Dec 182014

I could describe her body for you, which is yummy, but that’s not, by any stretch, her most salient defining feature, as far as I’m concerned. No, what you need to know about Sadie is that, at least so far, she simply does what I want. Whatever that is.

We’ve only met twice – once, in a loud bar, in a circumscribed meeting. And once, in a quieter bar, a prelude to delicious evening of endless oral at Le Trapeze, one that left me too spent to record or write even a note to myself on the way home.

There will, surely, be more. (I’m laying – she’s laying – the groundwork right now. I’m reluctant to say more than that. But stay tuned.)

Dec 182014

Her hair is long, brown, wavy. She’s got big, full lips – and breasts, and a big tattoo on her side. She’s super pretty. I “met” her on Tinder months ago – maybe two Tinder profiles ago. We haven’t been able to meet in person. She’s just about the only person I’ve ever tried to interact with who’s busier than I am.

Also, to be fair, I think she’s just a little ambivalent about meeting me. Where some of the interactions I have with women I meet on Tinder get hot and heavy fast, Eva’s never fully engaged with me. She disappears quickly, engrossed in her own life. We made plans more than once, as I recall. She canceled once or twice. I canceled once or twice.

She has sent me two orgasms. One, in August. One, just recently. They’re both delicious. One thing I love about them is that you can hear her pretty smile. Another thing I love about them? Is that they’re soft, sweet, slow, fun. They’re not loud, scream-y affairs, and they’re not deep breath-y ones. They’re just all about sweet, sweet pleasure.


She promises that, come January, she will suck my cock.

My fingers are crossed.

Dec 182014

I’m listening to the last episode of “Serial.”

It (the series) is not un-flawed, but man, is it compelling.

You should really listen.

Dec 172014

Her: So….I read your blog. Well, the intro and then what you are thinking while eating pussy. I think Im going to go play with my pussy until i cum. Thank you.

Me: Mmm. I’m proud! That orgasm is mine!

Her: Gimmie a min. Havent gotten there yet.

Her: Ok. Done. Want to hear about it?

Me: Please.

Her: I stood there, in the bathroom stall at work. Back against the cold wall, panties down around my knees, legs parted. The two fingers of my left hand slide easily into my sopping pussy, and i rub my clit furiously with my right hand. My fingers go in and out, as deep as they can. I keep rubbing my clit. Visions of past lovers fucking me stream through my brain, rushing me to the finish line. I cum, and i feel myself tighten around my fingers. I realize i was breathing heavy and hope no one heard me. Then, i catch a sob on my throat, wishing for the one man i could not hold on to. I pull myself together and realize my folly. I cannot pee because i just came. I sit on the toilet and use the bath tissue to wipe my juices of my hand as i try to relax enough to relieve myself.


Sometimes, I just am amazed at what I have wrought here.

Dec 172014

I really like you at the gym.

I really want you to bend over at the gym so I can fuck you from behind.

And to kneel, at the gym, so I can fuck your face.

And to stand against the wall at the gym, so I can choke you with one hand while I shove my fingers deep inside your cunt with the other.

And to lie on your back, so I can pound your pussy, so I can kiss your pretty face while I pound your pussy.

At the gym.

Dec 162014

I like getting to know your sexuality, getting to know how you work. What makes you tick, what makes you drip. I like getting to know your body. The lines and curves. I like getting to know your tastes – the clothes you like, the words you like. The images that get you wet, the thoughts that are a step or two too far. I want to learn where your boundaries are, where your edges are. Where the limits are. I want to take you there, right to those edges, to those limits, to those boundaries.

And I want to grab you by your ankles and dangle you over those limits, while I fuck your face.

Dec 162014

I said I’d name her after I filled her mouth with my cock. I changed my mind, telling her I wanted her to name herself. She refused.

We were, momentarily at a standstill. We’re past that, now. I think.

I have named her. I’m not thrilled about having to do so. As I said here, in my policy, I prefer for you to choose your name. But I hereby christen her Tamora, for reasons only I know.

Here are some things I have to say about her (based on nowhere-near-recent-enough* experience):

1) Jesus fucking Christ are her curves sexy.

2) She has great, deep, brown eyes.

3) She sucks a fucking mean cock.

4) She’s truly insatiable.

5) I’m nowhere near done with her.

“You should know,” she wrote me earlier, in the middle of a – well, not quite a disagreement, but a gradual unfolding of how we each be sure we each get things we want from one another – “I’d gladly suck you off in a sea of women.”

This was a surprise to me. In my head, she had told me that vision most definitely didn’t appeal to her. So this is an exciting development…. Stay tuned on that particular front.

She goes back and forth between wanting to give me everything I want, and just fucking wanting my cock now, and doing away with all the preliminaries. I can almost feel the ebbs and flows – it’s like she doesn’t want to want to give me what I want but, in the end, she wants to.

She’s not shy. She seems perfectly comfortable sending me pictures of her very pretty face, sending me videos of her very pretty face, sending me videos of her very pretty face as she has orgasm after orgasm.

This is not a bad configuration of things for me.


* There are a few women about whom you haven’t read. Not many. Two or three others. For the most part, these are women whom I’ve only managed to see once, for whatever combination of reasons. When I haven’t written about someone, it’s never because she wasn’t inspiring, or fun, or hot, or whatever. It’s because circumstances in my life, combined with my own unpredictable muses, simply haven’t resulted in my finishing a post on someone. Tamora is an example: I’ve got two or three unfinished posts from fairly long ago sitting in my “drafts” folder, just waiting to be finished.


p align=”center”>Wicked Wednesday

Dec 162014

Tinder has, of late, provided me with any number of orgasms. I’ll give them to you slowly, because I’m overwhelmed. There were a bunch all in rapid succession, and life simply hasn’t afforded me the time to get them up here. Let’s start with this, from… I’ll call her Stephanie. She’s breathy, she’s close to the mic, and she’s insanely hot. Her Tinder pictures reveal a confident, sexy woman. I won’t describe her except to say that, on her cover photo, her smile manages to be simultaneously extremely innocent, and totally fucking naughty.


Dec 152014

Tinder is recalibrating me just a little. In my life, one hundred percent of the people I interact with, I treat the same way: with a combination of interest and respect. I say “please” and “thank you.” I’m genuinely interested in people’s – everyone’s – experience. This is true of taxi drivers, baristas, waiters, retail merchants, toll booth operators – you name it. Including, women with whom I interact on Tinder.

Interestingly, it’s often not true of them. They abandon conversations mid-sentence, are rude, demanding, disrespectful, hostile. Sometimes, they are purely instrumental, using me to get off, and then discarding me unceremoniously like a cum-stuck porn magazine. Sometimes, their treatment of me approaches indifferent.

It’s all so different for me.

If I interact with you, I do so on the basis of the presumption (the fantasy?) that soon, we will meet. My cock will be in your mouth. My tongue will be on your clit. My cock will be pounding into your cunt, or sliding slowly in.

Or, at a minimum, that we both are evaluating whether that’s a world we want to travel to together. I know, consciously, that this is self-deceiving, that many women with whom I interact are engaged in precisely the interaction for which they’re aiming. The actual in-person interaction isn’t a real possibility, it’s more like the mechanical rabbit in a dog race, always just ahead, never to be caught. Or maybe it’s like God, or monogamy – something we all agree to pretend is real because the alternative is so bleak.

But anyway, I interact with you genuinely believing that one day, and soon, I hope, we will be together, vulnerable to one another, dependent on one another for some combination of safety, excitement, and pleasure.

If, at any point, this changes, I’ll tell you. I’ll say, “You know? This actually isn’t working for me any more.” Or our conversation will die out naturally, of its own accord. But I will, almost certainly, be the last to speak. I don’t know that I’ve ever consciously, intentionally, allowed a question or request of me to go unanswered.

It’s just not how I roll.

So every time I interact with someone who approaches these questions differently, I wince just a little.

A Twitter friend of mine used to deride our friendship as “not real,” because we hadn’t met. I suppose for some, this feels accurate. But for me, all my relationships, in real life or virtual, are real, are deserving of respect, consideration, generosity, kindness.

More on this anon….

Dec 142014

I was in a sexless relationship for too long and was beginning to believe I wasn’t interested in sex and became insecure about my sexuality and seductive abilities. I have since been reawakened and am discovering more of what I like and want….but am still a bit intimidated. How would you guide me and teach me to become fully aware of myself?

That’s a lot of responsibility to put on a guy you don’t know. So I wouldn’t presume to answer quite as you’ve asked, quite as you’ve implied. I don’t know that I can “guide” you and “teach” you to “become fully aware of” yourself. That seems a tall order.

What I can do is to guide you toward and teach you about my desires. I can teach you what it means to give me what I want from you, to minister to my hungers and thirsts as they occur, and to pay close attention to how doing so makes you feel. I care about your pussy, so if what you’re doing for me makes it wet, I’ll be eager to know that. And if it doesn’t, I’ll be eager to know that. I’ll want to be sure that the ways in which I’m using you don’t just make my cock hard, but make your cunt ache for me.

If that’s a role, as guide and teacher, that you want me to play, then I’m game to explore.