Apologies

Dear readers,

I'm writing this short note today to apologize for the fact that I didn't post any material this week. Last Wednesday was the one year anniversary of my father's death, and it has been an exhausting week both physically and emotionally.

As much as I love my blog and readers, I just haven't been able to produce anything.

I'll make it up to you next week, count on it ;).

Friendly,

A.S. Thomas

Godzilla's Beauty Mark

As you all know, I have a thing with big dicks. If you are a newcomer, now you know. “The bigger the better” I used to say. I have tried to break free of it, but it was all in vain.

“My name is A. and I have a problem” I would introduce myself at the Size-Queens Anonymous meetings. People there would ask me “How long have you been clean now, A. ?” and I would answer the exact amount of days and feel proud.

...

I'm exaggerating.

It has never been that bad, and I never tried to get rid of it. I saw and see no harm in it. Besides, I confess I liked how it had some power over me.

How it would motivate me to start dating a guy, or to try harder under the sheets.

It was fun. For better or worse, something happened this week that made me lose my interest in size.

Last weekend, I was sitting at a bar with a friend of mine. On a certain moment, a small guy approached us. He started talking to my friend and I recognized him as the guy my friend had had a crush on. They had been to bed once, a long time ago, ending in my friend having a crush and his crush rejecting him.

Not everything was bad about their date, though. My friend got to tease me and make me very jealous for some days, talking about how immense this man's pierced dick was.

I baptized him Cockzilla.

After their short affair, I never gave the guy a second thought. He was my friend's ex-crush, and that made him an untouchable. There are plenty of hung men in the world, why would I mess around with the one my friend would resent me for?.

Therefore, when last weekend Cockzilla asked me for my phone number I gave him the MPE (Multipurpose Phone Excuse):

“Oh, I'm sorry Cockzilla but I'm in the middle of a provider change. My phone number will change too, so it would make no sense to give it to you now. Why don't you give me yours, and I'll text you as soon as I have the new one.”

(If anyone has a better Phone Excuse, please send it to me. We will make the best ones into the official “Sex Won't Bite Phone Excuses” )

He nodded as an answer and gave me his number. He didn't get the message. No clue.

The world would seriously be a better place if people started catching other people's vibes. I'm talking about the “Why don't you look at me”, the “Why did you never call me”, the “You seem tense” and the “Just coffee, please”.

Although I never called him, the guy found a way to contact me. “ Oh, this guy whose best friend's heart I broke never called me.” He thought “ I guess that means... nothing. I'll just go and find him on the internet.”

He found my profile on a dating site, and sent me a message. Somehow we then got entangled in a quite annoying conversation. This guy wasn't the brightest, really, and that set the tone of our chat.

Although sarcasm may be my body's natural reaction to other peoples stupidity, there's some people that you can't even be sarcastic to.

They just won't get it. He was one of those people. If you are a Sex Won't Biter I'm sure you know what I mean. I'm sure you found yourself in that situation. Anyway, I'll just go back to my story.

After rejecting three or four proposals of meeting he kind of got the message:

“Hey, my intuition is telling me you are not interested in me. Is that right?”

I wanted to cry. His “intuition”?. Seriously?.

I told him he was right. It looked as if this would have been the end of the story, would he not have been inspired by the gods:

“Oh well, it doesn't matter. You couldn't handle my dick anyway.” he answered.

Of course he knew that was his best asset, and in a stroke of genius he had kept it until the end. Although I was completely aware of what effect he was expecting his words to have, and I normally hate giving in to manipulation, this was a special case.

We all have a weak point, and he found mine by pure luck. He played on my lust, and I gave in.

“What makes you so certain I can't handle you” I sent back.

Just like that, we got involved in a lecherous conversation about that matter. In the meanwhile, I shared everything with my friend-who-had-had-a-crush-on-him.

“I feel like he's challenging me. I'd like to meet him just to make him climb down.” I said “ And I would if he wasn't your ex-crush!”.

“Oh but I don't mind” my friend answered.

"Are you sure?" I said

"Yes! I'm totally over him"

After I receives his blessing, it took me less than five minutes to arrange a meeting.

He wanted to come watch a movie. Sure.

Some people just feel uncomfortable saying they're meeting to have sex. It may be their true intention, but they have to cover it up somehow. I think their excuses are meant more for themselves, not for me.

It's, in a way a logical behavior.

Most people who think casual sex is “bad” do so because an outside source told them to believe that. It may have been their family, religion, teachers, tv programs... Since that idea doesn't come from their own inner convictions, it's not consistent.

Since it's not consistent, the moment their natural desires pop up they find themselves lost. In order to give in to what they want, they need to make up some sort of excuse that will justify their action.

Hence the movie. We weren't meeting for sex, we were going to watch a movie and it just happened.

Lesbians have their own version of watching a movie.

“Hey, shall I come over tonight to fix your bike? I'm really good at it.”
“Well thank you, I'll make sure I have enough chilled beer in house.”

This is the farthest I've ever dared to look into lesbian-dating-behaviour so I'm afraid I can't tell you about what follows up. I do not know.

What comes next in my story, I do know.

He came to my house, and we watched the movie. I was actually glad that we had something to do, that way we didn't have to talk. Have I mentioned he was not so smart ?. I was just putting up with it because of everything I had heard about his talents.

After the movie he came up with an ice breaker worth of his wit.

He offered to give me a massage.

I couldn't hold myself and laughed at it. It was too cliché. I felt guilty for being so insensitive, but that feeling faded fast when I realized he had no idea why I laughed.

Once I had regained control of myself, I said that I'd love a massage and we went to my bedroom.

During the massage, we talked. When mothers (?) came up as a subject, he started telling me a story.

“You know, I was shopping with my mother and I though I had to buy condoms. I went with her to the pharmacy and I asked the pharmacist if she had XXL condoms.” He said.

“Seriously? With your mother there?” I asked, my friend's stories about Cockzilla counteracting my natural distrustfulness.

“Yes. Then the pharmacist came and she was like: Oh, I only have XL, and then I said: Alright, but are they also extra big in the width or only in the length?”

The story continued like this for a while. Of course it was all meant to impress me.

This small, quite chubby guy had to exploit his biggest asset.

“He has a lot to prove now” I thought.

Then we had sex. No, it wasn't that big. Yes, a normal condom fit easily.

Not that his dick was small, or that the sex was specially bad, both were just very mediocre. It was mediocre sex with a normal sized dick for the “big” category.

All those expectations that had been created were disappointed.

I took a shower right after he left. When I was standing under the warmth water I realized.

A big dick is just fun when it's your boyfriend's.

It's like a beauty mark, something intimate which knowledge you both share. Otherwise it doesn't mean that much.

That's at least, how I feel about it.

The Fresh and Frisky Years: IV

This is chapter four of The Fresh and Frisky Years, a five post series of stories previous to my eighteenth birthday. You can read chapter 1 first to understand this one better. You can also read chapter 2 and chapter 3 here but they are not necessary for this story.

Today I'm writing a story that took me years to get to fully understand. Even now, I'm not absolutely sure to know all of the facts that shaped the situation as it was. I'm writing this story just because I promised I would do so.

It's story of the capofamiglia Sleeping Beauty.

I was too young, when I met him, to have a profile on a dating site. Nevertheless, hormones raged through my body more than ever, and I was always a little premature. I wanted something.

A chat had to do it for me, and a chat is where I met him.

I was on a long lasting family trip. My parents had rented a house, and we stayed there for about a month. I was very bored. That's how I ended up turning to internet flirting to have something to do.

Our age difference was too big for me, I thought. Ten years seems a lot of time when you're fifteen. Today, I don't mind if my flings are some years older than me.

In fact, I'd rather have an older sergeant than a young private on me.

Of course, within limits. Anyhow, if you ask me now I still feel that for a fifteen year old boy, ten years older is too much.

It would all have ended promptly if it weren't that I had fallen in love with him. Yes, I know, falling in love over Messenger is nonsense. I hope my age-related innocence excuses me this time.

Every day I would anxiously go to the internet café close to our appartment and talk with this guy for some hours. After a week, he proposed to take a flight and come to where we were staying.

I thought he was kidding. He wasn't. At first I didn't wnat him to come. I was afraid for of course I was aware this was unusual. But I let it happen. I was in love, you see.

Some days later, I told my parents I was going into the city on my own. They didn't know I was to take a train to the airport where I would pick up Sleeping Beauty and gave me permission.

The first moments where awkward. The first impression was good though. I immediately liked him

I'm sure you can imagine how much of an impression his display of independence, spontaneously travelling to a foreign country, made on me.

He only came for two days and three nights. The first two days we spend together, at night I would come back home while he headed towards the hostal I had arranged for him.

Now I have to explain the story behind my election of a shelter for my beloved one. He wanted something cheap, and I found something cheap. What we both didn't know before his first night there, is that I had found a Christian house for homeless.

He was to share bedroom and showers with 19 homeless. Exactly what he deserved.

Despite that now I feel it was life putting things in place, at that moment I only felt sorry. I wanted to help him, and so I told my father an altered version of what had happened.

“You see, dad, my twenty year old friend from back home came here too, and I had recommended him a place to stay I found on the internet. But made a terrible mistake. I wondered if I could make it right by letting him stay with us tonight.”

This is why children shouldn't lie to their parents.

But they let him. Of course, I told him to slip into my bed as soon as it was quiet outside our room. We would start messing around very soon. Though it was nothing special how it ended confused me (my bed-karma was already starting).

He didn't want to cum. He let me do it, but he didn't want to do so himself. I was puzzled, really, and I just couldn't understand such a thing. I had seen too little of this world. I just believed his story and assumed he was asexual.

Today, with all the facts I've gathered through time, I believe that what he didn't want was to leave any DNA behind. Of course, what he was doing wasn't right or even legal.

Some months later I saw a movie about older men going to a house only to sleep with young girls, enjoying just their youth. Since then I thought of him as Sleeping Beauty.

But this was only the beginning. There's more tales to tell about him.

After we came back to our home, I naturally wanted to see the guy again. I had not forgotten.

I contacted him again. I told him I was back, and I wanted to see him. He said he wanted to see me too, but that it wasn't possible. He was not in the country.

“Oh, and when are you coming back?” I asked, assuming he was on holiday.

“Well, I'll stay here in Panama for about six more months I think” He answered.

...

He explained to me how he was living there, for work reasons, and that he was sorry.

Well, he apologized, but that didn't make me feel better. This came totally unexpected, and disappointed me. At first I wanted to wait for him, I still believed during those years, and I spent some sad days.

After a week or so, I decided he could go and fist himself in Panama. I'd just live on.

It took me some time to recover, but after a while I had a new boyfriend. I was never really in love with this one, though, and I'm not very proud to say I dropped him as soon as Sleeping Beauty came back from his little tax haven.

I was sure that, now that he was back, we would live happily ever after. I was to be disappointed. We only met once more. That day he took me to his house, and we had sex.

That would be the last time I saw him, for after that he would only try to hook me up with some of his friends (that, were about his same age) through Messenger.

Saying I was abused by him is not correct, for of course I didn't do anything I didn't want to. Still, now I see how I was playing a game I barely knew.

And Sleeping Beauty was a very seasoned player.

As you may have already read, some time later I dated a boy, my age, who had also dated Sleeping Beauty.

The details of how this happened are explained in the beginning of chapter 1 of the Fresh and Frisky years.

During my short time with Twinkslove we realized we shared a guy past. He would be the one who got me started in putting all the pieces together.

Twinklove's parents were rich and influential. I was not the only one they had been following for messing around with their son. They had done the same thing with Sleeping Beauty, and that way found out some details about him.

First of all, the man wasn't just ten years older than me. He was almost twenty years older than me. He had told the same lie to Twinkslove.

I already had a faint suspect that this would be the case, but I didn't want to try very hard to figure it out. I didn't really want to know, I didn't really care. What bugged me, was the feeling that I had been tricked.

A week after this revelation, I talked with my cute little boyfriend about Sleeping Beauty again. This conversation, together with some bits of information I got from the friends he tried to hook me up with made me understand the whole Panama episode.

Saying he was in Panama for work was but a half truth.

First of all, I heard how Panama is a tax haven. Then I started hearing how he had some very shady business going on there.The guy who told me about this business, also told me why he was forced to go back one week before my arrival.

Sleeping Beauty had a boyfriend, and Sleeping Beauty had broken his heart. In revenge, the broken hearted boy went to the police and told them everything he knew about his ex's business.It all threatened to crumble and turn out very badly for him. Hence, the six months in Panama.

Of how he fixed it, I have no clue, but as I said this was a very cunning, seasoned player. And he was good at many games.

Last thing I found out, was the structure of his friend maffia.

I heard how Sleeping Beauty, ignoring the fact that Twinkslove and me were cute little boyfriends now, tried to hook him up with the same friends as he tried with me. And in the same order.

One of those friends, the nicest one, was a real big mouth. He wasn't very bright, the poor soul. He was the one who gave me access to the ways of their group.

Sleeping Beauty was, together with another guy, the one who “fished” the boys between the fourteen and sixteen off the internet. After those men had had their share, they would get them to hook up with another one of their friends. The next in their hierarchy.

They even had a personal website that, in case you had the right password, showed you how it worked.

According to what I've heard, it had happened many times before me.

Luckily, and although I had no idea of what was going on, my intuition was still working and I didn't join their little games further than Sleeping Beauty.

What makes it the most disgusting to me, is the fact that they were intentionally messing around with boys at an age in which they're very influenceable.

At the moment, I believe Sleeping Beauty is missing. I heard he went to some forgotten country, hiding for the consequences of something he did.

Drama²

First I'd like to apologize to all of you who were disappointed this Wednesday. I have had a terrible week with lots of issues to deal with, lots of hours of work, lots of internet problems and very little time. I just couldn't get myself to write something that day. Hopefully you won't get back at me for it.

My story for today is about a guy I haven't talked about before. Still I have special feelings for him. It's not my usual kind of story, so if that's what you feel like today I suggest you click on some other post.

Let me give him a little bit of a background:

The first date was no good. Well, it wasn't even a date. I actually picked him up from the street and brought him home.

We talked for a while about every uninteresting thing we could think of. The talking wasn't a success, so we took it to the bedroom.

That part could have been great. We had the right chemistry and he definitely had the right moves and natural talents. Shame that his hardon was but a halfon.

Besides, he would moan all the time. I mean ALL THE TIME, even when there was no reason for it to happen at all. I maybe said "I'm gonna grab a condom" and he moaned.

Despite everything, I invited him to stay for dinner. Don't ask me why.

Right when we were about to begin our meal, it started raining. And, as the universal Hollywood-datinglaws dictate, rain quickly developed into storm.

I was almost expecting a power cut to happen.

Leaving sarcasm aside, I think it was then when it happened. When we were sitting, having dinner with each other, hiding for the storm.

When it passed, we said goodbye and I automatically assumed I'd never see him again.

During the week that followed, though, I realized that I had some special feelings for him. Actually, more than realizing it, it was more that I knew it was there but didn't want to acknowledge it.

Still, when he proposed to meet again it was that feeling that drove me to saying yes.

Well, it was that feeling together with the fact that I had had an exhausting day and he was offering to cook for me.

When he opened the door, I felt how my heart skipped a beat.

I ended up taking over the cooking, for he didn't look so crafty at it. In the meanwhile we had a great conversation. It was all looking great, until the moment we finished eating.

Only one minute after we were done, he was already humping me.

Normally I would have either played along if I felt like it or coldly reject him if I didn't. But this time I couldn't stay unaffected.

I felt hurt. I felt stupid for making up stories in my head while the “special feelings” weren't mutual. The dinner had just been an excuse to get me in bed.

Now that the dinner was finished it was time to pay the bill.

I just stood up, gave some bad excuse and left in a hurry. On my way home, I felt heart-broken.

Some days later he called again, though.

He wanted to know what had happened, saying I had left him with the feeling that he had done something wrong. I wasn't over him, but I didn't want him anymore so I allowed myself to be completely honest.

I explained everything to him. Including the halfon and the misplaced moaning part. I was expecting him to react childishly, but he didn't. He handled that like a man. I was impressed.

Eventually, we agreed to meet up again next weekend. Let me quote him:

“You and me, we're gonna choose your new courtains, get a kitten out of the cat home, rearrange the garden or bake some muffins. Anything but sex. I want to get the idea that I only want sex with you out of your head because I genuinely like you.”
-Humper.

I was amazed. It was such an unconventional solution that it made me admire him even more.

All summed up, I found myself looking forward to our next date during the whole week.

And that's where today's story actually starts.

“Let's meet early in the morning on Saturday” I sent him on Messenger, two days before the date “It gets late so soon these days”

“I am actually going to the frankparty tomorrow, so on Saturday I'll need to rest and recover first.”

“What's a frankparty?” I asked.

“Yeah, Frank2009's”

I hoped he would agree, and was now disappointed so I wanted to check what that frankparty thing was. I went online and looked for Frank2009's profile on the dating site we both use.

First thing I saw was a big dick. As I looked further, I saw this was a fifty year old man organizing orgies in his house. I guessed he called it “frankparties”.

...


You probably understand why I felt heart-broken at the moment. Again. I had been looking forward to that Saturday the whole week and he tells me I'd have to wait until he recovers from a gangbang!

I was so depressed. I immediately called my best friends for some support:

"This guy, for some reason, had me. He may have been bad in bed, humping me, and not specially attractive or smart but he had me." I complained to Mrs. Thomas.

I just didn't understand him anymore.

If he was going to an orgy, why did he choose to tell me?. If he “genuinely liked me”, why would he let me wait until he recovered from a gangbang? .

(Note that It's not about him going to a gangbang. That could be fine. It's about his priorizing of the gangbang above me.)

That made me feel that I was nothing to him. That I was just the next event in a full scheduled dating week.

On top of all that, he had stopped answering my messages. I was hurt and confused, and I have a taste for drama, so I just dropped him a quite literary final line.

What I said could be reduced to: it would be better not to meet on Saturday, I preferred to get rid of his games from now on and goodbye. Only I went a bit over the top.

I thought that would be the end, but two hours later, he textmessaged me.

“I just had some visitors. Excuse me for having a busy life!”

“Having a busy life is fine with me." I texted back "Disappearing after telling me you have to recover from a gangbang before meeting me, is not OK”.

“Gangbang?”

I couldn't believe he would start arguing about it technically not being a gangbang but an orgy.

“Call it a frankparty if you want” I bitterly wrote.

“Hey, at least you should have checked the link before judging me” And he included a link in his textmessage.

And, of course, it wasn't a link to a profile. Frank2009 wasn't a guy but a party.

FRiday After-work driNK 2009.

...

OK, so I'm a dramaqueen. I don't care.

I just felt incredibly relieved.

“Well, if you had given me a full link instead of just a name I wouldn't have looked on Frank2009's profile! See you Saturday.”

Despite the crudeness of my answer, I was happy and had a laugh attack that would come back and stop me from sleeping for about an hour.

Rollercoasters

My friend (already featured) and I decided to go to our all-time favorite bar this weekend and bring our old traditions back. In the past we used to arrive there around eleven, grab two spots at the bar and never leave them till the place closed around 6 AM. Those were the days. Later on, for some reason,we started to go more often on the dancefloor and dance around. Then we would get tired and bored way sooner.

When you sit at the bar, you allow more things to happen. People will come to talk to you more often. I guess that you look more available, less intimidating, than when standing in a group and dancing.

The downside of sitting at the bar, is that you drink twice as much and burn off half as when you dance.

Add this to the fact that I was already hammered (some friends had fed me some bad rosé earlier) and that since I became a vegetarian my body is more sensitive to alcohol and you'll understand what state I was in that night.

Sitting there, talking to my friend and checking out guys the barman came to me and gave me a coaster. I flipped it to see what was written on it. This was not the first coaster-message I received in my life, there are quite a few of them in my personal collection of “Things-people-gave-me-to-flirt”, but I never saw something like what was written on that coaster before.

A cute little sunflower with a hardon said hello to me from a coaster.

Maybe it was the rosé, but I burst out laughing real hard. Once I recovered, I asked the bartender who was the genious behind this Sunflower painting. He turned around ready to point at someone, but didn't. He looked at me, shrugged and said the guy had left.

“Maybe he saw me laugh and was hurt” I thought.

I decided to answer and clear things up. I grabbed a coaster and ask my befriended bartender for a pen.

I painted a bottle for of soy sauce. For no reason. It was the first thing that came to my mind, and I just gave in to my subconscious.

I finished colouring the bottle black, gave it to the barman and asked him to pass it on to my Van Gogh if he saw him again. After he took it, he left to serve some more drinks.

I looked at my friend, he smiled and we just kept on gossiping and laughing. I quickly forgot about this matter, until a different bartender gave me a new coaster. I eagerly flipped it, my friend looking over my shoulder, curious of what I had received this time.

“I'd like to make some chinese mushroom soup with you, hottie”

...

Well, that's one of the worst pick-up phrases I've ever heard. I guess I shouldn't have sent him a bottle of soy sauce... Anyways, I grabbed the pen and wrote my first thought down. I looked for the barman who gave it to me and asked him to give it back. He shook his head and apologized. He didn't remember who had given it to him.

Damn, getting to know who was sending me all this surreal stuff was not gonna be easy. I tried to find the one bartender I know, hoping he could tell me who my elusive admirer was. I didn't find him. One of his colleagues explained he had left for his two hour break.

I sat around for a while, wondering what to do next. After discussing it with my friend, we designed a new plan.

First we had to find eight coasters. It was not an easy task, but luckily it was only 1 AM and there were still a lot of them lying around unused. I stood up and walked along the bar, discreetly scavenging round pieces of cardboard.

Once we had eight of them, I wrote one word of my message (“That's the worst pick-up phrase I've ever heard”) in big letters on each of them.

Ultimately, with his help, we held the phrase up. We were hoping that the guy who wrote me the messages would understand it was for him. Of course more people saw our little act.

I had a little suspect that we were probably embarrassing ourselves, but the excess of alcohol gave us what we needed not to care.

Embarrassing or not, we triggered many reactions. One guy came to talk to us using our show as his own pick up phrase. Within five minutes we received three more coasters, but it was clear that none of them came from my Van Gogh.

I was a little bit disappointed. I must admit I was curious about who would write such unusual messages to someone. Nevertheless, I let it go. One of my new coasters included a free drink and a hot latin guy, and I couldn't waste it.

I stood up and walked to where this guy was invitingly smiling at me. I had just started enjoying my new, 3G coaster experience when I got a new message.

“So I do all the work, and he gets the trophy.”

Once I read it, I looked around me. I was hoping to see someone looking at me, checking if I was reading the message or trying to decipher my reaction. No one was. Every guy I could see was minding his own business.

I was getting annoyed. First I wanted to write an answer. “I'm no one's trophy, and please show yourself!” I wanted to send him. Then I realized that the guy I was talking to would not appreciate me flirting with someone else so obviously.

So I just decided to focus on him, and forget about the other guy. He probably wasn't any good anyway. Divide and conquer, I thought.

I've learnt that when you flirt with too many, you often end up with none.

Unhappily, fate made the latin guy's best friend feel sick ten minutes later and both of them had to leave. I scored a phone number, but that wasn't quite satisfying.

I looked at where my friend was sitting, but he was busy with someone else. Later, it turned out that the guy with the flower shirt talking to him was all but welcome and that my friend would've been glad if I interrupted them. I didn't pick that up though, so I preferred not to interfere.

“I'll answer to my post-impressionist now. At least it'll be something to do”.

I sat on an empty stool close to where I was standing and started engraving a new coaster.

“What exactly is so wrong about you that makes you turn to coasters to hit on someone?”

I called for the bartender who had brought me the last message and asked him to give this coaster as a response. I was planing on watching closely who my message was being delivered to. I wasn't expecting that the guy would preach to me, saying he was no postman and that the coasters were not meant for what I was using them.

That was really a gamebreaker. I sighed, disappointed, and resigned myself to just sit around and have a drink.

After ten minutes, the guy my friend was talking to left and I came to sit next to him. He told me his story, I told him mine and soon we had moved on.

The hours passed, and some more things happened. I'm not writing about them now, I had to choose one. Maybe one day I'll write a Map to a Night Out telling all the intertwined stories happening around us when we go out.

Anyways, at the end of the night, my befriended barman came to me to ask while cleaning up if anything had happened with the guy. I shook my head and summarized the story to him.

“What a pity, he was really hot” He said.

Maybe he was just teasing me, but I still was a little bit frustrated inside. Just a little bit.

The Fresh and Frisky Years: III

Welcome to chapter number 3 of the Fresh and Frisky Years. You can read chapter 1 and chapter 2 if you want, but it's not necessary to understand this one. Although I enjoy writing this spin-off, I can't wait till it's done. After I finish I will start writing about dating behavior and sexual freedom on Wednesdays.

I hope you like it.

-0-

Today, while reviewing the facts, I have no clue why I dated this guy for so long. I guess I just told myself that the bad things weren't so bad after all. Maybe I wasn't experienced enough to put it all in perspective and realize that I could get someone else and better.

That I didn't have to put up with his bad smell, worse hygiene and creeping family.

We met during one of my first nights out. I was at a bar with my best friend. She had put on loads of make up, hoping that the make up would make up for the three years she was lacking for spirited drinks. I just felt all awkward and shy.

Man, am I happy I left those years behind.

There wasn't a smoking prohibition in bars back then, and that really made wonders for him. It made me miss his odour. If I hadn't, I would never have wanted to see him back.

On our first date we went to the cinema. Sitting close and silent was when I first noticed his scent. I could immediately identify fossilized sweat as being the main constituent.

"Oh, well" I thought "Maybe it's just today". I wish it had been just that day, or at least just the smell.

Some dates later we went to the zoo together. We had a great time there, somehow I just love the zoo. I love the zoo, enjoy baking and have a sex blog.

...

Anyways, on a certain moment that day we entered the Gorilla World.

It was a small, dark passage around a glass cage where two gorillas lived. I got horny. There, in the dark, I started touching him. He immediately went along and soon we were entering the the Gorilla World toilets. This was gonna be the second time we had sex together.

Once inside of the cubicle, I knelled down and unzipped his pants. I was aware that he had a bad smell, but I was not prepared for what hit me when I lowered his underwear that day.

Suddenly, a dense smegma fog filled all the space around us.

Well, of course there was no real fog but you get what I mean. This guy was uncut, and since he didn't believe in hygiene, days and days of sperm, urine, and other delicacies were reaching me through my nose. Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised, we were in the Gorilla World after all.

I tried to ignore it and still blow him, limiting myself to the very tip of his dick. That part at least looked clean. But I just couldn't. The smell was too strong and I was besides terrified some of that stuff would accidentally slip inside my mouth.

“I didn't know you've been to Africa” I said.

He looked puzzled.”Well, I haven't. Why would I?”

“Oh well, I was just trying to guess what's the reason you are keeping all of this in your foreskin. Did you know some African's tribe men smear it behind their ears to attract women?”

Of course he didn't take this very good. What can I say, maybe my mind was all hazy by the poisonous gases. Some days later we made up and he promised to take better care of that aspect.

Well, that front at least was covered from that moment on. But it still got worse.


One or two weeks later we went last base. It was kind of alright. Not very special, but fun.The smell wasn't any better than it was on our first date. If you would ask me why I didn't dump him yet, I must say I have no clue. What I also didn't know is that going last base meant that I would very soon meet his family.

But I did. Two days later, I got to know his crabs.

They were big. They were six-legged. And they were many.

Something had to be done. I bought some lotion to get rid of them, which was profoundly embarrassing for the sixteen year old version of me. I had the lotion, now I had to get him to using it too.

I didn't want to blame the guy right away, so I just told him that I found out I had those things and that it didn't make any sense for me to use the treatment if he wasn't doing so too. It seemed like he understood and agreed.

But then, after I had bought the lotion for him and had offered him a place where to apply it, he cheated.

He had gone into my bathroom, got out of there really soon and then said he had done it. I trusted him, but he was lying. How do I know he didn't truly do it? One week later all of his little friends were back!.

I still didn't want to blame him though. I thought maybe the lotion wasn't strong enough. I went to the pharmacy and explained the whole story to the girl there. She gave me a different thing this time, so aggressive you couldn't leave it on your skin for longer than fifteen minutes.

We repeated the whole scene again. Talking, giving him the lotion, he pretending he put it on...

One week later though, while sitting on the couch, I saw something on his arm. I recognized it as one of those little suckers right away. I scratched it and, voilà!. On my nail, a little insect shaked his many legs in fear and awe.

I was so incredibly disgusted and angry.

I showed the poor thing to him, then threw it to his face and told him to leave immediately. I told him I never wanted to see him again, that even getting close to him would cause my stomach to turn.

I know I was a little bit harsh. But, come on: he stinked, didn't wash his dick properly and had given me crabs three times.

It was very traumatizing. Still today, so many years later, whenever I see a black spot on my skin I panic and rush to check if it's alive or not.

You can continue with chapter 4 here.

Fly me to the moon

Hello everyone. I hope you all enjoyed the Guest Entry of October. I heard some nice things about it from some of you. I'm already preparing a new one for November.

The blog has been online for a month and a half now and I want to say that I'm really happy it's still going on. I really enjoy sharing this stories with you.

I've been thinking, and finally decided to also upload a picture of myself.

I figured that you would like to have a face to put to the character appearing in the stories, and I do not think it's realistic that men in clubs will recognize me. I'm not so famous anyway. So here it is, with my laptop and my coffee cup:

I hope you all had fun yesterday, either celebrating Halloween or not. I did. This Sunday is Halloween Special.

-0-

Fly me to the moon

Yesterday night I went to a Halloween party. The whole club was accordingly decorated, becoming smaller and therefore more crowded than ever.

People walked around in all kinds of costumes. Each of them was a part of a surreal whole.

Young guys, wearing the sexy angel costume we expect them to, were parading on the dancefloor while fat superheroes watched over (and at) them. Old vampires hid in the dark corners, lying in wait for some victim to suck on. Suspiciously manly-featured nurses walked around while the clown-dressed lesbians drunk beer at the bar.

In the washroom, Bert and Ernie arranged a threesome with Hannibal Lecter.

Fighting my way through the hundreds of wings that had taken over the dancefloor, I tried to find a little spot for my zombie self to start craving for brains.

I was really into character.

Luckily, I didn't even have to walk around with my arms saying “Braaaaaaaaaaainzzzz...”. I met the guy who would eventually satisfy my undead hunger already on my way. Actually, it all happened by chance. I happened to bump into someone, who happened to be very sexy.

He was a mediterranean man with a beautiful skin colour. He had warm arabic features, huge biceps and a tight white shirt. Did I ever tell you how strong arms get me going?. I frankly don't give a damn about six-packs, but strong arms make me almost easy.

He made a joke about me bumping into him intentionally. I denied that with a smile, but I did say that maybe I was unconsciously attracted by his sexiness. He laughed and offered me a drink to make up for his sexiness standing in my way.

For a moment I thought I saw an eerie glow in his eyes the second I acceded.

A second later I could only see the warm and inviting expression again. This guy's sexual energy was attracting me so much that I didn't care. I followed him to the closest bar.

Our first drink was swiftly replaced by a second one. Soon we were both drinking our fifth. In the meantime we were having a really smooth, fluent and flirty conversation. During the third drink he asked me what I was looking for. Around the fourth, he asked me if I was a top or a bottom. After ordering the fifth one, he said he was wondering if I would be bottom enough to handle him.

He already had me in his paws, but this of course sealed the deal.

When we had finished the fifth drink, he asked me if I wanted to leave with him. When I heard his invitation, I smiled at him and nodded. There it was again, that brief glow in his eyes that I would almost define as predatory.

Luckily I was too drunk by then to care about it, I only saw how that glance made him even more attractive.

Once outside the club, we stood still and looked at each other. I realized we hadn't decided where to go yet. My house was too far away from where we were. I asked him if he lived nearby. He shook his head.

As I was standing there, wondering how we would solve this situation I saw a big park two hundred meters away from us. Normally I wouldn't even think of having sex in a public park, but I was so drunk and horny that I just proposed him to go there. He seemed reluctant, but still acceded. I guess he was drunk and horny too.

We climbed the fence and entered the park. We walked around looking for a good spot to give in to our desires.

Suddenly he pushed me against a tree and started kissing me. I reacted in the same way. One thing followed another and soon I had put my hand inside of his jeans. What I found there was huge, and hairy, and soft as a marshmallow.

I looked up and gave him a questioning look. He sighed, took my hand out of his pants and leaned against the tree in front of me.

After some hesitating he gave me the “It's not you, I just think that I drank too much”.

I was so frustrated. Since I'm single again, every guy I've had sex with came with a 20% extra disappointment. I mean, seriously. It was getting too much!. That's why I didn't give up.

I went to him and started trying out things. I hoped to do something that would make him hard. He kept on telling me to stop, but I didn't. And good thing I didn't.

On a certain moment the moon came out from behind the clouds. The minute it started shining on us, I could see how his huge dick started growing and growing (and growing and growing, actually). Maybe it was my care, but I didn't really think so. I looked at him and was about to say something when I noticed the expression on his face.

It was that look I had seen all night, that animal glow.

Before I knew it, he grabbed me by my waist and pulled me towards him.

...

Well, I bet you know how it continues.

Almost an hour later, we were both lying half-naked on the grass. The october clouds were hiding the moon again. I felt good. I felt happy that I had finally had some good sex. I must say that finding every guy disappointing after a break up doesn't help to forget your ex.

We were exhausted and didn't talk very much. Once he didn't answer, and I found out he had fallen asleep. I think I fell asleep too, for the next thing I remember is waking up and seeing the moon right above us and a hard man right above me.

I bet you also know how this continues.

I wondered where this man was getting his energy from. First it looked like there was no way for him to get, at least, half a boner. Then, without a clear reason, he manages to fiercely do me three times.

All the time I was thinking this guy wasn't wearing any costume, but I was wrong. He was a were-dick.

I don't know how it happened, maybe it was me or maybe the moon. One thing I do know is that I will not complain.

We kissed each other goodbye and I took the first morning bus that would take me home.

I entered my appartment, had a glass of water and went to bed. The next morning I had a very strange feeling about this. No matter how hard I tried I could not remember his name. I tried to look it up in my phone agenda, but I couldn't find any new entries.

I'm sure that I saved it correctly though.

(Happy Halloween)