A Promise Kept

As I was driving yesterday, the song on the radio flashed my mind back like the Enterprise going into warp drive. The song, the multi-octave range of the voice, its sweetness combined with its power. Theresa did the song even better than the original artist. It was one of her signature pieces.

I suppose the song hit me so hard and sent me reeling back because like then, I’m in a melancholic, reflective frame of mind these days. Then, it was a woman, too. She continued to reject my studied advances even though I knew she welcomed them. And she did eventually come around. If anything, when Marty knows what he wants, he is persistent.

I met Theresa in a European ski club.  She was definitely a torch singer. Her voice was magnetic, and the fact she had a stunning face didn’t hurt the attraction one bit either. She was English, very solidly built, shoulder length dark hair with eyes the color of Yorkshire coal.  I won’t bore you with the courting rituals, just know that they worked. Which was interesting because Theresa did not screw around on the road. She loved her husband deeply, and was devoted to her vocation, so wandering off the path so to speak was a very unusual experience for her. But for several days and nights that week she did.

Poor Robert! He had recently moved to the West Coast, and now we would see each other and play together but once per year. And here was I, abandoning our traditional pub crawling adventures to seduce and be seduced.  He was forced to come up with his own play activities. Robert, of course, well understood.

Each evening I would catch Theresa’s last set at the Club which would be followed by a wild night of sex and wine in her room. I so delivered on the promises she yearned for and couldn’t find at home. And her pillow breasts, sweet, thick lips, and hungry body provided the sexual respites I keenly wanted and needed. We craved what each could deliver, there, and at that time. All through the witching hours of the dark alpine night and through the morning we would have at each other.

Then I would finally arise, return to my room, get ready and meet Robert and the others on the mountain for lunch and a drink, before an afternoon of hard skiing. At the best of times I could barely keep up with him. His technique and finesse were far superior to mine. But I was fit and my legs were strong , so I  could stay with him and the lead group throughout the day. But not this year. My lack of sleep through the week hobbled me on the mountain. It made Robert’s hearty laugh all the more penetrating as he watched me struggle to keep up. I was the butt of his ribald jokes all through every dinner as he inquisitioned me on what happened through the prior night. My silence and knowing, Cheshire cat smile drove him crazy.

Finally the week was done. I was to leave and Theresa’s gig was up. We never delved into each other’s hearts. We dared not. The most hidden part of our lives and souls were not to be exposed. She made me promise to never try to contact her. It was just too dangerous she said. For reasons I’m not certain I fully appreciated at the time. But I was younger then.

And I’ve kept my promise.

Remembering How To Count – FIVE

This is another in a series of quick snapshots of some very unique, sexy women. You can read the first here about ONE.

It was approximately 5 years since he had last seen ONE. And his relationship with FIVE lasted … well, about 5, too. And that first time, they fucked continuously for almost 5 days

It started out in the usual way for him.  Her looks just stopped him dead in his tracks.  It was probably not a good thing, not a good thing at all actually, that her looks reminded him so much of ONE. She was certainly shorter than ONE, and FIVE’s eyes were a medium brown, not ONE’s hazel. The round face, and the dark, short hair that he had come to love clearly did him in. But she verbally waved off all his advances … was not shy at all in letting him know how uninterested she was. Though that turned out to be mostly bravada.

He sweet talked himself into her bed that first Thursday night. The fucking was incredible. It had been almost 3 months since he had jettisoned his Blow Job Queen, and he had had very little sex since. FIVE’s perfect and firm 36Cs (one of the most perfect set of tits he had ever come across) just added to the sensations he was experiencing. Speaking about her 36Cs reminds him of the picture of her he took the next day, braless in a tight red t-shirt, with her nipples prominent. He must dig around and find that picture!

All during those first days and nights he could see, he could feel, the hunger, the hurt, the need, the sadness, the relief, and then the joy. She absorbed all the physicality he could muster and all the passion he gave. Her need was insatiable, to be touched, to be stroked, to be fucked, for him to be a salve for her to release her inner turmoil. Her need was desperate … she clutched him incredibly closely.

Yet despite what he thought he saw happening with her, FIVE, in the beginning, was like you perhaps might imagine a Gay Nineties courtesan to be. Although they fucked in every imaginable position, FIVE was always … calm and relaxed. The fucking up to that point never seemed animalistic in any sense. It was not until a few weeks later that this dimension was added to the sexual repertoire.  She sucked his cock repeatedly, but he never had an orgasm while she did. She needed desperately to have him cum in her pussy.

That Tuesday towards noon it was time for him to pack up his things and head home. There was one last fucking … missionary …  hard yet controlled. FIVE came multiple times. He was uncertain if this was going to develop as a relationship, but one thing he was sure of, in case it didn’t. He was not leaving without having a major orgasm into her mouth. This was a very hot woman that he dearly wanted to have taste him. It was all he could think of at that moment.

He lay quietly on top of her, still plugged in, gently kissing her periodically as their breathing began to return to normal. He was still hard and he eased himself out of her pussy, then quickly moved up to straddle her face.

FIVE eagerly opened her mouth and took him in. He grasped her outstretched arms with his own hands holding them immobile, and simultaneously began to thrust. The thrusting became faster. Fiercer. FIVE kept her eyes tightly shut. Despite having cum not even 10 minutes before, he knew he was close again. It had been an amazing five days and this is how it/he would finish. The sounds were minimal, the bed mildly creaking to the motion and his breathing becoming heavier again. Then he cried out as he climaxed hard one final time. He grasped the headboard as his release filled FIVE’s mouth. She held it there as he began to relax.

He watched as a trickle of his semen seeped from the corner of her mouth. FIVE sighed in contentment. That made two of them. Then she swallowed. Twice.

He finished packing and headed out the door for the 8-hour drive home. He would see FIVE the very next weekend.

 

When Marty Has to Make Choices Red This Time (2)

RedThongColourSBW and I had agreed that I will choose her thong for the day.  Here is the first post about that as a refresher .

What I’m about to describe happened during the third week of last December.

I knew she was heading out that night to a small, intimate seasonal gathering. So the red thong was clearly what she would wear.

“Which should I wear today, Marty?” she asked in the early afternoon.

“You will be wearing the red tonight, Baby. No question. Seasonal colors and all that. You’ll be so sexy in that little black dress, and the red will let your intimate parts celebrate too.”

“Show me your ass please,” I instruct.

I watch her step into her thong. As she bends forward her beautiful, rounded ass faces me. The curvature is just so perfect. Yes, I said curvature. Identical to the Earth’s from space. Hauntingly beautiful in my humble opinion. How much do I crave that? You have no idea. Pussy lips visible between her firm muscular thighs. Ever so slowly she draws the red band up along those long sexy legs, wending its way to meet this curvature’s Great Rift Valley. I watch longingly as the red ribbon of fabric disappears. Everything snugly fitting.

A final tug and snap. As SBW does a quarter turn, she shimmies her ass in a so, so subtle fashion. I have never met a woman who combines these two unique facets in such an incredible way … sensuality … and innocence. She does know she is a very sexy woman … heck, I remind her several times a day … yet she doesn’t fathom the massive impact that sensuousness has on me.

Yes Marty, today’s choice was well done. You should celebrate!

 

She Strips The Boundaries Away … The Black Bra

I certainly don’t take it for granted. How could I when I’m not even aware it may be happening? The woman just likes to please. As in ME, moi, mich. And I couldn’t be happier.

Take the other day for instance. Late in the morning I received this from her …

“I masturbated this morning thinking about you. You made me cum hard.”

Oh, I really like that,” I answered. “What were you thinking?”

“About our first time.”

“Mmmmm,” I answered.

“Our first kiss. Then you made me strip. And kneel.”

She continued “Then, of course, I pictured my favorite. Me sitting on your face. Arms tied with your belt.”

I smiled. Then frowned because I had to rush off to an appointment.

“Later!” I typed.

We were back on texting in the afternoon about several different things. Some fairly mundane. Several items less so.

I remember asking her “Did you get yourself off again?”

“No. You?”

“No, but I’m horny.” I might have mentioned that fact earlier in the day, too. “Send me a pic, please.”

“Of what?”

“You,” I said.

“My face?” she queried.

“Face. Or ass. Or tits.”

60 seconds later in came a pic of her beautiful … smiling face.  I was thrilled.

“Gorgeous,” I replied.

She has pushed my boundaries. Normally you might expect I would be disappointed by only a picture of her smile. But not at all. She has got me just where she wants me. Has me being more patient even. I puttered around for a few minutes on various things before maybe “you know what ing”.

17 minutes after that … a video.

“How’s that?” she asked.

I watched my screen transfixed. There she stood smiling.Tall, lean, in a black sweatshirt and dark running shorts. She ran her hands through her soft mane. Cross armed, she slowly lifted off her top. Swelling breasts were barely contained in an alluring black bra. I intently watch her taut stomach muscles flex, then relax.

I’m not relaxed at all. Far from hit. Eyes burned to the screen, right hand dipping into jeans.

A dip of her head coupled with her ravishing smile, then thumbs into shorts.She teases me as the shorts get lowered, momentarily half off, then slipped completely down. A quarter turn to deftly flash the side of a tight ass cheek. I’m getting very hard.

Then a three-quarter turn back toward the camera. My eye catches her trimmed pussy patch of bush, so delicately balanced between her strong, firm athletic legs.  My right hand begins to stroke. My gaze moves up from her pussy, past her taut abdomen, to lust longingly at that black bra.  And the D-cup  treasures it supports.

Her delicate hands slowly unclasp the black supporting garment. She smiles and teases with her slow, deliberate movement. My hand movements accelerate.

Her hands move up to the top of the cup, gently following the edge, then along the length of the bra straps, pulling them part way down. Next she moves to the covering black cups. Slowly they are lowered, briefly caressing her nipples that are obviously now hard..

Her tits dare me to stare, her nipples pointing upward. The beautiful black bra, now hanging useless in her left hand is carelessly tossed. She stands but for a brief mini second, fully displayed before me. Proud. Mine. Her boundaries now expanded.

I finish what I’m doing.

 

 

 

When Marty Has to Make Choices (1)

A pic of some thong choice Dec 21_15Her simple, classic beauty sucks every breath of air from my lungs each time my eyes set focus on her. And trust me on this, my eyes and my total being are focused when I see her.

We have agreed I will select the thong she is to wear each day.  She lays out the choices for me. Blue, navy, red, charcoal, and the purple. This day I select the purple as she has two important functions to attend and I want her to feel confident that she is dressed regally right down to her flawless bare skin. It wasn’t a tough choice for me.

And I watch as she puts it on. Her grey sweatshirt drops to cover her hardening nipples, and exposes just the bottom half of her tits, before falling to cover them all. But I zero in on her tan line and remind her how much I adore the small trimmed patch to her pussy.

“I love making you happy,” she says.

“With all my perversions about you?” I smile.

“Especially with those,” she winks. “You know how much it turns me on knowing I’m turning you on.”

“Noted,” I respond.

As she slowly pulls the purple piece up above her knees I marvel at the smoothness of her tummy. The thong up, she turns for me so I can appreciate the perfect turn of her ass. Gently rounded, yet firm from every angle. The line of her crack gives me shivers.  No wonder every male she passes stares intently as she slips by them, seemingly not to notice, but I know full well she tracks every man’s eye movement on her.

Cheeky_Bum_Purple_Rain_front_dd39f726-aac3-4a9c-8351-cd73ec05a528_1024x1024[1]Yes, purple was a good choice today. Marty can pick ’em.

 

A Bridge in the Cosmos

the-real-bridge-yours[1]I don’t know.

Sometimes I really know. You know?

But sometimes I don’t. Right now I really don’t. I mean I can feel it. Yes I can. But do I truly know? No, I don’t think I do.

Cosmos. The greatest unknown. I’ve always loved that word. We call our humans in space astronauts. The Soviets called theirs cosmonauts. Don’t you think those damn Ruskies captured the breadth and the emptiness and the loneliness and the breath taking wonder beyond this little blue orb contained in the English language word cosmos so much better than our bureaucrats in Houston and Washington did? I mean, astro vs the cosmos. C’mon … there really is no comparison.

But I’m digressing. But maybe not. The cosmos is so unknown, don’t you know? And did I mention, I don’t really know.

Because there’s this bridge. I’m building. Well, it’s kind of built. Partially. A little rickety right now to be honest. In my mind it’s pretty old and tentative. And I feel it’s out there in the cosmos. Nothing fixed at either end. Because when I get it almost attached at her end, before I know it, it’s drifting again.

All this time she thought I was a wedge. Coming between the important things in her world and us. I don’t know (there’s that thought again) how many times I’ve tried to explain it to her. But as of yet, she’s not a believer. I thought it was getting through that gorgeous noggin of hers when I said it was a bridge, and not a wedge. That made her consider.

Which was progress.  But today the bridge is very much adrift.

So I don’t know.

There’s a theme here.

One thing I do know.

I don’t like I don’t know.

 

Midweek Fantasizing – The Portrait

f69bb7a5004e07fb8630c02b4eb07c0aShe was at the coffee shop. Catching up on some writing. One of those incredible beauties, don’t you know. Shoulder length blonde hair, slightly tussled. Maybe she had come from a workout because she was wearing exercise clothes that hid her figure. But didn’t really, because they actually revealed a lot. That her body was likely as close to perfection as you could imagine. She could have been in her mid 30s, but looked younger. Beauties have a way about them, they always look younger than they are.  She was probably a stay at home mom, hence the afternoon Starbucks break on the way home.

She frowned into her laptop as she reread something she had written.  Absently she looked away from her screen, to the right. He was staring at her, but looked down when she saw him. He was sort of cute, in a nondescript way.  Dressed casually in jeans. Short brown hair. Maybe about her age.

She went back to what she was doing. Though after a minute or so she couldn’t help but look out of the corner of her eye. He was definitely staring.

She pulled out her phone. She texted her lover

“I’m in Starbucks and there’s a guy staring at me”

“That’s not unusual.” her lover texted back. “You’re a stunning woman.”

“I think he’s drawing a picture of me … ”

“Cool!” the lover wrote back.

After several seconds the lover wrote, “I have an idea for you. This is what you’ll do.”

After she read his next text the woman wrote him, “You’re terrible. No wonder I love you. I’ll do it.”

She pushed her chair back and got up. The young man watched her in anticipation as she walked over to his table. He shuffled his papers away.

“You’re drawing me, aren’t you?” she asked, looking down at him unemotionally with her big grey-blue eyes.

“Yes … yes … I … am”, he stammered.

“Well I want you to know something.”

” … yes?” he whispered.

“My lover told me to tell you I am his very hot submissive. You think I’m hot don’t you?”

“Yes … I do.” he managed to get out.

“And he’s older.  A lot older. But oh sooo … ” her voice trailed off as she was momentarily lost in thought.

“And when I wake up in the morning the first thing I think of is sucking his beautiful cock.”

The artist’s eyes opened wide, and his face flushed.

“My Dom just thought you should know. It might better infuse your art. He thought the sketch would be so much more intimate if you better understood your model.”

The artist smiled wanly, and nodded as he looked up at her above him. He didn’t say anything.

She turned and walked back to her laptop. Started writing again. Smiling secretly. She was a good girl.

 

 

 

Sometimes I Get Embarrassed … When Girls Talk

I have decided to revisit certain posts from time to time. Call them a Marty-Replay.  Posts I like. Or I’m happy with how they were written and catch the moment just right. Or are particularly relevant even now. But mostly that I like. Here’s the 2nd.  I’m sure most of you are not familiar with Marcie. If you are curious, here is some background.

Here    and   here

It was like a girls night out. Except the boys tagged along. Three couples sitting around the pool on a warm evening. Marcie and I were on a winter break and had booked a week at a Mexican beach resort. During the evening meal of our second day there we had started to chum around with two other couples around our age.

After dinner we adjourned to a patio near the pool for drinks and conversation. For some reason the three women sat beside each other in patio chairs, while the men were together opposite. As the cheap Mexican red wine flowed, the inhibitions began disappearing like a rapidly outgoing Caribbean  tide.

The women were all extremely attractive. There was the tall Chicago blonde with below shoulder length Farah curls and the 38Ds. Then there was Virgina beauty, short with long raven hair complementing her cute button nose, tight little ass, and 34Cs. The men didn’t really have much to say. We were more interested in listening, I guess. Wine induced, the girls’ conversation became very sexual, very quickly.

It wasn’t long before Marcie got into describing the evening we arrived. How a few Mexican beers had led to a walk on the beach as darkness was setting in. How in the blackness of the night, the softness of the zephyr off the sea, and the effects of the beer we felt totally alone. How I sat on the solitary beach chair, beer can in hand facing the sea, and how Marcie knelt and took my cock deep in her mouth. How she slurped noisily  How after several minutes of that she grabbed my hand and I pushed her to the sand on all fours and took her roughly from behind. How as I pulled her hair and she grunted while climaxing a group of people could be heard strolling nearby. How we couldn’t have cared less.

Chicago eyed me with a sly smile. Virginia Brunette’s eyes opened wider. I was on the hot seat and I could feel my face flushing a bit. Good thing it was early evening and the light wasn’t so good.

There was more wine and more girl talk. Lots more. And it started to get dirtier. Chicago blonde explained how in order for her husband to get fucked at all, he had to perform cunnilingus just right on her, and for the length of time and number of orgasms she felt appropriate that night. She made it quite clear who was the boss, and who gave the sexual directions

I flashed her my “that’s not how it would be with me Hottie” look with my deep blue eyes. And she nodded back in agreement. I looked over at her husband and even in the dimming light I could see him silently slouching lower in his chair.

Virginia Brunette, not to be out done, filled everyone in on how she took care of her husband. Apparently she had a coterie of 4 or 5 men. Periodically one would be invited to their house in the Washington suburbs for the evening, for dinner and drinks with her and her husband. Which would be followed by raunchy sex with Virginia Brunette. In the bedroom with the lights on. While husband stood in the bedroom doorway to watch and listen. At the appropriate command, he would be allowed to undress. And should she feel generous, she would give him permission to stroke himself while he watched his beloved wife in the throes of outrageously noisy sex with the visitor. Then after her upteenth orgasm, if she was feeling really generous, she would go to the doorway and finish him off with a hand job.

I had always wondered what those Beltway civil servants did with their free evening time.

Marcie was loving it. The other men, not so much. Marcie had this laugh, that became raunchier the drunker she became. She was very drunk now, and the laugh was an outright cackle. Given the spirit of the conversation, and fearing the worst from her mouth, I suggested it was time for us to call it an evening. I wasn’t really interested in having my personal modesty tested any more than it had been. But she wasn’t interested in leaving.

“You know Marty has just the best cock I have ever had” she blurted out. My heart sank.

“It is such a good length, and nice and wide. And oh, does he know how to use it on me!”

“Marcie! Enough!” I could feel my whole you don’t-really-know-me, I’m-so-respectable world becoming a distant memory if I didn’t get her to quit soon. But I feared she was just getting started.

“But what is really amazing about Marty is how incredibly hard he gets! Like hot, hot rock! Yes, that’s it, hard as rock.  With super big and hard veins. I have never had a cock in all my parts that is so hard!’

Chicago Blonde raised an eyebrow in my direction. “Really, Marty?” she purred. I knew I was squirming noticeably even in this light. Could they see my sweaty brow? I’m pretty private, and the discomfort I was beginning to experience was, for me, stomach turning.

Virginia Brunette eagerly slid forward in her chair. “How often do you get to Washington, Marty?”

Damn this was embarrassing. Normally I would love the attention these two beautiful women were directing my way. But not like this! It wasn’t me doing the selling. I wasn’t in control at all. And I couldn’t handle it.

“Marcie, we’re leaving now!” I commanded

“I’m going to finish my drink. And my story!” she retorted

Uh-oh. This was not good. Though usually very compliant, Marcie had a stubborn streak at times, and I didn’t want to test it. I wasn’t going to win if I did. That was certain.

“Well I’m going back to the room,” I huffed. It was a gamble on my part. I was certain Marcie was terribly horny, but she was also enjoying her girl time. But I couldn’t handle the spotlight, I knew that for sure. At worst, I figured she’d be along in 2-3 minutes.

I was right, of course, it was under 3 minutes when she joined me in the room. I have no idea what else she confided in the group. And I didn’t ask. But she got one helluva spanking that night.

 

And Then There Was Mandy (Part 2)

VH1 Big in '06 AwardsThis is part 2 of my story of Mandy, one of my Mea Culpa stories.  Here is the background on Mea Culpa. And here is part 1 of Mandy if you missed it.

It wasn’t long before we were both naked. Her bed was small, only a single, and was pushed against the bedroom wall. Mandy played reluctant at first as I eased her dress down the length of her body, then undid her bra, and threw it to the side. But once I began pinching her nipples and sucking them, she soon relaxed into a song of sighs and gasps as I brought her senses to life on the confines of that small bed.

At one point I stood up and shed my clothing too. Despite the long liquor fueled evening my body was standing tall to the challenge.

As I sucked, nibbled, and pulled and tweaked Mandy’s breasts and nipples, her breathing intensified and she cooed with delight. Then while my hand began to slide her panties down, she tensed slightly. Did she want this? Did she not want this? But then her soft moan answered my query. She sure did want this!

I turned her on her back and hovered over her leaning on my straightened arms.  I bent down to kiss her. She moaned again. As I lifted my head I watched her blue eyes look at me, and then she bit her lower lip.

I entered her pulsing pussy quickly. It had been a long night and I was done with any additional foreplay. And I knew she was ready. Her short and strong legs came up to wrap around me. I began thrusting hard. And deep. She hung on to me like her life depended on it. There was no way she was letting go of me.

I could feel the tension in her body rise. She was grunting, then almost crying, as she tried to meld her body into mine. I felt the intensity of her need. But I had a need of my own, and I increased the pace of the fucking. Her legs squeezed me tighter. Mandy’s cries were louder, her hands were reaching all across my back and I was getting very close. She most definitely seemed close too, but I wasn’t sure I would be able to wait for her. Hell, I was getting so close I knew I wouldn’t be waiting for her.

I came hard in her and held her tightly. But even if I was, Mandy sure wasn’t finished! She started pumping from below on her own.

Crying “No, no, no” I could tell she was imploring me not to stop.

But the deed had been done. The horse had bolted the barn. Mandy, I’m afraid, had missed the bus.

I’m pretty certain I was asleep before she pulled her legs down off my back.

To be continued ...

 

Fuck Toy Mea Culpa – Penny the Nurse (Part 2)

keira-knightley-83560[1]

If you missed it, or are interested, or would like a refresher on Penny, here is (Part 1)

I was pretty much on pins and needles the rest of the work week. This was, of course, way before the internet. The world had no such in-house detective known as Google. I really had no idea what to expect. And what was expected. It had been a while since a beautiful woman had approached me so directly, so I was feeling pretty contented with myself all of a sudden.

Now for some quick news bytes. I really don’t remember the date at all. What movie we saw, if we had a drink afterward. That date is a complete black hole in my mind. Neither the conversation that ensued during the evening, nor what happened as we said good night.

I can already sense the disappointment in your minds, dear readers. After the buildup, nothing? Yup. And that’s only the beginning. We dated for perhaps 6 weeks. I don’t know what got into me.

Penny was probably the worst fuck of my life. No the opposite of life. She was absolutely lifeless. When I hear men talk of women who are cold fish in bed, I think they must have been with Penny. It was near impossible to get her out of missionary. And suck my cock? Well, yes. But not eagerly. Reluctantly would be the charitable term.

At first I was confused. How could this apparently outside the bedroom reasonably aggressive woman be a slab of cold flesh in the bedroom? In the beginning, I chalked it up to lack of experience. And surely that was part of it. But that didn’t explain the absence of any fire. I could get her to cum, but only once at a time. Then she would practically shut down. I know she liked me. Quite a lot, actually.

I decided to take it upon myself to bring Penny “along” so to speak. And have fun myself. It would be a win-win situation. She would get some needed education that would serve her well in the future, and I was going to end up with a beautiful (albeit rather skinny) fuck toy for my amusement. Inflated ego or what?

For the next month or so, 4 or 5 nights a week, I went to Penny’s, or she came to my apartment. I fucked her consistently. Hard. I put her in every position imaginable. Her hands were bound. She got to sample blindfolds. Her skinny ass was spanked. She was instructed how I wanted my cock sucked, and she practised several times every night. I taught her how to look up apparently lovingly from her knees with those deep brown eyes of hers. She was indeed submissive, but not a very enthusiastic one. She wanted sex, but didn’t crave it to any degree. Didn’t crave anything. She was actually a turn off in bed for me. I had never experienced anything like this before, and happily, have not since.

Once I realized progress wasn’t being made, I started to feel guilty. I knew I had no emotional attachment to this women. I stayed around firstly, because she was singularly beautiful. When we walked down the street, we drew lots of attention. I fed on that. Secondly, I was amused to have her. But I quickly grew bored. There was a zero connection, and even with great sexual chemistry, without the emotional attachment I really had no long term interest in the relationship. Here there certainly was no sexual connection. She had to go.

And she did. I tried to be gentle. But it wasn’t received that way. I hurt her. I’m not very proud of my actions, or lack of feeling.

It also hammered into my head that I do not like skinny women as sexual partners. I love my women with curves. That I can follow with my eyes and my hands.

So be forewarned.