Last night, after a very nice dinner with the-friend-I-think-I'm-falling-in-love-with, I jumped in a cab and went to a lovely beachside suburb for some fun with Judith. I see her quite often on Sunday evenings if neither of us has family responsibilities (we're both divorced parents.. and yes, we do talk about our kids a lot, and our exes).

She's mid40s and, I think, extremely sexy. She's got a sultry voice and olive skin, and while I'm sure she thinks she's overweight (as most women seem to do) she's not really. Or if she is, she's lucky. She must have fluked into some gene that means that when she puts on weight it goes on her very evenly, so that when she's naked she looks quite sleek; it's almost as though she's wearing a thin all-covering wetsuit. Her hips and her ass are perfect. I keep telling her she's hot; I think it's important that she knows. (Now I think about it, I'll suggest to her that I take a picture of her - no face - and tell her what it's for. That way you can see for yourselves.)

What's even better is that she's a bit of an exhibitionist; she knows I love seeing her, and she likes being looked at. I sit between her legs and watch her lovely olive-y body, nicely contrasting with the stark-white of her bedding. I usually ask her to play with herself as I watch and she likes to me to tell her how much I like watching her. "Show me how you play with yourself, I want to see you come.." and so on, as I lean down closer, then as she's nearly there I start licking her as well. By the time I get to touch her I'm about as horny as I ever get.

She likes having her ass played with, and I'm very happy to oblige. She's never had anal sex, and I told her when I first met her that I'd love to fuck her there. I gave the usual sell-job I give to women who are curious but cautious: I've been fucked many times myself and so I do know what I'm doing. It seems to work...

Rule #3

If something's worth doing, it's worth doing now.

The corollary is that if there's something that sounds like it'd be fun to do, but you don't want to do it right now, then the chances are that you actually just don't want to do it. This particularly applies to sexual encounters. ("Yes, it'd be fun to go to [ ] and play with [ ], but not this evening, I think I'd rather stay in watch television". Which means that there's never going to be a right time to go [ ] and play with [ ].)

Nice shoulders

Someone told me last night, when I was naked, that I had nice shoulders. I was in the middle of a five-man fuck-fest in a suburb I'd never heard of when the host - who had only seen me fully-clothed up to that point - came over and grabbed me by the shoulders and felt me.

I'm like a child; I just can't get enough praise. And especially if it's about something like that, it's always so unexpected. Praise for the grandeur and complexity of my worldview.. that's like water off a duck's back, I know that. But my body..? When I entered my early teens I got chubby and skinny at the same time and stayed like that through my 20s. Early 30s, I somehow got married and started working out, then there was some magical inflexion point where my body got better and other mens' bodies got worse (with age), and so, unbeknownst to me, I started to become hot. It's all relative...

My wife, of course, didn't notice or care. But I was in the habit of from time to time sneaking out and having sex with men. And they said nice things about me, to me. I had a nice body. A nice smile. I seemed like a nice guy etc. Which on the one hand is the sort of thing you do say to someone you want to have sex with, but to me it was a real shock. So I kept doing it more and more - in some ways it wasn't the sex in itself that drove me to do it, it was more the affirmation. And the strange intimacy.

If you're a married man and you feel like having sex with another man it's absurdly easy to find someone, and it's very matter-of-fact. I'd go online, find someone who seemed ok, chat for a few minutes, then arrange to meet up pretty much immediately. We'd meet, then unless either of us got cold feet, we'd fuck (or whatever we'd negotiated - one thing about gay sex is that unlike straight sex it's not obvious who's going to be the fucker and who's the fuckee, for example, so you need to talk). Then, I'd be lying in someone's bed, or living room, with a complete stranger, naked, having just had sex. And there's a lovely intimacy to that, in some ways because the encounter's so random and anonymous you have nothing to lose by revealing yourself.

And as a married man with a gay side I had quite a bit of stuff that I was used to hiding from everyone, so it was incredibly liberating to not have to pretend, even if it was only for a few post-coital minutes in someone's basement. (Hard to pretend you're completely straight, for example, when you're sticky with another man's come.) And when I was in this relaxed state, not hiding, not pretending, I found a part of myself that I really liked. Comfortable, confident, sexy, happy.

This started affecting my marriage, as you'd expect. For one thing, I became much more confident sexually, which pleasantly surprised my wife (although she was also a bit suspicious). I'd always been quite tentative with her but I started to trust my instincts a bit more and was very pleased with the results. It turned out she liked me to push the agenda a bit.

When we were first going out, and having sex a lot as you do with a new relationship, I at point slid my fingers into her cunt. As one does (ladies: men love this. Even if you don't like your genitals, we do, and we'd love nothing more than to play with them all day). She said she didn't like it. So for the next 12 years I never did it again. Then, just before the end, emboldened by my new confidence, and also by the fact that I knew we were near the end, I did it again.

I watched her carefully... she swooned, in a good way. I put more in, slowly turned my hand around and kept watching her. I don't think in the 15 years I knew her I'd ever seen her so aroused, and I had the finest hardon I'd had since I was a teenager. All I could think was "we could have been doing this all these years.."

Lingerie.. who knew?

When Sarah came over on Thursday night I was a little unsure what we'd do. I'd already come that day (married bloke, lunchtme, roleplay) and so I wasn't all that horny. And I'd had a fairly trying day at work and wasn't sure I had the energy to boss her around. One thing about being in charge is that it takes some energy and initiative, and I wasn't sure I had a lot of either. When I first started on dom/sub stuff I was usually a sub - partly out of sheer laziness, but also because if I'm in a situation where I'm a little unsure of myself I like to not take the initiative; I withdraw a bit. I got over that.

She came in; we embraced, kissed. It was 630pm. Normally in a situation like this I'd have an agenda (women, I've found, like a man with a plan) but in this case I wasn't sure what we were up to. Dinner? Chat? Sex? Sex? So I decided to throw caution to the wind, and asked her outright: dinner, sex, or dinner then sex? She started undoing my shirt, so I hustled her into the bedroom. It took her about 15 seconds to get me naked (I had on a shirt and jeans, nothing underneath) and to mask my lack of arousal I went back to the living-room to put some music on. Playing for time...

When I walked back into the bedroom she'd taken off her dresss and was standing there in the half-light wearing a plain black negligee. Normally I'm completely unmoved by lingerie - I do like women in underwear (it's that whole excitement of unwrapping a present, like a kid at christmas) but I like it to be normal stuff. Bra, panties. Nothing lacy, and especially nothing too self-consciously sexy.

Anyway, as I walked into the bedroom and saw her in this plain black negligee I was suddenly consumed by lust. Seeing her standing there I realised that I knew exactly what to do, and by the time I grabbed her and kissed her I knew that I was back in that familiar mode, the one where my cock was doing all the thinking. No bondage, spanking or roleplay this time. But I was agreeably forceful with her.

More bloody married people and doctor/patient roleplay.....

I had yet another doctor/patient roleplay yesterday with a married person (that's 3 in 8 days - is this some kind of record?) but this one was little different.

It was a man, and I was the patient this time. (Pic isn't me, by the way. But it's one of my all-time favorite pictures.) He was in his late30s, quite handsome and had clearly done it a number of times before. I quite admired the very matter-of-fact way that he went about it - there was a good amount of non-sexual stuff at the start, which I always like because it makes the encounter more like an 80s porn movie, where there's at least a pretense of a plot and a setup.

Once we'd finished though he didn't break character, which I found a little unsettling. So we spent an uneasy couple of minutes cleaning up and getting dressed (me, that is.. he stayed fully-clothed! I so love that) and then both went back to our respective jobs.

I sent him a nice thank-you note, partly because I'm just such a fucking well-mannered person, but also to check that he'd had as a good a time as I did (unlikely: I came; he didn't). But also to run by him the idea of him and me teaming up to give the married woman from last week a real going-over. She loves the idea of having two pervy doctors work her over.

And speaking of married people who like doctor/patient roleplay, I got a message in the morning from 'Sarah', who I'd played with on Tuesday night. She had had to stay an extra day and wanted to know if I was free lunchtime or evening. I was, of course, chuffed that she wanted to see me again, and so soon (I must be doing something right!) but I had to tell her I was busy. Lunchtime I was seeing the married man/doctor, evening I was supposed to be going out with a woman friend who I'm slowly falling in love with. But as luck would have it, my friend cancelled, so I messaged Sarah and told her to come over. No roleplay, no bondage, no spanking... just very pleasant vanilla sex (although I do notice that I'm a bit bossier now - this seems to be a good thing) then a couple of hours of lying in bed together talking. She goes home today, back to her husband.

Rule #2

Someone who says they like "everything" isn't worth the trouble. I can elaborate.

The doctor is IN.. again.

'Sarah' came over last night. We'd played once before, a couple of months ago, a bit of light bondage and me bossing her around. She's early 40s, married and lives in another city but travels here on business once in a while. When we first chatted she told me that she was happily married but had an urge to try things that somehow wouldn't be appropriate to try with her husband - this made perfect sense to me. And I find this setup very appealing; it's neatly compartmentalised, no real risk of boundary issues, she's a sensible grownup in charge of her own desires and so forth. I also really like it when women can articulate what they want and why. (I had one regular playmate last year - who I'm sure I'll write about soon - whose fantasies were eerily similar to mine; I often knew as I was suggesting something that it was going to be a bullseye. I had the key to her lock.)

Sarah...we hadn't been able to catch up since that first play (schedules, surgery.. long story) but she emailed me a week or so ago to say she was going to be in town this week and wanted to catch up, and what she had in mind was something based around a doctor/patient roleplay. Well, of course roleplay in general is a favorite of mine, and I always like doctor/patient. The twist we decided on was that the nasty doctor would blackmail her. I especially like this, because inevitably there's a point where the patient/job applicant/shoplifter gets to say the magic words: "I'd do anything...". In this case, she'd do anything to stop me from telling her make-believe husband what she'd some to see me about. And then, of course, I raise my eyebrow and ask "anything?".

After I'd finished with her, we ended up snuggled together in bed and lay there talking for a couple of hours, talking mostly about sex and food. She told me that she had written a book about fetishes, and that a fictionalised version of our first encounter was going to be in it. As she said this she was watching my face closely, to see if I was angry or upset. I wasn't.

Bar

Just carrying on from the thing I wrote about Joan, and how I'd had to reduce the niceness in our interaction before I could knuckle down to the sex...

At about the same time I started chatting with a woman in her mid30s who lived not far from me. Curious about some sub/dom stuff (which I like) and articulate (another big plus). We chatted on the phone and got on hugely, lots of laughs all around, she sounded great. But bearing in mind my experience with Joan, and knowing that if I were to meet this new one and just chat amiably for a while, I'd find it very difficult to then switch gears and take her home and boss her around, I suggested something different.

I explained to her my predicament, and she understood the importance of preserving the raunch factor. There's a bar across the street from my place, quite a nice wine-bar place. What I proposed to her was that I go in there the following evening (Tuesday, a quiet night) and sit by myself reading a book and drinking something. She would come in, have a look around and then sit down, also by herself (giving her, of course, an opportunity to run away instead in case I turned out to be fugly).

I got there, started reading my book.. surreptitiously checking everyone who came in. By about 15 minutes past the stated time I hadn't seen her and was hoping that she'd just been delayed, rather than had had a quick look in the bar and had done a runner on seeing me.

I closed my book, stood up... and then saw her. She must have slipped in without me seeing her. By this time there were a few people in the bar, including half a dozen guys in suits - some work function, maybe - who were near her. I walked over to her, touched her on the shoulder, then walked out. The deal we'd agreed was that we weren't going to say anything, and that if she fancied me, she'd follow me out.

She did, and we went back to my place and had some very agreeable fun. The guys in suits had, i think, been checking her out and I still wonder what they made of it.. she sits there alone, a man comes up, touches her on the shoulder and walks out... and she follows. I have a fantasy about being in a business meeting one day and running into one of the guys.

She had a sort of half-smile on her face the whole time, almost as though she was doing it just for a lark, or, maybe to give herself some sort of plausible deniability, and I knew about halfway through that we were never going to see each other again.

It's odd how sometimes sex makes you sad. I just had my friend Joan (not her real name, naturellement) over for some fun, and it was great. Some sex, then an hour or so lying in bed, talking and laughing, then more sex. It turns out she's a bit of an exhibitionist and she had picked up on a suggestion I'd made in an email yesterday about videoing some of the activites - it didn't surprise me at all, often when I'm playing with her she asks me "can you see?", as she knows I'm very visual. She knows that I'm at my most aroused when I have her with her legs spread and I'm playing with her, I realised a few months ago that she gets off on the idea of being exposed like that and played with. Which of course gets me off too, so there you are.

I met Joan late last year - I'd emailed her on an adult personals site, we messaged back and forth and ended up meeting for a drink. We got on well, and ended up having dinner. The dinner was fabulous, we had each other in fits of laughter the while time and I realised that I was in grave danger of losing sight of the sexual objective; she was, in my mind, moving from the 'fuckbuddy' box to the 'amusing dinner companion' box and that makes it tricky. If I want someone purely for sex it's actually kind of easier I don't like them that much, the only thing that's really important is sexual compatability.

I was feeling a bit panicky as the dinner finished... were we supposed to have sex then and there? I wasn't sure I could. Or was that it for tonight, and then we'd get together for sex another time? I wasn't sure that would work either. I walked her to her car and then decided to fess up: I told her that while I'd really enjoyed having dinner with her, I didn't think the whole sex thing was going to work. She looked surprised and disappointed, and I can hardly blame her - we'd gotten on great.

I cursed and went back to my place. Later I emailed her:
--------------------------------------------
[Joan] -
My mistake. We spent too long talking, and in my little brain you went from the 'casual sex' category to the 'friend' category. I hate it when that happens, and I should have invited you up - I realised as soon as I got up here. D'oh! One minute of undressing and it would have switched back.
-------------------------------------
This worked, she didn't think I was completely crazy. Then I proposed a solution. To avoid the prospect of me re-categorising her, she should come to my place in the evening, let herself in, undress and then get into bed without either of us saying a word.

It worked beautifully.

Co-writing

There's a woman I exchange emails with, she's married and lives somewhere out in the far west of New South Wales on a farm. Or, she might be a fat 55yo man with a combover, or the German ambassador, or Laura Bush. I can't really tell. But I have no reason to doubt her.

We've been doing this for 6 months or so now. One of us starts a story by writing a couple of paragraphs, then emailing it. Then you wait a few days, and the other person adds a few more paragraphs and emails it back. And then it goes back and forth like that until it loses steam and we decide to can it and start again. It's fun, and I rather like the leisurely pace of it; when I get an email from her, I read it, think for a day or two about what the next bit is, then take a day or two to write and refine it, then finally, send it off.

The setup's usually much the same. It's some variation around the theme of a nice younger woman (20s to early 30s) who for some reason finds herself in a situation where she's being shared by two - or three - nice older men. She's never forced, but they do like to test her a bit, challenge her. The men are usually quite friendly, they joke with each other and sometimes with her. It's not so much about them dominating her (although they're definitely in charge, and they all know it), it's more about them guiding her. It's almost like they're teaching her. I find I love that dynamic.

We also occasionally exchange emails about our real lives. She talks about how it hasn't rained where she is for about a hundred years.

Rule #1

You should never go to meet or play with someone who won't speak on the phone first. They're either never going to meet up, or will be 20 years older than they made out. It's not worth it.

The Doctor is IN

I scrub up quite well - the years have been kind to me - and it turns out that if you're a man in your mid40s and you're single and straight (much more about this later), and you seem reasonable, then a whole world of possibilities open up. I have a fairly wholesome look - I have been mistaken for a television sportscaster - and a sensible, professional demeanor and it works to my advantage sometimes. I make a fairly credible boss, policeman (not uniformed), or doctor.

I was contacted by a woman recently who I thought instantly was going to be perfect. She's married, around 40, she could write coherent sentences with good grammar and spelling and she was looking for an otherwise-normal man to help turn her into a nasty slut. We chatted back and forth a bit and settled on the idea of a doctor/patient roleplay. One of my favorites, as it happens, because it gives scope for a bit of everything and I've done it before (although more often as a patient, but that's another story).

She was agreeably cautious about meeting up - wanted to know who I was and whatnot. And because she sounded sensible and cautious I started getting excited. There are so many wild goose chases with this, people who are so completely (and sometimes inappropriately) gung-ho that you have to figure they're either barking mad or just fantasists. But within about a week of starting contact we'd worked out exactly when and where we were going to do this examination. She was quite practical about it too - she was very keen on a thorough anal examination and wanted to know whether she should clean out first, and whether she should bring amyl (as we call it here.. poppers everywhere else). I said yes, and yes. And also that she should arrive with a full bladder. I don't think I've ever found a woman before who'd enjoyed amyl.. maybe I just don't get out much.

She came to my flat on Wednesday lunchtime. I had snuck home from work early. She knocked, I let her in, staying in character. I sat her down, asked her a few questions. She seemed agreeably nervous. I asked her whether she'd done the things she was supposed to have done. She said yes.

I LOVE roleplay, and I especially like ones that are semi-realistic, where you stay in the role for an hour or more. But with N (I'll call her that for these purposes, she'll come back) for some reason we abandoned the overall doctor/patient thing fairly quickly, and ended up just being more-or-less ourselves, or, as I prefer to think about it, entered into a related and similar roleplay where I play a respectable middle-aged man with a strong perverted streak, and she plays a middle-aged married woman who wants to be made to get up on her hands and knees and be thoroughly explored while she talks dirty. It worked nicely.

At the end, we both showered an dressed and talked about what we'd done and had a bit of a laugh - I like that. I gave her one of my business cards - my legitimate ones - and we both went back to our respectable jobs. We will do this again soon.

And bizarely enough, I have another married woman who wants to do a doctor/patient roleplay with me early this week. She's nice. Not quite as dirty as N but I think more into the psyschological angle, which means I'll be doctor for the while thing. And the narrative drive to it, we've decided, will be provided by having a little blackmail angle overlaid on the usual doctor/patient thing. Should be fun... We've met, and played before.

Secret Life

Ive had a blog on here for a while where I talk about food, language, various whinges, signs and whatnot, and while it doesn't have my name on it, it has pictures of me and it just wouldn't take long for an interested reader (as if you could imagine such a thing!) to figure out who I am. And accordingly, I'm a little circumspect about my private life.

Or perhaps 'private life' isn't what really I mean. Churchill is supposed to have said that we each have a public life, a private life and a secret life, and so I guess what this blog is about is my secret life. So there's no pictures of my face. And I'll muddy some of the detail a bit.

I'm going to post this bit here, and then look at it about ten different ways to see if there's anything I've forgotten - an obvious google sign-in name, some inadvertent link on a profile page or something. Then I'll start in earnest. I think about sex a lot. And I do it a lot. And in some surprising ways, and I've met some very interesting people along the way.