 minutes wondering which came first the chicken or the egg.  Do I pay because we don't fuck or do we not fuck because I pay.  Both and neither is probably the answer.  I like that she's my best friend, but I don't like the lack of sex.  I like having sex.  After twenty years, I still don't know if she does.  Christ, that's bad isn't it.  But that's where we've got to.  Everything else is the perfect marriage.  We love each other.  We enjoy each other's company.  We laugh. We rarely fight.  We are devoted to our daughter.  We just don't do it.  So I tell myself that paying for sex is better than having an affair because I don't lose sight of my love, I'm not blinded by another.  And there are no late night text messages to cover up.  But if she were to rip my clothes off once in a while (and we used to, believe me), I'd save a fortune.  Until then I'll stick with the girls and the city apartments.  Cos it's fun.  It makes me happy.  And then makes me better company at home.  Means I'm not grumpy and pressuring her. 

Met the GEG once again yesterday.  Each time I see her, I get to know her a little more and each time I then want to see her again.  In some ways this is a weird way to get to know another human being, but then maybe all ways are weird, but some are just more common?  We've only spent half a day or so of waking hours in each other's company, but much of that has been spent naked.  And she is beautiful naked.