I met her online. We exchanged phone numbers right away and then texted a while. Different commitments (I’m sure mostly involving other people sexually on both sides) kept us from meeting in the flesh for a couple of weeks but the vibe and intent was there for both of us.

And it was definitely sexual.


So we finally meet, she’s come a long way to stay overnight. We’re direct that way. She’s 30 and very well made up. She has flowing blonde curly hair, pretty eyes, prettier mouth and not a bad body. Her tits are too perfect to be real and her legs are a bit pale and skinny but overall she’s good.

Good enough people turn to look at her as she walks by. We go for a drink and order some take away. Then we go up to my place and have a glass of wine on the balcony while she admires the view. Being on the river has its advantages. The view is good. Relaxing.


As it gets colder we go back in and sit on one of the couches. I have known for a while I can kiss her when I want, and we’ll do whatever we feel comfortable doing with each other too for a while. But I have just been observing her and whether she knows it. She hopes it but can’t tell.

It must be frustrating being a woman sometimes. Men get frustrated when they get cock-teased of course, but to be a woman and have to wait for a guy to make the first move must be just as nearly exasperating. Especially if he doesn’t. But I’m not shy really. And I almost always ask before doing anything. It’s only polite. Of course sometimes asking would just get in the way.


And once, with the Chinese girl when I asked her if I could kiss her she told me “Why you ask?!” Almost upset…and she quickly followed it with “…don’t ask! Just give me some wine to drink and then do it to me!” If I didn’t know better it would have sounded like a perfect recipe for a date-rape lawsuit. She was a fun girl though the Chinese one.

But here I was with Blondie (it suits her really, she’s pretty, and has these blonde hair falling in curly locks all over the place) and I tell her I want to kiss her now. She’s enthusiastic. Her little girl smile however soon takes on a kind of sexual predator look. She means to impress me. Well, this is usually not a good sign but we’ll see.

She does kiss too hard and over-hollywoodised but it’s ok. I take her to the bedroom shortly after. Like I said, we’re both direct that way which is nice. Comfortable.


I undress her and take my clothes off. She gets nervous about her looks and starts to say her hair must be a mess and if I’m worried about how her pussy looks red it’s because she just waxed earlier today for me…

We had the whole safe sex talk over the last couple of weeks and we’ve both been tested so we know we’re good. And I feel that familiar twinge of a mixture of care and pity and love for her.


Sweetie, we’re naked. I like you enough ok?

Don’t worry about it. You took time to make yourself nice for me and you’re clean and pretty and want me in you. That goes a long way towards me being seriously able to ignore anything that might make you less than perfect.

She does have fake tits but honestly they are not as bad as I thought. Despite this last year having been one in which I have had sex with more women than in the previous 10 years (no long term relationship for a year now see?) I have never before touched a fake tit. It feels just like real ones. The perfect kind of real ones, which are few in number in the world really, but I’ve been lucky enough to experience relatively recently a few times.

She looks pretty amazing considering I also know she’s had 2 kids. Really impressed with her I have to say.

She’s good about being able to take all of me in her pretty mercilessly too which is nice. She scratches though. The first time I put it down to her being a bit over enthusiastic and wanting me to know she’s really having fun. A bit of a show but she means well type of thing.


She comes easily too and isn’t shy about it and I feel her contracting on me so I know she’s not faking it. I think it’s a man’s duty to make sure a woman has an orgasm. Or ten. This view, from what the females in my life tell me is apparently rare among men.

It’s enough to make you a bit ashamed of your sex really!

I mean WTF? Not making her come is like….I don’t know. It’s just WRONG!

But I’m not complaining really. Thanks to all you useless male fucks out there I generally get the equivalent of a standing ovation from women’s vaginas.

God bless all the inept men out there. And the gay ones.

Thanks guys!


I love making a woman feel good. That’s not to say that I don’t enjoy feeling good myself, because I do.

The ideal woman if I ever meet her will have my same view of sex I think. Which basically is that a woman’s orgasms are MY responsibility. It is my duty as a man to sense when she needs to have one…after all it’s my vagina really….so I should know how to use it, when to use it, and the millions of ways to use it so as to keep it happy. Often women do not realise how sexual they truly are. It’s not their job to please their pussies as much as it’s mine.

Similarly, when I find that supermodel looking, nymphomaniac genius with a loyal soul and a telepathic connection to my genitals I will marry her and have her bear my children in a flash.

She will understand that the natural state for my balls is for them to be drained of any excess sperm. Which is any sperm really. And she will understand this instinctively and realise it’s her duty to care for her property as much as it’s mine to care for mine.

But I digress….


The second time she draws blood.

I mean really actually draws blood.

Which is going to be hard to explain to the Turkish girl that will be coming over the next day.

Admittedly the Turkish girl hardly speaks any English but still…she might notice bleeding scratches on my back and ass.

Not that I mention this detail to Blondie, but I do tell her I’m bleeding.

She’s so apologetic I almost feel bad for her…I have to think of a way for her to be able to make it up to me.


That will be hard. Not.

Blondie is a good girl. She understands the basics of sex between consenting adults and is fully aware that getting a man hard is actually the girl’s job, so when we first got naked she didn’t hesitate to take me in her mouth. She’s rather good with her mouth, so naturally a way to atone for her clawing me presents itself flawlessly. She takes to her redemption with gusto. So much so I wonder if she’s Christian.


She’s good. I tend to be quite kinaesthetic unlike most men I suppose, so I often have my eyes closed when having a really good time, but she’s doing something so amazing it actually feels like she’s deep-throating me…which I know is impossible because if E couldn’t do it…and she wanted to so much… surely no one can.


E had the bedroom skills of a whore. Except she was really into it. So nymphomaniac is actually the right term. We were perfect in bed and if we didn’t talk. Unfortunately that very sensitive girl was all fucked up majorly by growing up in England. Her true animal nature splintered by so many bullshit social rules. The blood of so many visceral and natural people running in her veins, some Oriental and others European… E was an animal. And broken by so called civilisation. And me…well I’m still an animal. And civilisation will not break me ever. But it did wound me. As did some other brutal things. So I wasn’t strong enough for her when she needed me. I behaved badly too. And honestly I wonder if it would have made any difference. She’s so hurt that girl I wonder if she would ever let anyone really, truly, own her heart completely. I think I was the closest she’s ever likely to come, but I hope I’m wrong.

I did love her. Wherever she’s run off to now and whoever she’s with, I truly, honestly, with all my heart hope she finds the strength, peace and harmony and most of all visceral, intense love she needs.

But even she couldn’t deep-throat me. She would have eventually, because she was a good girl and once she got an idea in her head she would follow through with it. Eventually. So I knew that short of sharing one of Lex Steele’s work colleagues the chances of me ever getting a deep throat were not good. In fact I had until that moment pretty much resigned myself to the fact that unless I actually got with a bona-fide porn-star deep throating wasn’t going to be on my list. Well…not until marriage at least. Not that I plan to marry a porn star…(not that I would be against it either though) but you know…we’re talking marriage here…she’d have to learn.


I opened my eyes to see what she was doing and blow me down -well actually she was doing that already- if she wasn’t taking me down her throat.

Ok she still had about an inch to go before she would have her nose pressed into my pubic bone, but she still got an A for effort. Not to mention an A++ for the surprise effect. I mean she was quite petite really.

And she was into it. Well. I was into her actually, but you know what I mean. I was fascinated.

Grateful, amazed, and pleased all at once too, but fascinated mostly. What a lovely creature.


Every so often women will do something so sweet and surprising and thoughtful…it’s no wonder I love them.

I really do.


I told her when I was coming. She made sure to take it all in her. She really did deserve a prize. She knocked me unconscious with that third orgasm. And it was 4 am and I had to be up in 2 hours or so. I told her if she didn’t mind I’d sleep those two hours. She didn’t mind and we fell asleep hugging.

In the morning I decided I should be properly grateful. But I learnt my lesson and made sure I held her wrists hard. I was glad because she left fingernail imprints in the pillow-casings she clung to while she screamed her way through her orgasms.


We dressed and left together and said bye at the tube station. And not seen each other since. But I’ll never really forget her will I.

How could I possibly.


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