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Fun with a normal white guy...
Sharing experiences in the world of debauchery.
Keywords | Title View | Refer to a Friend |
Always Remember You're Special...
Posted:Feb 3, 2021 5:16 pm
Last Updated:Jun 12, 2021 7:51 am

...just like every other guy who's paying attention to me.

I recently had an interlude, for lack of a better term, with someone that broke new ground in a number of undesirable ways. On paper, this someone was a great fit for me (super smart, submissive, well read, hot), but distance precluded anything substantive from developing between the two of us. Still, it was nice to interact and exchange ideas. As she wandered into what something between us would look like, were the distance removed, she became quite effusive with her praise, referring to me as 'divine' and using phrases such as 'meant to be'. You get the idea. Because life's all about context, I didn't truly take any of this to heart, but it was nice to hear.

Of course, I wasn't sufficiently naïve to believe I was the only man she was chatting with, which she confirmed. She also admitted to craving attention from certain types of men, which I'd already figured out about her. Your grandmother would have called her 'boy crazy'. But surely, she wasn't sharing such intense sentiments with other men, right? There couldn't be multiple divine men out there, right? Yeah, not so much. She admitted espousing the same sentiments to some undisclosed number of additional men. Her rationale was she used those words in a different context than was typical, and telling me of course, there's a back story. Of course...there's always a back story.

I think you'll agree that a shared language is important for well, everything. Back story or not, a soldier sitting in an underground silo can't one day decide that saying 'we have authorization to launch the missiles' really means he's going into town for a pastrami on rye.

Needless to say, I severed ties after hearing that little gem. That was late last week. I've since happily moved on and reconnected with someone I should have held onto in the first place. But for some reason, I felt compelled this afternoon to revisit the communication I had with the woman who called me divine (she's right, you know). I feared I was being too harsh toward her. Nah, should have been more harsh.

In scanning her notes, I uncovered two instances where her effusive praise was wrapped in an agreement to something I never said. This woman was copy pasting the exact same material to multiple men! Let me say it again; she was sending the same snippets of messages to multiple guys. If you've kept up with my blog, you know that I've seen a lot of different 'interesting' behaviors from women. But here's something brand new for the annals of dating history.
A Contrast in Infidelity
Posted:Jan 30, 2021 5:23 pm
Last Updated:Jul 27, 2021 5:45 pm

, infidelity represents the worst sort of betrayal in a relationship. I've seen the horrible impact of infidelity, in women I've met over the years. Cheaters deserve have their asses kicked the curb, then kicked some more. Yet, recent revelations have me a bit torn on the subject and how I view those commit adultery.

A little mea culpa before I continue. I'll admit being unfaithful in my marriage. My wife's borderline personality disorder ensured that I was constantly made feel inadequate, so when a , very attractive woman found be everything my wife told I wasn't, I fell. went on for a month before my moral compass corrected my course, which point I ended . not asking for my behavior be excused; was wrong and I take full responsibility for it.

Onward... I've previously shared some information about my father being a slime ball, but didn't mention a shocking piece of information he drunkenly shared a few years ago. It seems that he'd had an affair with a family friend for about a decade. Actually, he first divulged an affair and I correctly guessed with, which shocked him. Classify it how you will, but I was sleeping with her female offspring during a portion of that time period. In any case, it took me some time to not want to his ass. I mistakenly mentioned my affair, which he attempted equivocate with his own actions. I told him was no way they were similar; I cheated on my wife whereas he cheated on my . shouldn't shock anyone that he was panicked about my finding . As for contrition, you're better off searching for some of that in the Republican party.

In the meantime, he was his usual standoffish self with my . He wasn't exactly Mr. Nurturing with either, as a . I learned not show emotion around him, or risk being ignored or even taunted. shouldn't be a shock that I was plagued with intimacy issues later in life, that prevented from having a healthy relationship, but that's another story. In any case, he dropped to low life status for , and it took a long time for me to even speak to him, without the words 'go yourself' being included. Of course, his encore performance was the selfish behavior that led fucking the lives of his entire family. Have I neglected share how he actually did my chances get back home Richmond? Oh, he thought he was having a couple of affairs with the scammers, one of whom he specifically sent $30k for an engagement ring. It should be no surprise they were using stock pictures of blondes (not all the one, because they could get away with it, him being drunk of his mind).

Fast forward just after his brain surgery, when he checked himself of the rehab hospital because the food wasn't his liking, have return the hospital. I was on a well-deserved tirade about his selfishness my , which seemed trigger her own flood gates open. She told me about how he'd been controlling from when they started dating in . About how he attempted to separate her from her friends. She didn't have to tell how cold he'd been over the course of so many years, because that was obvious. Apparently, he even took pride that all his coworkers hated him. His pattern of doing whatever the he wanted was a theme in their marriage. My 's a bit of a drama queen, but knowing my father, everything she said rung true. Then, she dropped her own bomb; she'd had two long-term affairs, herself. My had cheated on my father, not once but twice.

Considering my strong reaction the revelation my father had committed adultery, you'd expect the toward my . Except that's not what happened. After the shock wore off, I took emotional stock and found understanding, empathy, and a bit of pity. But the condemnation never came. She sought the love she wasn't getting home; a refuge from the hateful man she married. Ultimately, I thought 'good for you, Mom.'

Since then, things have somewhat normalized and I avoid my father, when possible. Not always easy when the one has get him appointments and continue put the pieces back together on his finances. Neither party knows of the other's affairs, that aware of, and I plan to keep it that way. When I do spend time with him, I do my best to put all the shit in a box, and pretend it doesn't exist. He should consider himself lucky are neither cliffs nor apex predators in Kansas. God, this place sucks in new ways, every . This may sound like a piece on my father, and it may very well be. But it's all true and him anyway.

Now, definitely get off my lawn.
A Night With His Toy
Posted:Jan 24, 2021 2:56 pm
Last Updated:Oct 6, 2021 7:44 am

My Turkish fwb has been a topic of previous posts, but there was so much garbage around what I ultimately determined was simply her being a and attempting manipulate into a relationship. The aforementioned garbage directed focus from the important pieces of the pie, which are that I was only the second man she'd ever been with, had never experienced an orgasm before, and I directed her journey from novice in the bedroom to my perfect living sex toy. What follows is a 'best of' compilation pulled from our encounters. The entire thing is factual, just not factual from a single session. It's also abbreviated; our encounters were never this brief.

If I'm feeling ambitious this week, I may finish the narrative on her progression.

Per his instructions, she arrived and rang the doorbell at exactly eight in the evening. Looking through the side glass of the door, he could see her standing in her tie closure spring coat, with her conservative knee length skirt and flats; she exuded confidence. To anyone who passed by, she looked all the part of the accomplished university professor she was, the epitome of prim and proper. Well, a very attractive university professor. At just under five feet tall, and weighing ninety pounds on an off day, she was petite in every way. Most of her friends knew her for her keen intellect, endless optimism, and her joie de vivre. Only he knew of her other side; the side he created. He opened the door and she glided past him, not stopping until reaching the great room. Catching up to her, he helped her with her coat and was pleased with her choice of attire underneath, which was a flowered, yet completely transparent top, her pert little breasts unspoiled by a bra. She knew he loved such surprises and did her best to please him, while they were together. That was her job, as his dirty slut, his property, and she took that role very seriously.

As he admired her form beneath the gauzy material, he took note that the nipples atop her pert breasts already resembled little pebbles, in anticipation of what was to come. He had a few twists to throw her way, tonight. Occasionally, she would require being reminded of her place. In such instances, she would not make it past the grand foyer before being shoved her to her knees and made to worship his coc When she misbehaved, he would order her finish him off, right there, then turn her around and push her back out the door. But not tonight; he had other plans for his toy.

As always, he offered her a glass of wine, knowing full well her Muslim beliefs would prevent her from accepting. It always struck him that she refused to imbibe, yet welcomed, no, demanded the treatment he would be subjecting her to shortly. They sat on the sofa, chatting about this and that. He watched her become more unsettled until she became the aggressor, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him passionately. Her body was giving off the unmistakable message of 'take me to bed and fuck the hell out of me'.

'Not so fast', he told her, 'you seem to have forgotten something. We'll take it to the bedroom.'

She was well acquainted with the most direct route to his bedroom and eagerly led the way. She stopped in the large, open area of his bedroom, and stood there, looking at him intently. She knew what was expected of her, but being manhandled by him turned her on more than if she'd done it of her own voliction. A few seconds later, she got her wish, as he roughly shoved her to her knees.

'You know you need to demonstrate your worthiness as my and possession, before I touch you. Now get to it.'

He barely got the words out before her hands were on his zipper, extracting his hardening coc She was on fire tonight and dispensed with the tease, instead devouring him to the root.

'You've become such a good little cocksucker. Perhaps I should share you with a few of my young subordinates, so you can show off your skills.'

She knew he was creating a mood and understood such an act was a bridge too far for her, for now. That didn't prevent her from gushing a little over the thought of being used. And she really was proud of how well she'd learned to service a man, since he took ownership of her.

Her eyes were glazed over with pure lust as she worked his now rock hard manhood with her lips, tongue, and hands. He could see she was in her own world of desire and had to her back reality, before she brought him the point of no return. She had become such a cum slut, that he barely recognized the naïve woman she'd been a few months ago.

He grabbed her arm, yanked her her feet, then roughly shoved her, face down, on the bed. Moving forward until he trapped her with it own body, he snarled, 'God, you're such a come over here just have my cock in you. And you won't be happy unless you leave with my hot cum somewhere inside you. Even if you didn't want it, I own you and can take whatever I wish.'

With that, he flipped up her skirt and shoved his cock inside her. someone observing the scene, it would genuinely appear as though she was being taken against her will, particularly the way he had force himself inside her. The truth was that this woman was petite in more than just stature and was always a tight fit. Penetration took a bit of effort, even when she was soaked, as she was now.

Once inside, he began to slam himself into her, fucking her hard and fast, making sure to hold the angle he knew ravaged her sensitive g-spot. She howled with pleasure as he took her. It turned her on so much when her owner took what he wanted, her helpless to resist. She could only let herself be in this position with a man she trusted completely, which she did with the man now inside her.

He grabbed her hair and yanked her head up so he could speak right into her ear.

'Everyone else sees you as a respected university professor, but only I know what a slut you are. A dirty little plaything, who lives to be used like a dirty , owned like a piece of livestoc I own and use as I want, then toss you out on your ass. You're nothing but a fuck toy.'

He kept hammering her, alternating between spanking her ass, pulling her hair, shoving her face into the bed, and twisting her arm around her back as he degraded her. Each move was more extreme than the one before it and he knew he was causing her pain. This pleased him, not because he was a sadist, but because he knew pain, and lots of it, heightened her pleasure. He derived pleasure from taking his lover places she'd never been before, pushing her limits. Once again, he thought how reckless he was neglecting to establish a safe word, but such a precaution always proved unnecessary. No matter how brutal he was with her, she always wanted more.

'What are you?'

'I'm your ...all of my wholes belong to you.'

'And when can I use them?'

'Whenever you want! I belong to you!'

She screamed nonstop as he pounded her and would orgasm every time he told her what a she was. After he felt she'd been properly fucked in that position, he waited until he felt her building to another orgasm, then pulled out and told her to get undressed.

She was frustrated and completely on fire, but she didn't dare complain. She knew he wasn't done using her. But she needed to cum, just the

'Lie on your back, like a good slut. You know...your natural position in a bed.'

She complied.

'I think it's time for you to demonstrate what I've taught you about your body', he said as he sat down in a large leather chair in the corner. 'Show me that you know how to make yourself orgasm. Give your owner a bit of a show, like a good .'

And like a good little fuck toy, she began rubbing her fingers around the lips of her battered pussy. She maintained intense eye contact with her lover as the pleasure began to wash over her. As much as she wanted to give him a proper spectacle, she needed a release. With that, her opening act ended and she dove fingers deep inside her sex, working her g-spot vigorously until her hips spasmed in climax.

After her body relaxed, she had a contented expression on her face and beckoned him the bed. Once he climbed in, she acted as a content kitten and snuggled up her owner. He held her and delivered kindness, a little laughter, and tenderness, yet hadn't yet heard the word aftercare.

As they chatted, he saw she had something on her mind and looked at her with an expression that told her to just tell him. In a barely audible and timid voice, she asked 'will my butt tonight?' He'd introduced her to anal sex a few encounters ago and she found she loved it better than vaginal intercourse.

'You want me to fuck your ass?'

She nodded.

'If you want me to fuck your ass, you need to ask properly and not like an innocent little . You're so far from innocent at this point...' Chuckling, he let the remainder of the sentence hang unfinished.

She looked him in the eye and said, 'Will you please fuck my ass tonight, sir?'

'Much better.'

With that, they began to passionately kiss one another, him holding her tightly, occasionally nibbling at her tiny nec Without much in the way of conscious thought or intent, he found himself inside her again, and rolled so she could ride him. This was one of his favorite positions, because he could watch her pretty face, as she rode him. It also allowed access twist her nipples and give her the pleasure pain she craved.

That reminded him of one of the presents he'd bought for her, and rolled over far enough retrieve it from the bedside table. She watched him as he brought the devices up and attached them her nipples. She breathed in quickly from the pain and thought herself, 'Fuck, they hurt...I fucking love them!'

'Thank you sir...I love them.'

With that, she began riding him in earnest. The clamps hurt so good and he would occasionally apply pressure the chain, running between them, further heighten her sensation. She howled in both pleasure and pain as her hips moved. Her already tight pussy gripped his hard cock with greater intensity as she neared her next orgasm. He knew she wouldn't last much longer and she didn't. She wailed at the top of her lungs and beat his chest with her tiny fists as the wave of pleasure ripped through her body.

He pushed her off of him and pulled her to the side of the bed, yanking her to the floor, and bending her over the bed again.

'Do you want my cock in your ass?'

She nodded and gave a little 'mmmhmm'.

'No, I want to hear it. Beg for what you want.'

'Please fuck my ass; I need feel your cock everywhere.'

While she was begging, he retrieved a bottle of lube from the nightstand, and put just a few drops on his coc She seemed like it when it hurt going in. Grabbing her hips, he guided himself into position and drove his cock home, causing her to scream.

'Is that what you wanted, slut?'

She could only wail in reply.

Once he built a bit of a rhythm, he began with the pain and degradation she loved so much. This time, it brought out a little professorial monster. Gone was the submissive, replaced by a unrepentant hedonist, completely on fire. She began to taunt him.

'Are you spanking me? I can barely feel it.'

He spanked her harder, leaving more pronounced welts on her ass with each swat.

'Surely, you can do better than that.'

He went safeties free and began wailing on her as hard as he could. More pain would require him slugging the woman. Yet, she continued to taunt him. He began to wonder what he'd created. But that was enough impudence from his possession; she needed to be taught a lesson. Rather than continuing to spank her, he grabbed her hair, pulled her head up, and wrapped his hands around her nec He'd never choked a woman before and he was a bit tentative at first. Another taunt came and he tightened his grip, never letting up his assault on her ass. He knew how her body reacted every stimulus and could feel both pleasure and panic. Perfect. After a minute of so of this, she settled down and he removed his hands from her neck and paused fucking her. With the restriction removed, she gasped for air. She wasn't sure if she liked being choked or not. Definitely something do again, make sure.

Reaching into the nightstand, he retrieved the other present he bought for her.

'Put this in your pussy...feel what it's like when both holes are stuffed.'

She complied and slipped it inside. He could feel it on the other side of the wall between. He recommenced his attack on her ass, this time, with even greater intensity. No longer was he fucking her for her. She sensed what was happening and how he was using her ass to make himself cum. She began screaming, pleading for him to use her and give her his hot cum. That was the final check in the launch sequence; neither could stop it if they wanted to. As they were barreling toward the grand finale of the evening's events, he turned the vibrating egg he'd given her to its highest setting.

That was all it took to push them over the edge with a vengeance. She let out one final scream, then began to lose control of her body. She rose up and into a position where he could wrap his arms around her, which he did. The combination of sights, sounds, and sensations drove him over the edge. He snarled one last thing to her.

'I'm fucking cumming in your ass, . Take it like the cumslut you are.'

He flooded her ass with his load just as her orgasm reached its zenith. Just as he pumped the last of his seed into her, she lost what little control of her body she had left, and went completely limp. Had his arms not already been around her, she would have dropped like a stone. Instead, he held her until she regained a bit of control of her legs, then assisted in getting her into his bed. After her eyes refocused, she looked at him in awe and told him that was the most intense orgasm she'd ever had.

'Can I come over tomorrow night and do it again?'
1 comment
Posted:Jan 21, 2021 5:38 pm
Last Updated:Jan 24, 2021 2:42 pm

See Below
Love Is a Battlefield
Posted:Jan 20, 2021 4:30 pm
Last Updated:Jun 12, 2021 7:53 am

If you think about it, being a part of a loving relationship has a lot of similarities guerilla warfare. No, not between the two of you, but with the rest of the world. Enemies abound, intent on destroying the union with your partner. They're both internal and external; some may take the guise of a non-threat. Stressful jobs, illness, financial difficulties, challenges as parents, death of a parent, the hot neighbor doing her best insert herself. The list is almost endless of what can attack a relationship.

In order for that relationship survive and thrive, it's important both parties work as a two person commando team, defending from multiple enemies, coming from different directions. They need neutralize these enemies, or at least reduce their respective threats, and then get the chopper for exfil. Without both parties fighting as brave warriors, working together, and covering each other's flank, the team (relationship) will be overrun and killed.

I think we've all been in relationships where our 'brother in arms' failed to guard our flanks. Perhaps, we were the ones who failed in our duties. Then, there are the all too common relationships that neither have the drive to fight.

And what happens when your teammate gets wounded and can no longer fight? I'd argue that's an even greater test of character than how someone fights.

My last serious relationship was with someone who it felt as though she was setting off flairs, so the enemy knew where to . And when I got hit, she seemed really sorry, but there was no way she was missing that chopper.

My ex-wife could best be characterized as shooting me in the body armor, during the battle, then lying about it. Not my finest hour, but I was with someone who fought as a fearless warrior. When one of us got wounded, the other would throw the other over their shoulder and make damned sure they both made the flight home. Ultimately, I shot her just after she threw me onto the chopper floor. Again, not my finest hour.

How would you characterize your most memorable relationship?
The Tale of the Tardy Tawdry Tart, Part 1
Posted:Dec 15, 2020 3:29 pm
Last Updated:Dec 16, 2020 4:44 am

Sucrose Neonates - Trust me, it gets more interesting
Posted:Dec 12, 2020 4:01 pm
Last Updated:Dec 12, 2020 9:54 pm

Some recent observations about those who require compensation for their time. Post is in first comment.
Knowing You Better Than You Know Yourself
Posted:Nov 28, 2020 6:23 pm
Last Updated:Dec 13, 2020 7:38 am

In reliving certain memories recently, I happened upon a common theme that I'm curious about, as an overall dynamic. While my carrot cake bakes, I thought I'd ask the semi-general populous. No less than three women have told me I'm downright scary, due to the way I'm able to understand them better than they do themselves. The terrifying aspect for them was they were unable to conceal anything from me. Unfortunately, one couldn't deal with having a partner who saw right through any façade she threw up and it was a major contributor to our relationship ending. The truly unfortunate portion of that story is that she was The One (she bore no resemblance to Keanu Reeves, though). I may regurgitate some babble on her at some point, because she still lives rent free in my mind, but another time.

Staying with her, however, I'll share a quick example of my knowing her better than herself. We had two amazing dates, but she told me she didn't feel comfortable having me up to her apartment, even with the proviso I wouldn't push for sex. She didn't feel comfortable sleeping together until our fifth date. I was falling hard for her, something I'd not done since I had a learner's permit, and told her I wanted to be exclusive. She held me off for a bit, finally telling me after leaving her lecherous husband, she wanted to 'slut around'. I remember looking at her and saying, 'you do realize we're talking about you, right? The woman who resisted having me into her home on the third date.' We both laughed when she responded with 'I could be a slut if I wanted to'.

A pretty obvious example, but you get the idea. For the record, I've only ever used this ability for good, partially because I seem to lack the skill set for proper manipulation. I knew she had body image issues and was frustrated at not receiving a VP title, so I became her biggest cheerleader. It frustrated the hell out of me that she couldn't see herself the way I saw her...again, I digress.

Back to the point of this entry.

The question is what do you want in a partner? Feel free to comment why.

I want someone who:
knows me so well that we think as one
remains oblivious; I don't want to be vulnerable to manipulation
remains oblivious and doesn't see my flaws
sees through me sometimes, but only occasionally
has no clue what goes on in my head
5 Comments , 9 votes
For The Love of Dog
Posted:Nov 24, 2020 7:07 pm
Last Updated:Dec 13, 2020 4:51 pm
Those who've read my earlier posts know I'm a huge lover. I had dogs growing up, all the way until my marriage ended. While I haven't had a of my own for the past decade, I got my fix volunteering at the Richmond SPCA. If you've read my most recent posts, you know that I've taken in my parents' dog. Sadie is a catahoula mix and white as the driven snow, with these amazing blue eyes. My parents rescued her a few years ago and she's quite literally saved me.

And I get that I sound as though I've discovered something that was obvious everyone else and should have been obvious . That some readers are making goofy faces and saying 'Duh!'. Obviously, I'm going explain, or this would be a pointless entry.

Again, if you've read some of my more recent posts, you know I've had some incredibly challenging times with my parents, recently. Being an only , single, and in a strange land, I've been forced shoulder the burden alone. While my Iceman mask remains unmelted and I really am quite adept at dealing with things and moving on, I'd be some sort of sociopath (okay, a worse one) not feel a bit untethered, battered, and alone.

Even before my parents imploded, the solitude imposed by the pandemic had induced mild circling that ultimately leads the death spiral of mental health.

Every day, Sadie reminds me what unconditional love feels like and I've smiled more since becoming her than in the previous combined. I've never had a who wants nothing more than be close . make that easier for her, I bought her a second bed that I put in my office. Her favorite thing in the world is when I get on the floor with her, so she can snuggle and receive copious amounts of pets. She's the most affectionate I've ever had. Every time I lean down pet her, she responds as though I'd been gone for a week, even if it's only been minutes. As you can see in the picture below, she also considers my doing pushups in my gym downstairs as the perfect opportunity snuggle.

At the moment, Sadie is snoring away in her crate, a few feet from my kitchen table, where I'm typing this. And I wouldn't give her up for the world.
Tenacity and the Subcontinent of Africa
Posted:Nov 23, 2020 6:02 pm
Last Updated:Jun 12, 2021 7:53 am

One of the scammers called me tonight. I have to say it shocked the hell out of me, considering the tale I'd woven to them.

Backing up a week or so, I decided to bid adieu to the cast of characters from HSBC, Bank of Dubai, Interpol, the internet mistress, and 'lawyer who keeps an eye on these things'. I informed them that I was unhappy they scammed my father out of % of the family estate, but more angry at him. Because I don't tolerate such weakness, I killed my father, left my mother homeless, and took possession of the remaining (fictional) $9 million. Of course, I called them all goatfuckers one last time and noted how much their scam looked like it had been put together by idiots after a head trauma.

Did that stop them? Of course not! One of the characters, who I never did get a read on what role he played, demanded proof my father was dead and threatened to go to the authorities. I replied that someone of his stature doesn't demand anything of me, that the body was fed to the Florida alligators, and come and get me.

Internet mistress feigned outrage and told me I'd spend the rest of my life in prison. She was told to come and get me as well.

Then, there was the 'trustworthy woman' at a bank, Nevin Ali, who invited me to visit her country so that I could take the I was entitled . Fucking bankers! I asked what country I would be traveling and she replied 'Dubai'. She attached her 'official ID' as proof of her legitimacy. I'd entertained fucking with them a bit longer, but I can only pretend be so stupid. First, Dubai isn't a country and second, the ID would be a failing grade for first grade art class. I swear they used the lowest resolution bank logo in existence. Both of these I shared with the scammer. I received some bullshit reply, but it was even more of an embarrassment for them.

One nice little touch was they set up a LinkedIn profile for Nevin Ali. Unfortunately for them, it confirms there is no Nevin Ali at that bank, because she only has one connection. For those not on the platform, LinkedIn, it's almost worse than in that everyone wants connect with you, so only having one connection is a dead giveaway this person doesn't exist.

Needless say, all the emails were g mail, , or other free service.

Despite my silence, they remained undeterred; I still received a few emails today. But I'm not bothering to engage anymore.

Which leads to the phone call, which was from a number they spoofed from NJ. When I answered, it took so long for someone to speak that I thought it was a telemarketer robocall. Finally, a deep voice asked if he was speaking to me. Because I'm a kind soul, I said yes and what do you want? Speak! He identified himself as Michael (one of the cast of characters from the scam) and he wanted to speak with my father. I asked him how fucking dumb he was and what part of I killed him didn't he understand. My performance must have been convincing, because he seemed to be taken aback by my admitting to murder. So, I filled the time by asking if he sucked dic His response was an almost comical and indignant denial. (better scammers ignore such questions) No, I bet you suck a mean dick when you're not fucking goats, don't ya? I began another round of insults when he hung up.

First, I have say I expected scammers be smoother on the phone; that was apparently where they did the most manipulation with my father. But this guy was fucking Ethiopian rain man. Second, the cast of characters were all allegedly located in either the UK or the Middle East. This guy's accent placed him firmly in the subcontinent of Africa, which should shock no one.

Yep, they're tenacious little goatfuckers!
A Poll for Women - Lingerie
Posted:Nov 21, 2020 4:45 pm
Last Updated:Jun 12, 2021 7:53 am

I freely admit loving my partner dressed in lingerie for the bedroom, whether it be classy and seductive, hot and sexy, or absolutely trashy. Hell, I keep a small cache for spontaneous enjoyment. From conversations I've had with the women I've been intimate with, I've been surprised discover that most women enjoy it just as much as men. Of course, during that period, I was also learning that objectifying a woman, in the proper context of course, was frequently welcome or even desired. (You like when I tell say I enjoy following you into a room because your ass is so amazing?) But I digress. If you follow the logic trail, it all falls into place. I buy something I know my partner will look hot in and she does, my desire for her becomes more raw and urgent, which she can sense. That makes her feel wanted and lusted after. A good time is had by all.

Who buys the lingerie is where some differences arise. Some of the women I've had the pleasure of enjoying did the choosing and purchasing. They enjoyed putting themselves on display as a surprise, for their partner. Others wanted me to pick outfits out for them, or dress them up. However, all of them found my purchasing lingerie for them to be a positive. They indicated it showed thoughtfulness and made them feel special. Plus, it's the perfect touch of dominance to say 'here, put this on'. There was one woman...we'll save that for another time. To me, it's really a win win.

What somewhat shocked me was the number of women who informed me that none of their previous partners dressed them up. When I asked if they'd enjoy a partner doing that, the universal answer was an enthusiastic yes.

So, for the women, I'm curious whether my sample represents the greater population of the fairer sex, on the topic of lingerie. For the men, the takeaway is go buy your woman something sexy. Oh, and stop trying to eat corn chips off her ass; the blue cheese dip is a bit much.
I buy my own, thank you, and your assistance isn't required
I have my own, but welcome you dressing me up
I'll only wear what you pick out for me
The only lingerie I own is what I bought for myself
If my body doesn't turn you on without that crap, too bad
3 Comments , 20 votes
An Amazing Compliment
Posted:Nov 21, 2020 1:45 pm
Last Updated:Nov 21, 2020 2:50 pm

Someone from my past reached out to me recently and gave me the most genuine, if head swelling, compliment. I've previously written about her in the epic, thrilling posts The Reference Fuck, and Cum On My Tits, A Love Story. We were talking the other night and were both feeling a bit frisky, so there was a bit of phone play. I directed her to touch herself in the ways I knew she liked and said horrible things to her. The compliment came in the chat after.

She told me that I had taught her more about her body and what brings her the most pleasure than she ever could have been able to on her own.

It was certainly nice to hear, considering I can feel my skills atrophy more by the day, here in Kansas in a pandemic.

Here's hoping you're lucky enough to be learning more about your partner's body and how to pleasure him or her, this weekend.
1 comment
8 Weeks in Hell; Wait, Make It 9...Someone Just Kill Me!
Posted:Nov 1, 2020 4:20 pm
Last Updated:Nov 2, 2020 2:33 pm
Now that I have a few minutes myself, I thought I'd highlight some of the fun I've had since September. Read previous entries see how we got here, with me downsizing and moving my parents Kansas.

The Move
Long story short, I did my best to juggle my professional responsibilities with getting my parents streamlined and ready to move. I failed at both. My parents were absolutely no help; zip, nada. Just the opposite. My mother wanted to take fucking everything. And every time I brought up the little point of 'you're moving from 3,000 sq ft to 1,, so you can't fit that', my mother's response was 'we'll find a place for it'.

Because I couldn't fly the dog (her aerodynamics suck), yours truly made the 23 hour trip from Florida, driving said dog. Said was an amazing little trooper and because of logic, she's become mine. Didn't want a dog, but she's awesome and a great companion.

We arrived the day before my parents were due fly in, so I took the opportunity to sleep in my own bed, if only for one night. (it had been over three weeks) I collected them at the airport and the fun began, starting with me going from living in their guest bedroom to living in my own.

The Steak
Having my parents live with me, in a word, sucked. I'll share one story that sort of encapsulates the whole experience. I had procured three fairly decent (the highest grade available in KC) ribeyes that I intended to grill for dinner Saturday night. Steaks should be as close to room temperature as possible, when throwing them on the coals; gives you a nice char immediately leading to a consistent medium rare center. So, in the morning, I pulled the steaks, threw some salt on them, sat them on the counter, and went about my business. When I hit the kitchen, later in the day, to prep for dinner, I found the steaks conspicuously absent. Long story short, my father put them back in the fridge so they wouldn't spoil. I was less than pleasant to both parents over the situation, because I take grilling meat very seriously. I tried again the next day, but the steaks had gotten too funky, after two days on the counter.

After a week of hell, their shit showed up on Friday. As expected, the amount of shit that was packed had the apartment busting at the seams. My mother seems to have brought roughly three large moving boxes containing expired food. My father's health had begun deteriorating (I suspected, due to the stress and energy he was burning) and my mother is in full regalia as she reigns as the regal drama queen.

It was with great joy that I shoved them into their semi-functional apartment on a Sunday night. I was awoken the next morning by my mother telling me that my father's condition was even worse and he couldn't get off the floor. Off he went in an ambulance, with me in tow, not far behind. Long story short, he'd apparently taken a header in my house and sloshed his head sufficiently for his brain to begin hemorrhaging pretty badly. Into surgery he went for the benchmark of complex activities, brain surgery. By Thursday, he was better than I'd seen him in months and the hospital released him. It was a bit early, in my opinion (and his brain surgeon), but whatever.

At this point, I was naive enough to think nothing else could happen.

Except, he became incontinent the first night home. After two days of it not getting any better, you guessed it, we went back to the hospital. By that time, I knew that place inside and out. Anyway, they got him stabilized and sent him to a rehab hospital to finish healing and regain his strength. Deep breath; okay, now things are going to even themselves out. Wrong! The fucker called me yesterday morning to pick him up from rehab, which I thought was strange that the call wouldn't come from a medical professional. You guessed it, he discharged himself AMA (against medical advice). We had a brief yelling match in the entry of the rehab place, where I found myself quite close to just kicking the shit out of him for being a dumb fuck. If a nurse wouldn't have been present, all bets would have been off. But the asshat walked out to the car and got in; should have locked it as he walked over. Water, dams, etc.

Sure enough, he came home and feels like shit. My response to his pain and ailments has been 'if only you had access to a facility that had doctors and nurses to address these issues...guess you're fucked.'

On the plus side, their house is under contract, after only two weeks on the market.

I just keep looking at the prize, six months out, that is returning to Richmond.

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