There's Nowhere in Mayfair to get Finger Fucked

There's Nowhere in Mayfair to get Finger Fucked

I should know. I had a failed attempt there a couple days ago. I met up with the DG of the DG not to be confused with the DG (If that makes any sense). I guess I should explain.

The DG is a doppelganger of the BFE
The DG of the DG is a doppelganger of the DG

In other words, they all sort of look alike.

I am using some hyperbole here. I'm using Doppelganger to mean vague or passing resemblance instead of it's literal mewing, "double" Anyhow if you knew me personally, you would see how this is in accord with my sense of humor.

Actually, it's quite funny. I haven't seen the DG of the DG in quite a while. When we met up, I didn't recognize him at first. You think I would eh, since he looks like two other people I know!

I digress.

The DG of the DG and I were both dying to get in each others pants. Just thinking about him going down on me got me all wet. I had to pick up my dog before I met him. So not only were we both dying to get in each other pants, there was a small highly excitable lap dog suspiciously eying up him up.

The three of us walked all around Bond Street and Mayfair looking furiously for a dark corner; a dark alley, where he could pleasure me, and I could pleasure him.

We did find a dark alley for a few minutes, but it was behind a restaurant and proved not to be all that private. Even for that few minutes it was great feeling his cold fingers on my warm clit. I was so horny. Really, I just wanted to fuck him. It’s weird being horny sometimes. It’s like having an itch that MUST BE scratched. And then even after you scratch it you just want more.

The DG of the DG fingered me for a few minutes and then the dog got jealous. Steady now! He began barking and yelping and jumping up and down and wanted my attention. It’s hard getting finger fucked when there’s a small dog yelping at you.

After searching for another 15 minutes we gave up. I was looking for a tiny quiet street. It was after we went our separate ways that I found it. Derbyshire Court.

The BFE and I had some playful moments on Derbyshire Court (and the surrounding areas) at the beginning of the year. Thinking about it brings back some warm fuzzy memories. There were a lot of firsts that night. First date. First kiss. First shag. The kiss was particularly memorable. As our tongues met I was able to simultaneously reach down his trousers and put my hand on his balls; and I did it inconspicuously enough so that no one in the very expensive cocktail bar noticed. The amount of passion, desire and sexual tension between us was incredible. Probably the highest I felt all year. That will go down as one of the top ten best dates ever.

I remember I was wearing this really, really short black & pink tartan skirt with hold ups underneath. Even though it was January and freezing I wanted the BFE to have open access to my fanny. And in those cavernous walkways around Derbyshire Court he backed me into the wall, reached up my skirt, pulled aside my pink Victoria’s Secret thong and thrusts his hand into my pussy. Bliss.

Months later we ran each other through the emotional wringer. The situation had the potential to end very, very, very badly, but it didn’t. I’m so pleased with myself that I didn’t become “that bitch.”

You know who “that bitch” is. She’s that ex you had that deliberately made your life hell. She was immature, bossy and more importantly thought you deserved to suffer for the break up. I didn’t want to be that girl. More importantly, I didn’t want to lose a friend.

I’m just so incredibly pleased that there’s been a happy ending to this. Sort of like that Gwen Stefani song, “Cool” In any case I’m glad I have those warm fuzzy memories to look back on. And I’m happy that we’re still mates. Or as Gwen would say:

And after all the obstacles
It's good to see you now with someone else
And it's such a miracle that you and me are still good friends
After all that we've been through
I know we're cool

Yeah, yeah, I know, song lyrics in blogs are lame. Mea culpa. That’s the last and only time.

Okay. It’s my bed time.

Peace Out!