Why I’m Only a Bit of a Prostitute

Prostitution. I’m in favour. To not be is to be a hypocrite. But with limits.

Last weekend i spent a wonderful time in Kelowna. At the Delta. A big ass expensive hotel, with nice sheets. But sadly, not a view of the lake. For me anyway.

Technically, I was a prostitute. I was driven in the fellow’s car, had my meals and the room paid for [tho his business covered the room], enjoyed the gifts of lingerie and a summer dress, and got fucked a number of times in exchange.

I returned home with no $100 in my purse or anything tho. So technically… ๐Ÿ™‚

But beyond technicalities, I hooked.

The guy was no stranger. He is the separated husband of a woman who taught at my school until last year. She was hard core in the micromanaging, cold fish, control freak way. She didn’t “get” students. And their need to not work 100% of their lives. They had been together for about 9 years. Married forย  5. He got over her intensity and dumped her.

He works in branding/marketing. Two things I REALLY don’t like, but I like his body. And he’s really funny.

Over the weekend, I learned his soon-to-be ex was an intense fucker. Intense like at school. Liked to suck him till he came, then get him hard again and make him work her until she came. Sometimes more than once.

So I did a bit of that. He enjoyed parts of the weekend doing the exact same stuff he did with her, but with the difference being me and my body and my style. Same process, different content he called it. These marketing people, eh! ๐Ÿ™‚

But my highlights were my times to explore what of him i’d always found attractive.

I wore no bra in the car and took off my panties on the highway. Did some rubbing in the car, of me, not him. My breasts and my clit.

And when we checked in i walked into the bathroom, into the shower, turned it on and wet me and my dress all up. And he fucked me all wet on the bed. That started the weekend well.

We got some room service and drank a bit, then he went out to the casino with some clients/marks.

Around 1130pm he phones me and asks if it’s ok to have some boys over to the room. I say sure. Committed to not fucking all 3 of them. And I didn’t, but I know that was a thing in his mind to see if it would end up there. Saucy man.

We all had drinks. They were generally polite, asking what I did, etc., but not so much about how me and “John” met. I guessed he told them, but I don’t think they know much about his marital past. New clients, or newish.

And then they left and I stripped and tied up John and gratified myself beside him on the bed while seeing if he’d cum. Nope. Good boy. Then I ordered pizza.

And while I opened the door only enough to bring in the pizza, John wasn’t so sure I wouldn’t fling the door wide open for delivery boy to see. Cue the porn music. I don’t know why he was worried. Maybe because that’s what I said I’d do with the door.

Bitch?

Bitch.

Whore, too.

Saturday, John’s is in conference/meeting/sales/branding/inspiration mode. I miss him all day. Sniff. I got shopping with his two . There are only 7,000 stores on Harvey. And one thing I love about the OK is that wearing a bikini around town, in the Subway, in the mall, is a uniform for some and not a problem for anyone [outwardly anyways].

And when I was in Sweet Dreams there were 3 girls [and by girls I mean 18-20] trying on things. One ended up quite high maintenance because each of the 3 of them and the staff sweetie all had different opinions about her “real” bra size. Clearly she had never had a proper fitting before. But after 19 million opinions she got some truth. 38C not 36D. That was fun to watch. But in the end she had to come to terms with not self-identifying as a D.

After the fitting and more hijinks and tryings-on, I mentioned to her in the corner how I’m a B. And while it’s not size that matters, it IS what you do with it. And I went into my stall and tightened up my bra one clasp and came back out and said that this difference makes a dull evening at the bar quite unpredictable. Then I went back in and loosened it to one clasp too loose and came back out and said, same for this. in a different way. It’s all about how you introduce your breasts to the world. And then I said I’d still fuck a penis regardless of which way it curves. FTW.

Anyway, I came away from there with this:

It’s a nice piece. Feels smooth. So picture this without the discrete bra and panty underneath it and that’s what i wore the rest of the weekend when we were in the room. Lots of access. And it got good and creamy.

Spent some time in the pool and sauna, got a bit frisky with myself in the sauna. That was nice. Then around 430pm John comes back to the room and I model my outfit for him. I ensure some time demonstrating the sheerness with which to see my nipples. And how I can untie the top to pull out a boob for himย and rub a recently released cock head on it. And how I can lie back on the bed and push the skirt down to cover my cunt but not hide its terrain. And how I can sit on the back of the couch with one foot up there too showing how such a little skirt allows his cock to rub along my lips while I rub his balls. And how I can hold his phone and take a short video of his cock rubbing my sticky lips [not inside my cunt, mind you, because that would be fornication] and how for all day he hasn’t been able to fuck me that as i pull off the shoulder of my top and push his fingers onto my nipple, that he can cum on the outside my cunt and cream the skirt.

Then we dress for dinner, coMMANdo! With me in a navy sheer top over a cream cami and yoga skirt.

We came back to the room and slipped into the tub for a http://www.soapymassage.com. Me likey.

For breakfast, I sat on his face and he ate my cunt. Then I wouldn’t fuck him. Just kept saying no until it got so late we wouldn’t have enough time to get down to the restaurant to eat before his session. Cutting it close, I made him fuck me fast so we’d still be able to rush downstairs. But I took the poke up against the window with my yoga skirt up in the back, wondering how many people out there were drifting off to find a good local church. No one looked up and stared, though a few did glance up. They weren’t obvious though if their looks lingered.

After a quick tidy up we breakfasted and I swam and we checked out cruised a few girlclothes shops until I found a great summer dress with which to drive home in, coMMando! Of course.

He dropped me off and I felt nothing like a prostitute. I felt like a girl on more than a one night stand. It lasted 3 days, but it was much like a one night stand, which is usually not prostitution. Sure I got food, clothes, travel, rooms, uninterrupted naps, etc. but when i go out on dates, the fellow [only if he’s new] pays for dinner and a movie/play/cover and usually drives. And buys me liquor. And I either fuck him or i don’t.

Prostitutes have sex for money.

What’s the difference?

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Sex Tip #18: Respect People’s Celibacy Choices

Like the title says. Respect it.

The lesson I learned over the last few weeks creates that truth for me. Holly has helped me through it enough to write about it, appreciating moments of real contact [not just physically], and where I needed to learn where the line is/was. XOXO Holly sweet.

It is marvelous to have Holly back in Vancouver. Hanging out is good. Wreck Beach is just what I need. And the booze and pot and sex and movies and pot luck dinners and picnics with vodka coolers make me know that Holly is a core part of my life for a long time. Amen amen amen.

And now that Holly is going to my/our church quite regularly now we have become a social item. Not a dating item. We aren’t dating [technically, just the benefits].

But people know us. And they know us as a pair.

And Holly likes some of the boys. Not enough to date, but enough to enjoy the view and flirting.

And then there’s Randy. He is new to town, doing his Masters of Divinity and has spent the last several weeks at our evening service. I think he has a training gig lined up for mornings somewhere. Somewhere where no one puts their arms in the air when they feel moved. ๐Ÿ™‚

Randy is sweet, has awesome wavy flowing hair, is 29, 1/4 Korean, and not too tall. Not that height is a dealbreaker. ๐Ÿ™‚

Holly got to him first one evening after the “show” as she calls it when it’s a bit shlocky. And we went for coffee with him and a few other folks. Coffee meant martinis for a few of us. Slippy in the throat. Yes.

Lotsa talk. Lotsa fun. Phone numbers and last names for Facebook friendship go around.

And the next day I phone him from work and arrange a light dinner for that night.

Open relationships have their benefits. Gordon is a dream, but we both appreciate the fun of variety. I should really go into some of that all in that last several months. But that’s that.

Over the course of 4 times over the next 2 weeks or so before it all crashed to the ground, to put it simply, I tried to get Randy to have sex with me.

I liked him splendidly. He was richly interesting. He had a deep soul.

And he had been, in a previous life, a married furniture assembler with a gambling problem who found a good 12-step program, Jesus and a calling to go into social work and the chaplaincy. Totally respectable. And fascinating.

His marriage ended before his gambling did. Her call. I get that. He had overcome quite a bit, but the broken marriage was the heaviest as it all happened before he knew God and so his frame of dealing with a divorce was after the events. An awkward thing.

And he told me about the times he and his ex met for coffee to work on their shit [“stuff”]. Really endearing.

But he is also a born-again virgin, which i find out on our 3rd date. Which I totally respect. Except I didn’t really. And that’s on me. I’ll accept that.

So when we first went out for dinner, it was casual and fun and we both had a good time. I kissed him goodnight. He was into it. And enjoyed his warmth.

So we plan a post-dinner drink the next night. He had a family thing for dinner.

So I wore a light jumper and cami and no bra. I felt amazing.

Drinks and chatting were nice. I was warm and casual and tipsy and we held hands lots. I knew he was taking in my breasts. BAV, but not dead. I felt good.

We ended the night kissing and hugging. I got in some good glancing nipple rubbing on his chest. Very nice. But the night ended without anything more. I bide time.

Then on the Saturday we walk the seawall a bit. Light, purple skirt past the knee, no panty. Going commando. And the whole braless thing again with a lose scoop T and cami again.

And when we make it around to Lumberman’s Arch we find some nice shady grass aside some bushes and lie down to nibble the baguette and drink some cool beverages.

My goal was to green light him, not for there then, but in general. Such a whore, I know. I’ve come to terms with that.

I arranged myself so that I was lying somewhat under him with his back facing away from the bushes. Under cover of his legs on mine, I slid my skirt up a bit and flowed my hand to my pussy for some comfort. Hoping he’d follow my lead. He did eventually. And he showed slight startle at what he found in there. ๐Ÿ™‚ Yay!

He was enjoying the heat and wet and hair and slippy skin. I liked him there greatly!

And after a bit of time there I rolled over onto him. His shorts were not thick. Spreading my skirt up so it was pussy on shorts I/we had a nice time. No bouncing or monster grinding. Just pleasure. Some cleavage leaning. And I spent a good amount of time with my eyes closed, moving my hips oh so gently. Luscious.

And after a time I lied back down to spoon. Felt his cock on my ass. Very nice.

And we walk back and he drives me home and kissing goodbye, I touch his cock and ask him if he’d like me and his friend to get to know each other better. And then he starts telling me about his BAVity. And I feel in part like an ass, but far moreso frustrated. That is me being selfish. I own that too.

And we part well. And I go in and rub off an O.

So the next Friday night we have coffee. And we talk. And do the getting to you know more deeply thing. But the whole time I live a deep sadness that we’re on different pages.

And I know it’s going nowhere because though I like him a lot, I don’t like him enough [or is that even the issue? Holly?] to stay celibate with him.

And towards the end of that night we both start talking about the elephant in the Starbucks. And we just agree that that’s that. Still friends, or is it “friends”.

And as much as I replay it all in my mind, I don’t come up with ways of being different. If he had mentioned BAV before our 3rd date it just would have ended earlier.

Holly says I’m swimming in whore guilt. That he will think I’m the slut I’d be seen as by most in the church. In part true. Mostly something different though.

Mostly sad that his circumstance were/becomes different.

Mourning what would otherwise have been. And it’s sad.

But the lesson is important. To respect people’s choices. Because in the end, you can build nothing casual or serious when one person does not sincerely accept where the other person is.

Dreamily,

Tina

Cumming to Vancouver…Arrival

what is with this fucking rain.

i know i’m the first to say vancouver isn’t rain city for 5 months in the summer, but i’ve been back a few days and now its pouring.

a few things i’ve noticed since i last left 8 months ago.

– there is snow on grouse mountain. all the way to the bottom of the runs. wtf, climate change anyone? someone at the airport said it is el nino. could be, but fuck. cyclone in burma kills 30k and fuckers are skiing in vancouver in may. wtf i say.

– there seems to be a store selling big jugs of bottled water every fucking 6 blocks now. what the hell is wrong with our water? NOTHING. hear me? NOTHING!

– i promised diane to swing by maiwa on granville island to see if my uber-crush is still there. haven’t made it yet. search for maiwa on my blog to read about this goddess!

– diane’s convinced she’ll be in a porn by the end of the month. sure vancouver is no montreal, but a girl’s gotta know that money flows from 43 year old men’s cumming penises on the internet machine!

– haven’t actually hit wreck beach yet. but they say next weekend won’t have rain and it’ll get above 20 degrees. look out wreck. i’m coming!

– in my time back so far i’ve spent some quality time with buddy, his new psuedo-girlfriend, sanna and buddy’s bro [still going], tina and her friend and a host of others that have yet to make it into the blog. maybe this summer is it for some of them?

– my uncle pete is due to hit town when the bard on the beach opens in a few weeks. i will have LOTS to say about him then. hurry unc!

– my joint/orgasm/hour count now that i’ve been in vancouver for 81 hours is about 1:7.5 hours. can i keep that ratio up all summer?

– buddy’s psuedo-girlfriend is not bi. she doesnt want girls involved with her pussy. i respect that. i also like her lots. buddy has good taste. ๐Ÿ™‚ and she doesn’t particularly want to watch buddy fuck me. amazing. this will be interesting. ๐Ÿ™‚ diane wants to make her cum. i respect her quests!

that’s it for now. when the fucking sun shows up reliably i’ll have more to add.

and sex tips for christian girls? hmmm. tina’s developed a sex only relationship with a 21 year old boy at her church. he’s dating [casually] another girl at the church who’s 18 and a virgin virgin. not even a born again virgin. tina is a church slut.

the sex tip…virgin christian girls: your bf is probly not having sex with other girls. but they might be. the advice? me and tina couldn’t come up with any. maybe we’re not the ones to come up with it tho. ๐Ÿ™‚

in touch,
holly

Sex Tip #11: Perhaps Don’t Sleep with a Married Man

This has been a difficult post to prepare.

I have a few other things I wanted to write about, but this one seems to have taken over my brain.

I know Holly’s story about adultery. I know what she wrote in here. I know what else she told me about it. I understand the context. I don’t judge her for what she did. Part of me doesn’t approve of it. Part of me understands it. She knows how I feel about it all. All my conflicting feelings.

Being a divorced person is an interesting cross to bear. Particularly in a Christian community. My relationship with Barry is working for what it is. And for that I’m grateful and happy.

But I don’t know how I would deal with being in a marriage and needing to get out, like Holly’s situation. So I don’t judge.

But in the end, I called this sex tip not sleeping with a married man. Perhaps. I say perhaps because I’m mostly sure it’s wrong. And I think I’m informed about it and not just speculating.

And the funny coincidence…maybe not so funny is that my informed state comes from Keats camp, which is sort of connected to Holly’s situation.

So. The story. Holly has convinced me it’s worth telling.

Some time before I went to church with no bra on I went to Keats camp for an event. The nature of it isn’t relevant. It had couples and singles and more than a few divorced people and divorced people who were remarried.

I met a woman in one of the workshop groups. “Patty” had 3 kids, in her mid-thirties, married to “Frank” for almost 12 years and was a relatively new Christian with her Frank. She was also a deeply funny person. Amazing sense of humour. But she also was lacking an ability to be open and honest. That came up in the group. There were 5 women and she and her friend shared insights about each other. Quite open in that sense, but never really for her was there anything that she would share about herself of substance.

And that was ok in the end because we’re all strangers. But her friend kept remarking on how hard it was to get anything from her.

Anyway that was most of my impression of her. Frank I quite liked. A gentle guy who played ice hockey 3 times a week. Yay. He knew what physicality meant but he was also an emotionally aware guy. Not lots of them around. Generally quite happy but in the end only mostly. Missing something was my sense of him.

So a number of us exchanged email addresses and stuff and we thought about meeting a few weeks after the Keats event for a chat and an update on issues we talked about there.

Nothing came of that. Good intentions but that was it.

Then a few days after I went to church without a bra [which has become a kind of marker separating events for me this summer], Frank emails and we start chatting about things: work, life, church, parenting, but not marriage. A few emails go by and I’m enjoying this, but I’m thinking, what about Patty? A few more emails and he gets to it. He’s thinking he’s unhappy but he’s blocked in figuring it out.

We meet after work one night for a glass of wine and start talking about things. He’s a bookeeper and works late a lot and I feel like the other woman. He’s also a transit guy too and we take the #20 back towards home. I get off first to connect to my bus and before I stand up to go, he puts his hand on my knee when we’re saying bye. Not overtly. Not meaninglessly either. Felt nice. Tingles even. I liked that. But I also felt guilty. For good reason.

Then a few weeks ago when summer has definitely given up trying to actually be here, we meet again for wine after work. We talk some more about all the safe topics and then he gets onto the place I figured he was at: out of love with his wife and 3 kids. He is showing some sadness but I know he’s hiding much more sadness because maybe we’re in a bar.

I ask if he’d like to come over to talk more. Yes. Cab ride. Home. A bottle of wine opened. And after about 10 minutes he’s just letting it all out. So sad at it being dead for him. And he gets quiet into a funk.

I never liked hockey players in high school. Frank’s no hockey player, but he plays hockey. That kind of thing ran through my head a lot that night at the bar. Totally off topic, but it was the issue of what I think of him kicking around in my head. Underneath it all was being available for him as a person, but I also wanted to have sex with him. Never consciously in my head, but always in between the lines.

And in his funk I put my hand on his knee and he puts his hand on my hand. Then on my knee. Then on my shoulder and we’re kissing. Then it’s on my breast and mine is on his crotch and from there we’re having sex on the couch and I loved it. Duh.

I didn’t cum, but he really did and pretty briskly. He hadn’t had sex in weeks and weeks he said. I could tell. He masturbated a lot but he hadn’t fucked his wife in so long. A sexless rut that was more than a rut I thought.

After the sex we just hung out on the couch doing the cuddle thing while he played with my nipples. Eventually I got him hard again and we fucked again until I came. In the end it helped that his finger was in my bum when we were in the doggy position. I wanted to come so badly because if I was having sex with a married man I wanted to at least feel some joy in it and for all the time we were doing it and I didn’t come I wanted to. And I started getting anxious about it. Go ahead and psychoanalyze that. Good luck to ya! ๐Ÿ™‚

And then we broke it off. He emailed the next day and said he wasn’t sure we should do it again. I emailed back saying ok. I’m also talking with Holly about it and she’s easing my grief/guilt. But the next day he phones and comes over on the Saturday afternoon and we fuck some more. And then again this past Saturday afternoon.

And as it is now, I don’t want to stop because I like how he does my bum. I like how he sucks me and I like the illicit nature of it all. It’s a mad rush.

But I also feel bad. He’s in charge of his marriage, but I’m truly the other woman. And the biggest thing, though I’ve talked with Holly about this, I haven’t talked to Barry. And I don’t have a real sense of why. We’re not exclusive and we’ve been with others since last winter, but I just don’t want to talk to him about it. Maybe I’d feel ashamed around him? Don’t know. He’s not one to judge so there’s no risk there.

Maybe it’s my conscience. But until I figure it all out, the sex tip is to not sleep with married men.

In dreams,
Tina

2-1/2 Sided Love Triangle of Christians Debating Adultery: Yes a Sex Tip!

Well, I should thank Holly for the months of encouragement in actually writing something here. As we have several “post-it notes” of our brains tacked up on my bedroom mirror of things I’m supposed to write about, I’ll get to them as I can.

It’ll be a delight.

I must pace myself though. You understand. ๐Ÿ™‚

One of the post-it notes is a response to Holly’s post of my life last December and where it’s gone. It’s gone well. For what is the scope of well, I suppose.

But this post, my inaugural one [blast trumpets here!] is about a love triangle that is complicated, as all of them are, but this one is more complicated because of the role of Christianity in defining adultery. There are lessons that we all need to bear. But I’ll get there at the end, I think.

I have a friend from university. She’s called โ€œVickyโ€ for the sake of our codes in the Blog. I like Vicky and I like her husband โ€œJohnโ€. He’s a fine man. We were all in a young adults group at school that was made up of mostly folks from one church but others gravitated in for dating purposes. And yes, Holly, dating and mating, a little of that was going on but not everyone knew about it. The squeaky clean ones [as I was, until later] assumed it didn’t and never learned any truths.

So I have coffee with Vicky once in a while. She pays. It’s a game. John makes a great deal of money in real estate and not that I don’t [not in real estate, I’m a Commodore in the navy ๐Ÿ™‚ ], but Vicky wants to spend John’s money far. It’s only money.

So two weeks ago Vicky brings up a topic that shocked me incredibly. Having known Holly for some time and been quite close with her for months, I’m not shocked by bisexuality in my milieu. Even though Holly has invited me to Wreck Beach with her and asked if I’m bicurious about 8 million times, I’m not. But I love her dearly and am not bothered by her advances, which are [mostly] for play.

Vicky says she has moved through bicurious to bisexual. Shock. I was squeaky once. John doesn’t know. Vicky has always liked me…in THAT way…all the way back to university. She still likes me now. I’m shocked. And more than a little flattered.

She tells me about her bi-experimental times at UBC and that they happened even when she dated John. I asked if she feels like she was cheating no him. Because they were girls, no. I don’t agree with that. I can live with it though. I’m not in a place to judge.

So essentially she is propositioning me. I tell her about Holly and my sense of bisexuality now. I tell her my answer is not no, but probably no, but I need to think. And I need to talk to Holly.

So Holly and I talked somewhat on this. And the whole reason the answer was not immediately no is that I immediately thought this could be a way that I could have sex with her husband. I’m a bad person for this. And I’m not. Mostly I’m not. Sin, guilt, adultery, infidelity and all that are real. I am real too. So is Vicky And so is John.

The question that Holly says is yes, is would I allow myself to be sexually involved with Vicky [because I virtually completely have no interest in women’s bodies, she’d have to do all the heavy lifting] if I can arrange it so that I get to have sex with John.

I end up agreeing with Holly.

I call Vicky last Tuesday. I say maybe, but I’m uncomfortable doing it without John’s knowledge because of openness and because I like him and that if she can tell him [not necessarily everything about her bisexual past] about what she wants to do with me AND if he’s ok with it AND if he is interested in having sex with me at all AND at the same time then I would do it.

I want margaritas though and I want it at their house and I want to sleep in the guest room if I feel like it.

Vicky is not totally shocked. John’s a flirt and very huggy with me and lots of people, men too. I’ve also been known to be a little hip grindy when inebriated and he’s received a few pelvic manoeuvres from me. She knows I think he’s a great catch [and not for the money].

She says ok. She’ll tell him. Maybe even everything, but at least her thing with me.

My skull temperature rose 19 degrees. Was I really going to let a woman make love to me, in the ways I can only imagine from the L Word and other things I’ve seen, so that I can sleep with her husband? What am I getting myself into. I was almost freaking out, but I was also rather excited about what if it could actually be.

Thursday night she calls and says she ended up telling him everything. All the way back. He told her about a time when he had sex with a former girlfriend [which she knew about] in university but that one time there was another guy there. John and his girlfriend gave him a hand job and John let him blow him since she was dying to see that and he felt a blowjob is a blowjob. He was mostly ok with it, but it helped watching his girlfriend masturbate watching them.

My temperature went back to that hot place listening to all this. In the end Vicky says they got so much closer about it all and were interested in going through with this thing with me. Vicky says she waited this long to tell me because now I am in a place past marriage and simple illusions [obviously their marriage is not a simple illusion] and that I have Barry and our arrangements [we have arrangements] and that never before did she think I was in a place to say yes.

And so here lies the 2.5 sided love triangle. I want John. John wants me. Vicky wants John. John wants Vicky. Vicky wants me…I will let Vicky have me so I can have John.

It is adultery. It is a sin. It is non-heterosexuality. Also a sin. There is guilt from the instigation of it all. But there is also truth [Holly owns the patent on that sometimes it seems] and honour and respect. And a recognition that we cannot live the pure life. Even the people who stay squeaky still are impure. Is there impurity holier than mine? No.

so two nights ago I drive to southeast Vancouver to their place. I dress in a sensible sleeved T with non-short shorts. Very sensible. John and Vicky are dressed the same. We have dinner, overcooked [they say, I don’t know] salmon and strawberry blender margaritas. We get tipsy. We talk lots. We swim in the pool, with bathing suits.

Vicky is petite, but taller than me. Holly says I must be DETAILED in my descriptions. No one can be as detailed as her. I try.

She has tiny hips and maybe a c-cup on top. Light brown hair. In a one-piece bathing suit.

John is 5’9โ€ not beach volleyball buff, but not flabby. A reasonable body-mass index. A nice smile that shows up even well on his real estate photocopied fliers. Soft hands. More than nice, a warm smile. Yes. Brown short hair, like all real estate agents I ever see.

In the pool they hug and kiss somewhat but aren’t luridly evoking a mood of expectation of my involvement. It never lasts more than a few seconds. Once on the deck he picks her up and tosses her in. as she tries to hold on before plunking in, her torso twists and her bathing suit exposes a large amount of her boob under her arm. My only thought is that will become much more real for me soon…somehow.

Slippy clit, despite being in water. And the margaritas have removed virtually all of my apprehension.

We leave the pool and Vicky says we should shower the chlorine out of our suits and hair. They had just re-constituted the chemical mix a couple days earlier and the chlorine was likely higher than normal.

Ok.

We all go to their shower in the master bedroom. It’s big enough for 3 with probably a $1000 shower head. It backs onto the tub where the โ€œfarโ€ wall would be, which would fit at least two. We all go in and take turns rinsing our hair. John washes his and is looking at me as he does it. I move over and wipe suds from his chest and he smiles. His eyes are closed.

I know his cock is hard. My slippy clit is joined by pointy nipples which I thought wouldn’t show because I wore my dark red one-piece, so while they may not have shown, like through my light blue bikini, they bumped through. There was still a large part of me trying to be modest. I know. Don’t laugh.

When I was going to rinse my hair I washed it too. My hair is short. Not like Vicky’s When I’m shampooing, John and Vicky sandwich me. John in front. Very nice cock pressing on my belly. Vicky puts her hands on my hips and presses onto my bum. John feels my breasts. I loved it. Fully.

When I rinse my hair John takes off his bathing suit and rubs his cock on me. Uncircumcised. Curious. Thicker than Barry’s. Just as long. No hair beyond a bit of half centimeter stubble. I hold his cock to me and Vicky rubs my bum. Vicky takes off her bathing suit down to her waist and comes around me so John can play with her breasts with one of his hands. So amazing to watch this from right there. With his cock in my hand.

He turns me around and slides his cock between my legs, crouching down somewhat. Then after a minute or so he takes off my bathing suit and reaches around to press the head of his cock on my pussy and play with my nipples. Vicky backed up a bit in front of me and took off her bathing suit. Almost no pussycat hair. She starts to masturbate.

I like to watch her. I think it was mostly because I was feeling so amazingly sexual that watching her do anything would have been fine.

We get out of the shower to dry off before drinking half a jug of ice water. Vicky dries herself off while we watch as she will not let us have our towels. She then dries John and then me while I watch john leaning against the sink stroking his cock. Vicky isn’t gropy. She rubs gently all over, except firmly on my breasts and bum. I like it too. Is it watching John I like while having my body dried by someone? What is my reaction to a woman rubbing me like this? There really was no answer in my mind then. Just the question. And it was annoying. So I concentrated on the cock over there.

We go into their bedroom. Near the bed John embraces me, hard cock on my belly and kisses me. Vicky lies on the bed. I stroke his cock. It throbs. I’m so wet by now.

We lie on the bed beside Vicky I’m on my back, Vicky sucks his cock and gets it really wet for me. He slides it in a bit at a time. After a short time I’m so happy. He pulls out and lies on his back and slides me onto him on top of him on my back. Vicky guides his cock back in me and he fills me up and cums really fast at this point.

And I lie back on him and feel him rubbing my pussycat. And his cock in me. And a minute or so goes by..and none of us are talking…and his cock softens and slides out but he’s gliding his hand up his cock and onto my pussy hair, sliding his cum and my juice up onto me. And my eyes are closed enjoying his hands rubbing all the wet on me and after a while I realize there are three hands there. Then two, with one on my breast, pushing my nipple around. And I just keep my eyes closed because I’m so happy. Happy to have had sex with this man. Happy to have come close to cumming. Happy to be still on the way to cumming. Happy that I was being touched like this.

Then John’s left hand slides under my bum. He squeezes it and moves his fingers around and near my ass. I’m still a bum virgin [eek, sodomy!], but I like a little touching there now. I like it. And he lifts my bum up and down once in a while too. His other hand is on my right breast. Just rubbing it so nice. Gliding down my belly to meet the two hands on my pussy, gliding cum all over my hair and rubbing my lips.

The rest is a blur that felt like hours. But it was of course not hours. A blur of time. But just distinct kind of tableaux of images. Like a strobe. Fingers in cum on my hair. Finger tips pressing labia. Clit moved back and forth. Finger in my vagina. Licking on my hair and labia and thighs. Tongue pressing on clit. Tongue in vagina. Hands pulling hips forward. Hand pushing bum up.

Orgasm. Rich one. Helped by a margarita. Helped by a swim. Helped by having just been fucked.

And as John said a blowjob is a blowjob from a woman or a man. And I felt so loved. And I felt so honoured through all the touching. And I felt so warm. And I opened my eyes a few times to see Vicky’s hair in a pony tail behind her head and her face gliding over my pussycat and feeling her tongue on every bit of me there. And it was cool. A girl there. Totally new. Totally interesting. Totally not as much of a shock as even her initial question to me to do this.

Not that it was normal. But it felt amazing. Mostly because of what she was doing, not that she was a she.

And after I came, I opened my eyes and slid off and was just smiling and so were they. And Vicky rolled onto her back and John rolled between her legs and licked her and squeezed her bum until she cried and came. Not really weeping but a little like weeping. Tears of joy. Obviously. I’ve never wept when I came.

And then John brought us water and we drank. Then we slept. All on the bed. King size. And halfway to morning I woke up. They were gone. I got up. Walked around a little. Heard noises out back. In the pool. I went. They were swimming around in there naked. All the lights out except on in the bottom of the pool.

I went in. they came over to me and stood on either side and rubbed their hands all over my body. So nice.

We got out and dried off and went back upstairs.

On the bed John was moving up to rub his cock on her breasts, straddling her waist. She asked if I would suck him. He kneeled up and I crawled over to suck and it was very nice. And soon he lowered to glide his cock over Vicky’s nipple and I stayed sucking as the tip slid up.

My chin touching Vicky’s breast was very interesting. I liked it. And I realized that I wasn’t scared. I didn’t think I’d be actually โ€œafraidโ€ but at that moment I felt relief because in some quiet place I though I would feel fear about being this intimate with a woman’s body.

And Vicky asked me to press her breasts together while he slid his cock between them. It was very nice. Like dough. ๐Ÿ™‚ So they say rightly. ๐Ÿ™‚ I know they feel like dough, but that’s from the inside. To know that feeling with my hands was very curious.

When the friction got too tough, Vicky grabbed some lube and slathered his cock. When he came, he asked me to lick his cock off. Vicky put the cum from her chest on his cock and I licked it all up. I thought about licking it off her but didn’t. Too much too soon. Though I really thought about it.

And then we slept again. The sky was starting to get light.

And when the sun was up, we woke up. Buzzing head a bit. Small price to pay for margaritas and their value in life. Inhibitions, etc.

Vicky started sucking John’s cock. He asked if I wanted it again. Yes.

On my back he pulls me down so my hips are at the end of the bed and started licking me. So slippery. He slides in, while standing up. So much fun. Vicky asks if she can climb on top of me. Yes. In my mind, it’s โ€œwhateverโ€! I’m in such a happy place.

So she straddles my hips and glides her breasts on mine. And up towards my face. Nipple on my cheeks, lips, chest, breast, nipple. Wild sensation.

Then John pulls out. I open my eyes and see him grabbing Vicky’s bum and pulling her back to him. He puts it in her and fucks her while she’s kneeling up over top of me. His hands all over her breasts. She lowers her bum down and widens her knees so her pussy is almost on mine. Then she stops moving and opens her eyes and I feel John’s cock on my pussy again, finding its way in again.

Vicky’s now basically lying on top of me, John’s cock is in me and out and in etc.

And his hands are squeezing Vicky’s bum. And then he’s out of me again and into her and pumping hard and she’s up on her hands and knees, breasts swinging all over. And he cums in her and she kneels up and grabs his cock at her pussy and rubs. So amazing to watch from this perspective.

And then he pulls it out still hard and lies on the bed rubbing its slickness. And his cum drips out of Vicky onto my pussycat and belly and she’s down there licking again. John slides his cum up onto my breasts and she comes up and licks there too. Nipple sucking is so much fun. And feeling her breasts on my belly when she was sucking my nipples was very nice. A new experience in this life of many experiences, but still missing many more.

And she goes back down to finish liking my pussy hair and then she licks my clit for so long that after I came I had to make her stop. It was at that overwhelming place. Almost panic inducing. But not quite. Just close enough to be a riotous rush.

And we go down for breakfast. Bagels and juice and Fruit Loops out of the box. ๐Ÿ™‚

And in the shower after breakfast John asks if he can fuck me doggy style before I go. Yes again.

I lean turn around and rub my bum on him and point to the wall to lean into it. Vicky comes over and slides him my way. She puts my hands on her hips and hold my shoulders and watches John fuck me. My face bumping her breasts. Eventually I just leave my face there. So soft and slick with water.

And the g-spot orgasm is so spectacular. John hold my hips, me holding Vicky’s hips, her holding my shoulders…all that was necessary as my knees mostly buckled.

Such a nice 12 hour chunk of my life.

Vicky and I are on for coffee again this week. Wednesday.

She called this morning when I was in the shower [ironically], and left a message saying how much fun they had and how comfortable it was once we got over the early bits. But even those were fine. She wanted me to call to let her know whether anything was weird. I called back and we had a nice chat. Not completely casual but virtually there. Coffee will be good.

So much fun. So much.

So the sex tips. Because there should be sex tips even though Holly says it’s not essential.

Lessons:
Christianity is a living thing. It’s also not absolute. I want to believe it is, but I usually find times I want that to be times I’d desperate to cling to something to make the world certain. The world is not certain, even if the Bible is, or is believed to be, even by me sometimes.

Is it adultery if everyone consents? Strictly, I suppose so. In reality, I can’t really see how. I get the argument, but to quote the wise Avril, that’s โ€œlike, so whatever.โ€ But really, it is more complex than that. Me and Saul knew a black and white morality marriage. It was, in the end, inadequate to sustain. Probably not because it was the black and white thing, probably because of who we two were. But still, two healthy people in black and white may work. But who is that couple?

I’m not close to love or a relationship or marriage. I’m not as jaded as Holly on love, or as impaired as her about delving into it. But I know where she is. I respect it in her and me and I wait. I wait for her too even though she is frustrated by it sometimes. I am too. Who wouldn’t be?

Single Christian girls, even married, dating or engaged Christian girls need to follow my advice. Ready for it? Here it comes.

………………………………………

I give you no advice. Except to say this as my final tip. Ask yourself how you feel about your box of the your definition of adultery. Ask yourself how you feel about what I did/do and how I relate it to sin, adultery, fidelity, guilt, purity. All that. Ask yourself if you are sure of where you stand. If you are, accept that and celebrate it. If you are not, ask why. Then find close people to talk to about the truth of what conflicts. And if you have no one close, email me or Holly. We’re close even if strangers. It’s ok. You aren’t supposed to know it all. Especially if you are young. Like, under 60 years old. Or under 20 even. ๐Ÿ™‚

In the end, I know grey. I live in it. If you think you don’t, you are mistaken. If you don’t want to be in the grey, you may be wasting your time. It cannot be black and white. Be easy with yourself. Not loose and easy [unless you like that kind of thing], but easy on yourself, I suppose. Be forgiving. Be honourable in your criticisms of yourself. And be loving. If you don’t love yourself, warts and all, no one will. Jesus will. But that can sometimes feel not enough. It is, they say, but really…sometimes it feels like not enough. Let’s be honest. Life’s too short not to.

Hmmm. That felt good.

I will write more, Holly.

It took 3 different blocks of time to finish this, but it was good to go back through. And all this still doesn’t mean you can get into my pants. So there. ๐Ÿ™‚

You always say โ€œin touch.โ€ I need to find a tagline.

In the spirit? [gack]

In the groove? [yikes]

In wonder, [maybe]

In dreams. Yes.

In dreams,
Tina.

Fucking Catholic Boys [or not]: Sex Tip #6

so “kevin” emails me.

outta the blue the other day.

this is kevin from a couple posts ago a couple months ago:
http://stcg.blogspot.com/2007/04/fucking-catholic-boys-who-have.html

you should read that post before reading this update.

i thought i’d summarize it for you. he said i could, but not to paste the whole thing in. i don’t know why but ok. maybe he worships my writing style. ๐Ÿ™‚

here goes…

so a week or so after he goes home from the conference he and Vittoria start fighting over little things. like who picks what movie they see. not the movie but who picks. [i’d have thought that no one would, but that doesn’t matter at all.] they were all frosty and tempered with each other.

and she comes out and says what’s wrong with him. and he’s like what’s wrong with you and she describes all the shit that he’s been doing and when he goes to describe her shit, it’s like nothing really all that big a deal and he says something happened at the conference with another girl. and they start talking about it.

and here’s where i get to be a marital [type] counsellor. he actually shows her the blog piece. i TOTALLY didn’t expect this, which is why i wrote it like i did.

and he tells her how he feels about her and that he’s not looking for someone else, but different things from their relationship. and all through it she’s a little shocked but good about listening to him. to me it sounds like she was a little shut down cuz i figured that if she ever read this blog she’d freak out. but maybe i don’t know her. i don’t. ๐Ÿ™‚ hi Vittoria, i assume you’ll read this too. nice to meet you. ๐Ÿ™‚ sorta in the online virtual way.

i like enrique too.

anyway, kevin writes that there was parts of his brain that were allllllllllways keeping the back door open, that he wanted to just say fuck Vittoria, or more technically, forget about her and fuck me. woulda been nice i think. ๐Ÿ™‚ i’m glad i guessed that right.

anyway, he writes that showing Vittoria the blog was about letting her know important true things about him. actually he didn’t show it, he read it to her. which i thought was amazing for him. wtg, kevin!

and then they start talking about sex and all the things they do. that’s big of her, cuz i figured she would have killed him. and she says ya, she likes watching him cum when she gives him a hand job. and that she didn’t remember when he says he saw most of her breast, but when he explained the time she did. does that mean she is too un-self-conscious about her body? i knew a girl in high school who totally said she wasn’t hot but EVERY boy wanted her. not that she was coy, but she really believed she wasnt hot. wrong-o. maybe Vittoria isn’t aware of people trying to see her breasts. ๐Ÿ™‚

amateur psychoanalysis here. ๐Ÿ™‚

so Vittoria says hand jobs have always been ok for her. but only cuz of the boy masterbation problem. i’d like to tell her about the girl problem some day. ๐Ÿ™‚

and he says that when they get engaged he wants to do more things with her, sexually. and she’s like well it sounds like you wanna do that now, before we get engaged. and he’s like, yeah. ๐Ÿ™‚

she said she was really surprised about the bathing suit thing that kevin looks at her pussy when she wears it. that’s where i get my thing above about her not being aware of her desirability.

anyway i was mostly right again about it being a good thing that she knows he’s looking at her pussy. she also felt a little pressured by knowing that in the past he was doing that. i can understand that, if the rules of the relationship were more celibate.

i must say, Vittoria, that my ass is special to me. i like it to be rubbed too. and when it gets rubbed, i get really turned on. and that’s a good thing. i suspect you might get that too. justa guess. ya???

and when it comes to the double standard of handjobs for him, and bj’s, but no access to her body, kevin said she understood the point. quite clearly. and she wasn’t offended by it. whew. woulda been a problem if she was, i think.

there’s the saving her body for marriage. check. there’s the modest. check. but the modesty thing is just the tip of that iceberg. she says to him that despite having assertive rules about bodies and things, it’s also to cover up that fact that she’s done very little sexually and is just really nervous.

i was really happy to read that. truth.

and she’s known about progression and wandering eyes and getting to make him cum will make him want more and if he doesn’t get it, he may look elsewhere. turns out, me.

and she’s wanted more too, but self-consciousness and a bit of fear plus the marriage, etc. stuff was in the way. totally understandable to me.

and masterbation. she doesn’t do it. she’s actually afraid to do it. i’ve heard that before. not afraid of anything rational. fear isn’t always like that. it’s fear that she’ll be out of control of her body. that, i totally understand. i was there from 14-22 years old. i feel her pain there.

and she was really happy when she heard that he’s imagining her naked. she assumed that, but it was so nice to hear it, she said. i bet! ๐Ÿ™‚

and she said that it never occured to her to ask him to masterbate for her. and he says he would like to and she says she’d like that. a lot. ๐Ÿ™‚

and instead of being totally mad at him and me for what we did in that motel room, she was moreso envious of me that he masterbated for me before her. sad a bit too, but she was very understanding, largely influenced i think by her wanting him to do it for her.

she also likes how i kinda stripped for him. and then they had a real long conversation. she did almost all the talking. about how she has so little experience with sexuality. dating in high school. no sex. no masterbation. lotsa kissing. bum feeling too. some boys hands between her legs at times when she was totally not comfortable with that. awkward! boys hands on her boobs, same response but to a lesser degree.

she liked how cocks felt rubbed up against her. especially her bum. i notice a trend here.

but she never felt a cock with her hand. one troublesome time, the most problematic of her sexual career, was when she was with her bf in grade 12 on a couch at his place and he was on top of her and finally got her to spread her legs and he was rubbing her pussy with his cock [not quite her words, according to kevin] and she was really liking it [duh], but then he came in his jeans. and her GUILT sledgehammer swung in. he was mostly cool with it and kinda laughed it off while going off to change. and she was outta there real soon after and the relationship fizzled.

i can see how this all builds up.

in the end she is made quite horny by hearing about all we did together/near each other in that hotel room. so some real good came from all that.

and hearing about how he came for me, she wanted it too. that’s sweet. ๐Ÿ™‚

he says when we were sleeping his hard cock on me was while he was asleep. nice. ๐Ÿ™‚

and she was not upset about when i sucked him off. she was a little, but her world was kinda being spun in huge circles so in the big scheme of things it was no big deal compared to how he didnt fuck me. i can see that. tho i was sure she’d hate the bj.

and it wasn’t catholic guilt that kept him from wanting to suck me. it was a desire to not go any further. sounds like guilt to me, but it could also just be a real conscious choice. which is cool. i can live with that. ๐Ÿ™‚

so in the end, i had a good time that night. so did he. but it clearly bugged him enough to get in the way in his relationship. which is fine. life is full of inspiring moments that make or break people.

and while he didn’t go into tons of detail, which is my job he says, he did explain a few things in his email about where his relationship has gone.

they didn’t get engaged suddenly so they could do more. engagement is a different kind of thing he says. and they haven’t fucked, but they did more their sexual relationship forward somewhat. yay kevin and Vittoria!

after the whole showing her the blog event, that night they pushed their limits. he masterbated for her and she loved it. she still wanted to touch or suck his cock, but she loved watching him make himself cum. and she talked about being wet watching it.

after he came he said she let him take off her top and bra and rub and stroke and kiss and lick her breasts. she really enjoyed it. i bet! a nice first for her in a good context too.

and over the weeks they’ve done the same kind of stuff as before. but now here boobs are in play. he has recently started tit-fucking her and she’s gotten naked down to her everything but her panties which he is allowed to rub with his hands and cock, front and back. sounds like a great balance they’ve gotten to.

and she likes his cum on her. as most girls do i think.

and they aren’t into masterbating her yet. but why rush things. i know that every day that goes by before she starts to have orgasms is a lost day, but more important is a healthy embrace of the whole orgasm experience.

so.

christian girls.

the sex tip? progress. advance. move forward. not fast, not slow, just at a good speed. do it with honesty. take conflict as a catalyst to improve things. look for ways to get more in touch with your body and the body of your lover.

and while you may have lines you don’t cross, respect them, but give yourself permission to enjoy what you do do before you hit those lines.

nipples are meant to be exceedingly happy. if it falls within your line, find ways of making them so. and cocks are spectacular chunks of biology. pay attention to them and learn general rules about them and specific rules about them on specific boys

and remember, your body is for fun and for your well-thought-out plans for the future. keep the guilt down and the healthy respect up.

and in the end, if your relationship with your boy [or girl] is not as open and loving and supportive and exploratory as kevin and Vittoria, get it there, and then some.

it’s worth the ride.

in touch,
holly

Adultery R Us

Ok, so adultery is a sin. I get it. The ten commandments are “carved in stone” and all that, but we need to get over a few things.

One. People’s lives are flux. Marriages come and go. We can pretend this is not happening but that just makes us blind and stupid. Good things are people who need to split, to split.

That said, it’s time for a confession. I slept with a married man once. OK, three times, but it was one affair. This all comes up cuz a bud on myspace filled out a survey. one of the questions was about what she’d do if a married guy approached her. she said she’d tell him to buzz off, etc.

That’s cool. To each their own, eh.

So contextually, all adultery is wrong? It’s not perfect, i’ll grant that. but i’ll also say in a context it can be healthy. let me explain.

So i knew this guy a few years ago. Me=early twenties, him late twenties. He was already married like 5 or 6 years. His wife was no good. Well, that’s easy for me to say. But she wasn’t. I like sarcasm, but when it’s mixed with condescension and judgement, it’s just ugly.

She was one of the church ladies at one mostly lame church i attended. and she wasn’t 62 years old and bitter, she was the new generation of church lady bitches for whom everyone has something flawed about them. The salt stain on the bottom of my skirt was one day that winter an unfortunate thing i let happen on the way to church, she said. i could not believe she said that out loud. I’m like, what is her concern, that i’ve ruined my skirt? Dishonoured Jesus? Offended the clean people? i couldn’t get it. in the end, i just figured her for a bitch. she stood around after church eyeing everyone, waiting to see if something needs fixing. and when she helped out, it wasn’t cuz you needed it, but because she needed to fix you. wow. i’m still angry about her.

But the funny thing is that i didn’t know she was Phil’s wife. “Phil” was in a christian club at UBC with me, which is where i saw him most compared to only sometimes at this church. he was one of the less hyper-evangelical ones in the club at UBC. he was more relaxed. he was also a bit of a flirt. and that was good. i had come out of my uptight virgin place. i still hadn’t gotten into my bi-is-so-much-fun phase and i was freshly single after leaving a mostly loser guy. this was the guy who felt it would be a good sign of my love for him to let him fuck me up against the window of my dorm room. not that there’s anything wrong with that, except for how that worked in our dynamic. i just checked the rest of my blog. i never wrote about him. there’s something else for the list.

anyway, phil was a flirt and i liked him. his wife wasn’t into the christian club. she didn’t go to school. she was a dental assistant. she wasn’t “gifted” in evangelism she said. that was so true. she was gifted in offending people. but as i said i didn’t know she was his wife.

anyway, the Ridge bowling lanes in Vancouver are lotsa fun. there’s a quiet side there with a just a few lanes that can be rented out nicely by a big enough but small group. our club went there on and off. and one night after the bowling, Phil and I just kept talking. We ended up at Benny’s bagels chatting til midnight or so and in that time, he had pretty much described who he is and why his wife is not good for him and vice versa. and i totally believed him. and not just cuz i thought he was cute. and i’ve never had cause to disagree with my judgement that night.

so we went back to my dorm room and fucked. it was really nice. and very juicy, the good kind. and he went home and met me again after church the next day while his wife and her gaggle of grim gals went for lunch. we fucked some more and then the next sunday too.

and all the time, i was like, you are a great guy, why is your life so fucked up that you are sneaking around with me. and i told him this. and i said, i’m glad to fuck him to get him to see what kind of life he’s in and what kind of life he should consider: the not being married kind. and not so he could be with me, because he was so damaged, but some people need to be PUSHED to make a decision. and he totally put me into his life so that i could push him. that’s what i thought anyway. and i think i was right.

and as the school year was ending and i had drifted out of that club, i ran into him at the student union building. he still had a wedding ring and i pointed that out. he said he and his wife went to Keats Camp for a marriage encounter thing a few weeks after our affair. he didn’t say if he told her about me and i didn’t ask. and one off-hand remark about her at the end of our conversation about something she said at the church made me put 2+2=why the fuck did he ever marry her: it was something about jesus being a kind of orange blossom. she said it one sunday night when she was the MC hosting a night welcoming a missionary to the church. i was there. i heard it. i knew THAT ghoulish woman. and it turns out that when he said something like “that night when my wife was talking about jesus as the orange blossom…” it also occured to me that he thought that i had known all along who his wife was. i wish i did. i would have put even more effort into fucking him.

at any rate. that was him. sounds like he tried to get his marriage to work. i hope he eventually told her about his affair. and if not fine. i did find out the next year through the hushed scandal whispers of some girls from the UBC club i bumped into that he had gotten a divorce. they said it in the context of how it hampered his evangelical credibility. i fucking bet it did. ๐Ÿ™‚

so i’m glad at least he got out of that deal.

so. adultery. not that i think it’s all that awesome all the time. but it can certainly be the kind of flick to the head that people need to inspire them to look honestly at themselves and say wtf.

so he said wft. and i think i had a good part of that. yay me. and in the end if you are still 100% against adultery, i’d just like to say that there is black and white and grey and all the other colours of the rainbow. if you still think there is just black and white, i wanna say, why do you own a colour tv. get a grip.

in touch,
holly