There's a ghost in me who wants to say, "I'm sorry". Doesn't mean I'm sorry.

So I said it would take me 75 days to get over him.  Well, it's been 75 days and I'm still not over him.

I should be happy - I got what I wanted, though 3.5 people's lives may have been destroyed in the process.  But I'm not, and I didn't, because secretly, I always wanted more, though I dared not speak its name...

Well, we can't always get what we want, so there's nothing left for me now but to get used to my new existence... as Magic's helpless sex prisoner. 

Oh, and to ask myself how something so bright and beautiful in life - sexual love - could have been transformed into something so vile and abhorrent, like a child's face disfigured with leprosy;  I feel its taint seeping through every fibre of my body and mind, infecting and contaminating me, robbing me of even the sunlit backdrop of my memories, leaving nothing sweet and innocent in life untouched, casting even my darling baby beneath a long shadow of doubt. 

It's hard enough to accept that what was, can no longer be, but that it should no longer even have been what it was, is surely a tragic ignominy!

40 Days of Mourning

Weary se'nnights nine times nine...

It was an uneven playing field from the get-go: she was the Wife, I was a person of no consequence. But she took me on, she slew me and crushed me underfoot, and even this was not enough for her, vicious and vengeful she-demon that she was, she sought to tear the entrails from my bloodied carcass and stuff them down my throat. Far be it from me, though, to seek revenge - I'm a lover, not a fighter! I shall instead crawl off to lick my wounds, by attempting to console myself with whatever glimpses of silver I can spot in this black cloud. Here they are.

1) Men are nothing but a bunch of motherfucking assholes, I'm better off without them, etc.

2) I lost 2 kilos when he left me. And I had already lost 2 kilos when my mother got cancer.

3) I can finally devote myself even more slavishly to the PoDS. If I don't end up abandoning him at the steps of some nunnery somewhere (if such a thing even exists, today).

4) I no longer have to worry about Magic walking in on us some day. That would have been embarrassing. And almost a little bit funny. But mostly just terrible.

5) I can perhaps finally do something productive with my life. Not that he took up that much of my time - at least not physically. But I was always either dreaming about him or floating around in a state of good-for-nothing euphoria.

6) I was never good enough for him. And I was deteriorating.

7) I was always destined to be alone.  It really did seem unnatural to me, to be so happy.

8) I was always insanely jealous - though I think I did a damn good job of pretending not to be!

9) I was also being driven mad with suspicion. It's a well-known fact that a woman commits adultery when she finds herself in an unhappy relationship, whereas a man is predisposed to it by personality traits inherent in his nature. The old "once a cheater" maxim, tiring as it is. Of course he couldn't really "cheat" on me in the conventional sense, since he was free to do whatever he liked. But I knew that didn't entitle me to his honesty - he told me so himself at that restaurant on rue Orillon. So I knew he was probably always hiding things from me, and yet it's not in my nature to police people and spy on them. I'm a very trusting person... and also, believe it or not, a very private person, which is why I respect the privacy of others. So I would never have been able to pull off the kind of massive undercover surveillance operation apparently necessary to keep a guy like this in check! So hats off to the blood-thirsty harpie, after all.

10) He was probably tiring of me towards the end anyway. At least now I can tell myself that it was only because he got caught that he left me. Were it not for that, he would surely have deserted me much more ignominiously. Whereas now, I can always believe that it is as star-crossed lovers that we parted!

Don't get me wrong - if I'd had my way, it would never have ended.  And I do have regrets.  But that's the subject of another post (unfortunately yes, there is more where that mindless babble came from).

World Without End

Seven days of unmitigated (or very slightly mitigated) hell. My life stretches before me like a barren wasteland.

Sound and Fury

So, it's been almost a month since THAT fateful message, and now I get a message from Magic: "We need to talk. In private." Of course I'm thinking: they changed their minds and got to him after all! 

My mouth felt all of a sudden dry and parched, as if I were walking through the Empty Quarter, rather than the streets of London (with high heels and a 20 lb baby). And despite the abject terror gnawing at my stomach, I couldn't help but be impressed at the relative calm with which he had apparently taken this news.

And then, of course, it turned out to be something COMPLETELY UNRELATED!!!!

So I couldn't even distract myself with thoughts of vengeance - not that I had been able to, up to this point, for I knew I would never go through with it, not because of any misplaced sense of loyalty or the kindness of my heart, but because... well, why bother, really? I mean, WTF do I care?

In fact the one good thing that has come of all this is that now I don't feel like I've been unfairly let off the hook, so to speak. I mean, I think I was suffering from some sort of survivor's guilt syndrome, almost. But after this I honestly don't think I can take any more drama!

And the worst part of it is that all those things one does for another person over the years - lugging groceries across town and standing over the stove for hours and hours - it all amounts to nothing, a hundred thousand brownie points cancelled out by one semi-nude picture taken for a stranger on the internet.

18 Days Later

I am pretty much okay now, during the day - just a little irritable. But at night (which is strange because I hardly ever saw him at night), I feel it like a physical pain. If only things could have been different... a foolish sentiment, and one which I shouldn't allow myself.

I was never jealous of her - what a lie, I was insanely jealous. But I never minded her having him all the time, until it meant that I couldn't have him at all.

L'amour que nous ne ferons jamais ensemble

How annoying... I now have access to a secret love nest which no-one knows about... and yet no use for it at all.

Maybe he was right about me - I really am incorrigible. I never knew whether to find it insulting or flattering. Generally I just found it rather cheeky, coming from him.

Sometimes I wonder if what I did was a really, really bad thing. Or was it just nothing at all?

Nothing at all, right?

Epilogue

All it took was just a smidgen of hope that I might not be completely forgotten, and I don't feel quite so devastated. Just a little - how would he say it? - "hard done by".  Hard.  Hehe.  Now, even if we never meet again, at least I can comfort myself with the hapless idea that it is as star-crossed lovers that we parted.

I probably ought to be more concerned that a savage and ruthless harpie has apparently come into possession of incontrovertible evidence of my wrongdoing, but somehow I just can't get myself too worked up about it. 

At any rate, I have warned Magic that a blood-thirsty lunatic may be hot on my trail - which strangely did not surprise him at all.  Then yesterday he mentioned to me that he might be depressed, so I helpfully suggested that he have an affair, but he just gave me a hurt and bemused look.  I also asked him if he would like to join a sex club with me, but he said we would be the hottest people there, we'd just be "trading down".  No arguing with that.

And I had a nice talk with the Clone, in which he said a few comforting things, one being that he likes my blog better than "the blog of that girl whose naked pictures you sent me" (I didn't even know she had a blog! must hunt it down, and maybe rekindle my friendship with its author), and another being that he would like to see me again in the flesh, even if it's just for a coffee!  How sweet.  Now there's a person who has been there for me during the three worst experiences of my life (all neatly packed into a 6.5 month period).  What a pity that for once, he didn't ask me what I was wearing...

Breaking Up is Hard to Do - The First 10 Days

Day 0: An uneventful day for me. My Blackberry is turned off to conserve battery.

Day 1: I receive his message at a farmer's market. I read it twice before I can believe it. An odd sense of relief (I had been dreading this moment for so long), and yet a feeling of disconnect from reality. Am I in shock?

Day 2: Blind panic. Will he make good on his threats? I run up a €200 phone bill asking friends, family and online admirers for advice. My friends foolishly suggest asking him for help! Just goes to show how willing we girls are to believe in love, and loyalty, and the basic goodness of people.

Day 3: I have always been good at games, no matter how much I hate them. He falls for my bluff and folds his hand. It is a Pyrrhic victory.  I have already begun to re-read our chat logs. Though now he is an enemy, I miss him as a friend.

Day 4: I console myself with the absurd fantasy that one day, not now but maybe twenty years from now, he might return to me. Or have forgotten me sufficiently to seduce me all over again.

Day 5: I awaken from dreams of having him as a friend. But I have realised the foolishness of hoping. He was out of my league from the beginning. I should be grateful for two years of overwhelming joy. It was more than any human being deserves. I abandon the 20 Year Plan.

Day 6: I am over the worst of it, I think. It's the oldest story in the book. I loved him, he didn't love me. But I never asked or expected his love. All I wanted was for him to be happy, fucking lots of girls, and to remember me fondly. I think the first is well underway. And that does make me happy - jealous but happy. The second, for some reason, has been denied me, though I think I did everything within my power to merit it. But oh, well. Some you win... and Dim Sum, you lose.

Oh, wait. There was one other thing. I did ask him to always keep me in mind as a potential threesome partner if ever one of his future girlfriends is interested and they can't find anyone else. Here's how I imagine that conversation might go...

Him: sometimes I think I would like to fuck you with another girl

(Of course this would most likely all be in French but I can't be bothered to translate and also would find it harder to project as he never spoke to me in French, though I did ask him to... his French was so cute. And sexy. Anyway, back to the conversation.)

Him: sometimes I think I would like to fuck you with another girl

Her: oh really like who

Him: ...one of your friends

Her: haha i dont think so :S

Him: >:)

Her: dont you know anyone

Him: well there was someone but it's too risky... wife knows everything about her

Or maybe... "well there was someone but she fell in love with me so I had to get rid of her B-)".

But really he'd probably just say "no".

God I was crazy about that guy. It's probably a good thing he broke up with me because I would never have been able to end it with him. It's just the way he did it that was so bizarre. First of all, he broke up with me by text message. Yes, really. And right after I'd found out that my mother has cancer. It's almost a cliche of boorishness, is it not? Secondly, it was all "I never want to see you again" and "never contact me again". Like some peevish schoolgirl. When a simple "hey babe, let's call it quits" would have sufficed! And then, if all that weren't bad enough, there were the threats to hunt me down and ruin my life. That was a bit gratuitous, really. When all I ever did was every fucking thing he ever asked me to!

But there it is. He was a fun-loving guy. I was born to cry. :)

Day 7: The anniversary of the day I first felt his cock enter my pussy. Though I am resigned to it being over - I have only to look in the mirror to wonder what he ever saw in me at all - I wish I could have known this was coming, could have seen him one last time. Not now, of course, now that he hates me, but if I could travel back into the past, and see him look at me once more with love!

Day 8: Perhaps I shall just have another baby, and name it after him.

Day 9: I return home to find that if there is a weight loss method more effective than having a mother with cancer, it's having a mother with cancer and being abandoned and betrayed by a vindictive and vengeful ex-lover. But other than that, I am fine. If I had one wish it would be to remember everything. Speak, Mnemosyne!

Day 10: I knew this would be a sad day for me - the first day back home that I could have seen him, if he'd wanted to. And to think that I'd probably have been grumpy about having to get up early, or feeling guilty about neglecting the baby. And now I shall never see him again! I guess that's the strangest thing - though I've been broken-hearted in the past, it was never like this, this total cut-off. I know I should just be grateful for all the good times we had together, which could easily never have happened. He did so many nice things with, for and to me. Reason dictates I shall surely get over him some day. But when? They say it takes 100 days to break a bad habit. But surely it ought to be a function of how long one had the habit to begin with. Maybe 10%? 75 days? I decide to watch the wedding flash, over breakfast...

The Last Time

I was dying to see him. Yet I could feel another bladder infection coming on. Perhaps I should postpone? But it would be ages before I would see him again. I couldn't bring myself to do it.

He texted me in the morning, to ask when he could come up. "Whenever you like..." I wrote back. He rang the buzzer a few minutes later. I opened the door naked, we kissed as he undressed. He laughed watching me kneel to suck him. "Why are you laughing at me?" I asked indignantly. "I'm not - you're gorgeous," he replied. "Now turn around and lean against the door, because that's what doors are for."

He pounded me against the door - it was excruciating! Finally, when I could bear it no longer, "Now we can move to your comfortable bed... or your not-so-comfortable sofa." "The bed!" I lay back, drawing him over me like a blanket. He raised both my legs up so my ankles were resting on his shoulders, and fucked me deeply, almost painfully. My arm brushed against something rather odd - my baby's foot!  It was beginning to stir.  He stuck his finger beneath its toes to watch them curl.  "Monkey reflex..."  The baby beamed at him and burped loudly.  "At least there was no spit-up..." I began, then stopped as what looked like a fountain burst from its mouth.  We laughed. 

He lay back.  "I think you need to suck me some more," he said.  "Just what I was thinking," I replied, going down on him with glee.  He began to fuck my mouth, slowly at first, then faster.  I knew he wouldn't come this way, still a part of me never quite stopped hoping.  The arm I was using to prop myself up began to ache almost unbearably but I couldn't bring myself to give up.  Finally he said, "Darling your lips are going to be swollen to twice their size!"  I mumbled something incoherent and kissed his cock - for the last time ever!

He lingered, kissing me by the door, as he always did before he left.  And I always felt guilty, worried about how late he'd be.  If only I'd known I would never kiss him again...

He used to make fun of me constantly, for imagining it was over, when it wasn't.  Who can reassure me now?

Stars

He always wanted to come over as early as possible, he was so impatient and eager to see me. I made him wait so I could be ready in time. I think I even had breakfast. The buzzer rang twice - he never rang twice. Luckily I only opened the door halfway; it was a package delivered to me for my baby. A beautiful striped outfit and sweater, with no card. I cast it aside in my haste; he was at the door. We kissed, I dropped to my knees to suck him.

"Take this off," he said, pulling at my T-shirt. "I want you naked."

He pushed me down against the arm of the sofa and parted my flesh almost painfully with his erection, ramming into me for a while before allowing me to stumble into the bedroom, where he mounted me. "Do you want me to fuck you?" "Yes!" "Say it." "Fuck me..."

He rolled over and pulled me onto his cock, holding me down as he thrust upwards into me, slowly, deeply. I felt a sort of warmth spreading through my legs, my thighs tingling as I moved against his pelvis in time to his thrusts, and something curious happened, it seemed as if our movements were just slightly out of synch, as if my pussy was trying to draw him into me, constantly aching and yearning for his cock, and this ache gradually built until finally I was riding a wave, a wave which swept over my body like fire! I hung limply over him, drained, just feeling my skin tingle, and he seemed to realise this because he began to move his hands in circular motions over the small of my back, generating curious riples and eddies of lingering excitement everywhere we made contact. And he had done this once before, ages ago, on the sofa with my music playing, and it was like being drugged, and I had wondered if anything so magical could happen again. And there it was!

But I was only permitted to relax for so long. He began to nudge me into action with his cock, and as I gradually and sleepily began to move against it he started to spank my ass and urge me on. I felt a crazy surge of excitement! Before I knew it I was screaming and groaning with pleasure! It was too much to bear, I dragged myself off him and collapsed beside him with my hair tangled and messy all over my face. He looked over at me, smiling knowingly.

The baby began to wail, I stumbled over to its crib unsteadily. Eventually it settled down in its bouncer and I returned to the Professor, who pushed me face down onto the bed - "because you know I love this" - one of his favourite positions for coming. He plunged into me, I could feel the entire shaft of his cock all the way inside me, filling me so perfectly, so fully, almost lifting my ass off the bed with the angle of his erection. And still I pushed myself back towards him, grinding myself against him 'til I could feel his balls hitting my clitoris and at first his hands were on my neck and shoulders, pressing me down on the bed as I turned my head to look back at him, and then his fingers were clutching my ass, spreading the cheeks apart - "I could just pull out right now and come in your ass" - and soon I was the one coming, again and again on his cock.

By now my body really was completely limp, like unresisting putty in his hands as he positioned me on my back to enter me again, pounding me until I could feel his cock swell with come, and then he pulled out, grabbed my face and brought it to the head of his cock, spurting long streams of warm come into my mouth as I sucked.

Take me inside and let the honey slide...

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Glucose Challenge

It was the same as it always is: I opened the door, we kissed - his familiar sexy lips - his hands straying down inside the top of my underwear, his fingertips brushing against the ends of my pubic hair, that touch that always sends a frisson of excitement running through my body - but it never lasts long enough - he started finger-fucking me, then he undid his jeans so I could suck him and make him hard enough to fuck me, but he already was, he bent me over and ripped off my underwear. "God, you're so wet," he said as he thrust his cock into my pussy, fucking me like that for a while before pushing me back onto the sofa and mounting me, kissing me while he plunged his cock into me. I was distracted, every time I heard footsteps on the stairs outside I thought it might be Magic coming back to check on me, after the incident that morning, but somehow the fear - the thought that this might be the last time! - excited me further, only not so the Professor - perhaps my relatively subdued nature unsettled him, for he stopped and said, "I think you need to suck me some more," sitting back on the sofa while I got on my hands and knees and sucked, and his cock was just right for sucking, hard enough to turn me on, yet not too hard for me to feel it growing harder in my mouth as my lips closed around the base of it and I ran my tongue up and down the shaft and over the swollen head.

Then he got up to go to the bathroom, and I just sat there on the sofa for a while thinking about things, and then I followed him into the bedroom, where he found me waiting for him on the bed when he emerged. "That's it, get on all fours," he said, dragging me down to the edge of the bed as I wriggled into position, and then holding the back of my neck with his hand and fucking me 'til I came. Exhausted by the strength of my orgasm I collapsed onto my stomach, but he hadn't had enough of me yet, grabbing my ass and pulling it up towards him so he could fuck me more - harder - hitting my swollen, post-orgasmic G-spot with every thrust, 'til all my nerves seemed to ring with the intensity of it, and I clutched the pillows with both hands and buried my face into them to keep from screaming as I came so violently I could hardly bear it.

And then when he turned me around to fuck me more I was limp and unresisting, my pussy slack and wet against his cock as he thrust into me faster and faster, finally pulling back and grabbing my head to bring my mouth to his cock to receive his come. I did as he had instructed me the day before, sucking each long spurt gently, and then as they started to slow, sucking harder to get every last drop of his come into my mouth before I swallowed.

And then he showered and left. I don't think I spoke a single word the entire time.

In my heart, it was so real.

The thing about carrying on an affair with a married person is that not only will that married person never choose you over his/her marriage (this is common knowledge, I don't think anyone could be stupid enough to have any illusions about this), but in actual fact (and this may not be quite as clear), your whole affair is probably completely insignificant to the other person involved - a flash in the pan, easily forgotten like yesterday's news about someone being stoned to death in Iran. And really you can quite easily see why this would be - it's because the end of the affair changes nothing whatsoever in a married person's life. Whereas the end of a marriage... now that's a whole other story.

And this particularly holds true for men, because they're all homebodies at heart. It's a myth, in my opinion, that men are the ones more interested in sex. They're just less fussy about whom they do it with - but if you think about it, that's quite possibly because they're actually less interested in it. They value it less. Less than work and money and companionship and home-cooked meals and blah blah I can hardly stay awake long enough to finish the sentence.

Of course, they'll tell you all sorts of lies for as long as they actually are still interested, but I personally don't believe this should be held against them. Everyone over the age of, let's say, 20, ought to know that these are lies. Or not even lies as much as, let's say, fleeting truths. But what a downer it would be if everyone felt the need to put words to the unspoken asterisk at the end of all that heartfelt hyperbole. Mood-killerrrrrrr, as Cybersex would say.

And on top of it all, not only is love by its very nature fleeting and a love affair totally meaningless, there's also the fact that the very things you love about a person are inevitably the first things to disappear once you actually enter into a relationship with that person. For instance, one of the things which attracted me to the Professor initially was that he was so forthcoming. He told me everything. Now, talking to him is like talking to a (fire)wall. I programmed a bot at university which was more communicative than he is. Man, I know deaf-mutes that talk more than he does. Not really. I just wanted to be politically-incorrect there for a second. Actually, not really that either - I just wanted to point it out afterwards in a self-referential and bloggishly whimsical manner.

Of course I could replace the Professor in the beat of a heart - an aching, overworked heart. It's just a pity that good looks and personality seem so rarely to co-exist in a person. I know of only a couple of instances where they do. I mean, literally a couple. Of course, one of those is Magic, and yet his is a personality which most people, if not everyone, would find horribly abrasive. But then that's the thing about a personality, it can be quite an unsettling thing to discover in a person. One is so accustomed to its absence. Sort of like a shot of rum in one's Coke. It's a little shocking at first, especially if all you were expecting was a refreshing and sugary drink. But then after a while you get used to it and even start to find it quite enjoyable. Only that's generally not long before the point where you throw up all over the place and vow never to touch the stuff again.

Kind of like love, don't you think?

Pristeen

Oh man, I don't know what has happened to me, I have become a sex demon again.  I would've thought that by the third trimester this would be over.  I must have some sort of hormonal imbalance or something.  (I actually went once to get my testosterone level measured, thinking my sex drive could be the result of some abnormality - but no, everything was completely normal.)

After bragging about how I was by no means slipping once again into the underworld of pr0n addiction, I actually found myself with two separate videos playing, one on T.V. and one on the Internet, at the same time.  Though this time it was a slightly more legitimate activity as I was supposedly watching in conjunction with Magic.  I say "supposedly" because in fact watching pron with a man is a distinctly one-sided experience.  By that I mean that it is generally the man doing all the watching while I spend the entire pr0n sucking cock and not getting to watch anything.  (Though in this case that was no great loss as the film in question revolved around a series of medical experiments gone horribly wrong, with the blonde bimbo doctor forced to fellate the victims to make up for her mistake - actually it sounds pretty hot the way I just told it, but take my word for it, it wasn't really that hot.)

What struck me about this incident, though, was the rather frightening realisation that I had been sucking the Professor's cock for so long that I had completely forgotten how to do it for Magic.  All I could remember was that he likes it an entirely different way, without being able to recall, of course, exactly what way.  See, this is why I have my doubts about all the online tips one can find on how to give great blowjobs - not everyone seems to like the same things.  So anyway, I just tried to make sure to check myself every time I found myself doing something which I remembered the Professor specifically saying he likes.  And then since Magic is a sex fiend like me, the two of us are always trying out new things on each other even after ten years of marriage, so I figured even if I made an unrecognised move it shouldn't sound too much alarm.

In fact, I was the one alarmed when at first it seemed that even Magic wasn't getting quite as hard as usual, but then I remembered that at a certain point in the course of a blowjob he inevitably needs to switch to the supine position, as that, for him, is the coming position (at least as far as oral sex concerned).  Yes, some people can actually come from oral sex.  Though I should think that for most people, like me, it should come as more of a surprise to know that some people can't - but indeed some can't.

It is my secret dream, though, to make the Professor come from oral sex.  Not that I actually believe I have any chance of making this happen.  Who am I to think that I might succeed where all others have failed?

Lessons on Sexiness

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Lunch

Everything was conspiring against me - the long black hair his wife had found wrapped around his cock the day before, the conference call I was supposed to have with the Zonglets at 1:30, and Magic's deathly cold which meant that I wasn't actually sure he had left for work that morning.  A few frantic text messages later I confirmed that he had, but was planning to return "in an hour or two".  Every extrasensory fibre in my body screamed at me to cancel... but the sensory fibres won out in the end and I didn't.

In fact I raced home so quickly that I got there with more than enough time to rip off my dress and high-heeled shoes and stand by the window anxiously awaiting him in a black lace camisole and thigh-highs.  Well, the moment I saw him walking across the courtyard I felt my wetness spring forth and no sooner had he entered the door than I attacked him, my lips glued to his as I unbuttoned his shirt and he fumbled to untie his shoelaces and undo his belt before finally presenting me with the swelling erection which I took into my mouth as deep as I possibly could.  I felt his cock hit the back of my throat as he pulled down one of my camisole straps to pluck out my right breast and rub the nipple in time to the strokes of my tongue on his cock.  I was so turned on I felt my thigh muscles stiffen and tighten and almost thought I might come then and there.  But at the same time I somehow began to fear that he wasn't as hard as he should have been, and so I sucked him deeper and harder but still couldn't shake this new and nagging paranoia that I might not turn him on as he does me.

Finally he said, "Enough of this - I want pussy" - normally he fingerfucks me a bit first, but even though this is his speciality, it suited me just fine to dispense with the preliminaries, for I could hardly wait as it was, bending over and spreading my ass cheeks with one hand so he could more easily slide his cock into my pussy.  He fucked me like this for a few minutes,  my excitement mounting to a crescendo, only to suddenly stop and hold back coyly, waiting for me to whimper and wriggle my ass back towards him in desperation, begging him to fuck me more.  Which he did, of course, 'til I cried out and my legs stiffened and trembled, and then he had me lie back on the sofa so he could mount me, my whole body tense and quivering.  I clutched him to me as he thrust his cock inside me, my pussy beginning to clench around it almost instantly as I came and came again, moaning into his mouth as he kissed me.

"I'm so close to coming," he said, pausing all of a sudden as if he really were on the brink, but I knew better than that, I knew it didn't even mean he would come at all that day.  And of course time was of the essence - Magic might be home any moment!  So I shoved my hips up against him, writhing around his cock and squeezing it with my pussy 'til he started to fuck me again, faster, while I tried to hold still and stifle my cries so he could concentrate on coming, squeezing his cock every now and then with my pussy to help him along the way.  "Oh but I want to come in your mouth," he said, pausing again, then suddenly he began to fuck me harder, so hard that my whole body jerked back and forth to the thrusts of his hips - gasping, powerless, I was like a rag doll impaled on his cock.  I felt the tension rising in me, I couldn't stop it, couldn't even think of his orgasm or the urgency of the situation any more, and then all of a sudden he drew back, his cock still deep within me, looking down at me as he climaxed inside me.

Forty minutes later I was sitting in my boss's office, helping to translate both ends of a conference call with the Zonglets as the come oozed from my pussy down the sides of my thighs and onto my chair.  Even my boss looked hot to me then...

They can have their diamonds and we'll have our pearls...

I'm depressed because I can't seduce a girl.

Coming (Back)

Well, it turns out I didn't really have to worry about my growing sex obsession - it has all but drained away after a mere half an hour with the Professor.

As is often the case when I haven't seen him for a while, my excitement was such that it seemed to override all mental function, resulting in an utter lack of self-consciousness rendering me incapable of executing any of the contrived guiles I had devised in my mind for our next encounter, and also, unfortunately, a startling dearth of distinct memories (well, it isn't really that startling to me any more, of course).

However, I do remember thinking, after the Professor had pumped me full of come (that being as always an exceptionally memorable event), that a man's orgasm seems to be so much more remarkable than a woman's.  The build-up, when I feel him swelling harder and somehow tighter and tenser inside me, seeming almost to transmit a booster shot of arousal and excitement to me through my walls of my pussy, and then the pause, as he hovers on the edge of coming, which this time seemed to last even longer than usual (to the point where I was unsure if it would really even happen), and then the burst of release, flooding me and filling me with waves of sensual pleasure.

But then maybe it's just that my orgasms don't seem to be as distinct during sex as they can be from oral or manual stimulation, though they can often be more pleasurable as the after-effects last longer - I've never felt like I've been drugged through oral or manual stimulation alone.  Though in my younger days I was, in fact, a "femme fontaine" - yes, a squirter - but I learned how to control that involuntary reflex action after much embarrassment (not that any of my male partners ever contributed to this embarrassment - well, at least Magic didn't, being the only one of the two people who'd ever made me come, at that point in time, to have that particular effect on me).

Turning Japanese

I have decided to break my addiction to Internet porn.  Partly because I think making oneself come four times in one day is too much, at least for anyone over the age of 15.  But mainly because if I see another semi-erect penis entering a waxed asshole I think I will die of boredom. 

And also because the growth within me is starting to respond to the cries of fake arousal on YouPorn...  

Have I Gone Too Far Inside My Mind?

I have begun to sink into a deep depression and/or sex obsession, to the point where I am forced to consider offers from bisexual girls, sadomasochistic couples, and gangs of black men.

 Believe it or not, the gang of black men is actually currently in the lead - you can probably see why, from the picture, but aside from that, they seem pretty nice, for a troupe of marauding gang-bangers.