Love and Sex

Chatting to women online, I sometimes find women who find the notion of me being married and out looking for sex to be a source of anger. Surprisingly, this isn't often.

When it does happen, my mood sometimes rather enjoys the heated debate. It helps me to rationalise things in my head, if not justify them.

Recently I was chatting to a 22 year old student who had Bridget Jones style ideals of finding a soul mate and spending forever and ever in their loving arms. She wasn't angry at the idea of me sleeping around but we chatted for ages simply because she could not understand the notion of me loving my wife and still looking elsewhere for sex. For her, the two facts were mutually exclusive. She felt curiosity rather than anger at my lifestyle because she was young, regarded me as older and was still forming her own attitudes. I tried to shag her, and came close, but ultimately failed. In any case, she didn't like the idea of getting oral sex because it was 'too intimate', so the experience may have been rather limited.

When I was younger, I came to the conclusion that sex was ok, but it was best enjoyed with someone you loved. It made perfect sense; an emotional connection with your lover allows for a better experience. From that revalation onwards my sexual experiences supported this fact. I enjoyed having sex with other women and loved the variety of my hobby, but sex was always best with my wife - the woman I loved.

Recently however, I have changed my view.

Sex is best with someone who is very very good in bed.

This is a fact so simple and elegant that nine out of ten philosophers must surely prefer it.

The woman I made this discovery with was a wonderful woman that I met with five times recently for sex and quite frankly she's horny as hell and enjoys it. She's an interesting one though, so I'll dedicate an entire blog post to her tomorrow.

How to find sex

Or to give the full title: "How to find commitment free sex on the internet: Part one in a series of helpful guidelines".

This guide assumes that you are using Yahoo chat. Yahoo messenger comes with a built in chatroom system that is free to use, slightly unreliable but always busy. There tend to be a lot of bots but if you can ignore them then you'll find it to be one of the best ways to find horny, local women who are either already up for it, or are waiting to be given a tempting offer. Note that you need the US version of Yahoo messenger since the UK version had chat removed in a fit of paranoia. The US version still supprts the UK chatrooms.

Chatting up women on the internet is a bit like playing poker. In any given situation you can either fold (Give up completely and instantly the moment that you realise you're not onto anything), call (Keep talking small talk until the levels of innuendo become too obvious to be only between the lines), or raise (You've found a woman who is rampantly horny and should be spoken to in the dirtiest fashion you think you can get away with).

With experience you will find that the folds are easy to spot. A common conversation might go something like...

You: "Hi"
Her: "Hello"
You: "How are you?"
Her: "Fine, you?"
You: "I'm good thanks"

Compare this with...

You: "Hi"
Her: "Hello"
You: "How are you?"
Her: "Fine"

Note that she did not reciprocate the 'how are you'. This is a strong indicator that she doesn't really want to chat to some random bloke. By all means try to pick up the conversation but if you keep getting short answers and no information to hook a conversation onto, then you're flogging a dead horse. Fold and move onto the next hand.

When chatting to a woman online, it is quite similar to chatting up a woman in 'real life'. The only real difference is that you've got the comfortable insulation of anonymity that permits the dropping of sexual chatter into the mix fairly early on.

Like real life, the common adage that making a woman laugh is the key to her pants is true here. Like poker, you need to invest in the hand in order to gain the most profit. This means talking to her, and not necessarily about sex. Try to make her laugh as early on as possible - it is a perfect way to gain her trust. At the very least it's a great way to make friends with folk, even if you don't end up doing the horizontal mambo.

The antithesis of this is firing in too early and seeming like a desperate bloke who's only out for a shag. Even if, on reflection, that would suit her down to the ground it won't get you very far. "I'm horny, do you fancy a shag: we could do it in my car, the seats fold back" is likely to get you permamently blocked on her computer.

Of course the exception to this is if she comes on strong first. In this situation you've got a live wire and you should raise like mad. Move all your chips into the centre of the table and see what happens.

Note however that the slow build is likely to yield the best results for several reasons. 1) A live wire rarely results in a shag no matter how it is played because she is less likely to be sincere and is probably just wanking off to you. It's true; women do do that. 2) If she's uber-horny and sounds like the village bike then you need to ask yourself 'am I going to catch something from this woman'. 3) She might be a fifteen year old boy taking the piss.

Chat etiquette is something to be aware of and also ignored when appropriate. A lot of people dislike private messages, prefering to conduct all chat in the main chatroom. The main chatroom is a bad place to chat up women - you're better off employing your charms in a private messaging window. If you don't get a response, or she tells you to fuck off (Most don't) then respect that and don't message her again. It's only polite. Don't whine when you don't get your own way - chat is cheap, you'll find some more.

Try not to use 'asl' as a way to find out who someone is (Age, Sex, Location). Many people don't like it and find it annoying, and so won't talk to you. By all means however, use it if you think you're likely to have to fold your hand early. Nothing ventured, nothing gained and you were losing anyway.

Tune in again for the next lesson later when I'll be discussing the best types of women to chat up for the highest yield of sexual success.

Cling film

Well that was a lot of pretentious wank yesterday, eh? I'll tell you though, it sounded better in my head. I guess that's an advantage of having an anonymous blog - you can do all that and not bother deleting it.

But enough of that.

My first proper BDSM experience was an interesting one. She was a domme for sure - all high boots, black stockings and leather. We had chatted a few times online and we planned on meeting in a hotel one Saturday night. The difference was she was a transexual domme - a woman that used to be a man. Needs must when the devil drives.

I met her in the street and we walked to the hotel, her handing me a large suitcase to carry which she said was full of toys. She was very feminine and her voice was feminine too, which was a relief because it sounded just plain weird over a phone line.

We got to the hotel and went up to the room. She ordered me to strip naked and then inspected me. She sat down and asked me to empty the luggage. There were a lot of toys and interesting things in there. When that was done, she placed a collar around my neck with the word 'bitch' studded onto the front, and clipped clamps onto my nipples.

She put a dog bowl on the floor and told me to pour us a drink. I poured her one, and myself one into the dog bowl, and started lapping it up. She soon lifted my head out of the bowl and made it clear she wanted me to lick her boots, which I did. I licked them all over, soles to thighs for quite some time and she seemed to enjoy it.

Eventually she ordered me to lie down on the bed, face down. She pulled out a bottle of poppers and ordered me to take a deep sniff. I did and immediately felt woozy. She started to whip my rear with a riding crop and I enjoyed it - the poppers making things feel strange and other-worldly. The poppers were put under my nose regularly after that and I obediently took deep sniffs.

She then took a dildo and started to fuck me with it from behind. It wasn't too bad, and I remember being impressed with myself when I saw the dildo afterwards and she told me that I'd taken all of it.

After whipping me some more, she ordered me to stand, and she started to wrap me in cling film. It was wrapped tightly from feet to neck and I was laid prone and unable to move on the bed, where I was tortured some more and whipped.

During all of this, there were breaks where I would be ordered to take more drink from the dog bowl, so I was getting quite drunk.

Then a lighter moment. I was told to get dressed in the female clothes she'd brought. I wore stockings, heels, a short skirt, a nice clingy top with a gel bra underneath. She drew lipstick on my lips and we kissed for a while. Afterwards she tought me how to walk on heels, or at least tried to. I didn't do very well.

I lay on my back while she put on the strap-on. She lifted my legs over my head and started to fuck my rear face-to-face, which I hadn't considered possible. I kinda enjoyed it which surprised me. She kept putting poppers under my nose and I was getting quite worried because by this stage my heart was racing and I could hear it pounding in my head, so I refused any more until I calmed down.

Afterwards I took off my own nipple clamps because they were getting uncomfortable, not realising that the pain of nipple clamps comes when they are removed. The pain was stunning, and I screamed 'fuck' quite a lot and quite loudly, for which I got spanked some more.

Then we just lay there for a while. I felt her breasts and they seemed convincing to touch, if a little on the round side. We kissed and it was nice for a while.

She packed up her things, leaving me in my stockings, asked for the taxi money home, which luckily I had with me, and she departed.

The bruises on my bum lasted for a while, and my wife wondered what they were.

"I slipped and fell at the shops on the ice."

My wife laughed at me, thinking it was hilarious.

We met only once again after that, the second experience being less enjoyable.

Who am I

This week has been a lazy one. I was having a moment there when I pondered the possibility of changing jobs, just to shake things up a bit. It was one of those moments where I wondered what I'd done with my life, so I tried to add up what I have been in my head.

I have been a boyfriend, fiancé, lover, father. I have been an adulterer, liar and a cheat.

I have been a parachutist, a boy racer and a bartender. I have been a tourist, a guest and a host.

I have been a comedian, a writer, a filmmaker and special effects artist, an animator.

I have been a computer programmer, a website creator, B-list blogger and now D-list blogger.

I have been an exhibited artist, a fraudster, a gambler, a poker player, a casino winner and a casino loser.

I have been a transvestite, a maid, a captive and a dog. I have been spanked, I have spanked and I have been unable to perform.

I have been a hospital patient, a cyclist, a climber and a paperboy.

I have been a swimmer, a photographer, a bad drunk and an embarassment. I have been a wanker in every sense of the word. I have been loved and have loved.

I have been a nervous wreck, I have been a tower of strength and a support to others. I have always paid my taxes.

I have been in debt, I have paid my debt. I have been rich, and I have been poor.

I have been a gardener, an inventor and a dog owner.

I have killed, but not eaten. I have been charitable, and I have been without charity.

I have been a winner and a loser. I have been honest.

I have regretted, been sloppy, been in control.

What have you been?

Tomorrow - I blog about sex some more.

Mistress

"I haven't domme'd for a while, but I'd love to get back into it."

Wow. Fine. Pick me. She was confident, she kept fit, and she was kinky as hell. She was bisexual too.

"I have a domme friend who I may ask to join in. Would that be ok with you?"

Was she really asking me if that would be ok with me? Holy shit.

The whole bondage, dominance and submission thing is very appealing to me. There's something about being tied up that appeals to everyone, or so goes my theory anyway. She was very into tying up, humiliation, spanking and the whole works. She told me that she'd had a bad experience with her last sub and that's why she'd been out of it for a while. Fair enough - where do we meet?

We met in a pub. I was slightly nervous because she had instructed me to wear no underwear, and hadn't told me why. I found a seat in the corner of the pub that was not only enclosed for privacy, but also had a view of the window so that I could see her come in.

She walked in on time (I was early) and she glided up in her long, leather coat and boots. She told me to stand up.

"My, you are tall aren't you?"

Yes, I was, and she was quite short, but I couldn't see that as a problem since she had the right attitude in abundance. She reached round and rubbed her hand up my arse until she was satisfied that I had no underwear on. "Very good."

We chatted for a while, and drank coffees. My coffee wasn't going down very well and I couldn't be bothered finishing it.

"No, you will finish it"

"Yes Mistress"

I lifted the mug and took a healthy gulp as she laughed.

"I'm just messing with you"

I learned that she had a thing for men dressed up as maids or in PVC and rubber. She also loved boot worship - having a man lick her boots prostrate on the floor before her was a big turn-on for her. I smiled and said that would be wonderful, wondering just what I was getting into. She started to make plans for getting me a maids outfit so that she could take me along to fetish clubs. She even told me the rules - no talking at a club until she spoke to me, and if someone else spoke to me, I had to ask her permission to reply, even if she was at the other side of the club.

We departed, exchanging numbers and made plans for me to visit her at the weekend.

The weekend came and I texted her to ask when she wanted me round. No reply. I texted her again. No reply. My phone at that time was crappy, so I went for a walk to get good reception in case I was missing a text reply. There was none. The day wasted, I gave up waiting and watched TV in a sulk.

Days later she popped up online.

"Sorry. My friend died."

Ah. Understandable. And that put paid to that.

Then she vanished - for a full year.

One day, she popped up on yahoo again. We got chatting and I told her the idea of her being my Mistress still appealed. We made plans again. The only day that suited her was a Wednesday, so I told her I would have to take a sickie from work, which I dutifully did. Food poisoning. Saying the word 'diarrhea' to your boss over the phone usually puts him off asking you any questions.

That morning I texted her. No reply. All day and no reply. I began to have that deja-vu feeling.

The next day she pops up online.

"Sorry. My friend died."

This is a tricky one, because there is still the possibility that the coincidence was true, so you have to be sensitive. I remember crafting a delicately balanced sentence that I was quite proud of that managed to contain polite sympathy, vague annoyance and a reminder of the fact that she'd used that excuse before. I made a joke that we shouldn't talk any more in case someone else died. She laughed.

Since then I have spoken again a few times and there is a pattern. She chats, then conversation moves onto kinky talk, then there are vague ideas and plans, she then promises to contact me and never does. Then there is a gap of some length of time and the process repeats.

She had made me promise that I would call her Mistress and that no other woman would be able to domme me whilst I was in her service. Luckily, I did not keep that promise.

Itchy knob

Disease is a bit of a worry. Less so these days in the same way that driving for years without an accident somehow makes you think you're less likely to have one.

It was a worry in the beginning though. I could cope with the idea of living with the consequences of my own actions, but not with the idea of passing things onto my wife.

The first time I slept with Miss X was a particular worry. Not because of any particular doubts over the hygene of her genitals or her past, but because God seemed to be going out of his way to make me worry for week afterwards.

TV programmes would have STD related story lines. There was a radio phone in competition to win a years supply of condoms if you could text in the correct spelling of chlamydia. My knob started itching due to a severe case of hypochondria. Conversations with friends would inexplicably include words such as 'crabs', 'thrush' and sometimes even 'HIV'. I started to wonder what I could do to get antibiotics off the doctor without being diagnosed with chalydia via a swab up the end of my delicate portions.

Luckily my knob stopped itching in relation to the calming of my imagination and as far as I know I am free of all things transmittable. Condoms are still a mood killer though, and oral sex is at the top of the menu for now. That and kinky sex games involving ropes and toys. You'd be amazed how many people that appeals to. It's the new black, but more on that tomorrow.

Bad Shag

It's not always fun, having sex with random women. Sometimes it doesn't work out as well as you'd hoped. Sometimes you make silly mistakes and get yourself into situations you'd rather not have gotten into.

I'd chatted with Julie for a day or two. She seemed quite nice - very outgoing, friendly. Seemed to like socialising and enjoyed a drink or three. She liked to talk about sex and sounded up for just about anything.

She told me that she was a larger lady and that didn't bother me. As far as appearance is concerned, women tend to fall into one of two camps in my head: sexy and not sexy. Size doesn't have much to do with it, though as a rule having curves is a good starting point to sexy.

She invited me over and told me that she'd leave the door unlocked and I'd be able to find her naked on her bed. She did it this way because it was late, she'd been out drinking and there was a chance I'd have to wake her up. It wasn't the most romantic of images but I was blinded by her sex-fuelled online words and drove to her house.

When I got there I found the door locked and phoned her mobile instead of knocking. She answered the door in a tee-shirt and let me in, shortly after removing the tee-shirt and climbing straight into bed, as advertised. Apparently she'd forgotten to leave the door open and the phone had woken her up.

She had said she was big, but it didn't seem polite to ask 'how big'. I'd now discovered that she was very big. I started to wonder if her size was anything to do with her reluctance to have to get up and answer the door. No matter, I was here and I guessed I had to make the most of the situation, her body falling into the category of 'big but not sexy', all curves having been blurred together. It would be impossible to make a good guess at her dress size.

I stripped off and climbed into bed next to her. Her warm soft body felt good and we kissed. I can't remember if she was a good kisser, but there was a strong taste of alcohol on her breath and her glasses kept bugging me. She warned me that I'd better be good and I jokingly asked if she'd be giving me marks out of ten afterwards. She said she would.

The sex was as vanilla as vanilla gets. Me on top, some kissing of skin and some thrusting. She made some of the right noises, but seemed to be going nowhere. Eventually, I came out of a desire to go home. I lay next to her and we talked for a bit. She gave me a low score, her orgasm being still somewhere lost on the horizon. My ego was not bruised.

We chatted small talk for a short time and I drove home, laughing inwards and shaking my head at myself.

Sometimes we chat still, though she is reluctant to talk about sex to the same degree as we had that night. She apologised for giving me a low score. It transpired over several brief conversations that her talk of sexual extravegance and promiscuity was all a ruse to get me into her bed. I felt used. I smiled at the thought, never having felt used before.