Bill's blog

Throwback primate sex

The title of this post is my recollection of the words I used to describe what we were doing with one another to my woman last weekend, after we stopped and caught our breath. Seriously, my dreams don't compare to this reality. The weekend got off to a strange start, however. Read on to learn the tale. As I noted in Planning for My Near Future Self, I'm kind of a scatter brain. Unfortunately, life can't always be planned ahead of time. Sometimes I forget important stuff because I become stressed or excited in the heat of the moment. Such was the case last Thursday evening, as I traveled from the airport to see my girlfriend.

I was excited and anxious, giddy and nervous. I had a lot on my mind, and I felt free of my daily concerns. I was in a fantastic mood, but my mind was running like a crazy monkey on a treadmill. I don't even know if they do that, but if they do, I'm just saying. I got off the plane and headed straight for ground transportation. I didn't check any bags, so I was able to fly through the terminal. You should have seen the befuddled travelers jumping out of my way. Apparently, being run over by a crazy blind man isn't on many passengers' bucket lists.

I exited the terminal with haste, and hit up the cab line. Once inside the cab, I turned my attention to the task of telling the driver where I needed to go. I pulled out my trusty iPad, and started looking up pertinent information. I gave the driver my girlfriend's address, then plotted a course on the map from our current location to her abode. My girl recommended I take a specific route, so I opened the document containing her suggested course, and compared it with Google's recommendation. They were different. Needless to say, I didn't listen to Sergey and Larry.

Once we started moving, I began to relax a little. The cab driver and I had a nice conversation along the way. He's from Pakistan, of Punjabi descent. I grew up in an area with a large population of Indians from Punjab. I think we both felt like we were talking to a friend we'd never met. Being a productivity junkie, and knowing I wouldn't want to take precious time over the weekend to work, I processed some email. Before I knew it, we had arrived. Excitement flooded over me. I sprang from the cab, grabbing my jacket b naughty, bags, and coat. I covered the distance to my girl's doorstep in a moment. Once we had properly greeted one another and settled me in, I was overcome by fear. I couldn't find my iPad. I wanted to connect it to its charger, but it was nowhere to be found. My sense of alarm grew as I realized it was missing. My girlfriend helped me look for it, and when we couldn't find it, she called the cab company she thought I used. We didn't know which one for sure, because I paid with cash, and hadn't noticed the name of the company. Luckily, she saw the cab arrive, and remembered what it looked like, and what color it was.

I was starting to panic, when I realized, "There's an app for that." Some of you know that I'm a true Apple zealot. I've been carrying portable computers manufactured by the fruit company for almost 20 years. My first real computer was an Apple IIc (1984 vintage). I wrote my own video games on it in AppleSoft BASIC. I've even met Steve Jobs. Anyway, if you have an iPhone, and the Find My iPhone app installed, you can locate any other iPod Touch, iPhone, or iPad you own, as long as you have the app installed on that device, too.

I took out my iPhone, hoping I'd be able to locate my iPad with it. Of course the app worked flawlessly. Not only did it find the iPad, it showed it moving around town in real time. I typed a message, included my phone number, and sent it to the iPad screen. I made the iPad play an alert sound for good measure. I figured it was worth a try. The cab driver seemed like a good guy, so maybe he would help bring it back if he had it. Having done what we could, we resolved to not let my dipshit move ruin our weekend. We decided to get breakfast at an all-night diner nearby. Who doesn't love greasy diner food in the middle of the night? Just as we were preparing to leave, my phone rang. I've never been so happy to hear a thick Punjabi accent in all my life. It was the cab driver. He said he had my iPad, and would bring it to me either in 20 minutes, or two hours. I thanked him, and assured him that whenever he could come would be just fine with me. He came to the diner just as our food was being served. I compensated him for his trouble, and resumed possession of my "media tablet". Taken as a whole, the evening was an adventure. There was action and suspense.

There was high tech problem-solving. There was romance and racy adult content. There was even some comedy relief (my interaction with, and subsequent impression of, the cab driver). I had so much fun. I'm a scatter brain, but I'm a very happy one.

I can remember as a kid hurrying...

I can remember as a kid hurrying home and locking the bedroom door to read Penthouse Forum before the parents got home from work. Sure the pictures were fabulous and most of my buddies would sit and stare and the gorgeous women that filled the pages. Hell, I did the exact same thing, but there was something intoxicating about the sexual encounters that were printed on the pages. Every story would begin the same….”I can’t believe this was happening to me….and then it would go on to detail some wildly provocative encounter and that seemed just too good to be true, especially to 13 year old. Now fast forward many many years later and absolute craziness was the best way to describe what was transpiring. Actually, it seemed to be the only way to explain the developments. But here I am writing a similar tale and pinching myself at the same time just to make sure I’m not dreaming. It really started off innocently enough.

The idea was to just find a distraction to the enormously dissatisfying physical and sexual relationship that existed at home. In fact, if the truth be told it was sex in the uk damn near non-existent. It wasn’t always the case but over time the intimacy continued to wane until it almost seemed as if it was a chore. So the alternative was to see if time wouldn’t help solve the issue. So in the interim a profile was created. That’s when things started to get interesting, temporarily anyway. It seemed to be a numbers game. I wasn’t sure of the ratio but it certainly wasn’t in favor of men on the site.

However, be that as it may a concerted effort was going to be made to find someone that would understand and appreciate the situation and circumstance he found himself in at home. Needless to say, it did not start off with a bang, literally or figuratively. Slow and steady wins the race right? Wrong! Patience is a virtue, right? Wrong! Emails would be sent back and forth and pictures shared, but when it came time to take the next step one of two things typically took place. The first would be that a date for coffee or lunch or a drink after work would be set only to be canceled before the day.

Then more emails would follow and it would be an endless string of just that emails. It didn’t take long to come to the conclusion that many are on the site to be involved in a cyber relationship. Which was fine but it fell far short of my expectations. The second would be that she would show up and the pictures shared prior to the date would not be a very fair representation of the person showing up for the date. This was extremely disappointing to say the least.

But I would be a gentleman and cordial and enjoy the conversation and then explain that it might not be worthwhile moving forward. I came to discover that I was not alone with my frustration. During the course of the failed attempts to find a compatible partner in crime, I started a blog. It wasn’t too long after the first couple of posts that I got an interesting response to one of my entries. The plot thickens I thought to myself. This wo man captured my attention. I’m not sure how she was missed in the search but now that I found her it is definitely worth pursuing. So I did.

To Be Continued.....

I ’m sorry.” such a response only...

“All right,” I conceded. “But only if you buy us another round.” So there were the two of us, the only ones left in the hotel bar. It’s getting on toward 2 a.m., though I’m uncertain if that’s closing time in Crescent City. Anyway, I have this beautiful blonde woman leaning forward in her chair, full of anticipation, waiting to hear all about the traumatic injury to my penis. “Well you probably know that I volunteer in an abused animal shelter,” I began. “The cases we see there are genuinely heartbreaking.

We get a lot of Pit Bull terriers, the ones the Sheriffs rescue from illegal dog fighting rings around the county. “Oh my,” she said, leaning a little closer as I continued with my story. I told her about a special brindle breed, “So badly mauled that we didn’t think he was going to make it. I literally helped to nurse that poor animal back from the brink of death.” I explained how that one particular Pit Bull had severed trust issues, and understandably so.

I recounted how he used to growl at me and bare his fangs every time I brought him food or approached to change his bandages. “It was kind of frightening, but what was I going to do? Leave him there like that? Oh no!” “Absolutely not,” she agreed. “You couldn’t possibly leave those sort of wounds to heal on their own.” I continued with my story, telling her how I went to visit that poor dog twice a day for the next month. I explained how we started to bond, and that just when I sensed I was about to make a major breakthrough and earn its trust, one day that brindle Pit Bull lunged at my crotch. “Its jaws clamped down with an awful force, those teeth cutting through my denim jeans and deep into my flesh.

I screamed out in agony with a blood curdling cry, and soon my colleagues rushed in to rescue me. They did everything they could do to extract my private parts from his vice-like jowls, but it was too late. Blood was everywhere. The damage had been done. My audience gasped in horror, then reached to grasp my hand in a sympathetic clench and asked, “Did they have to put the dog down?” “They insisted upon it,” said, “But just as adamantly, I insisted that they couldn’t. You see… that poor dog had sex dates in armagh been through hell. It didn’t deserve to die.”

At this point, I was benefitting from an overabundance of sympathy. The compassions of a caring veterinarian, magnified by liquor, were synergistically compounding in my favor. Then, quite suddenly, the compassionate heart was eclipsed by clinical curiosity. “So tell me about your wounds,” she demanded. “How serious were they?” “Ill tell you this,” I replied. “I’m dealing with a lot of complications. As well as the surgery went, I have to be concerned with scarring and infection. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be the same again, to be honest with you. I guess only time will tell.”

“Would it be too much to ask, if I wanted to see your wounds” she asked. “Well….” I hesitated. “Please! Please!” she repeated. “All right,” I agreed. “But not here at the bar. If you want to examine my wounds, we’ll have to go up to your room.” By the time we were riding the elevator to the upper floors, she thought I was doing her a huge favor, escorting her to her room. I was nervous as hell, wondering how I was going to play the lie, trying to guess where it would all lead.

When we arrived at her suite, she slowly opened the door then kicked her shoes off. “Make yourself comfortable,” she told me as she reclined back onto her hotel bed. I looked around her room and it was a chaotic mess. There were papers everywhere. A briefcase, a suitcase, all sorts of clothes and newspapers scattered about. I asked if I could use her bathroom, and she said “Of course.” I closed the door behind me, lowered the toilet seat and sat down to urinate. I didn’t want her to hear me taking a pee. I sat in there for several minutes, wondering how I would perpetuate my fictional tale.

I debated with myself over what course of action to take. Should I politely back down and bashfully exit, or should I wrap my cock in any handy gauze and play out the fib? I noticed a first aid kit amid the veterinarian’s toiletries and considered the liberal application of antibiotic creams and sterile bandages. In the end however, it all felt too silly, too deceptive, too dishonest. As I gathered some gumption, I decided to come clean and confess that the whole story had been a lie to get myself up to her room. Finally, with a surge of courage, I came out of the bathroom to confront my pretty vet. I have to say that I wasn’t too surprised to find her passed out on her bed.

I studied her slumbering form for several minutes, taking in the texture of her exposed skin, the roundness of her breasts, the shapely form of her dangling legs. I could peer up her dress and see a sexy pair of blue bikini briefs. She was quite delicious in her subconscious state, but I could never bring myself to violate a woman like that. Instead, I scrawled her a polite note thanking her for the drink and the conversation, then let myself out of the bedroom door and found my way back to my room. This story won’t be complete without me explaining what happened the next day.

Stay tuned.

If only life were simple

I'll try to make this simple, or as simple as I can...... The last few months have been busy with a number of changes in my life. Unfortunately these changes do not give me the time I had for blogging and being on line. I don't think it is appropriate to relate, in this blog, the events that occured in my real world since last August, but I know that there was speculation about my absence and it's length of time and, yes, I was apprehensive about my return after such a long time - but nothing and no one on the site delayed or prevented my return. I appreciate those that kept in touch and those that welcomed me upon my return.

I speak for no one on the blogs and no one speaks for me. There is no hidden meaning and I just wish to blog in peace and leave some comments on blogs that interest me and what others choose to say or do is of no concern to me. I do not normally mention other bloggers but I need to clarify that Milly was not responsable for the delay in my return to the site, as I said before there were real life (personal and family) reasons and never once did Milly try to influence me to stay away. But beware of heresay, which is inadmissible in a court of law, or where poeple speculate on what is said or done or ment. Beware of jumping to conclusions based upon bits and pieces of evidence, one can only draw true conclusions when in bnaughty dating site possession of all the evidence, and sometimes trust or confidence prevents one defending oneself.

But, of course, what anyone thinks or says or does is up to them. Now life is not all a bed of roses ..... ..... and if I say something inappropriate or upset someone with a blog or comment I will happily apologise, as I do not wish to upset anyone or get involved in any blog wars. If only life were simple, but unfortunately it is never, so I have made the responses pending, not to hide the contents, but to ensure that I can respond to comments first. Happy New Year - roll on 2011

So here goes my first post and my first babysteps in this ~brave new world~

So here goes my first post and my first babysteps in this ~brave new world~. First perhaps I should tell you a little about myself. I'm a strong-headed, stubborn woman. I go after what I want and usually get it too. I would not have portrayed myself as a sub or switch. I should let you know the jury is out on the sub vs switch, but if the jury should come back with a verdict, I'll be sure to let you know. So how did I get to this point?

Well... it starts as so many things do with connection I felt with a man (a Dom no less), which led to dinner, which led to a kiss, which in itself was I suppose the very first moment in which he took control and I gave up control. And it felt spectacular. It made me feel like I was kissing someone for the very first time, the surprise and all the hope that goes into that moment. It's been quite a while since that moment but I can't forget that kiss or letting him call the shots. It still turns me on just to think about it and usually ends up with a pair of wet panties. I keep in close contact with my Dom and last week he came over to visit me. Our negotiotions had kind of started already and he gave me a very small taste of things to come.

What a rush! And that's without props. I talk to my Dom a lot and today we truly entered negotiations. I've got to be honest. That's as exciting as it is terrifying. We were talking online and bnaughty meanwhile he's showing me his favourite whips and gags and what not! He's SO at home with all this stuff and I'm reminded that I've no clue at all! There are a few things I'm sure about. 1) the safe word 2) I have selected and/or been chosen by a very accomplished Dom 3) my Dom knows me extremely well, which makes me feel safe. Soon we're going to the shops to get some props. Pics will follow after if my Dom allows.