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… 🙂

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 for  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! 🙂

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 him 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?

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! 🙂

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. 🙂

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 “Vicky” for the sake of our codes in the Blog. I like Vicky and I like her husband “John”. 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 🙂 ], 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 5’9” 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 “far” 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 “afraid” 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. 🙂 So they say rightly. 🙂 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 “whatever”! 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. 🙂

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 “like, so whatever.” 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. 🙂

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. 🙂

You always say “in touch.” I need to find a tagline.

In the spirit? [gack]

In the groove? [yikes]

In wonder, [maybe]

In dreams. Yes.

In dreams,
Tina.

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. 🙂

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

Sex Tip #4: Divorced Christian Fuck Buddies

Divorced Christian Fuck-Buddies

So after a whole semester away from the blog, here’s something new. Yes, I’m still alive. And kicking! 🙂

So I had a nice email back from a friend/acquaintance over the Christmas holiday. I sent out an email with some recent festive pix and a big hello. I haven’t done one of these for years so it was fun. I even sent it to people whose emails I haven’t seen traffic on for a while too. That also was fun.

So a woman I knew in Vancouver a few years ago–I’ll call her “Tina”–replied with some nice comments and her new phone number. So I skyped her and we had a few long chats, mostly about relationships and Christianity, my obsession. And she’s cool with this all being in here. Way to go, Tina, since that’s not your real name!

I knew Tina at a hopping Pentecostal church I went to sometimes when I first lived there. It had a nice sound and a moving feel for young people, even though there were lots of older people there too. Anyways I got along well with several young people though I didn’t stay there long. Tina was a lot like me, though a couple years older. She was real short and transformed it well socially making herself a kind of centre of things. She was happy to hear that when I told her that on the phone; it’s true though. And being like she was, made others [like me] feel comfortable and included: included isn’t something that’s always a feeling at a new church. Too bad. Anyways, she is short like me and has short red hair and a body quite a bit like mine. Long lost sisters maybe 🙂

Tina was fun. We chatted in the lobby a few times and sat together at a couple after church restaurant visits when I met her husband “Saul” who played acoustic guitar in the church worship team; he was a real tree-hugging artsie flake–I liked his style. In the end I made it to one of their parties too; a good bit of fun if really mellow.

So it turns out that since I saw Tina last, she had gotten a divorce. Her man had a lead on a good job with a touring evangelical team. She didn’t want him to take it because it meant I think 5 months away from him unless she broke the bank and met him half way through in Winnipeg or something. He went. They spoke on the phone.

By the time he came home, he said he wasn’t sure they were meant to be together, for all sorts of reasons which all sounded quite minor and like excuses. That’s fine I figured because whatever it is it sounded like he didn’t want to be with her. She said it took her about a year of being separated to get to a place where she accepted that about him too and she gave him a divorce. She got their 1992 Civic and half of their $2800 in savings and called it a day.

And at that church was another couple. “Barry” and “Annie”. I never met Barry, but I knew Annie. She was out at some of the lunches I went to. She is basically Andie MacDowell except with red hair; notice the pattern. A total long-legged babe and sweeeeeet as you can imagine. Total heart of gold.

Anyway, in early December, Tina gets a call from Barry. They’ve gotten divorced. He asks her to go get a coffee to catch up. They hit a ‘bucks and spend like 3 hours getting to know what killed each of their marriages. Barry’s story was way better then Tina’s. Not that I’m comparing, but I am. His story is that while she liked sex, she was virtually totally against anything “strange”. Even things like blindfolding or bondage. That wasn’t the total thing but it reflected a thing where she was totally into living a straight and really really really narrow life without any real variation or expanding of herself. She was done, complete, crafted by God and in His groove. And I can understand how she’d feel that, but at the same time, I wouldn’t be able to live with a person like that. Not that they’re boring, but they’d bore me. 🙂

And Barry said that in the year and a half that they’d been apart, he had gone to Wreck Beach a few times and liked it: the freedom of nudity. Hear hear! And he rented some racy movies [tho he said porn was boring to him] and enjoyed sex within art. And he had had short, like 1-2 week, relationships with girls and even had sex with them. Not THAT big a deal for me, but a big one for him. But he found it satisfying, but didn’t keep up with those girls because they had things that annoyed him. But he said he has since gotten over being bugged by petty things.

Anyway, their coffee was good fun and they clicked and caught the Bond movie at a matinee a couple saturdays ago and then he calls her up to go watch a hockey game, one of the Calgary games [I think Vancouver played Calgary like 4 times in the last couple weeks] at Jeremiah’s on 4th and Alma [or Lama, if you’re cool]. That’s a really good place to watch hockey, especially if you can get a good seat upstairs. Great martinis too.

So by the third period they’re a little gooned and thinking about dessert. I can’t remember if the desserts there are any good, but Tina goes “I have some Boston cream pie at home that needs to be eaten or tossed soon.” And she invites him back for a snack. He says yeah and she goes “and there’s other things for you there if you’d like.” And he goes “what kinda things” and she goes with a martini grin “what would you like?” and he’s like “quite a bit.” So she says “like what?” and he goes “I’ll tell ya but you gotta pay the price first.” And the price he says is that she can’t be wearing panties if she wants to hear it. And the martini blush, she says, multiplies by 2 and she’s off to the can to remove her panties. She was wearing a long yoga skirt for the global warming deep freeze that seems to have grabbed BC this year. And she goes back to the table, and lets him look in her purse to see the delightful garment.

I must say I was pretty impressed when Tina was telling me this stuff. Not that Pentecostals can’t be randy, but wow, they can do it well.

So she goes “Well?” And then the dirty talk starts. Yay! He’s like well I’d love to have some cake, I’m sure it will taste good, but I’d also like to taste your nipples and your pussy and suck your magic button and taste your creamy insides and make you cum and then fill you with my cock so I can fill you with my cream. That kinda thing. I didn’t take notes on the phone conversation but it covered that. 🙂 And of course Tina’s a fan of all this, she says, having been totally celibate since before Saul went on the road. Though she did admit to some shower solo sex, but it’s just not the same thing, now is it!

And so they go home to Tina’s place. In a cab cuz Tina’s gooned and won’t drive and Barry’s gooned and finally sold his Lexus [I won’t judge him for that, owning one in the first place] before Christmas way too long after his divorce required him too [oops] so he didn’t have a car anyway. Whatever. Anyway, they go home and had a good time.

I love girl talk. And whoever says girls don’t kiss and tell has been lied to or is hanging around the wrong girls.

The cab ride home [like 5 minutes] was good for Tina. Barry sat in the middle and was rubbing her thigh nicely, with the occassional roam up to her hip to enjoy the lack of a panty strap.

They get to her tiny apartment near Jericho that I had been in that one time and she’s in the total tiny kitchen that fits like 6 adults standing. Too small to swing a cat. Totally. She’s got the pie out of the fridge and is going about cutting it up and he glides up behind her and starts rubbing her shoulders. She goes mmm and he rubs his cock on her bum and with one hand on her back between her shoulder blades, rubbing, he pulls her what seems now a realllllly long yoga skirt up so he can rub her bum. And Tina’s thinking like, are we gonna make love here, right now? yes yes yes she was saying in her head but it turns out no. He rubs her bum, slides his cock on it [he’s still clothed], then reaches around to feel just how wet she is. Slippy clit she called it. And then he went to town on her finger fucking her. And when she was close to cumming he turned her around and sucked her the rest of the way. NICE guy i tell ya. Good for him.

And then they had pie and red wine. Too cool.

And after a while of hanging out and talking about the new Bond and the hockey game and not having STDs and how she’s in the ok part of her cycle to not worry about birth control, they hit her bed. Hard. Naked in a flash she sucks him off and doesn’t swallow; I won’t judge her for that. 🙂 But she told me a neat story about this. Mostly when she was sucking him, she was thinking of her ex-husband who didn’t want her to take his cum in her mouth, but to pull off when he said he was cumming. She always did and always wondered about not doing that. She also said he had a thing about masterbating in the shower with her where he got off watching her play with her nipples and when he came, he would cum on her belly and try to get it up to her nipples so she could rub it on her nipples. That sounds pretty nice to me.

Anyway, Tina enjoyed blowing Barry and she let his cum spill out of her mouth and onto her breasts, which she liked, as it was familiar. And after more playing around he asks if she’d like to be tied up and fucked. And surprising herself a bit she says yeah and with her scarfs he ties her hands together and each foot to the legs under her box spring cuz she has no head board or foot board. And he puts a pillow under her bum to prop up her pussy and he eats her out. And after she cums [she said she bit her lip when she did, nice blood taste], he slides inside her and fucks her. A thin cock, but long enough to get her high up in that happy place. And with her hands tied she is still able to play with herself and touch him. A nice time for her first time in bondage.

And after he came, he wouldn’t untie her. She asked but he said no. She didn’t pull out their safe word [Iginla!] but she asked why and he said he wanted to play some more. And he sat her up and got under her and let her slide her pussy over his cock and they just played together and hugged and touched each other for a while.

They had a really good time. And she talked with me about how much she liked him and how much she enjoyed playing with him and vice versa. But at the same time she wasn’t really in a place where she wanted anything serious and she didn’t want this to be a one night thing. So they’ve gotten together a few times since then to play and explore fantasies and stuff. One was fascinating for her, and I can relate because it deals with the sodomy taboo. The morning after their first night, he asks if he can fuck her from behind. She’s never done that [yikes! tragic!] and says yeah but not in her bum. He goes ok, but then starts asking her about her bum and saying he thinks she’d like it and really wants it and she keeps saying no, not in the bum and he’s like ok, but continues going on and on about doing her bum. She said she never got to a place where she thought he’d actually do it, but she really liked how he kept talking about doing it, all while she got on all fours and he slid in her from behind. Just the idea that he might pull out and try to put it in her bum was a huge thrill for her. And it turns out he’s never done it either [and would probably do a bad job at it]. And when he came, he pulled out and came in between her cheeks and did a good job of rubbing his cock in there. THAT felt good she said. So she thinks she may do some bum play in the future.

And I told her what I thought of it all. I was happy she was enjoying sex again, beyond just by herself. And I told her that Barry sounds like a pretty swell guy. And I said that if she doesn’t feel like a relationship, that fuck buddies or friends with benefits can work. And she hadn’t heard those terms before. And she agreed with that concept and that ideally she’d be married, but she wasn’t at a place for that now. And less than ideally, she’d be in a relationship with someone she loves. But that’s still too serious for her. But short of that, she agreed with how I describe fuck buddies, that sex with someone you like and respect and likes and respects you can be a positive, healthy thing. With or without the bum being penetrated. 🙂

So I learned something new about divorced Christians and their more pragmatic way of living. I wonder if it’s kinda related to having been…not jaded…but affected by imperfection in life. That with Christians we are always shooting for the ideal, which is good I think, but that the reality is that we don’t hit it. And healthy fun sex may then have its place in our lives whether we’re married or not. Divorced or not.

Comments? I’m sure some of you will have some.

In touch,
holly