Masturbation or Dirty Hair?

Masturbation or Dirty Hair?

Saturday Night. Wanda and I agree to meet at the Erotic Show at Earl’s Court. We had a last minute change of plans and then agree to meet in Soho.

I’m in party mode and ready to hit the town. I want to get laid tonight. The work men who were in my flat fixing various things leave around 6:00 PM. As soon as they're gone I dash into the shower. Now the question of the hour is: Do I have time for a shower head massage orgasm?

It sucks being horny and late. It won’t take that long for me to cum, but I need to leave my place in the next 15 minutes in order to meet Wanda on time.

I figure that I don’t have time to shower, wash my hair, get dressed and get myself off. So it boils down to this:

Do I masturbate? Or do I go out with dirty hair? Decisions, decisions. Horny or Dirty? God, it’s tough being me.

A decision is made. I sit down in the tub. I take the shower head massager and adjust the water pressure so that it is steadily shooting out in a narrow powerful stream. I lay back and press the shower head against my clit. The water is on full blast and the sensation is wonderful. It feels like a thousand tongues licking my clit simultaneously. Oh fuck, what a feeling.

Suddenly the water temperature heats up and the water brushing against my clit feels even more amazing then before. I can only describe the sensation as the same feeling you get when a guy cums in you or cums on you. It’s that feeling of warm cum on your pussy; in your pussy. It’s the feeling of stewing in someone else’s juices. To say that this feels fucking fantastic is an understatement.

I wonder if it’s physically possible to be fucked at the same time I’m pleasuring my clit with the shower head massager?

I cum loudly. When I come I can make a range of sounds from anything low and guttural (think dying cow) to a high pitched shrieking sound. My orgasm now is towards the high pitch end. Consequently, my dog walks into the bathroom and gives me a look that I can only interpret as “Everything alright, Guv?”

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking? Ew, she leaves the door open when she’s in the bathroom. Damn right I do. I live alone. I have every right to.

I get out of the tub and realize that I spent 15 minutes getting myself off. Now I’m really late. I still have to get dressed and throw on some make up.

I decided today to wear the Lederhosen outfit: a short brown skirt with a distinctly Bavarian feel. Brown leggings. And a bright pink v-neck short sleeve shirt. My tits, by the way, look great in it.

I meet Wanda in Soho. I’m 15 minutes late. I apologize. We order two glasses of white wine and our night on the pull begins.

Anti-One is the loneliest number. Theoretically speaking.

Anti-One is the loneliest number. Theoretically speaking.

There are lovelorn fools who think that there’s someone out there for everyone; and that your whole dating life ultimately leads you on a search to find, “the one.”

I, on the other hand, don’t believe that shit. Maybe there’s someone out there for a lot of people, but just not everyone. I would reckon that the split is 40:60. Forty percent of people will find, “the one” while the rest of us will meander under the belief that “the one” is out there, however, we’ll never find them.

The idea of the one is bullshit. It’s a race to find a husband. Why the race? If there’s ever a reason that I want to get married it’s because I love cake! The idea of a wedding cake is fantastic. Who needs the rest of the pomp & circumstance? I just want cake! I digress.

The race for a husband is perpetuated by the fear that if we don’t snag someone soon we may die or even become disfigured before ever hearing the words, “I love you.” And if it’s hard enough meeting someone with all your limbs intact imagine how much harder it would be if we were disfigured? Then again, it seemed to work out for Heather Mills (or not).

What I really want to talk about is the “Anti-One.” More cruel than “the one that got away’, the anti-one is the one you never had; the one you never a chance with; the one you lusted after and couldn’t get. The “anti-one” is the ultimate unrequited love (or lust) of your life. It’s the person you want physically and can’t have. It’s the person you want emotionally and you can’t have.

In a strange way, it boils down to quantum mechanics. Electrons, Protons, positive & negative charges. Anti-One always builds a wall around themselves. Think of it as an invisible force field. A line of force. You can’t go beyond a certain point or you get shut out. Despite the risk of being shut out you’re drawn in again and again. I actually know a mathematical formula for this, but I’ll spare you’re the gory details.

I’ve been thinking about the Anti-Ones in my life. There are three at the moment:

1. There’s the guy I can reach intimately but not emotionally.

2. There’s a guy I can reach emotionally, but not intimately.

3. Then there’s the guy with the intermittent force field. Sometimes it’s up. Sometimes it’s down. The cumulative effect is tantamount to being unavailable.

I have to ask myself, why do I put effort into something so fruitless? If the net result is always not being able to penetrate the force field, then why do I bother trying? The answer has come about after some long deep thought (psychotherapy):

Anti-Ones are clever. They know when you’re going to throw the towel in. It’s a sixth sense. Just as you’re at the point where you think, “Fuck it, I don’t care anymore.” They dangle a carrot in front of you. It’s the lure; the bait. It’s sometimes (badly) disguised as a promise. A false promise with the prize being entry into the force field. Or maybe it’s the false hope that you and the Anti-one would become intimate. E.G. the date that never happens. Or maybe he leads on emotionally. “I love you.” said without earnest. Generally, Anti-Ones will promise (lie) about anything in order to get their needs filled and keep you keen. Even if they’re not keen on you.

For whatever reason, Anti-Ones need us around. Maybe if we didn’t exist they wouldn’t need their force field. And maybe it’s that force field that validates their existence. I mean everyone wants adoration, don’t they?

Speed Dating and Projectile Vomit

Speed Dating and Projectile Vomit: Still bored shitless.

I went speed dating again with the Goat. I was still pretty bored.

There was a problem with my speed dating registration which resulted in me arriving late. I missed 5 “dates” but something ells me I wasn’t actually missing much.

The hardest part of speed dating is admitting that you need speed dating in order to meet someone. Once you get over that, you’re good.

I’m extremely loquacious. I can talk to anyone about anything. So I have no fear of talking to guys. As far as speed dating goes, bring it on. Let’s see if there’s a guy who can take me on.

Sadly, I find a lot of guys to be boring. Deadly boring. I don’t mean to sound conceited, but I’m an expat. I’ve traveled the world – twice. I’ve been on tour with rock stars. I’ve lived in three different countries and have had some amazing sex in my life. Do I really want to meet Mr. Joe Blow, next-door, never been out of Essex? No! Fuck no.

I need to meet someone exceptional. Someone fantastic. Someone who’s had way more experiences than I have. I’m not talking about sexual experiences. I mean life experiences. Someone who’s had the highest highs and the lowest lows and has really experienced life. I think that’s one reason why I dig Mr. MusicBiz. He’s great. The things he’s accomplished in his life are fantastic. He’s talented, but down to earth. He’s also sexy and great in bed. All in all, what a great combination.

I want to meet someone who’s really taken life by the balls. I want to meet a wild child or reformed wild child. I think what I want, but am reluctant to admit, is that I want someone to tame me. Oh, God, I probably shouldn’t have said that.

Annoyingly, the woman at the next table over was from Orange County (California). I kept getting asked if we were friends and if we came to the event together. It was even more annoying to be asked repeatedly if I too worked at Smith Klien Beecham. Nothing against the company but it sounds like a horribly boring place to work.

Eventually, this chick got wind that I’m from New York. We chatted during one of the breaks. We were saying how dating over here in London is much different than dating in New York or LA. Back in the states, you meet a guy at a bar or party. You give him your number. He calls you (hopefully) then you go out on a date.

Over here in London, you meet at a bar or party. You both get horribly drunk. You end up kissing or more… The next morning you exchange numbers. Later on he’ll call you – Maybe. It seems here, drunkenness facilitates the dating scene. Maybe I’m doing all of this wrong. Maybe I should spend more time drunk?

In any case, the speed dating was OK. There were only two guys there I liked. One of the guys was such a hunk. As he sat down at my table I couldn’t help but look at his arm muscles. Boy oh boy was he fit.

“Hey, how’s it going?” He asked me. He was the Joey Tribbiani type in looks and mental ability.

“I’m good, but I feel a bit cynical about this speed dating thing,” I replied.

He looked at me strangely then said, “What does cynical mean?”

OH MY GOD. He’s a Himbo!

“You know,” I responded, “Skeptical, wary.” I’m pretty sure he didn’t know what those words meant either. He cocked his head to the side and gave me the same look my dog gives me when he doesn’t understand something.

I can’t believe I’m talking to someone with a 3rd grade vocabulary. How can you not know what cynical means? Is the education system in this country really that bad? Note to self: Return to America to educate non-existant kids.

It turns out, the Himbo is a firefighter. He doesn’t use computer much, but he can sort of master Microsoft Word. I wondered, could I actually date someone less intelligent than me? Probably not. But I'd fuck him.

After the Himbo everyone else seemed boring. After the speed dating session was over The Goat and I ate at the restaurant above the bar then hopped on the Piccadilly line to go home. I stepped off the train at Green Park. I somehow felt that speed dating tonight had been disastrous. Why did I waste my time? Why did I subject myself to that? I’m not going to find Mr. Fabulous speed dating, am I?

As I turned to the right a drunk woman getting of the train projectile vomited. It was beyond gross, but commanded a certain skill that I envied. I was inches from getting hit. But as far as the night goes, that was par for the course.

Juicy Red Lollypop

Juicy Red Lollypop

I had the best lollypop the other day. Not only was it cherry red but a piece of bubblegum was waiting there in the middle for me. All I had to do was lick my way to the middle. In America, we call these Blow Pops. I can easily say that I enjoy blow pops more than blow jobs.

Don’t get me wrong, with the right guy, giving head can be great. For me, however, giving head feels like a chore unless I really fancy the guy. When I give head, I want my heart to be in it. I like knowing that I’m giving the ultimate pleasure to someone I care about. That’s why I’d never consider giving head to a casual shag; not to say that I haven’t done that in the past, but those days are over. For me to give head to a guy, he really has to be someone special. Otherwise what’s the point?

“You men have no idea what we're dealing with down there. Teeth placement, and jaw stress, and suction, and gag reflex, and all the while bobbing up and down, moaning and trying to breathe through our noses. Easy? Honey, they don't call it a job for nothin'.” – Samantha, Sex in the City

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m a hypocrite and just generally selfish in bed. I like receiving and I don’t like giving. It’s all about me. Wait, I should correct that. When I’m in a relationship giving is such an important part of sex. I love it. When I’m not in a relationship then I’m selfish. It’s all about me getting off.

But I digress. A couple days ago I was licking the best lollypop while Humbert Humbert was licking my clit. This lollypop was so juicy and flavorful that I felt a rush of excitement as I approached the bubblegum core. My legs were spread apart. I still had my skirt on. I still had my panties on. Humbert pushed them aside instead of taking them off. I love that. He buried his head under my skirt.

I licked the lollypop until it cracked and the bubble gum core was revealed. Not so surprisingly Humbert licked my clit until I cracked. I was giddy when I came. It’s been a long time since I’ve had any oral action and it felt damn good.

The only think I ended up swallowing that night was bubble gum.

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!

So That's How Blokes Do it...

So That's How Blokes Do it...

I feel like I should sort of apologize for the lack of entries lately. Honestly, I haven't had that much action therefore that hasn't been that much to write about. There have been some minor going's on with the BFE. Bumped into him in Camden. It's weird when you bump into someone unexpectedly. But it's also cool. When I lived in New York, I bumped into friends all the time. I used to walk everywhere in Manhattan. So it's not uncommon to bump into your friends as you're walking about.

London is different. This city is so large, I go months on end without seeing friends, let alone bumping into them. When I do see my friends it's because we have planned to meet. Bumping into them unexpectedly, however, almost never happens.

Something mysterious must have been going on that week. I ran into 4 different friends within a few days: Eagle Eye, Ging, Chippewa and the BFE.

EAGLE EYE
I call him that because he always looks like he's scavenging around for food or something. "It's not because of my big nose?" He once asked me. He doesn't have a big nose, but when he wears his glasses he some how looks like a Hawk. Yeah, I guess I could have called him Hawk Eye, but isn't that name already taken?

Statistics (out of 10, best)
Cuteness: 7
Personality: 5
Sense of Humor: 9
Best feature: Eyes, sense of humor
Would I shag him?: In a heartbeat
Likelihood of shagging him: None. His Girlfriend is a friend of mine also.

COMMENT: He has that geeky look that I love. He is sometimes a real asshole, but I think that only attracts me to him more. We'll never shag, but if we did it would be really hot sex. No foreplay. Straight to the fucking. It would be quick and dirty.


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GING
Even though he has sort of Ginger hair, he's cute.

Statistics (out of 10, best)
Cuteness: 6
Personality: 6
Sense of humor: 5
Best feature: Eyes, a steely blue color.
Would I shag him?: Yeah, I wouldn't mind.
Likelihood of shagging him: Anything's possible but not likely.

COMMENT He's married and may belong to some religious cult (I hope not). His wife, however is frigid (so I hear) and he looks like he hasn't been fucked in ages. I would also bet the farm that he hasn't had a BJ since the honeymoon. He seems like the kind of guy who may be secretly obsessed with sex, but doesn't do anything about it. Maybe that has something to do with the cult?

He once commented to a mutual friend about how he reckoned that I was hirsute. He's competely wrong: I'm SHAVED down there.

I'm not sure how good the sex would be with him. If we did shag he'd be he type of guy that would be so grateful for any action, he'd probably shoot his load early. There would, however be lots of foreplay. And I bet he would eat me out for hours, which would be nice.

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CHIPPEWA
He's got hair down to his ass like a Chippewa (Native American). He's a bit scruffy. A diamond in the rough. Great personality.


Statistics (out of 10, best)
Cuteness: 4
Personality: 7
Sense of Humor: 7
Best feature: Personality
Would I shag him?: Hmmmmmmmmm, prolly not.
Likelihood of shagging him: I'm not interested.

COMMENT: He's a great guy. Not my type.

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The BFE
In case you're wondering the BFE stands for the Best Fuck Ever. I call him this because one night when we shagged it was fantastic. I haven't had a shag better than that. You can read about it here.

Statistics (out of 10, best)
Cuteness: 7.5
Personality: 7
Sense of Humor: 7
Best feature: Cock
Would I shag him?: Of course.
Likelihood of shagging him (again): Depends on the circumstances. No imminent plans.

COMMENT: He's got that geeky look that I love. I like to keep his personal details private. He's a good mate and good in bed. Possibly it's a recipe for disaster, but I'm having fun now so why stop?

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Yesterday I ran into Chippewa on tube. At first I wasn't sure it was him. There was a guy across from me who looked like Chippewa but with short hair. I kept staring at him. Finally he looked over at me and I realized it was him. His haircut looks fantastic. His shagability factor definitely went up. We need a re-do:

CHIPPEWA
He had hair down to his ass, but now he's had a hair cut.


Statistics (out of 10, best)
Cuteness: 6
Personality: 7
Sense of Humor: 7
Best feature: Personality
Would I shag him?: Yes, I'd like to try it.
Likelihood of shagging him: Too early to tell

COMMENT: The new haircut did wonders for him. It's like he's had a make-over.

Ok, so on to masturbation.

Last night, my plans fell through. I was going to go to a pub with Chippewa but I had to go home and walk the dog. It was raining by the time I got home and the dog didn't want to go out in the rain. Then I made plans to go for a late dinner with a friend and that fell through. I had nothing to do and I was feeling WAY horny. So I decided to do what blokes do: Download porn and wank off. Or as my best mate, Anne calls it, "Jilling" or "Jilling off" which I guess is the opposite of "Jacking off"

Oh, a side note, Anne broke up with the girl who she was dating who ejaculates.


So I opened up Limewire and I did a search for porn. What kind of porn do I like, you might ask? I like porn that reflects the things that I like to do. I prefer the amateurish stuff. I don't like the professional stuff that shows models with boob jobs. I like the home movies. The movies that show real people doing real things. The staged stuff is just too fake. I do realize that there is some staging in the armature videos, but I like to look at something I can relate to.

I don't like looking at men in porn. I'm not into the sort of Chippendales striptease thing. I get off looking at women. I am very attracted to women. I've had sex with maybe 5 or 6 women in my life.

I remember one day at work a group of us girls went out for lunch. We began talking about sex with other women and it turned out that all 5 of us had had sex with at least 2 other women in our lives. I don't think lesbianism is so uncommon. I guess people just don't talk about it much.

I'm not necessarily interested in having a relationship with any women. I just want to fuck them. I love having my clit licked. Few men do it better than women. The BFE is pretty good at it. Perhaps he was a lesbian in a former life?

So it's not surprising that some of the porn that I like is lesbian porn. I like seeing women do things to each other.

There's one curious thing I don't understand. The women that I see in porn that I find attractive are not the sort of women that I would go after if I were in a lesbian bar. In reality I like women who look androgynous or boyish sort of like Angelina Jolie in Foxfire
In porn, I like femme women. Think Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider.

I digress... so I like to see real woman on woman action. I searched on Limewire using the following terms:

Tribadism
Clit licking
Doggie Style
Armature
Bondage

I also like seeing men and women fucking in porn. Still I'd have to say that I like the armature stuff. I like seeing a cock entering and reentering a vagina. I like to see guys licking pussy.

What I hate seeing in porn:

- Blowjobs
- Fake Tits
- Skinny Women
- Anything borderline jail bait
- Professionals
- Cum shots
- Blondes
- Men’s faces
- Anal sex
- Men moaning and or using profanity


What I do like seeing in porn:

- Pussy Licking
- Real rounded tits (not the perky ones)
- Women who have curves
- Women who look older than 25
- Armatures. Doing it cuz they love sex
- Brunettes
- Vaginal sex
- Women's faces
- Bondage
- Women moaning and orgasming

I found so many explicit clips. Men fucking men. Men fucking Women. Women fucking Women. Women fucking dogs?!? But in the end, I just ended up fingering myself to a clip of two women kissing. There was no nudity or anything. Just two brunettes sitting on a sofa snogging away. I think I just like seeing the tongue action. I played the clip over and over again while simultaneously using my middle finger to stimulate my clit.

It took me about 8 minutes to come, but I came really hard. Then of course I immediately felt somewhat embarrassed that I had downloaded so much porn. I deleted all the rubbish clips, but I'm keeping 3 quality ones I found for another time.

So I guess this is how you guys do it, huh?