She's Back

Wow. It's been weeks since I last posted. My only excuse is that I've been somewhat overwhelmed. Lots of sex going on, lots of slippery vulva squishy condom piles, romance, a threesome, dildo shopping. I feel like I've let myself down by not documenting it all, but you know, I can't go back and do it now. That's largely the thing that stops me, feeling like there is a vast pile of backed up in-tray waiting to be exorcised before I can start afresh. I defy this limitation and will start from right now instead.

Actually there's nothing much going on right now. In between writing I like to sit with my hand inside my pants stroking the little bit of fluff and resting my finger in the bit where it just begins to be pink and warm because tonight I'm alone, if there is any sex about to happen it will be on the inside of my brain. Sometimes I like to wonder what my male flatmate would do if I just went into his room and took off my clothes. There's nothing between us at all, neither of us are in the least attracted to the other, but still, I'd like to know what his penis tastes like, whether he would let me put it in my mouth or if he'd bat me away, throw me into the hall and slam his door shut. We both know he needs to get laid, he talks about it all the time. These are things one can ponder safe in the knowledge that it will never transgress the boundary of fantasy.

I have discovered the pleasure of clandestine sex in public places. Before recently, the sum total of my public escapades were limited to: a dark train station; against a fridge in someone's front yard (again it was night time); in some bushes. That's about it. Not even a toilet cubicle. Now I adore toilet cubicles; parks in daylight surrounded by joggers; in Eyes's office.

And you?

I got to thinking about gay beats recently, how kind of cool and kind of yuck they are. Stinky toilets where men go to have their dick sucked anonymously by another guy, no introductions or formalities, then they depart. I wondered if the hetero equivalent would work? It would have to always be the guy waiting around in the hopes that some girl would come along and fuck him, never the other way around. If word spread that at a certain cubicle at a certain time there would likely be some woman pacing back and forth self-lubricating fantasising about anonymous jabbing by whatever stiff penis came along first, there would be veritable queues of men ranging from the curious to the desperate, knifing each other out of the way to get in first. I couldn't do it, I'd be too picky, I'd spend all day saying 'not you, not you, not you,' then trying to first converse with the ones who passed the inital physical inspection in order to ascertain that I would not be copulating with an idiot. Besides, women don't have to try. If we want sex, all we have to do is announce to the nearest suitable male and 96% of the time he will oblige.

But we all knew that anyway.