Apologises!  I have been enjoying Freshers week once more, and of course, the flu that come with it (perhaps not enjoying that so much!)  But I have returned to you (on a brand new shiny computer, no less) with an offering that i hope you will all enjoy, and forgive me for being away     I have that little black dress on that you like so much, as it shows of every curve of my body, and you have been looking at me with lust in your eyes all night. When another man came up to talk to me at the bar, you made it very clear I belonged to you: you didn’t hold back, as you twirled me round to face you and placed a deep, lingering kiss on my mouth. I wasn’t interested in the other man, but that streak of jealousy seemed ...

I’m still getting calls from clients, several of whom I haven’t heard from in over a year.  I don’t know what it is.  Maybe the economy.  Maybe the time of year.  Maybe they figured out that I’m ‘debauchette’ and they’re just feeling me out.  Most of them just want to talk, about their lives, about their work, about the economy, about our past, and it’s all fine until they start talking about a relationship. Something I love about client relationships is the clarity and sanctity of the boundaries. Take that transaction away and it changes everything. And I have all the relationship I want. It’s been a busy few weeks, and the first thing I did when I resurfaced was fuck Gabriel.  ...

My love Nimue is an exceptional cocksucker.  I could glorify her by calling her a fellatrix, but fancy words really aren’t necessary.  She pleasures me intensely by sucking my cock. Nimue’s brilliance is part technique, and part desire.  Both are essential.  Knowing how to manipulate my penis, knowing what to do with her fingers and palms, lips and tongue, helps me to achieve a strong and enjoyable erection.  Showing me how much she enjoys fellatio, how hungry she is for my cock, helps me to maintain it. Always an exciting part of our passionate entangling on the sheets is the moment when Nimue slides her head down my body and takes my cock in her hand, if it isn’t resting in her palm already.  Nimue’s hands ...

Life is a balance. A set of scales, always weighted in the favour of one or the other of two opposing factors. Rich and poor. Hot and cold. Left and right. Equilibrium and chaos. Yin and yang. Men and women (as a general rule. I acknowledge there are in-between statuses in all of these). This balance is delicate. A feather-light touch will upset the status quo. Sometimes for the good - democracy from tyranny. Sometimes for the bad - misogyny from equality. Sometimes the balance hovers, undecided. Here lie my thoughts currently. In the middle; opposed yet content. This little musing was brought into being after watching The Secretary. On Channel 4 last night was this curious film. Curious in the fact it is a relatively mainstream film, both ...

It's as if he knows when I have given up. When he's just about to lose me. When I decided this weekend that I have to make my own closure. When I have begun to hate him.....he emails me.
"Ribbit. Call me now. 2:30, Paradise. Don't blow it. or then again blow it and make it all sticky and wet"
Now, we all know that I should have emailed back--- Fuck you! But I couldn't. I called. He sounded amazing but I could feel my guard was up. He's going through some shit now..didn't go into details but he hinted. I'm not playing with a full deck, he said.
My response, well either am I but maybe I have the cards you need to complete it.....
Aahh...I am off. I am doing what I shouldn't do....meet him!

no metal
no wood
no leather
no silk
no biting
no spanking
no dirty talking
just skin and
soft words
and sighs
on a sunny bed
it's good to celebrate
how well she fits in my arms
wrapped around her waist
just under her ribs
pulling her against me
she melts
every time
into my arms
into me
it's good to give her kisses
my fullest attention
how hungry and sophisticated
our kissing is
one hundred poems and three novels
pass back and forth
tongues and lips and teeth
and whispers
it's good to get pulled into the tide
swirling us up
in called and response rushes
whimpers and groans
each feeding the ...

I'm sorry that I have not been able to post anything for the last few days - real life has been just too hectic. To show you what I mean - here are some photos of our kitchen as it was last Tuesday. Add to that the multitude of things to do as we wind up my Mother-in-Law's affairs, you will see that there is little time left to enjoy blogging. The same pace will continue for the next few

Lettuce says, "Your bike has been 0Wn3d!!"
Lettuce enjoyed a four-day celebration of her 40th birthday this weekend, opening wonderfully with her incredibly enjoyable visit with Don on Thursday. On Friday she received a surprise birthday party that lasted until the wee hours (sometime around 4am as I recall) with our close - but not THAT close, LOL - friends.
Then on Saturday I had the distinct pleasure of spending the evening taking my lovely lady out for her birthday. As we left the kids with the sitter and walked out the door, Lettuce decided to elegantly straddle and "0Wn" my bike.
That started the evening off perfectly! Although looking back, I missed the opportunity to start that Harley V-Twin engine up and let it rumble and ...

TW and I, although pretty much wiped out every day/night, have been having sex. It’s mostly spoon with the occasional cunnilingus thrown in for good orgasmic pleasure. We’ve got several issues going on that are not allowing us to get the much needed rest we need. For instance, I slept most of Saturday away. I didn’t get up until 3 in the afternoon! TW was in bed by 10:30 P.M. and fast asleep by the time I got in bed. Believe it or not, I feel asleep almost immediately, even though I’d only been up for 8 hours or so. Tragic. On a related note, I’m leaning toward a private Yahoo group for our photos. I’ve created the group but need to talk with TW before we move forward. If she gives the okay, I’ll let ...

I was sad, so I stayed away,
I doubted myself, and didn't want you to think me weak.
I had begun to wobble, ever so slightly,
And it was so very far to fall,
From the pedestal you'd put me on.
I was supposed to deliver the goods,
But they weren't forthcoming.
And what was happening to me,
Was too close to my heart, was private,
And was not to share.
Alas, as ever, so full of excuses,
The truth is, I was frightened to succeed,
So I sabotaged myself.
So much easier to cope with failure,
So comfortable with, "just not good enough".
Because after success, what then?
Where would we go, what would we do?
Still I ...

Even though there's no way I'd agree to a long-distance exclusive relationship, Sculptor was audibly a little disappointed when I complied with our honesty requirements and told him I'd just fucked Mr. England. "I thought you might wait until you saw me again," he said, his voice small. "No, I never said that," I pointed out pragmatically, but at the same time I was mildly annoyed that he'd made me feel guilty for something I hadn't really done wrong.
However, I found my chance to rectify the situation a few days later: Sculptor mentioned he was going out later that night with a group of friends I'd already met...and a girl he dated six months ago. "Remember, you can do whatever you want, I won't mind..." I reminded him. He mused that he ...

I know that a lot of times I probably come off sounding very self-centered, sexually speaking. One thing I've been surprised by as I go back and read the sex reports is how many times my wife basically just fucks me because I want to, not really being into it herself but not wanting to deny me. (Ego compels me to point out that even with that she's ahead of me in the orgasm count for the year, though). And of course we play a whole lot of sex games at my request, some of them of limited interest to her. It's probably true that when it comes to our sex life Freya gives, and I take, more than vice versa. That doesn't mean I'm always a jerk about it, though. Take last Friday night as an example.
Freya was sick all week with something that seemed ...

So, we took a break. Not a long one, but enough to have impact. The emotional draw for us both was way too intense. It was his idea, then I begrudgingly agreed after a lot of foot stomping and moaning about having to "deal with the H all the time." I was addicted to the intensity, both emotionally as well as physically....it was becoming quite dangerous, as I tend to be reckless when in love. And

The weekend is over, and things are settling back to normal.  We had some especially nice anal sex last night before I retired for the evening earlier than usual in order to catch up on some sleep. She has been following up with WarDaddy, and he says he enjoyed himself, but this is one awkward fellow. My wife would be interested in meeting him again, but he had to make an 8-hour round trip, so we are not sure he will be as motivated as he was his first time, especially since we paid for everything except for his gas and time. We are not so sure he will be willing (if he even has the means) to spring for his own hotel and such. What ever happens happens.       

After reading all the ecstatic testimonials for this toy, I HAD to check it out. Trouble is, I don’t have a prostate. So I enlisted Big Boy, one of the biggests pervs I know, to take it for a spin. Here is what he had to spray - I mean, say: I was fortunate enough to be selected by The Beautiful Kind to take a male G-Spot stimulator for a test run, and boy was I lucky! The Aneros Male G-Spot Stimulator is a curious looking device that’s about three inches long and angled downward so that it hits the prostate at just the right point. (It comes in two sizes - standard and maximus - I used standard.) Its design also includes a perineum tab that, once inserted, presses firmly on one’s taint. Once you get this little devil inside your ass, you ...

I raised my head from his crotch, stretching out my body as I made my way up his belly--kissing as I unfurled. I raised my eyes to his in the wanton, naughty way of a lover who can taste his ejaculate on her tongue.
Or, at least, I tried to raise my eyes to his.
All I see in my lusty look is a disheveled mass of blonde hair. It's so fine-textured that it tangles easily--and is especially prone to looking like an undefined, mussed cloud after sex. Or a blowjob. Or a kiss. Or a hand running through it.
Or, heck, a particularly pointed look.
I cannot see through my curtain of blonde, and I brush my hair back--trying to tame its unruly self. I work my fingers through the biggest of tangles, attempting to look slightly more dignified ...

The significance of the title may be lost of anyone outside the UK. But the Brodi in this case features not in a TV Drama but on a video clip which both excites and disturbs me. See it if you’ve a mind to on redtube.com/14395. For the purpose of a story-line, Brodi describes herself as a slut - and proud of it. To prove her point, she gives her boyfriend head with the reckless abandon of the accomplished fellatrix she obviously is. Gives head did I say? Rather, she lets her head be used in much the same way as I imagine a lonely castaway might use a pumpkin. And although she’s a willing partner, there is more than a suggestion of violence in the encounter. Which is why it disturbs me as well as exciting me. I am normally such a gentle guy, who ...

Slipping into the room, I saw Jake lying in one of the beds. There were 3 other patients in the room, all thankfully asleep. Jake watched as I tiptoed across the room towards him. Climbing up onto the bed, I couldn't help but notice his solid abs. Leaning forward I kissed his ear, biting down. I heard him moan and hoped that the nurses weren't paying attention. He was so knocked out on morphene he was almost asleep. Straddling his waist, I pulled up my skirt so that my bare ass was against his skin. Jake looked up at me, my shirt un buttoned, my breasts out on display. I felt behind me and found what I was looking for, gently tugging it, I saw Jake realise what was going on. He moaned again, and I leant down to kiss his soft lips. With my hand still ...

One of the reasons* that I enjoy, and fantasize about, resistance play so much - being held down, overpowered, etc. - is that I have a lot of unexpressed rage. Frankly, the universe often frustrates the crap out of me, and, since there is no local franchise of The Smash Shack, I often lack any way of expressing it. I want to break things, hit things, and hurt things, only I don't. I've fantasized about buying cases of bottles just to have something to smash that I wouldn't regret later, I've even written an erotic short story about it, but I'm generally too controlled. If I get mad enough, or frustrated enough, I'll lash out with sarcasm, but most of the time I simply focus my temper on where it can do the least harm - me.
I hate that, in this ...

four orgasms, countless positions, spankings, hair pulling, dom/sub, oral sex.. is my man a regular welcome wagon or what? so after my weekend trip, my man treated me to several hours of nakedness and hour-long fuck sessions. as soon as we laid on the bed together it was all over: within seconds my man had ripped off my little white shorts and was sliding my black panties down, his hard cock pushing against his boxer briefs so hard they practically came off on their own. he’d missed my pussy and ate it out for a good long while, insisting that that’s how i should get my first orgasm. i disagreed and told him i needed some dick, so - after making me beg - he gave me one last hard lick before growling, “now it’s your turn ...

say it. call me a bitch. i earned that name. WE fought for it. my grandmother married a man that would slap her around. she stayed with him because she didnt know any better. she had a single little girl and raised her in an environment that allowed her to think that its ok for a man to hit a woman. she allowed her to think its ok for a man to demean a woman. she allowed her to think its ok for

No worries, we'll be back soon. Lots more to write about!

I hate being sick. And I am. Again.
This time, a nasty, nasty case of bronchitis is going around school and I have it. BIG time.
I can't take in enough water, because nothing with soothe my throat. Even the Robitussin with codeine doesn't work at night. In fact, I seem to be coughing more while I'm on it at night than when I'm not on it. I sound like I have whooping cough (not that I actually know what whooping cough sounds like--okay, I just looked it up and I defintiely don't have that, although this is seriously violent coughing).
So, I haven't been sleeping well at all, I just cough all the time. My best time for sleeping is during the middle of the day when I seem to cough the least. I think last night I only got ...

I love sucking his cock in the morning. Before either of us has left the bed. When we’re barely awake. When his flesh is warm and he smells musky. Like sex from the night before. These are the moments when I can’t get enough of him. When I crave the connection. It’s like I’m drinking him in. Worshiping between his legs. I’ll feel his cock filling my mouth all day long. I’ll taste him for hours. It has nothing to do with pleasing him. It is solely about sating my own desire.