Faster than a speeding bullet

There's a guy I fuck, who I've talked about before but whose pseudonym I can't be bothered looking up. He's married and has two small kids and a wife who all but flatly refuses to have sex with him now that she's got her children (yes, yet another of those).

Anyway, he and I don't often get together in anything but a social sense (we share a hobby) but when we do, it's delicious. He has a stunning penis, thick and hard and straining, and a beautiful body. Hairy chest and belly, all roast-almond coloured and strong, with rough hands and a handsome, boyish face. I don't know what the heck is wrong with his wife, because he is one good-looking, lovely, lusty guy. The sex we have is pent-up, urgent; it seems to come at a time when both of us are craving and desperate. It's ALWAYS good.

Except for this time.

I don't know that I've ever had a guy come that fast before (and, let me say this loudly: I have fucked a LOT of males). He lasted all of 20 seconds! From going in (I was grinding feverishly away on top for the few seconds that it took) to pulling out and dragging the sodden condom off, it was less than a minute. "Seriously?" I exclaimed. "Oh, come on. That was WAY too fast." When I am all worked up into a sex frenzy I'm quite possibly not the most sensitive person.

"Sorry," he said, "It's just... oh, MAN, it's been so long." To his credit, he was a bit embarrassed.

He reckons the last time he had sex was with ME, which would make it sometime last year, several months ago. And judging by that performance, I believe him. And I feel so sorry for him. Sex is one of the few adult pleasures we can enjoy for free in our own homes (or in my home).

Nobody who's married should have to go several months without sex just because their partner doesn't FEEL like it.

The sex noises haircuts.

Like I said (see below), I love massage.

So when my hairdresser has washed and cut and washed again, and then gives me a 7-10 minute shoulder/neck/head massage, I kind of turn into a person who utters nothing but sighs and gibberish and the odd moan.

Last time I rang for an appointment, I got Matsutake san. "4pm is fine - the usual?" he asked.

"Is that the girl who makes sex noises?" shouted a guy in the background, "Make it a time when I can wash her hair, okay?"

"Um, 4pm's not as good as 3pm, but what do you think?" asked Matsutake san.

I said 4pm was fine.

"Yay! Sex noises girl!" shrieked Apprentice.

Glad to be of service, I suppose.

The marriages.

How is one supposed to feel about fucking married guys?

There have been two, recently, that I'd love to get my paws on, but don't feel alright enough about their situations to indulge. If the wives were fine with it, sweet. But how often does that happen? We're not all as lucky as TBK.

My friend Yuukihiro invited me out for dinner the other night with him and a baseball friend (Kazu) of his. They are both pretty gorgeous, but especially Yuuki. He has a large, hard, lean body, beautiful arty hands, short hair, glowing chestnut skin, a mischievous smile, and a beautiful wife. Who doesn't have sex with him. Ever. She got the two kids she wanted and now just has no interest conjugal relations. Which leaves Yuuki... with what, a bland chaste lifetime of frustration and masturbation? That's so unfair! Such a waste!

The other: Sasuke. He and his girlfriend (not wife but same difference) own and run a restaurant together. She's lovely; he's much, much lovelier. He and I also have electric-shock fingers on each other; when we touch, there is a very distinct sort of crackle that makes my skin tingle and tighten. The first time we touched, we both looked up in amazement at the sensation. He is a passionate, intelligent guy with the kind of body people want to purchase. So handsome. And yet, his girl is another who isn't keen on sexy time, and freely admits that she will do anything to avoid sex. What the hell? I felt his boner once when we hugged, and it's DECENT, and I can't imagine that he's at all bad in bed, considering what a sensual person he his.

Why even be married to someone you don't ever have sex with? Isn't that more than a bit like just being friends?

Sigh.

The Teasing of teh Cock

Cockteasing is a terrific hobby. Especially when you can do it innocently and you're honestly not trying but the dude is pretty much rocking back and forth and grinding his teeth and getting angry boner-face the whole time.

So, Matt came to stay on the weekend. For snowboarding. Well, I thought he came along for snowboarding but apparently he came along so he could fuck me. I had no intention of getting any, though, so I helpfully kept him and his erection awake all night that first night, with my active-sleeping (it seems I often delight in limb-flinging, chatting, yelping, kicking, sitting up in order to look strangely at things, and feeling around for invisible stuff while I sleep) and then sleepily nestled my arse into his boner in the morning without realising. Until I realised, and then I did it a little more while pretending to be asleep, just so I could feel his silky-stiff erection a little while longer. It just feels RIGHT, right?? If there's a guy lying on his side with a stiffy, it's incredibly difficult not to shift backwards into it, especially if you're hazy-dozing at 6am in the morning.

Anyway, he gallantly tried it on when we awoke, and I stared slightly uncomfortably at a potted plant for a second while he nuzzled my neck and then I jumped up and put the kettle on, all fluster with "how did this situation not even occur to me before"-type thoughts bumping around in my head. OF COURSE he came to fuck me. OF COURSE he would have thought me keen too. Sigh. Luckily we had a potentially awkward 3 hour car drive during which there were ample opportunities to discuss. So I told him a wee bit about how I'm a little fragile in the heart area at the moment so probably not keen on getting into a situation that would confuse me or weird me out. He was really quite alright about it.

And then, later, at the ryokan inn we stayed at, the lovely old lady assumed we'd be bathing together. Sure! Why not. She had other customers who would be wanting to use the bath afterwards, so we hopped into the shower room to scrub up and then lowered ourselves into the steaming hot water. I love how deep the baths are here. And how hard Matt's cock was the entire time. I actually felt a bit sorry for him, but going by the smirk on his face he wasn't too upset. I got out and rinsed off before he did, in front of him (where else?! There was nowhere else) and he gazed up at me with a rather anguished face, and arms resolutely on the sides of the bath, fists clenched. He obviously wanted something to do with his hands, because as we relaxed on our futons and talked, wearing the soft cotton ryokan dressing gowns, he massaged my legs and feet.

Note: if you massage my legs and feet I will become slack-jawed and incoherent and limp. Seriously, is there anything better?! (Than massage, I mean, not slack-jaw.) I need to find me a foot fetish guy.

Anyway, at dinner while we were chatting over our beers he suddenly exclaimed, "God DAMN, girl, it was hard work keeping my hands off you in that bath." He talked about how he's never really been friends with a girl before without having fucked her, so this was an interesting first for him. He also freely admitted his plans to flirt madly with me and "reel me in" and have a sex weekend in the mountains. Ha!

We walked back to the ryokan from the little empty restaurant in the cold night, and it was snowing. Big, soft, feathery flakes that just sort of softly appeared from the black sky and settled on us, piling up in doorways and dark window edges. Once or twice he glanced at me when he thought I wasn't looking, and then smiled down at his feet. It's so cute when people do that. Inside, upstairs in our room, he massaged my back with large, warm but hesitant hands, being careful not to go too low past my hips, or too far down my ribs. I was shivering with pleasure. A dim room, a hot bath and a beer in me, snow falling quietly outside, and a gorgeous man massaging my back. If he'd pulled a move right then, I may have fucked him. But he was too much of a gentleman to risk it.

We slept bare against one another, my knickers and long socks primly on but shirt brazenly off, my breasts pressed against his strong hairy chest, and here's the lame part; I cried. What a sook! Safe is the utterly wrong word but the closest I can get to the feeling that flowed over me for a few seconds there. I didn't sob, I just had my breath go all shuddery on me and my eyes leak. Just a few seconds of cry. He stroked my back and head and then we both laughed and went quiet and ran our hands softly on each other's skin.

(And a little while later, I sat up and advised, "You'll need a machete for that one, Daisuke." Matt said "What?" and I looked blankly at him (he says) and said, "What?" and he said, "What?" And I looked puzzled and said, "Nobody did," and lay down again. Ohhh-kay.)