» Pointless Experiments

A tale of experimentation...
Gather 'round, kiddies, as I tell a tale about experimentation of a wholly new and different sort.

Some years back I was very young, very thin and very broke. I was living in what might be most charitably described as a hovel- we lacked money for heat, so most of the winter was spent shivering under layers of clothing. Food was similarly scarce- my roommate worked as a waiter, so he at least got one good meal a day- but I was not so lucky. I was living on the cheapest food I could get from the grocery store, and not exactly thriving.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

At the time I was my current just-short-of-six-feet height, but weighed maybe ten stone. The winter had made me very thin indeed. My cheeks were hollow, my clothes hung off of me, and I looked quite pitiable indeed. However, with blond hair and grey eyes and a waifish face I apparently appealed to women on a certain motherly level that quickly moved to a wholly different level. I looked a lot like the kid that played Anthony the sailor in Tim Burton's Sweeney Todd.

I knew the location of a strip club that catered to women and had male strippers. I had encountered women leaving there before and noted the looks I got from them. The quality of their gaze was one of hungry lionesses sizing up a gazelle.

So one night I decided to take the next logical step.

I wasn't exactly raking in huge money, but I was suddenly able to afford better food and was often fed well. Looking like a starved innocent was paying off nicely indeed. I quickly learned my new trade, and in fact became very talented in the bedroom, judging from their reactions. Sounds heavenly, doesn't it?

Trust me, it was not. I didn't have the luxury of being overly choosy about who I was going home with. I wasn't pulling the beauties, really. I was getting older women who liked being somewhat predatory. This led to some... interesting times.

One woman in particular took me home several times. She was very much into being dominant. She delighted in having me go down on her until she orgasmed, and insisted on doing this while sitting in a chair while I was on my knees between her thighs. This progressed to her binding my hands behind me, then to being tied to her bed. She especially loved paddling my arse until it was quite tender. She also delighted in sticking her fingers inside me. This also progressed until she was inserting toys in me while I was tied. I enjoyed that, truth be known... as long as it was done with plenty of lube and done gently.

Only thing is, she kept taking it a bit further each time.

There are people whose brains are wired such that pain feels quite sexual to them. A bit of pain during sex is a kick, a bit of spice that gives it an edge. Well, I'm not one of them- to me pain is pain, and I don't like it.

The last night she had me tied quite tightly in a submissive pose, with my arse in the air and unable to do more than wriggle. She had never done so thorough a job of restraining me before. She gave me a couple of slaps, then she produced a riding crop.

A note on using one of those: you use a sort of flicking motion with it so that the little flap on the end is moving quickly and delivers a light stinging slap. Done that way it delivers a nice little sting, but doesn't do any real injury. But if you follow through like you're beating a carpet...

I can still hear the whistle of it as she swung, and can feel the line of fire it laid across my thighs. I yelped, but couldn't move. She did it several more times across my thighs and arse, my cries turning her on even more. Then her hands caressed the welts lovingly for a couple of minutes as I gasped for breath through gritted teeth.

Then she applied some lube and I felt her fingers working it into me for a moment. I heard her putting something on, then felt her hands grab my hips as something entered me- something quite a bit larger than anything she had inserted into me before.

This I can tell you- the pain from being raped like that is far more intense than anything I've felt since.

Again my cries got her very hot, and I could hear her gasping with orgasms as she rammed me again and again. Finally she pulled it out of me and collapsed on the bed, spent, and pulled me over onto my side. She snuggled close, holding me as I sobbed, her fingers tracing the welts...

I left there with rope burns, welts and a large chunk of cash to ease my pains as I walked home. It was a warm night in June, and I took a long route back to the flat. I thought long and hard about what had just been done to me, and about the bundle of money in my pocket.

The next day I started applying for jobs as a waiter, and eventually landed one. I quit my old job and started hustling for money in a more legitimate way. My experiment in sex work was at a very definite end, and I saw no point in ever trying it again.

EDIT: a *click* would also help to alleviate the pain, you know...
(Fri 25th Jul 2008, 14:06, More)

» Social Networking Gaffes

I went onto match.com
Ever been on there? It's really an interesting experience. I signed up, put up pictures, started scanning the women in my area and sending "winks" to them. The result? Absolute silence.

Then about two days later I checked back in, and found winks in my inbox- not from anyone I had sent them to, but from other women. So that's how it works, I thought- instead of me approaching them, I need to wait for them to approach me. Well, now that I know the rules...

I responded to any who looked to be interesting and had a reasonable vocabulary. Sorry, but I'm something of a snob in this regard... Anyway, I chatted up a vast number of women. I got a lot of email addresses and phone numbers, then started phoning. Loads more chatting. Dozens of photos. No, sorry, I hate Whitney Houston and Celine Dion. Yes, I do love to have dinners in. I drive a ten year old car that shows its age, sorry. Yes, I know that restaurant- it's quite nice.

Forward a week and I'm meeting some of them for the first time. Some had used rather old pictures, evidently- either that or Dorian Gray had been using them instead of a painting. Some had the manners of a dock worker. But then there were the ones that were reasonably pretty and fit who seemed genuinely nice, and were interested in this blond haired guy with the slightly odd accent.

Over the next month I don't think I spent more than one or two nights in my own bed. I was fed like royalty, had a warm and willing companion every night, and generally felt like a rock star.

Only one little problem- I started getting a bit tired and started getting confused. Eight women at one time is a lot to juggle. I slipped here and there, but was able to recover pretty quickly. I took to keeping a notebook in my car, with a couple of pages dedicated to each one where I could write down important things like what restaurants we had been to and what we had done together.

Then one night I was in a restaurant with Janine when Karen showed up for an after work drink. The scene that ensued brought us to the attention of Margaret, who happened to be having dinner with a girlfriend across the restaurant.

In the end I paid for Janine's dinner and my own, as well as for the broken glasses and plates. I avoided legal trouble and was not barred from there, but have never gone back.

It didn't take long for me to drift away from the others, really. I eventually narrowed it down to one who I dated for about a year, but then somehow she got word of that night.

I'm still finding shards of that wine bottle and glasses.

Feck.

EDIT: I should add here that it really was not my intention initially to be playing the field quite that much- I just couldn't decide on who I liked best. Not that this really justifies my actions- in retrospect it really was poor behavior on my part- but hopefully it gives a little better perspective on things. I'm really not that much of a git.
(Thu 11th Sep 2008, 14:52, More)

» Thrown away: The stuff you loved and lost.

A different sort of loved-and-lost.
I would imagine that there will be more of these stories from others, but I may as well go first.

I was involved with a woman- we'll call her Jan for the purposes of this story- who was a bit older than me. In retrospect it was perhaps a little too much of an age gap, but eleven years didn't seem to be too bad at the time.

How to describe her? She had blonde hair that she refused to brush, so it was always going in every direction. Her eyes were the pale blue of a china doll's eyes, and crinkled slightly when she smiled. She was a few inches shorter than me and had been battling her weight for years, so she was soft and curvy but in great shape from doing endless yoga. She was beginning to show her age, but she was still pretty enough to catch a man's eye on the street.

We had many similar interests and enthusiasms. Both of us are very good cooks, we both have an artistic side and can create beautiful things, we both loved to be outdoors as much as we could manage... our lives were running very much in parallel. And we both very much loved sex and seeing what we could do to each other to elicit more moans and gasps, so we were very sated most of the time.

I lived a distance from her, as she was out in the countryside in a rented cottage and I was in a city flat. She didn't always like coming to my flat because of the railway that ran a quarter mile away and the light pollution that meant that my bedroom was never truly dark, so most of the time I drove an hour to her cottage. We spent each weekend together and had a nicely idyllic life together for the better part of a year.

Then came the M word.

I would imagine that by now you may have gotten the impression that I'm not eager for big lifetime commitments. I tried gently explaining to Jan that while I loved the life we had together, the very thought of being bound to someone else made me want to run, fast and far. Why couldn't we just have things as they were?

The discussions got worse each time, and finally I could take no more. We ended it civilly, but we ended it.

That was five years ago.

I've seen her since. She has aged a bit more, but still has that big smile and the wild hair that I loved so dearly. She's living in a small cottage that she bought, with her three cats and a lot of beautifully crafted things that her touch has created. I've never asked if anyone has come into her life, but a woman like that shouldn't stay single for long.

I loved her and lost her, because I threw her away.

I still don't know if I made the right choice.
(Thu 14th Aug 2008, 18:21, More)

» The nicest thing someone's ever done for me

I suppose I should continue the story...
One of the first posts I made in here, one which surprisingly (to me) ended up on the Best Of page, was a rather painful story of being sexually assaulted and hurt. Some here expressed surprise that I was willing to have sex after that. So now I'll give thanks to those who helped heal me.

Dana- sweet little thing that she was, she could tell from the first time she met me that there was something odd about me. She tells me that I was nice, polite and sweet, but skittish- when she put her hand on my arm I jumped as though stung. But she was kind and patient, and after a time took the lead and kissed me. It was a good beginning. We ended up being good friends for a time, but nothing more. Still, she was very sweet to me.

Kathleen- taller, curly brown hair and blue eyes. She too was patient about me being so jumpy, and eventually we ended back at hers. The first time, the sex was a bit awkward as I flinched when she would touch my arse or reach for my belt to undo it, but after a few times I was able to relax and enjoy it. Too bad her goals and mine were different- I was not the fatherly type. But still, she broke the ice for me and allowed me to get back in the saddle, so to speak.

Monica- sweet, uninhibited, a bit wild and kinky. She too helped to bring me out of my shell a bit. Long dark hair that she loved for me to pull (gently) during sex. She also loved going down, and got me comfortable with that as well. Again, our lives were sadly going in different directions, but for a few weeks it was wonderful.

And finally, Jan. It was she who finally got me to open my heart a bit, to speak of what had been done to me. She held me as I cried, really wept, for the first time in a year. She took care of me when I was at her little cottage in the country, and I did the same for her in my flat- but mostly I was in her place. I've written about her before as well. It ended very sadly, but we had a good run together. I still sometimes wonder what would have happened if we had stayed together... but in any case, I was much closer to being whole again thanks to her.

I know that none of them read this site- or at least if they do, they have not contacted me. But even so, I'd like to express my eternal gratitude to them all for healing me as gently as they did. I know that I was more than a little challenging, but each of these wonderful women did their best with me.

Thank you...
(Fri 3rd Oct 2008, 19:14, More)

» I'm going to Hell...

I've told this story before, but it fits here.
This happened in the beginning of October.

I know that I don’t post very often here, so you’re likely not very familiar with me. To refresh your memories: I’m male, I’m over 30, have had a rather tumultuous and checkered past, and am single. I’m also fairly tall and (apparently) attractive, and generally don’t lack for company if I wish it. That is not a boast or egoism, I should add, but rather a bare statement of fact.

At this stage of my life I’ve concluded that I’m just plain not destined for a normal relationship. My last partner moved out not that long ago, and the only involvement I have at this point is with another b3tan who lives at the other end of the island from me and can’t see me often. I’m not exactly attached at this point, and have been spending a lot of time alone these days.

So last week I did something a bit out of character for me- I started chatting online with a few women in my area, looking for someone to have supper with now and then and perhaps do things with, like going to museums or on hikes. I made it clear that I was not looking for a new woman in my life, but for someone to keep me company now and then. I thought this to be not unreasonable.

I met one woman, and she seems quite nice, but not a very active sort. She’s good for going to comedy clubs and the like, so that’s sorted- if I wish to go to a show I have someone to go with me. I still want someone to do other things with, though, so I kept chatting with various women.

Late last week another one agreed to meet me at a restaurant we both knew. We agreed on a time on Friday evening, and texted each other to make sure we were still on. At 7:30 I had a table ready, and she texted me to say that she was on her way. I ordered a pint and sat back to wait.

Ten minutes later she arrived, and I stood to shake her hand- which she went right past and wrapped me in a large hug. I was a little startled, but reacted appropriately and returned the hug. We sat down and the waitress came to take our order. I ordered another pint and some food, and she ordered something she called a Brain Eraser.

The next few minutes were interesting. She was looking at me with the expression of a starved wolf examining a lamb. She told me how incredibly hot I was, how she couldn’t believe that I was single, and how much she loved my grey eyes. While I enjoy flattery as much as anyone, this was a bit strong for having just met.

My food arrived, and so did her drink. She downed the thing in one long swallow and asked for another.

Good God, I thought.

I started eating and trying to chat with her, but the conversation was getting more than a little disjointed. Abruptly she got up and came to my side of the booth and slid in next to me. I slid over to make room, and she snuggled in close and slipped her hand inside my shirt. She then started undoing the buttons until it was open to my waist.

Good GOD.

Her second drink arrived and she downed it in the same manner. She then asked for something called a Red Devil. Meanwhile I got my shirt back together and was busy with my food, and managed to establish a little distance between us.

Her new drink arrived, and she started chatting with the waitress. The waitress had sussed the situation and was apparently quite amused by this and was playing along. The conversation started to get rather flirtatious, and became more blatant by the moment as she started hitting on the waitress. The waitress was even more amused by this, but when I said that I thought I should take the bill now she promptly went to get it.

By now it was obvious to me that she had been quite drunk when she arrived, and she revealed to me that she had also smoked some weed on the way. I kept my composure, but was now rather worried about what to do with her. I paid our bill and guided her outside, past the rather shocked patrons who had been watching the performance, and got to the car park. We reached my car and I asked where hers was. She pointed it out to me, but then started tearing at my shirt again. As it was fairly dark out there I allowed this somewhat, but when she started reaching for my belt I stopped her. “I really don’t want to get arrested.”

“And what would it take for us to get arrested?” she slurred, and yanked my jeans down as she got to her knees. Before I could react she was in action.

GOOD GOD!

I managed to disengage from her and pulled my clothing back on, and got her to her feet. “Look, I really can’t chance getting arrested! We’re in view of those windows of the restaurant!”

She looked crushed. “But I just need it. My husband is smaller than you and he doesn’t get it up very much-“

“WHAT?!?”

“It’s just not big enough. I need yours. I need to be called a slut and spanked.” Her eyes were glowing now. “He won’t do it because he’s a man of God.”

Oh FUCK.

“You’re married to-“

“He’s a minister at (name deleted).”

Have you ever had the feeling that lightning was about to strike you?

The next few minutes were spent in something close to panic. I managed to get her bundled up and into her car and made sure that she got out of the car park, then went home and spent the rest of the weekend not knowing whether I should laugh or scream. No, not just someone's wife, but a minister's wife! I still can't believe this.

I have been holding onto this story for three days now. I really wish that I could say that it was fiction, but honestly, I could not have dreamed up something like that. My imagination is not that good. And now I'm living in mortal fear that her husband will find me.

If hell really does exist, I am SO screwed…
(Thu 11th Dec 2008, 19:13, More)