Sunday, November 30, 2008


In an earlier post, I mentioned that I'd been out for drinks with a headhunter who I think fancies me (although as Claire points out, I think all women fancy me now). It was Wednesday last week, we met for a drink after work at five-ish, then we ended up drinking til about nine. I rarely drink so for me this was a prodigious feat of endurance. She told me about half-way through that it was her birthday, and I had a faint little alarm bell going off that she'd chosen to be with me on her birthday even though we've only met a couple of times.

Next day I sent her a chatty email, including my resume, and said "I've had to leave out some of my skills as they're unsuitable for a work email". I can't help myself with this stuff. At least I didn't say I could provide references...

Anyway, we've been exchanging emails today and she slipped in that she'd had breakfast with her boyfriend yesterday. This is great news! She's attached! And she's restless! I will, of course, update you on developments.

I responded by asking what her boyfriend was like, and saying that I too had been a bit circumspect about my private life. Interesting...

Drought, rough sex and the fairy-tale bedroom.

I broke my drought last night. Judith picked me up at 7, we drove to her place. Once we got there we chatted for a while, then started making out in her living-room. We were still pretty much dressed, and while I was sitting on the sofa she knelt down and got my cock out of my pants and started sucking it with gusto.

I'm still recovering from my sessions with Harriet, and one thing for sure about Harriet was that she liked rough sex, the rougher the better really. It's not something I'd ever been really keen on (I like being in charge, and I like giving the odd spanking but that's about it) but with Harriet I started really getting into it. She especially liked being fucked hard in the mouth... essentially, she liked having her head held still and then having my cock shoved in and out almost to the point she was gagging. Or alternatively, liked me grabbing her head and shoving it down on my cock, again and again and then holding her there. Same effect. I'd seen this in porn and I never liked it. But when I did it with her, I found out much to my surprise I loved it... who knew? And more to the point, what's happening to me?

Back to Judith: I had noticed with Judith that a couple of times when we've fucked, when she's been right on the cusp of coming and starting to get quite verbal she'd said she wanted it rough. I file this stuff away, of course. Two reasons, in this case 1) if she says she likes it rough and then I immediately start being rough it's not any fun, I might as well wash the floors and do the garden, and 2) until Harriet I didn't have a good idea of what rough was, or indeed, whether I liked it.

So last night as I was sitting on her couch, my pants down around my ankles, she kneeling between my knees sucking my cock I thought to myself something along the lines of:
  • I like rough sex, apparently
  • she has said on more than one occasion she likes it
  • so do something about it, what have I got to lose? What do I want, a written invitation?
So I tentatively put one hand behind her head (and I know some women really hate this - I know I do) and started taking more of the initiative; instead of her bobbing up and down on my cock, I was thrusting a bit. She moaned in a way that sounded quite appreciative. So I did it more.. and more moaning. She has long dark straight hair, like Harriet, so I took hold of it quite firmly, my hand on the back of head, like a ponytail, and held her head like that as I started to fuck her mouth. She loved it. Sex never ceases to amaze me.

We played around some more, she came. Then the delivery guy arrived with our dinner, we got dressed and ate and talked a lot about relationships, relatives, kids, the works. Then I took her to her bedroom and you don't need to know much more about the rest of it, but I'll sketch some of the interesting bits (as opposed to the organ-grinding).
  • Again, with Judith and me we tend to lose ourselves in what we're doing. I get very worked up and my self-censor breaks down, so I'm a bit more instinctive than I usually am. I can get surprisingly verbal, and I feel like I have licence to be quite controlling. She likes it, after all.
  • She said, after a while, something like "I'll do anything.. anything you want", and luckily I had the presence of mind not to say something like "iron my shirts" or "do my taxes".
  • She adores anal sex. This is all due to me, I remind myself.
Eventually, I came. I ration myself; I know that I really can't come more than once in a night, so that means that once I've come the show's all over. So I need to make sure that I don't come for at last a decent interval. In effect, I control when the thing finishes and I need to judge it. One of the lucky side-effects of being in my mid-40s is that it takes quite a bit for me to come so coming too soon isn't a problem (unless I fake it, or just want to finish).For example, I can very rarely come from having my cock sucked. In fact, you can suck my cock all night (see, there's a challenge!) and I won't come.

And if I've been playing for quite a while without coming I seem to get a bit numb. My cock's still hard, I'm horny as hell.. but I think it gets used to the idea of not coming, it seems to habituate. It's like a second brain sometimes, I really don't know how women manage without one.

But finally, I came. We collapsed in a heap, she as always agreeably sweaty. We kissed, congratulated ourselves on doing a good job.. and then I drifted off to sleep immediately. This happens to me with Judith but not with anyone else. I think because her bedroom is very quiet and white and she has a lovely big bed with lovely bedding on it and it's all a bit like being in a fairy-tale, especially when I think about my own bachelor pad with the noises outside: cop cars driving around, drunks fighting the park, british tourists singing Oasis songs and then vomiting. Or maybe the drunks and the british backpackers are the same people, now I think about it.

Friday, November 28, 2008


Two and a half weeks without sex, which is very unusual for me. During the week I had a few close calls... David and the horny housewife, which fell through. Friendly Policeman and I were going to have some fun with an acquaintance of his on Thursday, but she ended up cancelling. Then I had the brilliant idea of getting me, Joan and Friendly Policeman together but that didn't work out. The closest I got to actual sex was I went out on Wednesday night with a head-hunter who I know fancies me. I'm sure she'd be happy to have me plunge the tusk into her at some point, but I really want her to find me a job first.

Last night I was out with Claire (who I have fallen for all over again, and this time it's bitten her too.. what to do?) but we went our separate ways at the end of a delightful evening.

Tonight I'm seeing Judith, who I haven't seen in a while. We were chatting during the week and I half-jokingly suggested I should bring a blindfold. She responded to this very enthusiastically, so I'm bring all my mountaineering equipment (as Sam used to call it) with me in case. As I was going through my smut bag - hidden deep in my closet - I stumbled upon something unfamiliar, and remembered that I have to give Harriet back her buttplug. Next time I get my haircut.

All in all, it promises to be a busy week. I will, of course, keep you updated. You can expect a bit of a summary of who did what to whom, a lot of soul-searching about Claire, some musing about rough sex and Harriet. And I may end up having sex with a married man, and with a woman who's very particular about words and knew exactly what 'thredony' meant when I ran it by her.

Sunday, November 23, 2008


Yes, it's been almost two weeks since I got up to anything. It's not like I've been doing stuff behind your back. I even turned down a couple of opportunities last week (see Joan; dinner).

But I think normal serice will be resumed this week, maybe even as early as this afternoon. I will, of course, keep you updated.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Claire's message

I meant to tell you, I got this text message from Claire a day or two after we made The Beast with Two Backs:

"Ok, now I got a flashback to Sunday morning. I always love getting fucked like that. X"
You may recall that I was supposed to catch up with Joan for a little adventure we had planned, where she was going to be fisted and then thoroughly fucked by me and a friend - she's never met him, but I've told her about him and she calls him my 'fisting acquaintance'. She wanted to be blindfolded and tied up for this but I talked her out of it. I got my friend (let's call him Chris) lined up for it and we were going to do it tonight.

But this morning I realised I just wasn't in the mood. Why? Various things. For a start, my job's a bit of a nightmare at the moment and I'm unusually stressed. Also, my situation with Claire has got me worried - why can't I work out what I want? And what about Prudence? (I'm seeing them both tomorrow night, by the way. Separately. No hanky-panky involoved.)

So I called Joan and she was fine with it. I explained that rather than a night of experimental sex and a sleepover, what I really wanted was dinner and a convival chat - I need company, fully-clothed company at that. Joan and I often have dinner as a prelude to sex, and she's an amusing and engaging dining companion (in a way that Harriet wouldn't be; she's too earnest).

So that's exactly what we did. We talked mostly business. We laughed a lot. It was very good fun. I was home by 830pm. Sweet!

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Harriet quits.

I saw Harriet on Friday, but in a different context. Instead of being at her apartment with my cock in her ass, I was at her work. She cuts hair, as it turns out. She owns a small but very up-market hair salon in an affluent and hip inner-city suburb, and over the last few weeks as we've been playing we've talked a bit about her business and her clientele.

The last couple of times we've played, she's suggested she should cut my hair. I thought about it and decided why the hell not? She's clearly competent. She has a significant number of male clients. I know her.

So Friday afternoon I showed up at her salon. She cut my hair, we chatted. She told me she had dated a guy a couple of times and it was going well, so she wanted to stop playing with me. Now, the thing about this other guy may or may not be true, but it doesn't matter much. She might just be bored, or confused about what she wants. But she at least had the good grace to do it properly. From my perspective, given the amount of uncertainly about she wanted (see the last half-dozen posts about Harriet) I never expected that it'd last this long. And it was incredibly good fun.

She said she's learnt a lot about herself from playing with me, and that I'd really opened her up sexually (or words to that effect - that's quite a confronting image, now I think about it). Funnily enough I feel like I learnt a lot too.

The cut looked good - very good. She said it was on the house and that we should go out for a drink sometime. I can't tell whether she means it, but it would be fun. I wished her all the best with this new-guy-who-may-or-may-not-exist and went back to work.

Two of the women I work with noticed my haircut and said it looked good. Then I went out Friday night and kept getting hit on by women. The haircut works! I'm smokin' hot! I messaged Harriet and told her. I'm so going back for another one.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Sugasm 152. Please enjoy.

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #153? Submit a link to your best post of the week by emailing me directly at radicalvixenatgmaildotcom Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
Sugarbutch Star: Maze - The Girl in the Red Dress
“She’s the kind of girl who brings out the worst in me.”

treat or … fuck
“He looked like I had just given him a car for Christmas and he gently took my hand and led me upstairs. ”

A Life Exposed and Amplified
“We were breaking the rules and being dirty.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
Sugar Bank

Editor’s Choice
I told him I loved him. He gave me a pen.

More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above within a week. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

Erotic Writing and Experiences
Break On Through
Eiffel Tower
Fast Jenny
A Few Orgasms Before Bed
Goodbye, my Love
Mexican Girlfriend
Mixing business and pleasure
Mistaken Identity

Sex Advice
How to Have Anal Sex with a Big Penis
Is Fantasizing Wrong?
Is Sex Without Oral a Dealbreaker? You Decide.
Lasting Longer in Bed

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio
Georgia Jones wants to go for a ride
HNT. Forest Nymph
HNT! (One more cherry, popped.)
Kamila - The Restoration
More from the knee socks series
PSA: Breast Cancer Awareness

Sex Work
Dating Civilians 101

Sex News, Reviews, & Interviews
A New Twist on an Anal Sex Toy
On Tuesday, Vote for Equality

BDSM & Fetish
-3 Days
Bad Girl
The big dodge
Blind date: Impressions of a Dom
Dirty Boy
egg scissors
Do you want to cum? How bad?
Jake gets Punished in Spanking Movie
Kneeling In Style
Long Night in Thee Cow Shed
Marked: An Open Letter
Mistress by Proxy, part 2 : the slut
The New Bath Brush
Pimping him out
Pondering Piercings

Sex Humour
Friday Poem: Achy Achy Cunt

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
Hubby’s Halloween Hit. Confession #167
The Space Between
Two women, two stories

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Busy man.

I went to see Harriet again last night, and I managed the whole thing much better. I arrived at her place, bustled in and immediately set her to work. I'd had a fairly stressful day, and I was still a bit annoyed at the way she's no needy, and so I was quite a bit more bossy and forceful than I usually am and of course she loved it.

I'm really a fairly gentle and easy-going person but I do like once in a while having the chance to release my inner bastard. I had sent her a text mid-afternoon describing a particular thing I wanted to do to her and I said "If you seem reluctant I'm just going to MAKE you do it", but then of course I couldn't help sending a follow-up text, in parentheses, saying "(of course if there's something you really don't want to do, just so say in a calm voice)". Which pretty much sums up my approach to this stuff.

What I had proposed to her (not for the first time) was that I wanted her to piss for me while I watched. She claimed she was shy, but I told her that just made it more fun. Then I had a brainwave: I texted her "If you don't piss for me, I'm going to stick my cock in your mouth and piss in there. That should give you an incentive". Which she liked.

Then, bizarrely enough, after we'd finished with the sex and we were lying on the bed together she proposed that I should stay the night. Huh? You might remember from my last installment in the Harriet saga that she didn't want us to talk, she just wanted to be fucked hard. I pointed out to her how annoyingly inconsistent this was, and she thought for a moment and said that because I'd already fucked her hard and been mean and bossy we could afford to have some conversation afterwards. I didn't stay the night for various practical reasons.

Then, the next morning I was pleasantly surprised not to get a text from her saying that she felt strange, or unsettled or somehow weirded out. Instead I got one saying thankyou and that she was horny again. So I'm doing something right.

And then at lunchtime today, as I was buying my sandwich, I got a call from David. He was in a hotel room near my work with a woman he'd found on some website somewhere, an archetypal horny housewife, to whom he'd suggested that maybe she needed two cocks rather than one. Ten minutes later I was there before she could even think about changing her mind. She was great fun. A little shy, she'd never done anything like that before, which I thought was quite charming and I told her so. I couldn't help noticing that David has a very nice cock and I had to remind myself that - at least according to Cathy - he's quite homophobic. And so I had to also remind myself to resist the urge to grab it.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Joan has a plan.

Joan just sent me an email. It's Saturday night, she's at home and clearly her mind's racing...
I've been having some very naughty thoughts..clearly its been tooo long

The players:
you, me, your 'fisting' acquaintance

The location:
your place (it could be mine as well..)

The scene:
i arrive at yours - we don't say much - we go straight to your bed.. you undress me - tie me up and blind fold me. You start feeling my body and teasing me. I hear the front door close and footsteps come towards the room. Another pair of hands is moving across my body. I shudder with excitement as my body tries to move under the restraints. Fingers, Fisting and Fucking... and filming. And I never see the acquaintances face (well until we watch the video!).
The other great thing is that she too has some 7D dried mango for me. I must be doing something right....

Sarah - a nice contrast.

In the midst of all this (almost falling in love with Claire, being whipsawed by mad, needy Harriet) I had some very pleasant and uncomplicated sex with Sarah. As promised, she gave me some 7D dried mango - no, not a euphemism - and then she went back to her husband. She sent me a charming thankyou note too. See, it's not that hard!

Harriet really is as mad as a cut snake.

A (long) postscript to my last visit with Harriet. She'd been getting a bit antsy about how superficial our 'relationship' was, which was a little annoying because the whole premise of the thing was that it was just going to be about sex. When we'd first met for a drink she'd said "let's just be sex-friends", which I thought sounded perfect. But now, she said she wanted more of a connection, she wanted me to hang around longer we were done fucking. And so on....

I figured I'd play along with it, for a couple of reasons:
  • I quite like her, even though she's a bit too earnest
  • she's hot
  • there's a few things we haven't done yet (friendly policeman, watersports, just to name two)
I run this though my usual "what's in it for me?" analysis and I come up with a net positive, and so I keep on. I know this thing won't last all that long (she's a bit all over the place, and also I have a very short attention span) but it's fun while it lasts.

So when I went to her place on Wednesday night, as well as the usual bossiness and rough sex (and she likes rough sex more than I do, I'm coming to realise) we talked quite a lot. If connection's the price I have to pay, I thought, I'm happy to pay it. Besides, I quite like talking and I do like her.

Wednesday night, after I'd left she sent me a text:
You have to fuck me again.. soon. I'm so hungry still. I did enjoy our conversation tonight. That was nice, I like that. Sexy man, I look forward to more conversation. And.. sucking on your cock, that was amazing.
As you can imagine, I thought that was pretty good. Then, the next morning, I get this:
Yes, last night's conversation and not much sex was nice, but you can't do that again to me. I didn't feel good when you left. And I do hate to say this because I really liked talking to you, but I need to keep it sexual because otherwise i'll start to like you more... and for me to keep fucking you casually i can't do that. Sorry to get all heavy but i had bad dreams about it.
Well. Make up your fucking mind. If anyone's interested, one of the many differences between having sex with men vs sex with women is that men, by and large, aren't completely loopy about stuff like this.

Anyway, I'm going to tie her up and fuck her on Monday. And I'm not going to talk. At all.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

'Big Daddy' <--- me!

I was at Harriet's tonight. We started the evening with me coming in through the balcony door - for some reason she always likes me to come in the wrong way, and please don't turn this into a grindingly obvious metaphor - and then sitting down, beer in hand so I could watch the US election coverage on tv while she sucked my cock. Then it all went downhill from there.

The highlight was when she told me that she's told her gay friends and clients all about me, and that I'm called 'Big Daddy'.

Monday, November 3, 2008

I knew this would happen.

I can't stop thinking about Claire. I'll probably see her this afternoon again (we each have social engagements, at places that are quite close to each other). All yesterday I was on a giddy high, a little voice in the back of my head telling me "dude, you fucked Claire!".

Apart from you readers - you faceless swill - I've only told my ex-boyfriend Sam. He was very pleased for me. He'd seen a photo of her in the newspaper once and had said that she was much too good for me. And I told my personal trainer, but I tell him everything.

Two women, two stories.

I love women in their 40s. For a start, they're my contemporaries so I find them easier to talk to, but also, they're grown-ups. They're not looking for a husband (they had one and he was a dud, or they've given up on the idea), they're not looking for someone to father their children, they're not looking for a meal ticket. Women in their 20s, especially, seem to think of their sexuality as a commodity that they need to extract some value for, they have a transactional approach to sex. This changes in mid30s, and by about 40 women have become more like men. Girls just wanna have fun. And yes, I know this is just a string of generalisations, and that generalisations are always wrong. Especially that one.

This last week two women friends told me stories that surprised me, and I think also surprised them a bit too. They both said that these were things they wouldn't have dreamed of doing a couple of years ago. I also love that they tell me this sort of stuff.

First, Lila. She's prone to occasional bouts of aching horniness. During one of these she was online on a dating site and got chatting with a 28yo guy, he worked in IT and was having a slow day. She was at home, working. They chatted a bit. Something about his profile made her wonder, so she asked if he was fat. "Not really", he said, which is hardly encouraging.

He said he was just starting his lunch break so she invited him over. When she opened the door she very nearly shut it again in his face. He was chubby, had a spotty face and was ugly. She was upset - more with herself than with him. But she brought him in and decided to make the most of it. She was, after all, horny as hell. As she closed the door behind him she told him that the deal was that he had to do exactly what she said. No more and no less. That was the only way she could contemplate doing anything with him. He agreed.

So for the next half hour or so, she told him exactly what to do to make her happy, and he did it. (She didn't give me details, anyway they're irrelevant.) Then he left. I told her that for this particular fat pimply ugly IT guy what had happened was probably the sexual highlight of his life. And not just his life so far.. I mean his entire life. And that's hot.

And then Carrie. She was grocery shopping after the school run, about 10 in the morning when she was approached by a man. He was, she told me, reasonably handsome and vaguely familiar (she worked out later that he's a famous sportsman) and he asked her point-blank whether she would fuck him. Without thinking about it too much she said yes, and then he suggested that they go to a nearby park and fuck - there's a wooded area, not too many joggers and dogwalkers. She agreed. She put her grocery shopping in the car then followed him to the park. They fucked. She said he like an animal, quite predatory, and he was someone who was clearly used to getting his own way and that the whole thing was incredibly hot.

What she liked about it, she said, was that she went from respectable ex-wife and mom to being fucked in a park by a strange man within about 10 minutes flat. And she felt better for it.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Harriet calms down.

I'm seeing Harriet again on Wednesday. She sent me a text yesterday reminding me how I get into her apartment and saying "..I want you to come in and don't say anything and just feed me your cock".

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Someone I actually like.

Something rather unusual has happened; I had sex with someone I really like. Shall I elaborate?

I met Claire over a year ago at a party. We were introduced, and even before we started talking I knew that something strange had come over me. I'd never met anyone before who had this effect on me, I was captivated. She's mid40s, very unusual features, elegant, a permanent curious half-smile in her eyes. We talked, and got on incredibly well - we had had some shared history, as it happens. We must have spoken for about 5 minutes, but I felt incredibly light-headed afterwards. I did have the presence of mind to get her number.

In the 5 minutes we chatted I had told her that I was in a relationship. A long-distance one, and it was with a man. (More about this later. His name for these purposes is Sam.) She took this on board without giving much away, and I think I was put in the 'sassy gay friend' compartment.

For about a month I was like a love-sick teen. If I was going to call her I'd have to summon up all my reserves of courage; if she called me I'd be hysterically happy. I'd walk past her shop (she owns a business) and would feel my pulse race. But the really strange thing was I never really thought about her in very sexual terms. I wanted to experience waking up next to her, and not neccessarily the whole having-sex thing. She told me that when she has guys over and they end up fucking, she always kicks them out; she doesn't like anyone sleeping with her. This made it worse.

We kept in touch. I'd see her from time to time, we'd go out for dinner or drinks. My thing with Sam ended. I knew that whatever it was I had with Claire, I didn't want it to become a relationship. Why? Much as I adored(d) her, I also realised pretty quickly that being in a relationship with her would be bad for me - she's surprisingly dogmatic and judgmental, and I'd had enough of that. I'm quite wishy-washy on a lot of things, and I'm perversely attracted to people who seem really strong and grounded. But it ends in tears.

The highlight of this crush period (and quite possibly of my life so far) was about a year ago she took me shopping. We went to a big department store, she scoured the menswear floor and we had an armful of clothes each. She marched off to the fitting rooms. The attendant told her there was a maximum of 4 garments, and you couldn't have two people in the room at a time but she fobbed him off. We got into the changing room and she said to me "I hope you're not shy". To this day I don't know if she had any idea how I felt about her (I play my cards very close to my chest) but the next half-hour was exquistely surreal; it felt like time had slowed down. I stripped down to my underwear (grateful that I was wearing something decent that day. CK ribbed hip briefs. No holes, no saggy band) and tried on pants, shirts, t-shits, jackets.

I confided in my friend Prudence, another charming woman I met when I was going out with Sam. She told me that Claire really liked me, but also wanted to control me. Which I thought was a pretty good read except for the bit about really liking me. Then about six months ago I started falling for Prudence instead. That's another story.

Over time my crush on Claire subsided as I'd hoped it would. We'd go out, we'd banter and have fun. I suspect I was better company; I was no longer like a deer in the headlights. I liked the way it had settled down. I met some of her friends, they all liked flirting with me. Once or twice I started to wonder whether she was starting to like me.

We had dinner last night, then we were going to go to the movies. She suggested, as we were finishing dinner, that we go to her place instead to watch a DVD. Good idea, I thought. The movie we were going to see sounded like it sucked anyways. So we went to her place, watched "Gladiator", her favorite movie. We sat on the couch together, barely touching. We drank some wine. She suggested I stay in the spare room instead of getting a cab home at midnight. Good idea, I thought. I also quite liked the idea of being in her space, the place she lives in. There's something so intimate about that.

I was starting to think to myself "is this normal?" Then, after the movie finished, we looked at each other, and she said "what do you want to do?". I hesitated for what felt like about half an hour and then said to her that what I really wanted was for us to sleep together but not have sex. All I could think about was touching her, holding her. Plus, I could tell that I just wasn't all that horny. Not just for her, I mean generally. I've been wallowing in sex for a while and I'm a little sick of it; I'd even told her that over dinner. Amazingly enough.

Her idea was the exact opposite. Sex, but not sleeping together. I kissed her full on the lips, for the first time ever. It was pretty good. We went upstairs.. I undressed her as I kissed her and she was just as gorgeous as I'd imagined. Then I got undressed and... my cock wasn't working. Arghh! I suspected that was going to happen. I had jerked off that afternoon, I was a little confused about the situation, also very anxious... this doesn't happen very often, but it does happen. But with Claire? She's naked, she's horny as hell... and my cock's gone on vacation?

Of course the worst thing you can do when this happens is to let it get to you. It's that cycle of doubt. And for about half an hour I was flaccid. I kept myself busy playing with her, and eventually I was enough in-the-moment to make it all work. Experience has taught me that if I'm in that situation the best thing I can do is to focus on getting the other person worked up, and that's often enough to make me forget my anxiety.

Afterwards we slept. She said that I could stay in her bed (hooray!) but it turns out she snores (boo!). We woke up in the morning and my cock had been restored to normal service, so we had a very agreeable morning fuck.

All day, I've had a little voice in the back of my mind saying "dude! you fucked Claire".

So what next? Well, she's coming to pick me up in about an hour, we're going to a party one of her friends is having. She said that our having had sex doesn't mean anything, and I'd really love to believe that.

You're what?

My friend Cindy sent me a text on Wednesday saying that she was thinking of me and that she was 'horney'. What? She'd texted that word to me once before but I'd written it off as a careless typo, but twice..? I can't possibly plunge the tusk with someone who can't spell, especially that word.

And as if that wasn't enough we'd had dinner a couple of hours earlier, and she'd surprised me. I was telling her a not-especially-hilarious anecdote about an acquaintance of mine who'd gone to live in Mumbai and was running a factory that made pies (you had to be there. Dinner, not Mumbai) and she said "where's Mumbai?"