Why I was AWOL for so long

I am sorry to anyone who reads this blog. I have been AWOL for far longer than I anticipated. An entire month now that I look at the blog. That is way bad!

What can I say except sorry?

I went to Cape Town, ostensibly to visit my parents but in actual fact to meet up with some one from TSS. I have not written about him yet because it was so intense and mind-blowing (yes, I was crushing huge from Day 2) that it seemed sacrilegious to do so.

I drove for 22 hours from Natal to the Cape to meet him because he was seriously derailing my life. I would spend up to 6 hours at a time chatting to him on Gmail. We texted endlessly, spoke on the phone for ages. I spent all day thinking about him and all night fantasizing. I was not getting anything in the "real" world done at all and I thought if I met him the crush would subside.

It SO didn't.

Oh dear. I think I fell in love. With some one I met on a skanky, random hook-up site. How insane is that? And I didn't even want to fall in love. That's why I joined this site in the first place!

How weird?

Anyway, that's my excuse for my lack of blogging in the last month. And I do apologize.

And furthermore, now that I have fallen for this guy, I obviously don't have the slightest inclination to carry on with my PhD in Major Whoredom. Kind of a bummer ... but at the same time, maybe I dodged a major bullet there ... or at least an STD or two.

But I do still have a fair bit to share pre-Cape Town. So I will be posting more stuff anon. Don't hold your breath though. The reason being I just got a job. But its only for a conference that will be over before Christmas. So I will only be occupied for the next couple of weeks and after that, hopefully back to pouring my heart out to my blog.

x

"You don't get to choose, you just fall."

Unknown

Losing my virginity

I wonder: If I could lose my virginity all over again and do it with an older, more experienced man, would it be better?

Because the first time totally sucked!

And no, it was not down to the circumstances in which it happened. It could not have been more perfect. All the boxes were ticked:

1. He was a good match, my first - same background, similar senses of humour, etc.
2. We had been going out for two years 
3. He was older than me, not a virgin and therefore - theoretically - more experienced
4. We were totally alone - no parents in the house 
5. It was 100% my decision 

So I had it all planned out, down to the last T - like a military operation. There was champagne (okay, sparkling wine .. but when you’re 20, what’s the difference, right?), candles everywhere, the four poster bed. And we had been doing trial runs all week … well, lots of “dry humping” as his digsmates called it. So I decided that I was now ready for the real thing.

It could not have been more perfect. It WAS perfect … In theory.

Except it was horrible. Terrible!  Despite the candlelight, the roses, the wine  … it totally sucked!  When he finally entered me … I felt like I wanted to … do a No. 2.  Seriously! Embarrassing admission. But that is the Honest-to-God Truth!

And Kim, your question on Yahoo Answers ... yep! That's pretty much what it feels like!

I was so disappointed. I was horrified by the appalling discomfort of it all rather than the huge explosion I was expecting and had heard so much about.  Obviously, I was so pissed off with No. 1 the next day that I refused to talk to him at all, except to give him directions to the Chemist to get me the morning after pill.

Later on, he admitted to me that he thought I was going to break up with him.  I almost did. But my mother always said that you marry the first guy you sleep with … so I carried on deluding myself into believing that one for another couple of years.

Oh well, I shouldn’t beat myself up about it. Like the psychologist Joyce Brothers said:

“Virginity is such a personal thing. You can't judge anyone on it. A lot of young women feel they want to save themselves for the man who they think they'll love forever.”

x

I feel like I was just violated

... in a million different ways.

Yes. I just got my first full Brazilian.

I think I am officially traumatized now.

I thought I was traumatized after reading this:  99 Ways To Impress Your Girlfriend. But the Brazilian wins. Hands down. I mean, I thought my pain threshold was pretty damn high. Until today that is.

And then, as if my day wasn't crazy enough, what with all the ripping (of my delicate flower and innocent mind - yes, some of those 99 things ... let's just say "Blew my mind" would be a major understatement) and screaming and general mental and physical pain, it was not over.

When I got home, I logged onto TSS and found this message from one potential hook-up (Mr. Maybe being on holiday, I thought I should try out some one different or at least broaden my horizons - can't get too used to Mr. M, being married and all that):

"I was going to ask for a photo from you but it actually isnt that important to me. if you just want to share in new experiences for the pure pleasure of sex with someone who feels the same then i dont care what you look like. sounds like bragging i know, but i can make you quiver. Cheers, Phil" 

And I thought I was traumatized before?

I'm off to curl up in a little ball with an Enid Blyton book. And try to forget that today ever happened.

A man will go to war, fight and die for his country. But he won't get a bikini wax. 

Rita Rudner 

(Clever man)

x

Back to the Penis Profile Pic Debate

So in the name of research, I recently started listening to Dan Savage’s podcasts.

I’ve had them on my Apple for over 4 years but never listened to them. I don’t know why. My Gay BFF loves him. Like he would gush and gush about him. He’s the one who made me download those podcasts. And so I humoured him. Kind of like “If I download this stuff, will you just stop talking about him already?” . Oh boy. My loss is all I can say. My loss. That’s 4 years I didn’t have Dan ‘Swoon’ Savage in my life.

I spent this evening studying – by which I mean reading Dan Savage’s columns until my eyes started bleeding. And imagine my joy when I came across the exact same question I was pondering in my Diary a couple of weeks ago. And, in the interest of getting this message across to as many guys with scary profile pics as possible, here it is – or you can go to the entire column here:

Totally Confused Female's question:

I'm wondering whether you have any thoughts on the male tendency when sharing "naughty" photos to go straight for a close-up shot of the penis. Representative Anthony Weiner's tweeting disaster has brought to mind a number of recent cases where high-profile men—such as Brett Favre—sent other women similar shots in an apparent attempt to seduce them. However, the response I've heard from women to such offerings can be summed up as "Ew, yuck!" Do you have any insight on why some men think this sort of overture would work?

Dan Savage's reply:

Some men think this sort of overture works, TCF, because sometimes it works.

... The cock-shot overture doesn't work on most women, I'll grant you, but guys who send cock shots aren't interested in most women. They're interested in the sort of women that this sort of overture works on. And the sort of men who think only with their dicks—and not all men are that sort—figure the quickest way to determine if a woman is that sort of woman is to send the cock shot. And one of the women you talked to about cock shots may have been that sort of woman, TCF, but told you, "Ew, yuck!" because it was clear from the "Ew, yuck!" look on your face that "Ew, yuck!" was what you wanted to hear. 

Gentlemen: The existence of a handful of women who welcome cock shots does not give you license to send cock shots to all women. Cock shots are for women who have expressed a clear and unambiguous interest in receiving cock shots. 

x

“I don't think people should do things that make them miserable. And if being an 

in-shape, sober, monogamous heterosexual makes you miserable, don't do it. And 

if being an in-shape, sober, monogamous heterosexual makes you happy, do it.” 

Dan Savage

Ethical Slut. An oxymoron? Hardly …

“An oxymoron, you say? Hardly. It's one thing to 
be a slut and another thing to be ethical.”

I am seriously thinking about buying this book: The Ethical Slut: A Practical Guide to Polyamory, Open Relationships & Other Adventures by Dossie Easton and Catherine Liszt. 

Basically, it’s all about how you can live your life in an honest and open way with more than one lover at the same time.

I so have to buy it! I mean it has chapters on just about everything, from how to find and keep partners, to tips on handling scheduling with various partners (how incredibly Martha Stewart and grown up!) to (get this!) “Etiquette for group sexual encounters”. (I know Mum would approve. She is always so worried about what other people think and the way my sisters and I conduct ourselves in public.). 

Now tell me this does not sound like the best book ever!

The term “slut” is reclaimed from its slang meaning and is seen “as a term of approval, even endearment. To us, a slut is a person of any gender who has the courage to lead life according to the radical proposition that sex is nice and pleasure is good for you”.

How cool? I think this is my kind of book!

“We believe that it is fundamentally a radical political act to deprivatize sex. So much oppression in our culture is based on shame about sex: the oppression of women, of cultural minorities, oppression in the name of the (presumably asexual) family, oppression of sexual minorities. We are all oppressed. We have all been taught, one way or another, that our desires, our bodies, our sexualities, are shameful. What better way to defeat oppression than to get together in communities and celebrate the wonders of sex?

... It is amazing to us to think ... that most people in our culture have never had a chance to watch another person enjoy sex. No wonder we worry so much about our appearance.”

I have a feeling that The Ethical Slut could be my own personal bible in this whole quest of mine. And at the very least, a life line. These last couple of weeks I have had moments of crippling guilt brought on by my conditioning: the Very Christian, Very Moralistic, Very Proper Ideals of my family, my class and my surroundings (Yes, it IS still a total mind fuck being back here in this constricting society after so many years of relative freedom and maturity of Continental Europe).

And I so don’t want to look back and admit that I threw this whole experiment out the window for fear of going to Hell for it!

I don’t, however, think that I should add this particular book to my Wish List on Amazon. Might make for some awkward looks from the family at Christmas when we open our presents.

x

"Easy": Is there, we wonder, some value in being difficult?

The Ethical Slut

I'm attracted to you. Are you attracted to me?

Today when I opened my Inbox on TSS, I found this message from Donavin, 35:

SUBJECT: Contact me

I'm attracted to you. Are you attracted to me?

Wildly, Donavin with an ‘i’. Wildly! Hold me back. I can barely contain my attraction! I will contact you right now this very instant.

Seriously? I mean seriously? DonavIn has only a picture of my toes and one of my upper (nose to belly button) bikini-clad torso to go on when it comes to gauging his attraction to me. And his photo could be anyone really. He is standing next to a fishing boat. And you can see more of the boat than him in the photo. Is he perhaps secretly hoping that I have a penchant for men with boats? Who the hell knows? Maybe this line's worked for him before.

I honestly don't know. Why am I even trying to figure it out?

My head hurts.

Oh well. Good to know that there are others out there who have a harder time than me with this whole online hook-up thing. Like I just read this pretty hysterical take on meeting people online in Dave's blog in Australia: Internet Dating on the Dole.

Have a read. I giggled throughout.

And Tip #07 (Profile Photos Should Frame the Face in a Natural Demeanour) from Dave certainly gave me such a simple yet brilliant summary of what Donavin's profile shot might be all about:

"... the holiday photo capturing an adventurous or spontaneous spirit, but taken from across the road ... or obscured by extreme clothing and a safety helmet ... because of distance, you could be suggesting, ‘I look like a minga but I’m fucking fit.’ "

So maybe its as simple as that: Donavin is a total minga ... but fucking fit. 

It really is so good I just have to reblog a few more of his thoughts on profile pics here in case you don't read the entire post:

"I was initially shocked by the general lack of concern about appearance on internet dating sites. Part of me was quietly impressed by this. In a world of narcissism, Photoshop, digital filters, cosmetics and fashion; where much of what surrounds us is not what it seems, it was a pleasant surprise. 

... I wondered if there was an unspoken directive by the majority of the Internet dating community to retain truthful representations to avoid future disappointments ... Or perhaps people just didn’t give a shit, because so many chicks’ photo galleries exhibited an array of bad or unhelpful pictures. 

Some women have simply stood in from of a mirror with a digital camera. I mean just because you’re out of love doesn’t mean you should suggest you’re out of friends as well. Even if you are, digital cameras have timers. And there is plenty household furniture to place a camera on for an authentic mise-en-scéne image. 

Equally tragic are profiles that think more is better and photo galleries inevitably reach the clubbing snap where the offender is clearly boiled and wrapped around a bottle of booze with one eye gone to the shops while the other one is left waiting. 

I don’t mean to sound hypocritical. I love a bloody drink ... but there are possibly more charming ways than a greased up mobile phone photo to express how much you enjoy life." 

Oh wow! He does have a way with words. I shouldn't reblog his stuff anymore. I feel rather inferior by comparison.

I'm going drinking now. I think I need it.

x

"I got to thinking about relationships and partial lobotomies: two seemingly different 

ideas that might just be perfect together — like chocolate and peanut butter."

Carrie Bradshaw, SATC

Visual stimulation: not just a guy thing

So yesterday evening, I had my second visit from Mr. Maybe.

Okay, let’s not call him Mr. Maybe anymore. After all, that so went out the window the minute he lowered his sexy mouth onto me at the dam the other day.  What to rename him? Well, he has a certain tattoo on his chest and because of what it is and because of the way he is built (big, strong, but slightly chunky), lets call him The Bull (not very subtle I know, but it’s the best I can come up with at 2 a.m.).

And this time, he so didn’t lie. The first time, he promised me that I would hardly be able to walk when he was done with me. Not so. I could walk just fine. But today? Let’s just say it hurts like hell on the insides of my thighs when I try to dance or do stretches.

But I discovered something quite incredible since meeting up with The Bull: having a lover is amazing in that there are none of the normal constraints of a conventional relationship. I don’t have to worry about him respecting me or even liking me. So I can be as dirty and twisted in the bedroom as I want. I could play out my wildest fantasies and there is no way he will judge me. Worship me, more like it! And hopefully also get off even more courtesy of my twisted hidden desires! It is so uninhibiting!

Not that I have gotten to that point, mind you. But just the realization, that’s good enough for me right now.

Last night was so good. We were in the bedroom and there is a huge mirror next to my bed so if I looked over, I could see everything. I didn't want to blatantly stare so just a glimpse at our reflections here and there - tres sexy!

But something was missing … I didn’t look exactly like the dirty mistress. I looked like me, just a bit more flushed and mussed up than normal.

I must get some dirty, sexy lingerie now. I did log onto Victoria’s Secret yesterday. OMG. Those girls are so hot!

Hmmmm, perhaps time to get a job so I can start using my credit card again.

x

“Sex is as important as eating or drinking and we ought to allow the one appetite 

to be satisfied with as little restraint or false modesty as the other.”

Marquis De Sade

Anyone parle punani patois?

My TSS Inbox is in a constant flux of ebb and flow. Never less than one new message a day. But when I update my profile or post a Dear Diary entry, there can be anywhere up to forty or fifty.

I don’t even count winks and requests for more photos – those computer-generated replies are – to me – the ultimate in laziness and scream lack of imagination or genuine interest in this whole thing. Its kind of like just taking potluck. If you throw enough out there, hey you might just get lucky!

Just not with me, dude (unless, of course, you are really, really ridiculously good-looking. Hey! Don’t judge me. I already admitted that I’m a total aesthetic whore.).

But I mean, if an automatic cyber message is the only way a guy can think of catching my attention, well then the dude gets as good as he gives. And about as much time and effort as he afforded me – a millisecond.

And I guess I am not quite as unshockable as I might have thought after over a month (almost two?) on TSS because there are still the ones that make me blush. Like AJ, 29:

Sexy toes … can I suck them while I fuck Ur pussy good?

Sweet Baby Jesus, AJ. Does your mother know you talk like that?

(My profile pic, btw, is a close-up of my feet after a fab pedicure.)

Now for just the pure crazy (or illiterate?): Bertie 49 – okay, I know that English is probably his second language, but seriously? I defy even him to make sense of what he wrote to me:

Hi. 
I like yr profile. Am visiting Pyou.E soon and will NSA with

Hummmm ... Is this aversion to actually reading what you type before sending it contagious or something? Because the very next message in my Inbox from Valentino, 31, was this:

hey there sweety wuu2

Like I said before … Anyone understand the patois of the Punani Seeker?

x

Words can only hurt you if you try to read them. Don't play their game!

Derek Zoolander

Who wants to be King of Lesotho anyway?

So Mr. Licentious the Litigating Lover read my blog post about Mr. Maybe claiming to be The King of Cunnilingus and had this to say on the subject:

"So I'm confused about Mr. Maybe. Have you been with him? Haven't you? Is he the King of Cunnilingus or does he just claim to be? I bet I could knock his useless ass off his throne. I'm not bragging. I'm just stating facts. Anyway, being King of Cunnilingus is like being King of Lesotho. I would rather be King of Dick Fucking, for we all know that is what counts. That would be like being King of Russia. That's what I think anyway. Russia has gold, Siberian tigers, big trout and good-looking sluts are a dime a dozen. Who wouldn't want to be king of that shit?"

Oh wow! I so need to get my ass up to Joburg to meet this guy.

Or not.

I mean it’s never great meeting a potential hook-up and there being no spark. But to lose a half-decent conversationalist? Now that in my books … that would just be stupid.

Especially since I am still soldiering on with Hugo The Hunk (yes, his body and face ARE all that) but it is by no means easy going.

After the whole counselling session re: crushing on Mr. X, we carried on chatting:

"ME: Shit! Okay, my bad! But I AM so new to this and I can make one mistake, can't I? Anyway, they always say you remember your first. So there we go, that is out of the way now. I have that one (my Mr. X) that I kind of fell in love with. But now its time to play with others. … If I have the nerve that is. Oh, I so wish I was in CT so I could meet you and you could show me the ropes ... I mean, I don't want to be a sexual predator or anything. I just want some fun s-x with some one who will be straight and honest with me. Hmmmm .... Now ... where to go from here? ;)

HUGO: lol Now your talking my language.. lol fun fun fun.. don't take things so darn cerious.. So you up for talking with me? via voice that is..

ME: Hmmmm, but where would that lead babes? Phone sex? Never done anything like that before. And I really don't think I am up for it. I am so so so frustrated and I only really want the real thing ... not more sexy talking then no action. I just couldn't handle it! Sorry to be so frank, but that is REALLY where I am at right now.

HUGO: ... hahaha.. well for 1 I don't really like the phonesex thing.. neither do i think its cool doing it while I'm at work ... and your point i suppose is vallid but then if you think about it it probebly makes this email chat between us pointless aswell. hahaha. Don’t you think? Like you i also prefer the real thing.. way better.. but I also love getting to know people and how they tick. haha ha lets say I love seico analizing."

I mean, it's kind of a turn-off to read psychoanalysing spelt like that (and why is everything in his little cyber-world so freakin’ “lol” and “hahaha” all the time? What is he smoking that I haven’t heard of?).

Am I being unreasonable?

Is my libido a punctuation and grammar snob?

I’m thinking too much, aren’t I?

I should just listen to Hugo and not take everything so darn cerious.

x

“A woman’s most erogenous zone is her mind.”

Raquel Welch

Men are chiefly good lovers when they are betraying their wives

So finally I was going to meet Mr. Maybe.

I had 40 minutes tops. I looked up from my computer.

Oh Crap!! The place looked like an absolute tip. I hadn’t done the dishes. An ashtray was strewn across the floor (casualty of 5 am dance fest) and the table next to my armchair was a mountain of chocolate papers, tissues, unopened candy packets, water glasses, coffee mugs, note books, scraps of paper, pens, pencils, marijuana seeds and other flotsam. Books, magazines and newspapers were strewn across every conceivable surface.

I tried to reduce the carnage of the place to a vaguely acceptable minimum, i.e. I swept up the upended ashtray’s contents and dumped all the mugs in the sink.

Hmmm … Question: exactly HOW lazy would it make me if I had a maid come in every day even though I have all the time in the world to clean since I am not working at the moment?

Ha ha! Rhetorical question … I understand the concept of cleaning, just not as it applies to me … and we are in Africa, after all, where slave labour might not be the politically correct term … but let’s just call a spade a spade. It is so cheap to hire help here that even when one is unemployed, one can afford it.

I ran out the door, dropped off my way overdue DVD’s and then went to Spar to get beers, ice and cigarettes. It all took a bit longer than I expected, not least because I was as nervous as a tick ….

I was jumpy and breathless with anticipation.

And with my mind in such turmoil (I’m finally going to get laid!!!! After 9 months of permanent celibacy!), my sense of direction went even more out the window than usual (yes, I am a typical woman in that sense: geographically dyslexic!).

Long story short: I went in totally the wrong direction and started driving towards the mountains! I could see the dam to my right, getting further and further away.

Aaaargh! Why does this always happen to me? Another couple of ridiculous mistakes later and I got to the Reserve. It was 5 pm. They were closing the gates at 6 pm. Hmmm … not half as much time as I would have liked for this particular rendezvous!

I drove down and followed the directions he’d sent via sms. (Yes, I got lost again twice). Driving past all these purposeful, wholesome joggers and walkers (bet they weren’t having illicit trysts with lovers they had met online), I felt slimy but also naughty in a nice way. I mean, I was about to do something so verboten!

Okay, so my fantasy wasn’t playing out EXACTLY as I had imagined (me reclining on a blanket overlooking that magnificent stretch of water, seductive pose, cold beer waiting for him, as he drove up) but I was actually going through with this!

It did have its bonuses though, arriving after him because as I drove up slowly, I got a good overview (he was clad, typically Southern African style, in jeans with a cap and dark glasses). And may I just say ... YUM! (What a relief!) 

It hit me how highly charged all that waiting and teasing and hinting was …  what an aphrodisiac! As I got out of my vehicle, I could literally feel the sparks in the air – corny as it sounds.

He walked straight up to me and said: “Don’t I get a hug?”

As he hugged me, I just stood there. I guess I was still in a slight state of shock (and reality certainly hadn't kicked in yet) so I didn’t hug him back.

“Hey, why are you shaking?” he whispered.

I was. My mouth was dry despite the chewing gum. I stuttered something unintelligible. He smiled at me and took the cooler box from me.

We sat down on the grass and opened our beers (Thank God he smoked too).

Finally, when I couldn’t wait any longer for him to make the first move (I mean, as interesting as his conversation might have been, I SO had not come here for that), I sat up and kneeled in front of him. I shifted forwards and then I was as close to him as I could get, I took a breath, told myself “You can do this. You are now almost a fully-fledged dirty whore! Don't stop now. Just do it already!” and threw one leg over his lap so I was straddling him.

There. Done. Not so hard after all!

He didn’t need any more encouragement. He kissed me and immediately started moving his hands all over my body, biting me, licking me, taking my clothes off.

Suffice to say: Pure Heaven.

But five minutes later, he murmured a word I am not particularly fond of, especially in a situation like this: “Crap”.

I turned around.

A car had pulled up directly in our line of vision.

He picked me up (yes, he was that tall and strong) and wrapped my legs around his waist.

He opened the back of his car and laid me down on the back seat of his car. He then lifted my legs and pulled off my jeans and panties.

Oh my God! He had SO not lied. He was amazing. His tongue was doing such magical things down there, I cannot even begin to describe!

And the ultimate thing is that he did it all in such a totally unhurried, languid manner, like he really really did love doing it and wasn’t doing it, like a lot of guys did: 

     (a) just to please me, 

     (b) to get a blowjob in return, 

     (c) solely in order to get me wet so he could enter me easily, or 

     (d) because of expectation / obligation / part of the seduction ritual.

It was unreal!

At one point I leaned up on my elbows, and – through my ragged breath – said “U so didn’t lie! You ARE that good”

He just looked at me, and said “Lie down. Lie down, now.”

Omg! Masterful too. I was in Nirvana!

x

“Men are chiefly good lovers when they are betraying their wives”

Marilyn Monroe

How to lock down a hook-up in 60 minutes or less

By the time I had bathed, I was a burning hot ball of lust. I absolutely and categorically could not take it for one more moment.

(I’m sure what Sharky-Shark was doing to me was illegal in some countries.)

I prayed with all my might that Mr. Maybe had replied to the messages I had sent him half an hour earlier.


It was now after 3.30 p.m. – sunset in less than 3 hours. PLEASE let this happen, Universe! I cannot take one more single moment of maybes and fantasies and what if’s and promises and near-misses!!

Me: 15:15: Hey Polanski-esque Phalic Purveyor of Porn Vids ... What you up to this afternoon? Directing another smutty masterpiece from your phone? I kid ... I kid ... Nice day again ....

Me: 15:21: Why is it that every time I initiate a meeting, you disappear into the ether?And then when you are ready, I've gone off the idea. Hmmm ... strangely similar to a marriage. You know, I never in a million years thought I'd say this but I think you need a Sucksberry!

Me: 15: 22: And just to torture you some more, because you are not answering your mails when I want you to! (and I attached a very graphic, full body VSS to the email. Coyness so has its time and place ... here and now SO not being either.)

Mr. M: 15:45: Hey, are you there? I go off because I have learnt the hard way not to wait in anticipation as you very rarely answer..... :-( But I will wait now to see if I get a reply.... I am at work as usual, trying to get everyone to do what they should.... mmmmmmmm .... God! You really have a great body..... Oh, let's not forget about that mind either. It is just as attractive. Well, I am going into my plant quick, so, don’t run away as usual ... Have you changed your mind?

Me: 15:47: Not yet ... but the clock is ticking.

Me: 15:58: Hmmm ... still at the plant? Not gonna hang on forever here, Mr. M!

Mr. M: 16:00: Still there? I know I need a Sucksberry... :-) I think you need one two..:-)

Me: 16:01: Two. Ja. Then I can give you one … lame lol … Anyway, mine's languishing at the bottom of the Zambezi. Best place for it ... never ever again. So ... what you up to this afternoon? (wicked grin)

Mr. M: 16:01: Mmmmmm sexy lady. What is your proposition?

Me: 16:02: Tell me your availability first ...

Mr. M: 16:03: Wink at that wicked smile ........ Ummmmm ….. no plans other than work, which I could get out of.....

Me: 16:04: So ... how soon could you get out of work this afternoon?

Mr. M: 16:05: 10 min to shut down laptop.....

Me: 16:07: Let's meet at XX Nature Reserve. Do you know what time the gates close? ... I just have to drop off some DVDs quickly but can be there within half an hour.

Mr. M: 16:08: I have never been to XX Reserve. It would be a first, so afraid I don’t know what time the gates close. I work in ZXY so it’s a 30-40 min drive for me …. so take your time. Where do I meet you?

Me: 16:10: Not sure yet. Somewhere on the dam ... I will go to straight there after dropping the DVDs ...and then text you. Call me and ... we can decide where exactly. Should be fun … we have almost 2,500 acres to choose from …

Mr. M: 16:11: Leaving in 10 min. Will call you once on the road.

OMG! I don’t believe it! I’m gonna finally get laid! (little dance, jig, lots of happy faces)!!!!!

x

When women go wrong, men go right after them.

Mae West

Sex: Its a compulsion really

The day after I received the VSV (not!) from Mr. Maybe started off as a complete washout. After only going to bed at 8 am, I got out of bed at 2 pm, logged on to my computer and … look who’s back! Its Sharky-Shark.

Well all I can say is: Whew!

I hadn’t heard from him all week. It had been 7 days of complete silence. I wasn’t particularly surprised though. I was waiting for some kind of backlash. From somewhere, some one. Hmmm, perhaps I shouldn’t have been so honest in my online musings …

And judging by the silence, I deduced that he was angry / fed up with me for writing such an intimate Dear Diary post on The Sexy Site, thus revealing all of his seducing techniques / sexy pick-up lines / kinky preferences / fantasies … Well, you read it. You know what I mean.

But, ever the consummate professional, he replied in his usual laid-back style:

Hi sexy. How are u doing? I’ve missed getting nawty emails from you and seeing pics of Ur gorgeous body! I had to look at a few pics yesterday and I obviously got very turned on and rock hard...mmm it was fun playing while thinking of u! I shot a pretty big load...mostly on myself though! Hehe

So how have u been? U get up to any mischief?

Xxx

Beautiful baby boy!

There you are! Thought you had read my diary post about you and got the hell in with me. 
No mischief to report, unfortunately ...  What can I say? I'm picky ;)

x

Hey sexy 

Been thinking bout u :)

It takes a lot to piss me off hey ;)

mwah

xxx

Good to know ... good to know ... so maybe I need to make it up to you anyway and take some sexy photos for you ...

x

Mmm I think next time I can I’m gonna cum all over myself and send u a pic ;)

Wat u wearing now sexy lady?

xxx

Oooh .. dirty! I'm wearing a vest and a sarong ... nothing else

;-)

Damn u must look amazing!!!

And so ready to be eaten...mmm ... I'd love to bury my head between Ur sexy thighs and lick u till u soak my face... Maybe u will let me soak Ur face in my load after... ;)

x

Kinky! But you know ... you're actually pretty cruel the way you tease and tease and tease ... how did you guess that the only thing today that I would want done to me is that ... and maybe a bit more ....

SO not fair!

Mmmm … u know when I see Ur gorgeous body I can’t help but want to wank and cum hey ... ;)

xxx

Okay, honestly now ... as fun as this might turn out, I actually do have things I have to do ... and if you get me wet and horny again, it just means that I will go off to my bedroom for another half hour, get myself off ... and be pissed because its only me and my hand ... And when you're feeling like I am now, babes, my hand is SO not enough ... get my drift ... so ... No!! I'm not going to play with you now ... too frustrating (and I have a sneaky suspicion now that girls can also get blue balls)

...

(you're killing me here!)

Hehe mwa xxx

I dig u!!

xxx

Bye babe ... off to wash myself before I get dressed and go out

(Yes! You did already get me wet and tingly, goddamn you!)

x

Mmmm u are so yummy sexy girl!!

I def need to make a plan to eat u for hours...yum :)
xxxx

Oh promises, promises!
x

Aaaaargh!!! Exactly 31 days since I signed up to TSS and here are the stats:

Hours and hours (I couldn’t even begin to count) of sexy messaging to The Shark.

Probably a full week of texting, writing to and fantasizing about Mr. X.

Less than 3 hours’ real one-on-one action / playing / almost sex with Mr. X.

No! I could not do without it for one more second and the day before I had been disturbingly close to calling Mr. X and grovelling

“Don’t!!!” Don’t you dare do that!” I hear the non-masochists shout.

So, dear reader, I didn’t. As much as I wanted to, as much as I was craving Mr. X’s hands on my body and as much as I wanted to smell him and feel him and do all those naughty things to him that I had been too shy to the first time … not to mention seeing his sexy smile, and have his confident, casual yet oh-so-naughty eyes on me … God! I was so tempted.

But no one, - I repeat NO ONE – wastes my time or keeps me waiting without feeling my wrath (and let’s not even go where it really hurts … Me? You stood ME up for hot, naughty sex? Seriously? There is, like, NO coming back from that … unless you add a bottle of tequila into the mix, of course).

So instead I fired off an email to Mr. Maybe (aka The VERY Married Man).

“What happened to your moral attack of last week?” I hear you shriek.

Seriously? When you’re this horny, convenience SO trumps morals!

x

I don’t think sex has much to do with morals.

Its more a compulsion – like murder.

Alice Thomas Ellis

Back to Saturday Night

Anyway, back to Saturday night. So I got home around 9 pm from scoring some ridiculously expensive grass from the new dealer (No, I won’t be buying from him again any time soon!)

Now what? I wanted to go out but didn’t have the energy for all those potential mine fields if I did hook up with ADD and SLS. Nor did I feel like bumping into Little Fucker. After all, he was practically joined at the hip to ADD so chances were … he’d be there. And given my current state of sexual frustration, as much as I loathed him and as completely useless as he was in bed … Hmmm, which is worse? Not having sex at all or having really, really bad sex? … Okay, I think I’ve decided … The latter (but don’t quote me on that).

So my mind was made up: not going out on the town. But I didn’t really want to stay home and get stoned alone either. Some one was listening up there, however, because Z (my landlady’s sexy son: a Matric-Boarder Major-Stoner Major Hottie) came over and said that he was supposed to be hanging out with some friends that night but his mum wouldn’t let him use her car to go and pick them up.

… Yes! I lent him my car.

Not expecting more than schoolboys, I went back into my world of “The Perfect Joint Accompanied by The Most Amazing Electro Trance Set Ever”  when the doorbell rang.

Damn! I loathe being interrupted in the middle of a great set.

But when I did open the door, wow! The cutest boy ever! Kind of blonde (not really my type … but hey, the way my libido is acting at the moment, let’s just say I am not being over-picky). The other friend was Coloured … so no go there but still kinda cute. Hmmm … not a bad way to spend the evening: getting stoned with Z and his eye candy friends.

They looked really uncomfortable though so I tried to make small talk to ease up the atmosphere … while also deducing as much as possible as quickly as possible (how old are you / who do you live with / are you still in school / what do you do?).

Omg! I am turning into such a predator.

I mean, you could actually see the thought process going through my mind (and the little light go off) when I asked the young hottie whether he was at the local high school or boarding school, and he replied, negative, he’s working …

It couldn’t have been clearer if some one had spray-painted on the wall:

SHE WANTS YOUR HOT YOUNG BOD BOY-O!

He’s over 18 and therefore legal …

I couldn’t quite hide the gleam in my eye …

Did he notice? If he did, he was still pretty nervous and didn’t give anything away … being in a strange girl’s house, hung-over, stoned … he refused to make eye contact with me … Ah! Young boys can be so heartbreakingly cute and shy …

I decided to back off … Shame, he looked about ready to crack under my intense line of questioning! I went off to the kitchen to get the ice cream and chocolate sauce … Hey, what was I gonna do with it now anyway? And teenage boys permanently have the munchies, stoned or not!

Oh! The video camera came in great use too: we played bong races and recorded each other while smoking the bong – and then watched, timing ourselves to see who had won … sounds boring I know. But if you had been smoking what we had that night … lets’ just say: “Soooo not boring, dude!”

So, all in all it turned out to be quite an amusing evening. I had my eye candy, cool music, good grass, amazing high, fun games …  

And I guess I could always just take care of myself (I mean I am the best I have ever had), but recently, the more I was doing it, the less satisfactory it was becoming (sexy emails and photos from Sharky-Shark so notwithstanding).

… I guess that old saying is true: Masturbation is just like procrastination, it's fun at first, but in the end you're just screwing yourself.

Unless, of course, The Surfer decided that Sunday was a good day to meet …

x