Take a look at that nice, dark roux.
And, the finale of some delicious (if I do say so myself) gumbo.
I'm in Heaven, even if it's still Kansas...
Sunday, December 30, 2018
GUMBO!!!!
Damn, I love good gumbo. Ever since taking a cooking class in NOLA, I've endeavored to conjure some up, worthy of the respect of the 132 year old Creole lady, who taught it. After a few batches that were close, but not quite, I nailed it.
Take a look at that nice, dark roux.
And, the finale of some delicious (if I do say so myself) gumbo.
I'm in Heaven, even if it's still Kansas...
Take a look at that nice, dark roux.
And, the finale of some delicious (if I do say so myself) gumbo.
I'm in Heaven, even if it's still Kansas...
Friday, December 21, 2018
Vanitas, Vanitatum, et Omnia Vanitas
Recently, I engaged in an activity that, until recently, would have discounted as a non-starter. I'm speaking of cosmetic surgery. Surely, that sort of thing was the domain only of the vain or insecure. Certainly nothing someone like I would engage in. My 'brand', my value proposition as a person is built on intellect, humor, philanthropy, and being inquisitive about the world around me. I have no need for such superficial nonsense. Obviously, something changed my mind.
While the rest of my body remains in line with the number of years on it, less actually, my face hasn't. Stress, genetics, who knows, but I feel as though I've aged ten years in the past three, and certainly look older than I should. One of those reasons is that I was born with hooded eyelids. I've always noticed them, but in the past five years, they seem to have begun a mad dash downward. They finally reached the point where they impacted my vision and frankly, my confidence. So I scheduled an appointment with a surgeon. I knew having them addressed would make me look a bit younger, plus the procedure is covered by insurance. That's a win win in my book. Then, the surgeon explained he could do the lower lids at the same time, for less than if I were to have them done separately. Basically, another $4k to have the bags under my eyes, which had also begun to bother me, disappear. He also noted your brows tend to move downward, as you age. He said it was an extra five minutes per side for him to make an incision and put in a stitch to raise them, so he'd throw that in for free. It was a surprisingly easy decision to make. Look noticeably younger for only $4k? Absolutely.
Had all of this activity been out of pocket, I doubt I'd have ever considered having either of the procedures done. But there it was, all laid out and oh, so easy.
And so, eight days ago, I found myself on an operating table, with a surgeon slicing, dicing, burning, and throwing chemicals on the area around my eyes. Initially, I was a bit freaked out over being conscious during the procedure (I'm quite touchy about my vision), but whatever drug cocktail they pumped into my arm was properly calming. Still, I was completely awake. I recall joking around with the surgeon and Larry, the anesthesia guy. At one point, I inquired whether they'd brought in the machine that goes ping. (Monty Python...Google it)
As one can imagine, I've been less than the ultimate example of pulchritude, post operation. The swelling and bruising have only begun to subside in earnest over the past 36 hours or so and I feel comfortable that my appearance will no longer traumatize small children (any more than usual). However, the results are undeniable. While I despise selfies, I've taken a series of them to chronicle my recovery. When I compare recent pictures to the one I took immediately prior to surgery, even with the swelling that will continue to subside, my eyebrows are lifted and the bags under my eyes are mostly gone. Most incredibly of all my eyelids no longer hang over my eyes. That's incredible because I still have a ton of swelling in that area; things will continue to improve!
Putting aside the vanity aspect of the procedures, did they improve my life at all? The answer to that is a resounding 'Hell, yeah!'. Today was the first time I left the house, during the day, where my eyes were perfectly clear and not hazed by ointments. I took a moment, while stopped at a light, to perform a quick assessment of my vision. Holy shit, I can see so much more! I'd reached the point where I felt as though I perpetually had a sun visor on, limiting my vertical field of view, and that visor had disappeared. Prior to the surgery, looking above the horizon required rotating my head, whereas now, I need only to look with my eyes. It truly is an amazing improvement.
So, here I am on the rare occasion where my position on a subject has been significantly altered, although I still consider those who have elective cosmetic surgery to be vain. So despite what I've always told myself, it seems I am not without some vanity of my own. And I'm okay with that.
While the rest of my body remains in line with the number of years on it, less actually, my face hasn't. Stress, genetics, who knows, but I feel as though I've aged ten years in the past three, and certainly look older than I should. One of those reasons is that I was born with hooded eyelids. I've always noticed them, but in the past five years, they seem to have begun a mad dash downward. They finally reached the point where they impacted my vision and frankly, my confidence. So I scheduled an appointment with a surgeon. I knew having them addressed would make me look a bit younger, plus the procedure is covered by insurance. That's a win win in my book. Then, the surgeon explained he could do the lower lids at the same time, for less than if I were to have them done separately. Basically, another $4k to have the bags under my eyes, which had also begun to bother me, disappear. He also noted your brows tend to move downward, as you age. He said it was an extra five minutes per side for him to make an incision and put in a stitch to raise them, so he'd throw that in for free. It was a surprisingly easy decision to make. Look noticeably younger for only $4k? Absolutely.
Had all of this activity been out of pocket, I doubt I'd have ever considered having either of the procedures done. But there it was, all laid out and oh, so easy.
And so, eight days ago, I found myself on an operating table, with a surgeon slicing, dicing, burning, and throwing chemicals on the area around my eyes. Initially, I was a bit freaked out over being conscious during the procedure (I'm quite touchy about my vision), but whatever drug cocktail they pumped into my arm was properly calming. Still, I was completely awake. I recall joking around with the surgeon and Larry, the anesthesia guy. At one point, I inquired whether they'd brought in the machine that goes ping. (Monty Python...Google it)
As one can imagine, I've been less than the ultimate example of pulchritude, post operation. The swelling and bruising have only begun to subside in earnest over the past 36 hours or so and I feel comfortable that my appearance will no longer traumatize small children (any more than usual). However, the results are undeniable. While I despise selfies, I've taken a series of them to chronicle my recovery. When I compare recent pictures to the one I took immediately prior to surgery, even with the swelling that will continue to subside, my eyebrows are lifted and the bags under my eyes are mostly gone. Most incredibly of all my eyelids no longer hang over my eyes. That's incredible because I still have a ton of swelling in that area; things will continue to improve!
Putting aside the vanity aspect of the procedures, did they improve my life at all? The answer to that is a resounding 'Hell, yeah!'. Today was the first time I left the house, during the day, where my eyes were perfectly clear and not hazed by ointments. I took a moment, while stopped at a light, to perform a quick assessment of my vision. Holy shit, I can see so much more! I'd reached the point where I felt as though I perpetually had a sun visor on, limiting my vertical field of view, and that visor had disappeared. Prior to the surgery, looking above the horizon required rotating my head, whereas now, I need only to look with my eyes. It truly is an amazing improvement.
So, here I am on the rare occasion where my position on a subject has been significantly altered, although I still consider those who have elective cosmetic surgery to be vain. So despite what I've always told myself, it seems I am not without some vanity of my own. And I'm okay with that.
Sunday, July 1, 2018
Out of Work Trophy Wife Encounter
Yes readers, one sneaked through my selection process and it didn't end well. Our first interaction was through Match and she seemed intelligent, motivated, kind, and hot, but not OWTW hot. Her profile and initial round of notes indicated she was a special needs teacher. I'll fast forward through much of the intervening communication and provide the salient facts, since she's not really worth typing a great deal about. We got onto the topic of sex, she wanted it, I'm a master at talking dirty and creating images, we were going to meet last night for dinner and she'd come over and begin to explore her submissive side. I do love me some exploration. We both seemed to want a genuine relationship and I parroted her desires, in that aspect of our communication. I probably took it a bit further due to a combination of excitement over (seemingly) finding someone in Kansas worth dating.
At this point, I'll mention recognizing a few red flags pointing to a potential OWTW, including how her successful, and apparently fuck nuts, attorney husband had traded her in on a younger model.
The day before our date, she went a bit dark, cutting email down to a single note. I asked her if everything was okay, at which point she told me she thought I was pushing for something more serious than she wanted. I responded that I had no interest in jumping into anything. Her note made it clear she didn't accept what I'd told her. Perhaps if I'd mentioned that there's no way in hell I want to establish anything remotely resembling roots in fucking Kansas.
By the time our date rolled around, I knew there was no way she was coming home with me. She arrived decked out in designer clothing and admittedly, looked quite delicious. Dinner was full of vacuous conversation, where I learned she actually wasn't teaching, or working at all. She was dabbling and not happy with any of her teaching options. That one wasn't an immediate bell, because I was still determining whether I could get her in the sack. Sorry, I'm a guy after all. Dinner ended, with no conversation about her coming home with me, so I broached the topic. As expected, she declined, sticking to her story of my wanting to move too quickly and how she didn't want to hurt me. I commented that she had clearly made up her mind before coming to dinner, which she denied. I'll come back to that.
I made the mistake of asking something to the effect of why she came to dinner, knowing she wasn't going home with me. And she let me have it with everything she could think of: the rushing into a relationship, how she didn't like the phrasing I used in one of my notes, how I didn't apologize properly for something she felt I needed to apologize. She was put off that I couldn't come up with any sexual fantasies, when she asked (sorry, they're not really fantasies after they've been fulfilled). Then, she berated me for foisting fantasies onto her (except they weren't fantasies, but dirty things most other women enjoyed). She took issue with things I'd said that I never said; those had to have come from some other guy. On and on it went, with no end in sight. I've had women I'd been dating for months tell me off in a shorter amount of time than this woman I'd just met. She'd run through her list of transgressions, then circle back to the beginning, finding some new grievance to add for the next rotation. I've never experienced anything like this! I did everything I could think of to indicate the conversation was over, to gracefully make an exit. I did this twice, but she wasn't losing any steam, so I wound up doing something I've never done before. I got up and walked out on her, muttering something to the effect of 'have a nice life'.
It hit me later that all of these supposed transgressions occurred before we laid eyes on each other, so which only adds fuel to my previous query of why did she meet in the first place. What a truly horrible encounter.
As I'm sure you can tell, I'm still angered by the whole episode, but was able to perform a post mortem on the date and finally uncover her motive for coming to dinner; the only possible motive. She was still sexed up, from the dirty talk I'd been plying her with and was hoping I'd be more of a stud muffin than I appeared in my pictures. At that point, she would have likely forgotten the whole 'hurting others' thing and gone home with me. Transparent and shallow; not the things I look for in a woman.
And what pisses me off the most is I spent $30 on some fucking grapefruit flavored Absolut that she asked for me to have for her. It's not the money, mind you, but the reminder of the bitch every time I open the freezer. I sure as hell won't drink it. Anyone want a bottle of nasty vodka?
At this point, I'll mention recognizing a few red flags pointing to a potential OWTW, including how her successful, and apparently fuck nuts, attorney husband had traded her in on a younger model.
The day before our date, she went a bit dark, cutting email down to a single note. I asked her if everything was okay, at which point she told me she thought I was pushing for something more serious than she wanted. I responded that I had no interest in jumping into anything. Her note made it clear she didn't accept what I'd told her. Perhaps if I'd mentioned that there's no way in hell I want to establish anything remotely resembling roots in fucking Kansas.
By the time our date rolled around, I knew there was no way she was coming home with me. She arrived decked out in designer clothing and admittedly, looked quite delicious. Dinner was full of vacuous conversation, where I learned she actually wasn't teaching, or working at all. She was dabbling and not happy with any of her teaching options. That one wasn't an immediate bell, because I was still determining whether I could get her in the sack. Sorry, I'm a guy after all. Dinner ended, with no conversation about her coming home with me, so I broached the topic. As expected, she declined, sticking to her story of my wanting to move too quickly and how she didn't want to hurt me. I commented that she had clearly made up her mind before coming to dinner, which she denied. I'll come back to that.
I made the mistake of asking something to the effect of why she came to dinner, knowing she wasn't going home with me. And she let me have it with everything she could think of: the rushing into a relationship, how she didn't like the phrasing I used in one of my notes, how I didn't apologize properly for something she felt I needed to apologize. She was put off that I couldn't come up with any sexual fantasies, when she asked (sorry, they're not really fantasies after they've been fulfilled). Then, she berated me for foisting fantasies onto her (except they weren't fantasies, but dirty things most other women enjoyed). She took issue with things I'd said that I never said; those had to have come from some other guy. On and on it went, with no end in sight. I've had women I'd been dating for months tell me off in a shorter amount of time than this woman I'd just met. She'd run through her list of transgressions, then circle back to the beginning, finding some new grievance to add for the next rotation. I've never experienced anything like this! I did everything I could think of to indicate the conversation was over, to gracefully make an exit. I did this twice, but she wasn't losing any steam, so I wound up doing something I've never done before. I got up and walked out on her, muttering something to the effect of 'have a nice life'.
It hit me later that all of these supposed transgressions occurred before we laid eyes on each other, so which only adds fuel to my previous query of why did she meet in the first place. What a truly horrible encounter.
As I'm sure you can tell, I'm still angered by the whole episode, but was able to perform a post mortem on the date and finally uncover her motive for coming to dinner; the only possible motive. She was still sexed up, from the dirty talk I'd been plying her with and was hoping I'd be more of a stud muffin than I appeared in my pictures. At that point, she would have likely forgotten the whole 'hurting others' thing and gone home with me. Transparent and shallow; not the things I look for in a woman.
And what pisses me off the most is I spent $30 on some fucking grapefruit flavored Absolut that she asked for me to have for her. It's not the money, mind you, but the reminder of the bitch every time I open the freezer. I sure as hell won't drink it. Anyone want a bottle of nasty vodka?
Monday, June 25, 2018
A Bit About Me
Long time single, married, divorced, and dating in my late
forties, I’ve learned a few things about life, relationships, and love. After being married to a woman
with undiagnosed borderline personality disorder, I’ve become sort of an
amateur psychologist, which has been both a blessing and sometimes, a
curse. I’ve been blogging elsewhere,
mostly for myself, but more than one person has encouraged me to write
publicly. Apparently, some people find
me humorous and insightful, but what do they know…
I lived in Richmond, VA, but have reluctantly relocated to KC. There's obviously more to me than being able to understand
human behavior and being single. I’m a successful
marketing executive with a rewarding career.
I’m passionate about cooking, working with homeless dogs, and German
sports cars. All of these facets will
work their way into my forthcoming posts in one way or another. There will also be a few dirty stories,
recounting a few of my most memorable encounters. (although, I'm doing less of this, because a few women I've had my most memorable encounters with read my blog) Sometimes, my entries are just thoughts that need an outlet. However, most of my entries will be frank examinations of issues surrounding relationships, dating, and mental health. I've been told my writing manages to illuminate emotions that some had struggled to understand or even realize existed. I do my best to keep my 'kimono open', sharing my own emotional challenges, when appropriate.
All opinions and ideas expressed herein are my own. In other words, when I consider writing about a topic, I don't read the work of others first so that I 'know what to think'. Outside source material is only utilized in two instances. I often incorporate material, to provide facts / statistics to topics where relevant. Also, if there's a bit of information related to the topic of a post, but the addition of the information risks a side journey, I may link to an article on it. For complete transparency, all outside source information will be cited and/or hotlinked, unless I'm referring to a self-evident trend validated by a dozen studies.
All opinions and ideas expressed herein are my own. In other words, when I consider writing about a topic, I don't read the work of others first so that I 'know what to think'. Outside source material is only utilized in two instances. I often incorporate material, to provide facts / statistics to topics where relevant. Also, if there's a bit of information related to the topic of a post, but the addition of the information risks a side journey, I may link to an article on it. For complete transparency, all outside source information will be cited and/or hotlinked, unless I'm referring to a self-evident trend validated by a dozen studies.
Fair warning to those expecting warm and fuzzy, politically
correct viewpoints; you won’t find them here.
I’m blunt and share what’s on my mind, sometimes to my detriment. I pride myself on being relevant, because I only write about topics I’m either intimately familiar with or have researched thoroughly. Unlike some bloggers I've encountered, I do my level best to avoid self-indulgent drivel and whining, although there may be a few occasions where I do so. But those will all be prefaced with a warning of self-indulgent content; besides, it's my blog. Speaking of prefaces, I seem to have an affinity, so you'll see many of them.
My goal is for my readers to consider the time taken out of their day reading my blog to be well spent, or at the very least, not wasted. In support of this goal, while writing an entry, I repeatedly I ask myself whether I'd read it, were it written by someone else. If the answer's not a yes, the entry is either reworked or trashed. And if I get bored writing on a topic, to the bin it goes. If writing something bores me, how can I expect those who read it to feel otherwise. Is there still bias in this method? Sure, but I don't have the resources to hire focus groups, so it'll have to do.
My goal is for my readers to consider the time taken out of their day reading my blog to be well spent, or at the very least, not wasted. In support of this goal, while writing an entry, I repeatedly I ask myself whether I'd read it, were it written by someone else. If the answer's not a yes, the entry is either reworked or trashed. And if I get bored writing on a topic, to the bin it goes. If writing something bores me, how can I expect those who read it to feel otherwise. Is there still bias in this method? Sure, but I don't have the resources to hire focus groups, so it'll have to do.
Some of my posts have been migrated from another venue in
which I blogged. So, I’ll apologize now
if a few feel out of order in the grand scheme of things.
In any case, I invite your comments, positive or otherwise, in the comments section or at theinsightfulbachelor@gmail.com
In any case, I invite your comments, positive or otherwise, in the comments section or at theinsightfulbachelor@gmail.com
Monday, June 18, 2018
Safety Is Important - Flotation Devices
Well, I've reached a point where I'm back to the online dating world and have noticed something new about women in Kansas. Damn, there are a lot of them here with implants! These enhanced blouse bunnies are easy to spot, because chests just don't match the rest of these women's bodies. I'm sure there are plenty of women with implants who seek a more natural look, and you'd never know without a feel test, but these women have chosen the porn star big wahwahs route. No way you could miss those pontoons.
Giving it some thought, this trend shouldn't be much of a surprise; one of the first observations I made, viewing dating profiles, was the rather robust trade in cosmetics, here in the KC area.
And while finding time to pen this short 'holy shit, lots of fake sweater meat here' entry, I've also encountered a bunch of women who seemingly wear false eyelashes all the time. As with many of these things, I encountered one woman in particular who had fake lashes so large, they prevented her from wearing sunglasses and smeared her windshield, which heightened my awareness to them on other women. But even in the most casual photo, there's full makeup and accoutrements.
I'll resist the temptation to venture further into what the dedication to bolt on's and such say about someone. It's a woman's body and she's free to do with it as she chooses. Perhaps it's a thing, here in flyover states. People sure as hell don't spend their money on travel or other enrichment, so they might as well have prodigious cans. Some major league yabos, I tell ya.
And yes, I enjoyed working in as many euphemisms as I could in the short entry; because like most men, I'm twelve and easily amused.
Giving it some thought, this trend shouldn't be much of a surprise; one of the first observations I made, viewing dating profiles, was the rather robust trade in cosmetics, here in the KC area.
And while finding time to pen this short 'holy shit, lots of fake sweater meat here' entry, I've also encountered a bunch of women who seemingly wear false eyelashes all the time. As with many of these things, I encountered one woman in particular who had fake lashes so large, they prevented her from wearing sunglasses and smeared her windshield, which heightened my awareness to them on other women. But even in the most casual photo, there's full makeup and accoutrements.
I'll resist the temptation to venture further into what the dedication to bolt on's and such say about someone. It's a woman's body and she's free to do with it as she chooses. Perhaps it's a thing, here in flyover states. People sure as hell don't spend their money on travel or other enrichment, so they might as well have prodigious cans. Some major league yabos, I tell ya.
And yes, I enjoyed working in as many euphemisms as I could in the short entry; because like most men, I'm twelve and easily amused.
Tuesday, June 5, 2018
Blast From Past - My Turkish FWB
This entry is a bit unusual for me, because I'm taking a hard swipe at someone. Surprisingly, that person was the subject of a previous swipe. Read into that as you wish. My style is a bit raw and unrefined in this entry as well. You could interpret that to mean the topic wasn't important enough for me to edit and polish my writing. Or not...
When I was back in Richmond a few months ago, I had dinner with the former Turkish FWB I'd written about in The Girl Who Owned Nothing. I didn't mention the FWB part earlier, but that was a significant portion of our friendship. Anyway, I thought it would be nice to see her and, yes, perhaps enjoy some dirtiness. However, the evening wound up being one of the most unpleasant experiences I've had in recent memory. I'd have written about it sooner, except I'd not bothered to walk through the events, with a critical eye, until now. I tend to be a trusting sort with those I know, particularly if they've had my cock in their mouth, so I'm not attempting to spot lies. If someone's a known manipulative fuck, then I'm likely discounting everything that comes from their mouths in the first place. Speaking of fucks, I didn't have enough to care all that much about that evening.
I'll hold my conclusion on the matter and let my readers reach their own conclusions about what the hell was going through her mind.
When I'd reached out to FWB and let her know I was coming to town, she was aloof and made it clear a yet to be scheduled date with any other guy would take precedence over dinner with me and we definitely would NOT be having sex. It's heartwarming to feel welcomed by your friends.
During dinner, she regaled me with tales of having sex with different men and told me that one in particular was amazing. I asked what made him that way; what did he do to you? There was nothing specific, she said, just that the passion was so incredibly intense with him. I asked if any of these men had taken her ass from me or if I was still the only man who'd given her that pleasure. She told me I was still the only one, but quickly moved on to another topic. That seemed a bit strange, considering that was what she wanted most, once I introduced her to the act. If things were so passionate, why not ask for him to take her ass, too?
The conversation remained on the topic of sex. On orgasms, she had once told me she'd had more in the first encounter with me than her whole life up until that night. During dinner, that story changed. She claimed that I'd misunderstood her, when she'd said she was a virgin when she married her husband. 'We fucked like bunnies even before we were married and he gave me lots of orgasms.'
Hmmm...I feel a theme in here somewhere.
Oral sex - Our first time together, her blowjob skills were rather lacking; hell, she'd not had much experience. However, she took direction well, so with plenty of coaching, and a few videos I sent over, she became one of the best I've ever had. When the topic came up, during my recent visit, she told me she learned on her own, just by watching videos and that I had nothing to do with it.
Dick Size - One of the men she told me she slept with had a huge penis. Now, this woman is tiny in every way, so I asked if it hurt, to which she replied it was amazing having something that big in her. I'm average size, but have zero envy of larger cocks.
Surprisingly, my ego wasn't bruised with the pelting of veiled insults. However, it did sting a bit how she seemed to intentionally try to hurt me exactly where she thought she could do the most damage. I work hard to discover all the little things that drive my partner crazy, so I take pride in my skills in the bedroom. She knew this because she'd once told me 'your dedication to fucking is superior'. Yes, I wrote it down because I found it humorous. But she seemed to deliberately attack my ability as a lover.
Then, a few weeks later, I returned to the conversation and began considering the things she said. Let's just say the bullshit began piling up. Was the husband who rocked her world the same one she complained had been horrible in the sack, sometimes prematurely ejaculating before he'd gotten undressed? Did I miss her commenting on how watching blowjob videos and learning on her own improved her skills, when she'd been blowing me? And that amazing huge dick she loved so much; what about the well-endowed guy she'd slept with after I cut her off? The one who she said hurt her, because he was so large. And why again didn't she want that non-specifically passionate guy to not do the thing that made her orgasm the hardest? The non-specifically passionate guy who began the evening described as the love of her life and ended as just a fuck buddy, who used her for sex, then took another woman to his condo in Miami.
There were a few other things she said that evening that were in direct contradiction to her previous messaging. When she read of my imminent departure to KC, she came by my house, literally in tears, to say goodbye. I remarked that I was surprised she wasn't upset about the blog entry, to which she sniffed and responded 'it was true'. Except it suddenly became not true during dinner. I must have heard her wrong. Damned hearing clearly requires a professional assessment.
Then the obvious hit me. She had wanted me for herself the whole time and I rejected her. The evening full of jabs were her way of getting back at me. As with the manipulation, while we were involved with one another, it was petty and childish. But I still felt bad for hurting her.
When I was back in Richmond a few months ago, I had dinner with the former Turkish FWB I'd written about in The Girl Who Owned Nothing. I didn't mention the FWB part earlier, but that was a significant portion of our friendship. Anyway, I thought it would be nice to see her and, yes, perhaps enjoy some dirtiness. However, the evening wound up being one of the most unpleasant experiences I've had in recent memory. I'd have written about it sooner, except I'd not bothered to walk through the events, with a critical eye, until now. I tend to be a trusting sort with those I know, particularly if they've had my cock in their mouth, so I'm not attempting to spot lies. If someone's a known manipulative fuck, then I'm likely discounting everything that comes from their mouths in the first place. Speaking of fucks, I didn't have enough to care all that much about that evening.
I'll hold my conclusion on the matter and let my readers reach their own conclusions about what the hell was going through her mind.
When I'd reached out to FWB and let her know I was coming to town, she was aloof and made it clear a yet to be scheduled date with any other guy would take precedence over dinner with me and we definitely would NOT be having sex. It's heartwarming to feel welcomed by your friends.
During dinner, she regaled me with tales of having sex with different men and told me that one in particular was amazing. I asked what made him that way; what did he do to you? There was nothing specific, she said, just that the passion was so incredibly intense with him. I asked if any of these men had taken her ass from me or if I was still the only man who'd given her that pleasure. She told me I was still the only one, but quickly moved on to another topic. That seemed a bit strange, considering that was what she wanted most, once I introduced her to the act. If things were so passionate, why not ask for him to take her ass, too?
The conversation remained on the topic of sex. On orgasms, she had once told me she'd had more in the first encounter with me than her whole life up until that night. During dinner, that story changed. She claimed that I'd misunderstood her, when she'd said she was a virgin when she married her husband. 'We fucked like bunnies even before we were married and he gave me lots of orgasms.'
Hmmm...I feel a theme in here somewhere.
Oral sex - Our first time together, her blowjob skills were rather lacking; hell, she'd not had much experience. However, she took direction well, so with plenty of coaching, and a few videos I sent over, she became one of the best I've ever had. When the topic came up, during my recent visit, she told me she learned on her own, just by watching videos and that I had nothing to do with it.
Dick Size - One of the men she told me she slept with had a huge penis. Now, this woman is tiny in every way, so I asked if it hurt, to which she replied it was amazing having something that big in her. I'm average size, but have zero envy of larger cocks.
Surprisingly, my ego wasn't bruised with the pelting of veiled insults. However, it did sting a bit how she seemed to intentionally try to hurt me exactly where she thought she could do the most damage. I work hard to discover all the little things that drive my partner crazy, so I take pride in my skills in the bedroom. She knew this because she'd once told me 'your dedication to fucking is superior'. Yes, I wrote it down because I found it humorous. But she seemed to deliberately attack my ability as a lover.
Then, a few weeks later, I returned to the conversation and began considering the things she said. Let's just say the bullshit began piling up. Was the husband who rocked her world the same one she complained had been horrible in the sack, sometimes prematurely ejaculating before he'd gotten undressed? Did I miss her commenting on how watching blowjob videos and learning on her own improved her skills, when she'd been blowing me? And that amazing huge dick she loved so much; what about the well-endowed guy she'd slept with after I cut her off? The one who she said hurt her, because he was so large. And why again didn't she want that non-specifically passionate guy to not do the thing that made her orgasm the hardest? The non-specifically passionate guy who began the evening described as the love of her life and ended as just a fuck buddy, who used her for sex, then took another woman to his condo in Miami.
There were a few other things she said that evening that were in direct contradiction to her previous messaging. When she read of my imminent departure to KC, she came by my house, literally in tears, to say goodbye. I remarked that I was surprised she wasn't upset about the blog entry, to which she sniffed and responded 'it was true'. Except it suddenly became not true during dinner. I must have heard her wrong. Damned hearing clearly requires a professional assessment.
Then the obvious hit me. She had wanted me for herself the whole time and I rejected her. The evening full of jabs were her way of getting back at me. As with the manipulation, while we were involved with one another, it was petty and childish. But I still felt bad for hurting her.
So, the other night, I sent her a note apologizing for causing her so much pain. She responded by denying that was the case, of course. I may have shot a note back wondering why she spent an entire evening lying, in a deliberate attempt to hurt me. Or not...some things need to be a mystery.
Wednesday, April 25, 2018
The Lost Weekend
What follows is a true story of a hot weekend of debauchery. I wrote this a few years ago, and published it in another location but thought it might be time to repost it here. Hope you enjoy.
Regardless of whether you remember the night before or not, you can generally get a read on how good it was by examining your surroundings when you wake up. With empty wine glasses/bottles, lingerie, and a digital camera scattered around my bedroom, it must have been pretty darned good. Of course, the dead giveaway of how great the night had been was the gorgeous blonde sleeping next to me. This was the culmination of three days of almost non-stop debauchery that I’ve come to refer to as ‘The Lost Weekend’.
The aforementioned blonde occupying the other side of my bed was named Amber; gorgeous, petite, and about a dozen years my junior. I had met her a week before and things had gotten very hot, very quickly. There were a few things that I noticed about Amber early on; she loved her own reflection and she was a drama queen. Having been around the block a few times, I knew these attributes would make for some memorable moments in the bedroom and I wasn’t wrong.
Early on, as Amber and I got to know one another, the topic of sex inevitably came up. Amber shared her desire to be treated like my dirty little whore, complete with spanking and hair pulling. Sign me up, I told her.
The first evening of The Lost Weekend was also the first time she and I were intimate. The sexual tension had built to a fever pitch in the preceding week so we both considered a night of passion a ‘done deal’. After eating the dinner I prepared, we sat down in my living room with some wine. Small talk quickly gave way to kissing. The romantic soft kisses didn’t last long and quickly became more urgent, with our tongues seemingly locked in a battle to the death. I slowly brought my left hand down and brushed the back of it across her breast. One of the most erotic things for me is when a woman’s breath catches and Amber’s did that in response to my touch. My exploration of her breasts became more aggressive as my lips trailed their way down to her neck, exploring, cupping, groping. Feeling like a teenager, I reached up under her top, undid her bra and released her breasts. Fondling at first, flicking my thumb across each nipple. Then I began rolling her nipples between my thumb and forefinger. Remembering what she’d told me, I became a little rougher with my touch, pinching her erect nipples harder and harder. She communicated her appreciation with a series of whimpers.
After a few more moments of playing with her breasts, I slid my hand down and onto her thigh. She responded with a receptive sigh. Sliding my hand around the outer side, slowly moving to the top. Then I slid my hand down to her inner thigh and slowly stroked back and forth, each pass moving further up than the other. Past her stockings, under her skirt. At that point, all pretenses were gone as she threw her legs open to allow my touch. I could taste the anticipation in her kiss. Lightly brushing my fingers across the front of her soaking wet satin panties, another catch, this time with a little shiver. Her hips began to rotate forward, attempting to force my hand into her. More pressure. I began working little circles with my fingers across her panties. Her breathing continued to deepen and become more ragged in response to what I was doing with my lips and hands. She began to moan softly into my mouth while holding onto me for dear life. Finally, she whispered in my ear ‘I need you inside me’. I asked her if she still wanted to be my dirty little whore and she breathed ‘oh God, yes’. I took her hand and led her to my bedroom.
Inside the bedroom, I finished the job of removing her clothes and set about granting her wish. Grabbing her shoulders, I pushed her down to her knees and told her to suck my cock like a good little slut. She responded with a submissive ‘yes sir’, unzipped my pants, and pulled out my hard cock. Wrapping her hand around me, she began by kissing my engorged head, licking the shaft, eventually taking all of me in her mouth. I decided a true slut would want all of me in her mouth so I grabbed her head and began fucking her mouth, shoving it all the way in and down her throat. She began to gag and cough so I asked her if I should stop. She responded ‘no, this is what sluts do for their man’. I told her she was a good little whore and that she sucked my cock so well, that she must have sucked a lot of other cocks to get this good. After another few minutes of devouring me, she looked up and said ‘please fuck me, sir….I need your cock inside me.’
I pushed her onto the bed and lowered myself on top of her. Making her tell me one more time how much she wanted me inside her. I put my arms around her and slowly lowered myself, my cock just beginning to penetrate her now dripping pussy. I looked her in the eyes and asked ‘is this what you want, slut?’
‘Yes, sir. Please give it to me.’
With that, I drove my cock all the way into her. I started with slow thrusts and she began to moan in response. I would speed up from time to time until I could feel her just begin to tighten up and her breathing stop. Then I’d back off just a bit, withholding her release. After about ten minutes of keeping her on edge, I could sense her frustration and asked her if she wanted to cum. She responded with a feeble ‘yes’ to which I replied ‘Tell me what you want. Do you want me to make your pussy cum? Is that what you want? To cum like a dirty whore?’
‘Oh God yes! Please fuck me and make me cum. I’m a dirty little slut and need to get off.’
I began to increase the speed and intensity of my thrusts. Her body responded immediately and I could tell she was moments away from an orgasm. I looked at her again and asked ‘are you gonna cum for me?’
‘Yes, I’m so close.’
‘Then cum all over my hard cock. Show me how good I’m fucking you. I want you to scream like the cheap whore you are. Cum for me, Amber.’
That was all it took to trigger her massive orgasm. She started screaming that she was cumming but I already knew because her pussy gripped my cock more tightly. Her body thrashed under mine as her orgasm ripped through her; she continued to scream as I fucked her harder. When I didn’t stop thrusting my cock into her, I could tell she wasn’t quite sure what to do. When I sensed her apprehension, I looked at her again and told her I was fucking her pussy until I was done with it. ‘Isn’t that what whores want? To be used and fucked by a hard cock over and over?’ As expected, this triggered another orgasm for her. I could tell it was even more intense by the way she was clawing at my back and drenching my cock. I didn’t need to order her to scream this time because she did it on her own. After her orgasm had subsided, I gave us both a short break.
Once properly rested, I told her to get on top of me so I could watch her hips rotate on my cock.
‘Put my cock where you want it, dirty girl. I want to see you fuck it and get yourself off like a good slut.’
She climbed on my cock and began moving her hips, looking for it to touch her the way she wanted. I moved my head up and gently licked her left nipple which increased her quiet moans a bit. When I stopped, she looked at me and said ‘suck my tits. Put them in your mouth. I want you to bite them so I can watch.’
I did as she asked and after a few more minutes, she announced that she was going to cum again. I truly enjoyed watching her face contort as she orgasmed. Before that one completely subsided, I grabbed her hips and roughly pulled her down on my cock as far as I could, driving me deep inside her. Again, she looked a bit panicked but I continued to work her hips on my cock. It was then she started to moan like a good little slut. I looked up at her and said ‘is this what you needed? Fucked by someone who knows how to treat a slut like you?’
‘Fuck yes! I love the way you fuck me like a whore! Keep fucking me…please! I want to cum again.’
‘Do you want me to make you cum? You want to get off and scream like a dirty slut again?’
‘Oh fuck yes! I’m your dirty little whore, sir. Fuck me however you want. Play with my tits.’
‘No, I want to watch you play with them. Pinch your nipples nice and hard for me. My dirty girl needs to feel some pain to cum.’
From her hesitation, I could tell she’d never touched herself in front of anyone before. I told her again to play with her tits, ensuring she knew it was not a request.
Those next few moments were amazing to watch. As I began to fuck her from underneath, she started to caress her breasts, pinch her nipples, harder, harder…. And then she completely let herself go, no longer caring about having any control, reveling in being my dirty little whore. Riding my cock with complete abandon, nothing being held back, a look of pure euphoria in her eyes.
It didn’t take long for another orgasm to rip through her but I didn’t allow her to take a break. I maintained my grip on her beautiful hips and worked her on my cock. She screamed as another orgasm ripped through her. Spurring her on with more talk of how good of a fuck toy she was, she came again, this time, digging her nails into my chest. I released her hips and she collapsed on top of me, her breath remained ragged as she recovered from my efforts. After a few minutes, she picked her head up, looked at me, and said ‘no one has ever fucked me like that before. I can’t believe how many times you made me cum!’
I gazed deep into her eyes and responded ‘and I’m nowhere near done.’
After another short break, for more wine and a snack, the heat between the two of us began to build again. We were nowhere near being done with one another on that first night. While the heat was intensifying, she reached down and wrapped her hand around my shaft, a small moan escaping as she stroked it. I asked her if she wanted it inside her again. As she leaned in so her lips were all but touching my ear, I heard ‘mmm,hmm’.
I told her to bend over on her hands and knees, that I was going to take her from behind. Positioning myself, I gazed down appreciatively at her perfect, tight, young ass. Moving forward, as I penetrated her once again, she moaned in appreciation. Starting with slow movements, I gradually began picking up both my speed and intensity, grabbing her hips so she could feel me deep inside her. She began to moan more loudly as I fucked her harder. Remembering what she had told me earlier, I raised my right hand and slapped her ass. Her breath caught from both the surprise and pain. I told her she was a dirty girl who needed a spanking and proceeded to slap her ass a few more times, each swat being progressively harder than the one before.
“Do you like that?” I asked.
She half panted, “Yes, I deserve to be treated like the slut I am.”
“You like having a hard cock fucking you and your ass spanked, don’t you?”
At that point, she didn’t respond; I knew from the way she was moaning that she was going to cum soon.
“God, you’re such a whore. Taking a hard cock from behind and being spanked like a slut. Are you going to cum for me? Cum all over my cock, like the whore you are.”
At that moment, her walls tightened up, gripping my cock like a vise, and I knew she was cumming.
She began to moan loudly as her orgasm ripped through her. I said ‘that’s it, scream like a whore for me. I want to hear how good my cock makes you cum.’
She continued to moan even louder and her hips made sharp, involuntary jerks as her orgasm peaked and began to subside. Without giving her any time to recover, I began to fuck her again, this time pounding her right off the bat. I continued to spank her ass, then reached up and gathered a handful of her long blonde hair. I began pulling on it, as she had asked me to do early on. I asked her if she liked having her hair pulled, like a dirty slut. In between short moans and pants, she breathed ‘harder’. I pulled harder, harder, harder. The sounds she made as I fucked her hard from behind and pulled her hair alternated between whimpers of pain and moans of pleasure. I knew she couldn’t keep this up for long and, sure enough, I could feel her begin to grip me tighter. As she came, I once again, told her how much of a dirty whore she was. The more I told her how good of a slut she was, the louder she moaned.
During this interlude, I felt an almost involuntary transition in both of us. Watching this young girl seemingly become more aroused the more I dominated and degraded her raised my lust to the point where I truly became her ‘owner’. Likewise, I felt that she had reached a level of trust with me to allow that dynamic.
This led to me looking at her and saying ‘you’re going to prove you’re completely my slut; I want your ass. You need to feel me everywhere.’
I have to admit to surprising myself with that statement. Anal sex tends to be something discussed, and agreed upon, by both parties (mainly the woman) before it takes place. I’ve had partners who ranged from ‘no way, no how’ to ‘if you get me drunk enough’ to ‘stick it wherever it’ll fit’. While I assumed a role in the bedroom, I’m still a gentleman and would have stopped at any point she told me to.
Anyway, she looked at me with panic in her eyes.
‘I’ve….never done that.’
Okay, here’s the line that she’s going to draw….
‘You need to go very slowly…..’
Even though my cock was drenched from Amber cumming all over it, I decided that a copious amount of lube was in order. Applying it to all the necessary areas, I began to slowly push myself against her tight hole. I could tell she was still tense so I talked to her in an attempt to relax her. Slowly, could feel her relaxing and I began to probe a bit further. Finally, the head of my cock slid past her ring; that’s where I held it for a moment, asking if she was okay. Eventually, I slid my cock deeper to which she responded with a few whimpers. I continued to talk to her, saying how hot it was and how good of a dirty girl she was being.
As my cock hit bottom, she turned around and said ‘Oh my god, you’re in my….ass.’
I said ‘yes, it’s my cock that’s in your ass’.
I began to fuck her slowly at first.
‘Fuck baby, your ass feels so good around my cock. Thank you for giving it to me.’
We settled into a rhythm as I fucked her tight ass, watching my cock disappear with each thrust.
Eventually, I realized she wasn’t getting as much pleasure out of things as I was, so I told her to reach down and touch herself. ‘Show me how much of a dirty girl you are. Finger your pussy while I fuck your ass.’
She played with her clit a bit and began to moan softly.
‘Put your finger inside your pussy baby.’
Following my orders, she slid a finger inside and immediately gasped ‘god, I can feel your cock from my pussy. Oh fuck, every time you thrust it shoves my finger against my g-spot.’
‘Stick another finger in.’
Amber obeyed and gasped again. ‘Oh fuck, I feel so full. This feels amazing! Keep fucking me baby.’
‘Good girl, Amber. You like feeling full, don’t you? I bet you’d like to have two cocks inside you.’
‘Unnhhhf’ was all that came out of her mouth.
‘One hard cock in your pussy and one in your ass. You want two cocks, slut? You want to be a fucking whore with two cocks in you? Maybe another one in your mouth?’
That was all it took to trigger her to a massive orgasm.
It took all I had to hold onto her as she thrashed in front of me screaming, ‘Oh fuck I’m cumming!! Owwweeeww!!!!’
Finally, I decided it was my turn and said ‘I’m going to cum inside you. Shoot my load deep in your ass so you know who it belongs too. Oh fuck….’
My cumming seemed to trigger a smaller, second orgasm for Amber. She thrashed a bit more and then collapsed on the bed, where she stayed until the next morning.
The next morning, after I made her breakfast, was spent in various states of messing around with one another. Eventually, our conversation migrated toward what events were planned for the evening. I told her it would be such a turn on to see her in a hot and slutty outfit for that night’s festivities. She responded enthusiastically by saying ‘I want you to dress me up the way you want; I want to turn you on’.
She was standing against the bed, facing away from me at the time; probably putting something away. In any case, I walked up behind her and whispered in her ear that she turned me on all the time. Not being able to resist a beautiful neck, I began to kiss hers, reaching around to cup her breasts from behind.
Her breathing began to quicken and after a few minutes, she abruptly pulled away from me and said ‘fuck me like a slut’. With that, she unbuttoned her jeans and pulled moved them down around her knees, bringing her panties with them. I brought myself forward and shoved my hard cock inside her already wet pussy. This was no time for tenderness or romance, she wanted to be fucked like a whore so I did. I grabbed her hips and fucked her hard and deep. I looked down at my cock disappearing inside her and then smacked her ass quite hard, receiving a response something between a whimper and a scream.
‘You want to be a dirty little slut, I’ll fuck you like one. You need to have a hard cock in you all the time, don’t you?’
‘Yes, sir…..’
‘Do you like that hard cock fucking you?’
‘Yessss, sir……’
‘Good, I like fucking your slutty pussy….deep, hard….it’s my pussy now, isn’t it?’
‘Fuck yes, it’s your pussy to fuck whenever you want. Please pull my hair…’
Reaching up, I gathered up a handful of her long blonde hair and pulled.
‘Harder; pull my hair harder!’
I pulled her hair harder and harder as she whimpered and moaned.
‘Is that what you want, you fucking whore?’
‘Oh god yes….fuck me baby.’
Her moaning became louder and I could feel her start to tense up under the brutal fucking and abuse.
‘Are you going to cum for me?’
‘Yes sir…..’
‘That’s what you wanted…my dirty slut wanted to get off and cum all over my cock.’
‘Ohhhhh…..fuck’
‘That’s it slut, fucking cum all over my cock!’
With that, she let out a loud moan and screamed that she was cumming. That was all it took for me to cum, blowing a massive load in her battered pussy.
After pulling ourselves back together, we left for lunch and some shopping. Both of us were excited about the purchases we’d made that afternoon. Rather than wasting valuable debauchery time on going out, I made dinner for us. Of course, dinner conversation tended to lean toward what we were going to do to each other later. Knowing how enamored Amber was with herself, I asked her if it would turn her on to make love in front of the huge mirrors in my master bath. Would it turn her on to watch herself being fucked, seeing her face while I was inside her. She thought that was a great idea and told me she'd never watched herself being fucked before. So I kept that in mind when I set up later (candles, etc.).
Dinner was followed by some light chatting on my sofa and was accompanied by more wine. After it became clear that we were both interested in ‘getting things underway’ I asked if she wanted to go slip into the things I’d bought her that afternoon. She readily agreed and headed off to the bedroom to change.
About ten minutes later, Amber emerged and looked amazing. I’m pretty sure my jaw physically dropped at the vision in front of me; a gorgeous young blonde wearing a silky black negligee, a matching thong, black thigh high stockings, and a pair of stilettos of ‘I’m a dirty slut’ height. I asked her to do a spin for me, so I could take all of her in.
‘You look amazing, baby!’
‘I really like the outfit. Thank you so much!’
I noticed she was a bit flushed and asked her ‘Does the outfit turn you on?’
‘Mmmhmmm’
‘You took awhile to change; were you looking in the mirror and touching yourself?’
Looking at the floor, she sheepishly admitted that she had been.
‘I don’t blame you, baby. I want you to show me how you were touching yourself.’
That panicked look returned to her face. She still wasn’t comfortable masturbating in front of someone else. So, I decided that she needed some guidance. I looked her in the eyes and, very firmly, said ‘show me’. The way I said it made it clear it wasn’t a request. Slowly, she moved a hand up and began to cup her breast, sliding the silk across her nipples. They instantly became erect and poked at the black silk.
‘Good girl; that’s so hot, baby.’
She slowly moved her other hand down, across her silk covered belly, and into her thong. She gasped a bit when her fingers made contact with her clit. I kept encouraging her, saying how beautiful she was and how hot she was making me. After a few minutes, her self-consciousness gave way to pleasure. She was pawing at her tits and whimpering every time her fingers strummed across her clit.
‘I need to have you inside me soon, baby’
‘Come over and prove how much you want my cock. Show how you love it.’
Without hesitation, she walked over to where I was sitting and roughly unbuttoned / unzipped my pants. I stood up so she could pull them down, then returned to my seated position. She lunged forward and instantly devoured my cock. She sucked it like she had something to prove; that she was worthy of having it inside her. Normally, I would have toyed with her a bit before giving her what she wanted but I was so turned on that I couldn’t wait to fuck this beauty in front of me.
‘Do you want to ride this cock right here?’
‘Mmmhmmf’ she muttered, still sucking for all she was worth.
‘The get up here and fuck it if that’s what you want.’
She stood up, turned around, and I began guiding her onto my rock hard shaft. With as wet and in lust as she was, she didn’t bother working up to anything. She simply dropped herself into my lap, impaling herself. She began moaning immediately, as she worked herself up and down on my pole. I loved seeing her ass moving around on my lap. I reached out and began pawing her tits from behind, using the leverage to drive myself as deep as possible. It didn’t take long for her to cry out that she was cumming. As she collapsed back into my chest, I asked her if she wanted to go into the bathroom and watch us make love in the mirror. She readily agreed so I took her hand and led her into the soft candlelight.
As she was looking at herself in the mirror, I walked up behind her and began kissing her neck, cupping her breasts in my hands.
‘Do you want me inside you?’
‘Yesss’
I gently bent her over and guided my cock into her pussy. We moved slowly at first, enjoying the scene that was playing out. She was transfixed on the image in the mirror in front of her, an almost dreamy look on her face. Seeing her face in the mirror, as it twisted slightly with pleasure, looking down at my hard cock disappearing inside her, the curve of her exquisite ass, her thong pulled to the side, her nylon covered legs; I have to admit it was one of the most erotic moments in my life.
Slowly, I picked up the pace of my thrusting and began talking to her.
‘Do you like watching yourself being taken from behind? Seeing your beautiful face as it twists with the pleasure I’m giving you’
‘Oh god yes…this is so incredible…I love how I look.’
‘Good baby, I want you to see how you look when I’m fucking you. You're so beautiful.’
With that, I picked up my pace. At this point, I’d learned about where her threshold was. She started moaning softly as I continued to fuck her. I could tell she was just on the edge but needed a bit more stimulation to cum.
‘Does that feel good, baby?’
‘Yes sir.’
Picking up the pace a bit, I could feel her getting closer. But I wasn’t giving her quite enough to make her cum and I could feel her frustration as she started to shove her ass back to make me fuck her harder.
‘Do you want to cum, slut?’
‘Yesssss, I’m so close.’
‘Tell me what you want.’
‘Make me cum; I need to cum.’
‘You need to beg for it, like a good girl.’
‘Please make me cum! I want to cum so bad, baby.’
The dirty talk was getting her even more worked up but I held back just enough to keep her from cumming. Finally, I increased my rhythm a bit, edging her closer to the orgasm that was building inside her. After making her beg just a bit longer, I thrust hard enough to give her the release she desperately wanted. She came with a scream and a shudder so violent I had to hold her steady to prevent her from falling.
Without giving her much of a rest, I grabbed her hair and pulled her so her body was parallel to the large mirror. I wanted her to have a ringside seat to see me entering her. With some additional humiliation and pain, I was rewarded with another intense orgasm that gripped my cock inside her pussy.
After the mirror interlude, we took a short break for some much needed wine and other sustenance. Once we were both refreshed, our debauchery resumed in earnest as we worked our way through various positions, sweating, moaning, spanking…
Finally, I threw her on the bed with her ass just at the edge, allowing me to stand on the floor and penetrate her while her legs were over my shoulders.
'Oh my god, no one has ever fucked me this way before!'
I grabbed her hips and thrust as deep as I could; slow at first. Picking up speed, Amber began to moan and thrash on the bed. She groped at her breasts, twisting her nipples to maximize the intensity. Soon, her legs locked around my shoulders and she screamed that she was cumming. I kept fucking her and began telling her what a good little whore she was, laying on the bed, with her legs in the air, and taking my hard cock deep inside her. I kept fucking her and reached down to play with her clit, causing her to thrash even more wildly.
‘Fuck, I’m cumming, baby. I love your cock inside me…OOOOooooohhhnnnn….’
Seeing this gorgeous blonde writhing on my bed and watching my cock battering her pussy was finally getting to me. I told her I was going to cum soon.
‘Cum all over me. I want to feel you shoot your load all over my belly and tits!’
‘You want me to make sure you know who owns you? You want to be my cum slut?’
‘Yes, I’m YOUR dirty little whore. Cum all over me and make me yours.’
Well, that was all it took. I pulled my cock out of her and came. After fucking for almost two hours off and on, I shot a huge load all over her belly and tits. She rubbed my cum all over her tits and promptly passed out, spent from my using her body. She was so wiped out, that I even had to take off her stockings for her.
All in all, a pretty fun weekend. And no, you can't see the pictures.
Regardless of whether you remember the night before or not, you can generally get a read on how good it was by examining your surroundings when you wake up. With empty wine glasses/bottles, lingerie, and a digital camera scattered around my bedroom, it must have been pretty darned good. Of course, the dead giveaway of how great the night had been was the gorgeous blonde sleeping next to me. This was the culmination of three days of almost non-stop debauchery that I’ve come to refer to as ‘The Lost Weekend’.
The aforementioned blonde occupying the other side of my bed was named Amber; gorgeous, petite, and about a dozen years my junior. I had met her a week before and things had gotten very hot, very quickly. There were a few things that I noticed about Amber early on; she loved her own reflection and she was a drama queen. Having been around the block a few times, I knew these attributes would make for some memorable moments in the bedroom and I wasn’t wrong.
Early on, as Amber and I got to know one another, the topic of sex inevitably came up. Amber shared her desire to be treated like my dirty little whore, complete with spanking and hair pulling. Sign me up, I told her.
The first evening of The Lost Weekend was also the first time she and I were intimate. The sexual tension had built to a fever pitch in the preceding week so we both considered a night of passion a ‘done deal’. After eating the dinner I prepared, we sat down in my living room with some wine. Small talk quickly gave way to kissing. The romantic soft kisses didn’t last long and quickly became more urgent, with our tongues seemingly locked in a battle to the death. I slowly brought my left hand down and brushed the back of it across her breast. One of the most erotic things for me is when a woman’s breath catches and Amber’s did that in response to my touch. My exploration of her breasts became more aggressive as my lips trailed their way down to her neck, exploring, cupping, groping. Feeling like a teenager, I reached up under her top, undid her bra and released her breasts. Fondling at first, flicking my thumb across each nipple. Then I began rolling her nipples between my thumb and forefinger. Remembering what she’d told me, I became a little rougher with my touch, pinching her erect nipples harder and harder. She communicated her appreciation with a series of whimpers.
After a few more moments of playing with her breasts, I slid my hand down and onto her thigh. She responded with a receptive sigh. Sliding my hand around the outer side, slowly moving to the top. Then I slid my hand down to her inner thigh and slowly stroked back and forth, each pass moving further up than the other. Past her stockings, under her skirt. At that point, all pretenses were gone as she threw her legs open to allow my touch. I could taste the anticipation in her kiss. Lightly brushing my fingers across the front of her soaking wet satin panties, another catch, this time with a little shiver. Her hips began to rotate forward, attempting to force my hand into her. More pressure. I began working little circles with my fingers across her panties. Her breathing continued to deepen and become more ragged in response to what I was doing with my lips and hands. She began to moan softly into my mouth while holding onto me for dear life. Finally, she whispered in my ear ‘I need you inside me’. I asked her if she still wanted to be my dirty little whore and she breathed ‘oh God, yes’. I took her hand and led her to my bedroom.
Inside the bedroom, I finished the job of removing her clothes and set about granting her wish. Grabbing her shoulders, I pushed her down to her knees and told her to suck my cock like a good little slut. She responded with a submissive ‘yes sir’, unzipped my pants, and pulled out my hard cock. Wrapping her hand around me, she began by kissing my engorged head, licking the shaft, eventually taking all of me in her mouth. I decided a true slut would want all of me in her mouth so I grabbed her head and began fucking her mouth, shoving it all the way in and down her throat. She began to gag and cough so I asked her if I should stop. She responded ‘no, this is what sluts do for their man’. I told her she was a good little whore and that she sucked my cock so well, that she must have sucked a lot of other cocks to get this good. After another few minutes of devouring me, she looked up and said ‘please fuck me, sir….I need your cock inside me.’
I pushed her onto the bed and lowered myself on top of her. Making her tell me one more time how much she wanted me inside her. I put my arms around her and slowly lowered myself, my cock just beginning to penetrate her now dripping pussy. I looked her in the eyes and asked ‘is this what you want, slut?’
‘Yes, sir. Please give it to me.’
With that, I drove my cock all the way into her. I started with slow thrusts and she began to moan in response. I would speed up from time to time until I could feel her just begin to tighten up and her breathing stop. Then I’d back off just a bit, withholding her release. After about ten minutes of keeping her on edge, I could sense her frustration and asked her if she wanted to cum. She responded with a feeble ‘yes’ to which I replied ‘Tell me what you want. Do you want me to make your pussy cum? Is that what you want? To cum like a dirty whore?’
‘Oh God yes! Please fuck me and make me cum. I’m a dirty little slut and need to get off.’
I began to increase the speed and intensity of my thrusts. Her body responded immediately and I could tell she was moments away from an orgasm. I looked at her again and asked ‘are you gonna cum for me?’
‘Yes, I’m so close.’
‘Then cum all over my hard cock. Show me how good I’m fucking you. I want you to scream like the cheap whore you are. Cum for me, Amber.’
That was all it took to trigger her massive orgasm. She started screaming that she was cumming but I already knew because her pussy gripped my cock more tightly. Her body thrashed under mine as her orgasm ripped through her; she continued to scream as I fucked her harder. When I didn’t stop thrusting my cock into her, I could tell she wasn’t quite sure what to do. When I sensed her apprehension, I looked at her again and told her I was fucking her pussy until I was done with it. ‘Isn’t that what whores want? To be used and fucked by a hard cock over and over?’ As expected, this triggered another orgasm for her. I could tell it was even more intense by the way she was clawing at my back and drenching my cock. I didn’t need to order her to scream this time because she did it on her own. After her orgasm had subsided, I gave us both a short break.
Once properly rested, I told her to get on top of me so I could watch her hips rotate on my cock.
‘Put my cock where you want it, dirty girl. I want to see you fuck it and get yourself off like a good slut.’
She climbed on my cock and began moving her hips, looking for it to touch her the way she wanted. I moved my head up and gently licked her left nipple which increased her quiet moans a bit. When I stopped, she looked at me and said ‘suck my tits. Put them in your mouth. I want you to bite them so I can watch.’
I did as she asked and after a few more minutes, she announced that she was going to cum again. I truly enjoyed watching her face contort as she orgasmed. Before that one completely subsided, I grabbed her hips and roughly pulled her down on my cock as far as I could, driving me deep inside her. Again, she looked a bit panicked but I continued to work her hips on my cock. It was then she started to moan like a good little slut. I looked up at her and said ‘is this what you needed? Fucked by someone who knows how to treat a slut like you?’
‘Fuck yes! I love the way you fuck me like a whore! Keep fucking me…please! I want to cum again.’
‘Do you want me to make you cum? You want to get off and scream like a dirty slut again?’
‘Oh fuck yes! I’m your dirty little whore, sir. Fuck me however you want. Play with my tits.’
‘No, I want to watch you play with them. Pinch your nipples nice and hard for me. My dirty girl needs to feel some pain to cum.’
From her hesitation, I could tell she’d never touched herself in front of anyone before. I told her again to play with her tits, ensuring she knew it was not a request.
Those next few moments were amazing to watch. As I began to fuck her from underneath, she started to caress her breasts, pinch her nipples, harder, harder…. And then she completely let herself go, no longer caring about having any control, reveling in being my dirty little whore. Riding my cock with complete abandon, nothing being held back, a look of pure euphoria in her eyes.
It didn’t take long for another orgasm to rip through her but I didn’t allow her to take a break. I maintained my grip on her beautiful hips and worked her on my cock. She screamed as another orgasm ripped through her. Spurring her on with more talk of how good of a fuck toy she was, she came again, this time, digging her nails into my chest. I released her hips and she collapsed on top of me, her breath remained ragged as she recovered from my efforts. After a few minutes, she picked her head up, looked at me, and said ‘no one has ever fucked me like that before. I can’t believe how many times you made me cum!’
I gazed deep into her eyes and responded ‘and I’m nowhere near done.’
After another short break, for more wine and a snack, the heat between the two of us began to build again. We were nowhere near being done with one another on that first night. While the heat was intensifying, she reached down and wrapped her hand around my shaft, a small moan escaping as she stroked it. I asked her if she wanted it inside her again. As she leaned in so her lips were all but touching my ear, I heard ‘mmm,hmm’.
I told her to bend over on her hands and knees, that I was going to take her from behind. Positioning myself, I gazed down appreciatively at her perfect, tight, young ass. Moving forward, as I penetrated her once again, she moaned in appreciation. Starting with slow movements, I gradually began picking up both my speed and intensity, grabbing her hips so she could feel me deep inside her. She began to moan more loudly as I fucked her harder. Remembering what she had told me earlier, I raised my right hand and slapped her ass. Her breath caught from both the surprise and pain. I told her she was a dirty girl who needed a spanking and proceeded to slap her ass a few more times, each swat being progressively harder than the one before.
“Do you like that?” I asked.
She half panted, “Yes, I deserve to be treated like the slut I am.”
“You like having a hard cock fucking you and your ass spanked, don’t you?”
At that point, she didn’t respond; I knew from the way she was moaning that she was going to cum soon.
“God, you’re such a whore. Taking a hard cock from behind and being spanked like a slut. Are you going to cum for me? Cum all over my cock, like the whore you are.”
At that moment, her walls tightened up, gripping my cock like a vise, and I knew she was cumming.
She began to moan loudly as her orgasm ripped through her. I said ‘that’s it, scream like a whore for me. I want to hear how good my cock makes you cum.’
She continued to moan even louder and her hips made sharp, involuntary jerks as her orgasm peaked and began to subside. Without giving her any time to recover, I began to fuck her again, this time pounding her right off the bat. I continued to spank her ass, then reached up and gathered a handful of her long blonde hair. I began pulling on it, as she had asked me to do early on. I asked her if she liked having her hair pulled, like a dirty slut. In between short moans and pants, she breathed ‘harder’. I pulled harder, harder, harder. The sounds she made as I fucked her hard from behind and pulled her hair alternated between whimpers of pain and moans of pleasure. I knew she couldn’t keep this up for long and, sure enough, I could feel her begin to grip me tighter. As she came, I once again, told her how much of a dirty whore she was. The more I told her how good of a slut she was, the louder she moaned.
During this interlude, I felt an almost involuntary transition in both of us. Watching this young girl seemingly become more aroused the more I dominated and degraded her raised my lust to the point where I truly became her ‘owner’. Likewise, I felt that she had reached a level of trust with me to allow that dynamic.
This led to me looking at her and saying ‘you’re going to prove you’re completely my slut; I want your ass. You need to feel me everywhere.’
I have to admit to surprising myself with that statement. Anal sex tends to be something discussed, and agreed upon, by both parties (mainly the woman) before it takes place. I’ve had partners who ranged from ‘no way, no how’ to ‘if you get me drunk enough’ to ‘stick it wherever it’ll fit’. While I assumed a role in the bedroom, I’m still a gentleman and would have stopped at any point she told me to.
Anyway, she looked at me with panic in her eyes.
‘I’ve….never done that.’
Okay, here’s the line that she’s going to draw….
‘You need to go very slowly…..’
Even though my cock was drenched from Amber cumming all over it, I decided that a copious amount of lube was in order. Applying it to all the necessary areas, I began to slowly push myself against her tight hole. I could tell she was still tense so I talked to her in an attempt to relax her. Slowly, could feel her relaxing and I began to probe a bit further. Finally, the head of my cock slid past her ring; that’s where I held it for a moment, asking if she was okay. Eventually, I slid my cock deeper to which she responded with a few whimpers. I continued to talk to her, saying how hot it was and how good of a dirty girl she was being.
As my cock hit bottom, she turned around and said ‘Oh my god, you’re in my….ass.’
I said ‘yes, it’s my cock that’s in your ass’.
I began to fuck her slowly at first.
‘Fuck baby, your ass feels so good around my cock. Thank you for giving it to me.’
We settled into a rhythm as I fucked her tight ass, watching my cock disappear with each thrust.
Eventually, I realized she wasn’t getting as much pleasure out of things as I was, so I told her to reach down and touch herself. ‘Show me how much of a dirty girl you are. Finger your pussy while I fuck your ass.’
She played with her clit a bit and began to moan softly.
‘Put your finger inside your pussy baby.’
Following my orders, she slid a finger inside and immediately gasped ‘god, I can feel your cock from my pussy. Oh fuck, every time you thrust it shoves my finger against my g-spot.’
‘Stick another finger in.’
Amber obeyed and gasped again. ‘Oh fuck, I feel so full. This feels amazing! Keep fucking me baby.’
‘Good girl, Amber. You like feeling full, don’t you? I bet you’d like to have two cocks inside you.’
‘Unnhhhf’ was all that came out of her mouth.
‘One hard cock in your pussy and one in your ass. You want two cocks, slut? You want to be a fucking whore with two cocks in you? Maybe another one in your mouth?’
That was all it took to trigger her to a massive orgasm.
It took all I had to hold onto her as she thrashed in front of me screaming, ‘Oh fuck I’m cumming!! Owwweeeww!!!!’
Finally, I decided it was my turn and said ‘I’m going to cum inside you. Shoot my load deep in your ass so you know who it belongs too. Oh fuck….’
My cumming seemed to trigger a smaller, second orgasm for Amber. She thrashed a bit more and then collapsed on the bed, where she stayed until the next morning.
The next morning, after I made her breakfast, was spent in various states of messing around with one another. Eventually, our conversation migrated toward what events were planned for the evening. I told her it would be such a turn on to see her in a hot and slutty outfit for that night’s festivities. She responded enthusiastically by saying ‘I want you to dress me up the way you want; I want to turn you on’.
She was standing against the bed, facing away from me at the time; probably putting something away. In any case, I walked up behind her and whispered in her ear that she turned me on all the time. Not being able to resist a beautiful neck, I began to kiss hers, reaching around to cup her breasts from behind.
Her breathing began to quicken and after a few minutes, she abruptly pulled away from me and said ‘fuck me like a slut’. With that, she unbuttoned her jeans and pulled moved them down around her knees, bringing her panties with them. I brought myself forward and shoved my hard cock inside her already wet pussy. This was no time for tenderness or romance, she wanted to be fucked like a whore so I did. I grabbed her hips and fucked her hard and deep. I looked down at my cock disappearing inside her and then smacked her ass quite hard, receiving a response something between a whimper and a scream.
‘You want to be a dirty little slut, I’ll fuck you like one. You need to have a hard cock in you all the time, don’t you?’
‘Yes, sir…..’
‘Do you like that hard cock fucking you?’
‘Yessss, sir……’
‘Good, I like fucking your slutty pussy….deep, hard….it’s my pussy now, isn’t it?’
‘Fuck yes, it’s your pussy to fuck whenever you want. Please pull my hair…’
Reaching up, I gathered up a handful of her long blonde hair and pulled.
‘Harder; pull my hair harder!’
I pulled her hair harder and harder as she whimpered and moaned.
‘Is that what you want, you fucking whore?’
‘Oh god yes….fuck me baby.’
Her moaning became louder and I could feel her start to tense up under the brutal fucking and abuse.
‘Are you going to cum for me?’
‘Yes sir…..’
‘That’s what you wanted…my dirty slut wanted to get off and cum all over my cock.’
‘Ohhhhh…..fuck’
‘That’s it slut, fucking cum all over my cock!’
With that, she let out a loud moan and screamed that she was cumming. That was all it took for me to cum, blowing a massive load in her battered pussy.
After pulling ourselves back together, we left for lunch and some shopping. Both of us were excited about the purchases we’d made that afternoon. Rather than wasting valuable debauchery time on going out, I made dinner for us. Of course, dinner conversation tended to lean toward what we were going to do to each other later. Knowing how enamored Amber was with herself, I asked her if it would turn her on to make love in front of the huge mirrors in my master bath. Would it turn her on to watch herself being fucked, seeing her face while I was inside her. She thought that was a great idea and told me she'd never watched herself being fucked before. So I kept that in mind when I set up later (candles, etc.).
Dinner was followed by some light chatting on my sofa and was accompanied by more wine. After it became clear that we were both interested in ‘getting things underway’ I asked if she wanted to go slip into the things I’d bought her that afternoon. She readily agreed and headed off to the bedroom to change.
About ten minutes later, Amber emerged and looked amazing. I’m pretty sure my jaw physically dropped at the vision in front of me; a gorgeous young blonde wearing a silky black negligee, a matching thong, black thigh high stockings, and a pair of stilettos of ‘I’m a dirty slut’ height. I asked her to do a spin for me, so I could take all of her in.
‘You look amazing, baby!’
‘I really like the outfit. Thank you so much!’
I noticed she was a bit flushed and asked her ‘Does the outfit turn you on?’
‘Mmmhmmm’
‘You took awhile to change; were you looking in the mirror and touching yourself?’
Looking at the floor, she sheepishly admitted that she had been.
‘I don’t blame you, baby. I want you to show me how you were touching yourself.’
That panicked look returned to her face. She still wasn’t comfortable masturbating in front of someone else. So, I decided that she needed some guidance. I looked her in the eyes and, very firmly, said ‘show me’. The way I said it made it clear it wasn’t a request. Slowly, she moved a hand up and began to cup her breast, sliding the silk across her nipples. They instantly became erect and poked at the black silk.
‘Good girl; that’s so hot, baby.’
She slowly moved her other hand down, across her silk covered belly, and into her thong. She gasped a bit when her fingers made contact with her clit. I kept encouraging her, saying how beautiful she was and how hot she was making me. After a few minutes, her self-consciousness gave way to pleasure. She was pawing at her tits and whimpering every time her fingers strummed across her clit.
‘I need to have you inside me soon, baby’
‘Come over and prove how much you want my cock. Show how you love it.’
Without hesitation, she walked over to where I was sitting and roughly unbuttoned / unzipped my pants. I stood up so she could pull them down, then returned to my seated position. She lunged forward and instantly devoured my cock. She sucked it like she had something to prove; that she was worthy of having it inside her. Normally, I would have toyed with her a bit before giving her what she wanted but I was so turned on that I couldn’t wait to fuck this beauty in front of me.
‘Do you want to ride this cock right here?’
‘Mmmhmmf’ she muttered, still sucking for all she was worth.
‘The get up here and fuck it if that’s what you want.’
She stood up, turned around, and I began guiding her onto my rock hard shaft. With as wet and in lust as she was, she didn’t bother working up to anything. She simply dropped herself into my lap, impaling herself. She began moaning immediately, as she worked herself up and down on my pole. I loved seeing her ass moving around on my lap. I reached out and began pawing her tits from behind, using the leverage to drive myself as deep as possible. It didn’t take long for her to cry out that she was cumming. As she collapsed back into my chest, I asked her if she wanted to go into the bathroom and watch us make love in the mirror. She readily agreed so I took her hand and led her into the soft candlelight.
As she was looking at herself in the mirror, I walked up behind her and began kissing her neck, cupping her breasts in my hands.
‘Do you want me inside you?’
‘Yesss’
I gently bent her over and guided my cock into her pussy. We moved slowly at first, enjoying the scene that was playing out. She was transfixed on the image in the mirror in front of her, an almost dreamy look on her face. Seeing her face in the mirror, as it twisted slightly with pleasure, looking down at my hard cock disappearing inside her, the curve of her exquisite ass, her thong pulled to the side, her nylon covered legs; I have to admit it was one of the most erotic moments in my life.
Slowly, I picked up the pace of my thrusting and began talking to her.
‘Do you like watching yourself being taken from behind? Seeing your beautiful face as it twists with the pleasure I’m giving you’
‘Oh god yes…this is so incredible…I love how I look.’
‘Good baby, I want you to see how you look when I’m fucking you. You're so beautiful.’
With that, I picked up my pace. At this point, I’d learned about where her threshold was. She started moaning softly as I continued to fuck her. I could tell she was just on the edge but needed a bit more stimulation to cum.
‘Does that feel good, baby?’
‘Yes sir.’
Picking up the pace a bit, I could feel her getting closer. But I wasn’t giving her quite enough to make her cum and I could feel her frustration as she started to shove her ass back to make me fuck her harder.
‘Do you want to cum, slut?’
‘Yesssss, I’m so close.’
‘Tell me what you want.’
‘Make me cum; I need to cum.’
‘You need to beg for it, like a good girl.’
‘Please make me cum! I want to cum so bad, baby.’
The dirty talk was getting her even more worked up but I held back just enough to keep her from cumming. Finally, I increased my rhythm a bit, edging her closer to the orgasm that was building inside her. After making her beg just a bit longer, I thrust hard enough to give her the release she desperately wanted. She came with a scream and a shudder so violent I had to hold her steady to prevent her from falling.
Without giving her much of a rest, I grabbed her hair and pulled her so her body was parallel to the large mirror. I wanted her to have a ringside seat to see me entering her. With some additional humiliation and pain, I was rewarded with another intense orgasm that gripped my cock inside her pussy.
After the mirror interlude, we took a short break for some much needed wine and other sustenance. Once we were both refreshed, our debauchery resumed in earnest as we worked our way through various positions, sweating, moaning, spanking…
Finally, I threw her on the bed with her ass just at the edge, allowing me to stand on the floor and penetrate her while her legs were over my shoulders.
'Oh my god, no one has ever fucked me this way before!'
I grabbed her hips and thrust as deep as I could; slow at first. Picking up speed, Amber began to moan and thrash on the bed. She groped at her breasts, twisting her nipples to maximize the intensity. Soon, her legs locked around my shoulders and she screamed that she was cumming. I kept fucking her and began telling her what a good little whore she was, laying on the bed, with her legs in the air, and taking my hard cock deep inside her. I kept fucking her and reached down to play with her clit, causing her to thrash even more wildly.
‘Fuck, I’m cumming, baby. I love your cock inside me…OOOOooooohhhnnnn….’
Seeing this gorgeous blonde writhing on my bed and watching my cock battering her pussy was finally getting to me. I told her I was going to cum soon.
‘Cum all over me. I want to feel you shoot your load all over my belly and tits!’
‘You want me to make sure you know who owns you? You want to be my cum slut?’
‘Yes, I’m YOUR dirty little whore. Cum all over me and make me yours.’
Well, that was all it took. I pulled my cock out of her and came. After fucking for almost two hours off and on, I shot a huge load all over her belly and tits. She rubbed my cum all over her tits and promptly passed out, spent from my using her body. She was so wiped out, that I even had to take off her stockings for her.
All in all, a pretty fun weekend. And no, you can't see the pictures.
Monday, April 23, 2018
Concealed Carry Permits - Kansas Finds Yet Another Way To Suck
If I'm allowed to carry a concealed handgun in the state I live, I plan on doing so. We'll skip the existential debate surrounding guns and such, because I won't go there. This post is intended to be another in the series that never ends on why Kansas sucks; the concealed carry permit application process. Since most of my readers have likely never applied for a concealed carry permit (CCW), I'll compare and contrast with the two other states in which I've held permits, Virginia and Pennsylvania. All three are 'shall issue' states, which means they will issue anyone a carry permit, unless a legitimate reason exists to not do so. In other words, the applicant need not justify the need for a permit (i.e. owns a jewelry store and carries large sums of cash) to receive one.
We'll begin with qualifications; what sort of bona fides does an applicant require to apply for a permit? (We'll assume our applicant has a clean criminal record and no other disqualifying attributes.)
PA: Nada
VA: Essentially, if you've ever taken a handgun course, been in law enforcement, or shot competitively, you're good.
A fairly low bar; I submitted my scores from previous matches I've shot.
KS: Applicants must complete a 9 hour CCW class that reviews gun safety and self-defense laws, followed by a handgun proficiency test (that literally everyone passes; the instructors made sure of that) and a written exam (with the same level of difficulty as the shooting qual).
Everyone must take the class. Doesn't matter if you're a former Navy SEAL, who practices defense law now. You're taking the class.
I've held a CCW permit for 20+ years and always taken an active interest in understanding the relevant laws. Plus, I shot competitively for a dozen years and even taught new shooter classes. As you can imagine, the class was beyond painful for me. I was a good boy though, and didn't call the instructor out on any of his bullshit, just sitting there and trying not to cringe. I did laugh at the shooting qual, not because it was beyond remedial, but because of the range officer's reaction. RO's were there for safety and to provide advice to the shooters, which they did by 'reading' targets (a way of identifying common mistakes based upon where the shots hit). I used the same tactic when teaching new shooters. The one in my area gets to my target, in which all the holes are neatly clustered in what would be the A zone if we were using a USPSA target (even though I'd not shot a gun in 9 years). He had this befuddled look on his face and reluctantly admitted 'I'm not sure how much help I can give you'. I chuckled and revealed my background. Hell, just the gun I was shooting likely had more rounds through it than all the other students had shot, in their lives.
Back to the process...
PA and VA: Take your paperwork (application and supporting documents) and a check to your local courthouse. Submit, get fingerprinted, and receive your permit in the mail in 7-10 days.
KS:
Have passport photos taken.
Attach two of those to your application, then take all your shit (certificate from the mandatory class) to the local sheriff, along with two checks (one for the AG, the other to National Inbreeding Foundation, the fuck if I can remember). While they've got you bent over for the fees, they'll also fingerprint you.
In some period of time, you'll receive something in the mail that says you're approved. You'll take that to your local drivers licence center, where they take your picture (what the hell happened to the photos I already submitted???), and mail your permit in another 7-10 days. Quick and efficient!
Let's discuss fees.
VA and PA are both $35
Kansas continues to demonstrate how it excels in all aspects of sucking donkey dicks. You'll be writing checks for $132.50. No, that's not a typo.
To add one final dimension of suck to Kansas, their permit's only valid for four years, where VA and PA are good four five. Fuck, for $132, Kansas' permit should be valid for a decade and include valet service!
I have to admit to being a bad boy, in class, when the instructor went through the required steps. It was a completely involuntary uttering of 'you've got to be kidding, right?'
Let's wrap up with a quick recap.
PA and VA:
One stop at your local sheriff / circuit court
Cost $35
Your permit is valid for 5 years.
Kansas:
Four stops, including 9 hours lost in a class I didn't need.
$132.50
Valid for 4 years.
And I know what you're thinking; 'He's just looking for things to bitch about, now. Kansas can't suck that badly.' You're wrong. While it was with neither glee nor joy that I relocated here, I actually had the mindset that the only thing I'd be giving up was topography and the richness of Richmond itself, and having 2 hour access to the beach, mountains, and DC. I figured 'how bad could it be?' The fact is that Kansas has repeatedly beaten me about the head and neck, seemingly yelling 'you made such a mistake moving here; what the fuck were you thinking???' Seriously, even removing the flatness and bad roads from the equation, every damned aspect of living here is worse than anywhere I've lived before. I've racked my brain, attempting to identify one point of life, one little thing that's better here than the East Coast. But there just aren't any. Restaurants, grocery stores, things to do, cost of living, dating, ease of life, weather...they all suck here. Perhaps my new hobby should become binge drinking.
Happy living, readers!
We'll begin with qualifications; what sort of bona fides does an applicant require to apply for a permit? (We'll assume our applicant has a clean criminal record and no other disqualifying attributes.)
PA: Nada
VA: Essentially, if you've ever taken a handgun course, been in law enforcement, or shot competitively, you're good.
A fairly low bar; I submitted my scores from previous matches I've shot.
KS: Applicants must complete a 9 hour CCW class that reviews gun safety and self-defense laws, followed by a handgun proficiency test (that literally everyone passes; the instructors made sure of that) and a written exam (with the same level of difficulty as the shooting qual).
Everyone must take the class. Doesn't matter if you're a former Navy SEAL, who practices defense law now. You're taking the class.
I've held a CCW permit for 20+ years and always taken an active interest in understanding the relevant laws. Plus, I shot competitively for a dozen years and even taught new shooter classes. As you can imagine, the class was beyond painful for me. I was a good boy though, and didn't call the instructor out on any of his bullshit, just sitting there and trying not to cringe. I did laugh at the shooting qual, not because it was beyond remedial, but because of the range officer's reaction. RO's were there for safety and to provide advice to the shooters, which they did by 'reading' targets (a way of identifying common mistakes based upon where the shots hit). I used the same tactic when teaching new shooters. The one in my area gets to my target, in which all the holes are neatly clustered in what would be the A zone if we were using a USPSA target (even though I'd not shot a gun in 9 years). He had this befuddled look on his face and reluctantly admitted 'I'm not sure how much help I can give you'. I chuckled and revealed my background. Hell, just the gun I was shooting likely had more rounds through it than all the other students had shot, in their lives.
Back to the process...
PA and VA: Take your paperwork (application and supporting documents) and a check to your local courthouse. Submit, get fingerprinted, and receive your permit in the mail in 7-10 days.
KS:
Have passport photos taken.
Attach two of those to your application, then take all your shit (certificate from the mandatory class) to the local sheriff, along with two checks (one for the AG, the other to National Inbreeding Foundation, the fuck if I can remember). While they've got you bent over for the fees, they'll also fingerprint you.
In some period of time, you'll receive something in the mail that says you're approved. You'll take that to your local drivers licence center, where they take your picture (what the hell happened to the photos I already submitted???), and mail your permit in another 7-10 days. Quick and efficient!
Let's discuss fees.
VA and PA are both $35
Kansas continues to demonstrate how it excels in all aspects of sucking donkey dicks. You'll be writing checks for $132.50. No, that's not a typo.
To add one final dimension of suck to Kansas, their permit's only valid for four years, where VA and PA are good four five. Fuck, for $132, Kansas' permit should be valid for a decade and include valet service!
I have to admit to being a bad boy, in class, when the instructor went through the required steps. It was a completely involuntary uttering of 'you've got to be kidding, right?'
Let's wrap up with a quick recap.
PA and VA:
One stop at your local sheriff / circuit court
Cost $35
Your permit is valid for 5 years.
Kansas:
Four stops, including 9 hours lost in a class I didn't need.
$132.50
Valid for 4 years.
And I know what you're thinking; 'He's just looking for things to bitch about, now. Kansas can't suck that badly.' You're wrong. While it was with neither glee nor joy that I relocated here, I actually had the mindset that the only thing I'd be giving up was topography and the richness of Richmond itself, and having 2 hour access to the beach, mountains, and DC. I figured 'how bad could it be?' The fact is that Kansas has repeatedly beaten me about the head and neck, seemingly yelling 'you made such a mistake moving here; what the fuck were you thinking???' Seriously, even removing the flatness and bad roads from the equation, every damned aspect of living here is worse than anywhere I've lived before. I've racked my brain, attempting to identify one point of life, one little thing that's better here than the East Coast. But there just aren't any. Restaurants, grocery stores, things to do, cost of living, dating, ease of life, weather...they all suck here. Perhaps my new hobby should become binge drinking.
Happy living, readers!
Monday, April 16, 2018
Do You Know Yourself? Really?
The words on the screen stung a bit. They were from a woman with whom I thought I saw what could be an amazing relationship. Our third date had been even more fun than the previous two and it was clear our desire would take over on number four and we'd become intimate. I'd told her I wanted us to be exclusive. Regular readers know I'm a fan of monogamy, plus I really liked this woman. But there were the words.
I don't want an exclusive sexual relationship with you.
After a bit of back and forth, I got to the heart of the matter. She wanted a sexual relationship with me but wanted to explore new possibilities, being fresh out of her marriage (dating separated people...never a good idea). She wanted to sleep around a bit.
I responded by asking "you know we're talking about you, right? The woman who, on our second date, wouldn't invite me up to her apartment in order to continue the heavy make out session that had begun in my car because 'I barely know you'. The same woman, who on our third date, required some serious arm twisting before she finally relented to having me up; for the same reason, I might add. (and not to have sex) And you think you can casually fuck random guys?"
While we were a couple, we would often joke about that, and she would always finish with 'I could totally be a slut.' Sure you could, sweetheart.
My point in sharing this story is that her lack of understanding of who she was and what she was capable of could have torpedoed something great between the two of us. (instead, it was her abysmal self-esteem that served as the projectile, but that's another story)
The experience that spurred this entry though, occurred recently, and was deja vu all over again with a similar encounter a few years ago. While both women fell into the same demographic, two data points do not make a trend. But the data points are the same. The women were full blown submissives, who hadn't been with a man in at least a year. Having spotted their concealed desires, I brought each 'out of their shell' and was met with a sentiment of 'I want you to take me asap' and called 'master' by both. Then, to borrow a line from Top Gun, they each realized their sex drive wrote a check their body couldn't cash. In other words, both flaked. The first got halfway to the wine bar, at which we were meeting, and realized she couldn't go through with fucking a complete stranger. She was apologetic, I was supportive. There was some chemistry, but we never reconnected. The second one ghosted me before we could meet. I sent her a note a week or so after, asking why she ghosted me, to which she responded to the effect of 'those things you said to me before we even met were screwed up'. Oh, you mean the things that you were self-stimulating to as I said them? As noted, both women couldn't overcome their own inhibitions, even though they clearly thought they could.
The moral of these stories is understanding the person in the mirror is vital, when you're attempting to find a mate or chart your course. Without knowing yourself, you can never hope to truly know someone else.
Happy dating, readers.
I don't want an exclusive sexual relationship with you.
After a bit of back and forth, I got to the heart of the matter. She wanted a sexual relationship with me but wanted to explore new possibilities, being fresh out of her marriage (dating separated people...never a good idea). She wanted to sleep around a bit.
I responded by asking "you know we're talking about you, right? The woman who, on our second date, wouldn't invite me up to her apartment in order to continue the heavy make out session that had begun in my car because 'I barely know you'. The same woman, who on our third date, required some serious arm twisting before she finally relented to having me up; for the same reason, I might add. (and not to have sex) And you think you can casually fuck random guys?"
While we were a couple, we would often joke about that, and she would always finish with 'I could totally be a slut.' Sure you could, sweetheart.
My point in sharing this story is that her lack of understanding of who she was and what she was capable of could have torpedoed something great between the two of us. (instead, it was her abysmal self-esteem that served as the projectile, but that's another story)
The experience that spurred this entry though, occurred recently, and was deja vu all over again with a similar encounter a few years ago. While both women fell into the same demographic, two data points do not make a trend. But the data points are the same. The women were full blown submissives, who hadn't been with a man in at least a year. Having spotted their concealed desires, I brought each 'out of their shell' and was met with a sentiment of 'I want you to take me asap' and called 'master' by both. Then, to borrow a line from Top Gun, they each realized their sex drive wrote a check their body couldn't cash. In other words, both flaked. The first got halfway to the wine bar, at which we were meeting, and realized she couldn't go through with fucking a complete stranger. She was apologetic, I was supportive. There was some chemistry, but we never reconnected. The second one ghosted me before we could meet. I sent her a note a week or so after, asking why she ghosted me, to which she responded to the effect of 'those things you said to me before we even met were screwed up'. Oh, you mean the things that you were self-stimulating to as I said them? As noted, both women couldn't overcome their own inhibitions, even though they clearly thought they could.
The moral of these stories is understanding the person in the mirror is vital, when you're attempting to find a mate or chart your course. Without knowing yourself, you can never hope to truly know someone else.
Happy dating, readers.
Sunday, April 8, 2018
The Insightful Bachelor Joins The Klan
Sunday morning in the flat lands and I'm waking up alone again. This is noteworthy because I had two women eager and willing for me to do very bad things to them, this weekend, and I bailed on both. Each brought her own brand of lunacy to the table, and since they dropped in at the same time, I thought I'd share.
The first woman was a previous float in my parade of loons. We had traded notes a few months back, but not met. She was the first woman who had 'scheduled' a sexting session. Seriously, she told me that we would sext that evening and at the appointed time, began sending x-rated pictures and videos. Perhaps I'm different from most guys, but I need a bit of warming up before such a stream of material excites me. In any case, before I wander too far into the details, I blew her off because she was an oddball. She was oddly self-absorbed and shared way too many details of her dysfunctional past with me. Because she fancied herself as a writer, those details came in the form of epic length emails. Ask her what time it was and she'd share interminable thoughts on time itself, as well as how it impacted her previous struggles with mental illness.
This woman reappeared and wanted me to afford her another opportunity to date. Having suffered her bullshit before, I told her I needed a fuck toy and she would come over Saturday (last) night to provide that service. She readily agreed and the epic notes returned. Fuck, I forgot what a whack job she was. It was actually something relatively minor that caused her to be kicked to the curb again. In the midst of the painfully long emails, she made the comment 'your such a good guy', or something to that effect. I won't date a woman if her profile has that error and this woman constantly pats herself on the back for being an extraordinary writer. Yet, she still can't get 'your' and 'you're' straight. Granted, I would have finally skipped the encounter anyway, to escape the constant garbage coming from her mouth, not to mention, she had the strong aroma of a stalker, but the end result was the same.
The other woman, in some ways, was even more fucked up than the first one. Like the first, she was smart, educated, and had something to say. It didn't hurt she was gorgeous as well. I'll also mention she was black; be very clear I have no feelings, one way or another, about dating a black woman; I'm mentioning it because it'll be important later. Sandi was an interesting girl, in that she worked like crazy to maintain her tough, outer shell. She also seemed to enjoy keeping me on my toes. For those reasons, I took some of her demands with a grain of salt. But she made demands that, in my mind, had her straddling the fence between high maintenance and manipulative. For example, when we planned to talk on the phone for the first time, she got angry I wouldn't share my number as soon as the plans were made, even though we wouldn't be speaking for several hours.
There were other things that rang some bells, such as her way of engaging her fwb's. I'll stop for a moment and state that one of the other things I appreciated about Sandi was her sex drive and level of perversity similar to mine. Back to her fwb's, she would fuck them, but refused to kiss them. This, she told me, was in order to compartmentalize feelings versus sexual pleasure. I found this to be rather odd, because I've kissed every one of my fwb's and they've eagerly reciprocated. She also made it clear she was no one's sub; in fact, she told me I would be her's. Also, she enjoyed having a man go down on her, but hadn't experienced that in years, due to the vulnerability involved in receiving oral.
We had planned to get together last night, but talked every evening this past week, almost always enjoying some phone dirtiness before hanging up. Sometimes, the phone sex was the main event. She slowly opened up to me and began to realize that I really wasn't just interested in fucking her. That trust allowed her to share her deepest, darkest sexual fantasy with me. I've done some very naughty, dirty things sexually, but what she shared shocked even me. I was to secure a Klan robe / hood and put her in her place, treat her like a possession, rough her up / choke her, and degrade her without mercy. I sort of said 'youwantmetodowhatnow?' I find the Klan to be the worst of those with whom I share the planet and to have a strong, black woman want to bring them into the bedroom absolutely floored me. It would have been difficult for me to put on a set of Klan robes. That being said, within certain boundaries (i.e. no other species, football teams, scat, etc.) I'll do what it takes to take my partner to new levels of sexual pleasure. So, that was the role play for that night's phone fun.
But the demands / manipulation continued to where we'd talk in circles for an hour about the same topic, only to land back where we started; what was objectionable 30 minutes ago was suddenly a perfect idea. The straw that broke it for me was she told me she wanted to hear me tell her I loved her. (I'll remind readers I'd not met this woman) Naturally, I told her that wouldn't happen for a bit, because, well, I'm emotionally healthy. This hurt her feelings quite a bit. She backpedaled to explain it was a sexual fantasy, although I knew she was full of shit. Our last exchange of the night involved her demand for a certain dirty picture (btw, she's only the second woman I've encountered who likes dick pics). I teased her and asked if she thought she deserved the picture. 'So much for making me happy.' That was it; no dirty sex is worth the borderline tantrums and manipulation. So, I woke up yesterday morning and called off our date.
I've resisted the temptation to 'diagnose' this woman, although it's clear there are some serious intimacy issues present. I'm just happy to have not had her over, because she also smelled of 'stalker'.
Those are the most recent women I've interacted with, beyond a note or two. There have been a number of women who seem unable to hold a conversation, but that's a constant background noise.
In closing, I will mention that finding KKK robes and hoods is pretty much impossible. Neither Amazon nor eBay list them, and if those two don't offer something, it's likely not available to buy. There's my tidbit of knowledge for the week.
Happy dating, readers.
A Trip To The DMV - Kansas Finds More Ways To Suck
The DMV is never fun, regardless of where you live. However, this week, Kansas took the experience to a new and painful level for me. In this state, you must traverse a multi-stage process for titling / registering your vehicles, when you move from another state. First, you must present the vehicle and title to the Kansas Highway Patrol for them to validate the VIN's match, then do the DMV purgatory. I took both of my cars for the VIN check, a few weeks ago; each requiring over an hour of waiting and messing about with apathetic civil servants. I didn't find time to complete the process until this past week.
Wednesday morning, I set out for the drivers license facility (different than the DMV) and managed to knock that out in about an hour. Not bad for the typical government parade of sloths. What made me chuckle is the temporary DL I received, which looks like a bar receipt; on thermal paper and everything. This thing has to last 30-45 days; imagine trying to keep a receipt from Target that long (in your wallet). Both PA and VA (the two other states in which I've lived) had facilities in which you walked out with a real license.
Bar receipt in hand, I trekked to the DMV to finish the process. After waiting the proper 25 minutes, I was called to window 12, where I presented my completed paperwork. The drone behind the counter told me I must have handed her the wrong title, because the inspection sheet noted a KTM motorcycle. I don't own a motorcycle which meant the damned inspection station screwed up. Back in the car, I trudged to the KHP facility, where I was told to sign in and take a seat. I responded 'I don't plan on being here long enough to need a seat. You need to remedy this mixup and have me on my way.' The woman manning the counter looked at me and, I swear on my grandmother's grave, said 'remedy?' I stared at her and said 'fix'. 'Oh, okay; wait a minute.' A few minutes later, I made the return trip back to the DMV. I approached another counter, this time, and presented my now correct paperwork.
'Do you have your VA registration?'
'Uh, no...it wasn't on the list of documents I was to provide, based upon your website.'
'Well, I need it to determine timing for your taxes.'
It's obvious I had the registration for the vehicle I was driving, but the reg for my other car was, shocker, in my other car.
Thus, I found myself making another trek, still nowhere near completing my task. After grabbing some lunch, kicking a few kittens, and otherwise releasing my frustrations, I returned to the DMV. This time, I had everything I needed and was able to complete the full transaction. Although, the final act was to pay KS property tax on my cars, which was 20% higher than what I paid in VA. I pretty much said to the drone behind the counter 'you've got to be kidding! You charge more than a real state and still have shit roads and services. How the hell do you charge this much?' Not surprising I received no response on that one.
In any case, I'm now legal in the state of...I can't even say it.
How was your week?
Wednesday morning, I set out for the drivers license facility (different than the DMV) and managed to knock that out in about an hour. Not bad for the typical government parade of sloths. What made me chuckle is the temporary DL I received, which looks like a bar receipt; on thermal paper and everything. This thing has to last 30-45 days; imagine trying to keep a receipt from Target that long (in your wallet). Both PA and VA (the two other states in which I've lived) had facilities in which you walked out with a real license.
Bar receipt in hand, I trekked to the DMV to finish the process. After waiting the proper 25 minutes, I was called to window 12, where I presented my completed paperwork. The drone behind the counter told me I must have handed her the wrong title, because the inspection sheet noted a KTM motorcycle. I don't own a motorcycle which meant the damned inspection station screwed up. Back in the car, I trudged to the KHP facility, where I was told to sign in and take a seat. I responded 'I don't plan on being here long enough to need a seat. You need to remedy this mixup and have me on my way.' The woman manning the counter looked at me and, I swear on my grandmother's grave, said 'remedy?' I stared at her and said 'fix'. 'Oh, okay; wait a minute.' A few minutes later, I made the return trip back to the DMV. I approached another counter, this time, and presented my now correct paperwork.
'Do you have your VA registration?'
'Uh, no...it wasn't on the list of documents I was to provide, based upon your website.'
'Well, I need it to determine timing for your taxes.'
It's obvious I had the registration for the vehicle I was driving, but the reg for my other car was, shocker, in my other car.
Thus, I found myself making another trek, still nowhere near completing my task. After grabbing some lunch, kicking a few kittens, and otherwise releasing my frustrations, I returned to the DMV. This time, I had everything I needed and was able to complete the full transaction. Although, the final act was to pay KS property tax on my cars, which was 20% higher than what I paid in VA. I pretty much said to the drone behind the counter 'you've got to be kidding! You charge more than a real state and still have shit roads and services. How the hell do you charge this much?' Not surprising I received no response on that one.
In any case, I'm now legal in the state of...I can't even say it.
How was your week?
Sunday, March 25, 2018
Quarterly Dating Profile of the Week
Typically, I post profiles I can make fun of, but that's not the case here. I read this opening recently and it just struck me as funny. Usually, we reach out to those with whom we share common interests / experiences. That's not likely here. 'You too???'
My self-summary
I spent most of my 20s traveling to Antarctica researching polar plankton. Now, I enjoy documentaries (the more depressing the better!),...
My self-summary
I spent most of my 20s traveling to Antarctica researching polar plankton. Now, I enjoy documentaries (the more depressing the better!),...
Religion and Dating in Kansas
Having been here for seven months (holy fucking shit, that realization just made me a bit nauseous!), I should have already encountered someone I wanted to date more than a few times, or at least developed one or two 'special friends', with whom I could spend quality time. However, I've only gone on multiple dates with one person. It goes without saying that dating sucks, but seriously, this has been an incredible dry spell. This lack of companionship can essentially be attributed to one factor, religion.
I've already shared my views on religion and faith here. With the exception I noted in that entry, I'd previously not encountered much friction on the topic of religion in the context of dating. That is until I moved here...to the Bible Belt. You see, the majority of people I've come across here are practicing Christians and most women want the same quality in their partner. Beyond it narrowing the dating pool quite a bit, no foul, right? Wrong.
You see, many of these so called devout Christians take quite a bit of license with the 'no sex before marriage' rule. That's the one good thing about OKCupid; it's easy to see by how a woman answers the sex questions what's important to her. It's fairly common to find a woman who responds she'll sleep with a guy on their first date, but God is very important to her.
My position is if you're going to be a Christian, be a Christian. If you consider the Bible to be the word of God, follow it. You're either in or you're out. 'I like these rules, but not those, so I'll ignore them' serves only to highlight your hypocrisy. His word is either sacrosanct or it's not, and if it's not, then stop calling yourself a person of faith.
To those I've questioned on the topic, the typical response has been 'I have a special relationship with God'. So, you and your sky daddy sat down and he said 'fuck all the guys you want, I got your back'? You'll forgive me if I'm a bit skeptical about that one.
It all boils down to this: This is your god, the one you worship, and profess to follow. If you can't be faithful to Him, then how can I expect you will be to some schmuck you're dating?
The cherry on the top is these women (and I'm sure men, but I don't date them), will be the first to judge you for not being a Christian. They look down their noses at you as though you're some sort of ignorant, evil creature. Hypocrisy elevated to a very high standard.
And this has nothing to do with slut shaming. Those who read my blog know I wholeheartedly celebrate sluts. A woman can fuck her way through the NFC east, for all I care, and I'd have not one unkind word to say about her. However, if she's espousing to worship her sky daddy while doing it, she's a waste of oxygen.
For example, the girl who owned nothing would scream with delight as I pounded her ass, and called her a whore, but still gave me shit for not believing in God.
In another case, I'd been chatting with a woman (here in the Flat Lands) who seemed to be a good fit; smart, funny, cute, blah, blah. We'd discussed sex and she became rather excited about becoming my dirty girl, even being owned by me. We planned to meet for dinner, then she would come to my house, the next night, to get laid, no pretense of anything else. Fast forward to dinner and the food arrives. Before she tears into her steak, she bows her head. Holy shit, this chick is saying grace! The chick I had just met, who wanted me to fuck her like a slut the following night, was saying grace!
My rant toward these people: You fuckers are the worst kind of hypocrites and numb skulls. You make the rest of us suffer through you wearing your supposed faith on your sleeve, looking down your nose at those who don't share your beliefs, yet you don't live it yourself. Exactly what do you plan to say to St. Peter at the pearly gates, when he points out more men had gone down on you than on the Titanic?
No one should be shocked that I absolutely won't date a Christian. If she truly believes, I'm not waiting until marriage or a 'serious' relationship before we get naughty (and potentially discover she's horrible in the sack). If she does fuck, she's a hypocrite.
And that's life in Kansas...how's your love life?
I've already shared my views on religion and faith here. With the exception I noted in that entry, I'd previously not encountered much friction on the topic of religion in the context of dating. That is until I moved here...to the Bible Belt. You see, the majority of people I've come across here are practicing Christians and most women want the same quality in their partner. Beyond it narrowing the dating pool quite a bit, no foul, right? Wrong.
You see, many of these so called devout Christians take quite a bit of license with the 'no sex before marriage' rule. That's the one good thing about OKCupid; it's easy to see by how a woman answers the sex questions what's important to her. It's fairly common to find a woman who responds she'll sleep with a guy on their first date, but God is very important to her.
My position is if you're going to be a Christian, be a Christian. If you consider the Bible to be the word of God, follow it. You're either in or you're out. 'I like these rules, but not those, so I'll ignore them' serves only to highlight your hypocrisy. His word is either sacrosanct or it's not, and if it's not, then stop calling yourself a person of faith.
To those I've questioned on the topic, the typical response has been 'I have a special relationship with God'. So, you and your sky daddy sat down and he said 'fuck all the guys you want, I got your back'? You'll forgive me if I'm a bit skeptical about that one.
It all boils down to this: This is your god, the one you worship, and profess to follow. If you can't be faithful to Him, then how can I expect you will be to some schmuck you're dating?
The cherry on the top is these women (and I'm sure men, but I don't date them), will be the first to judge you for not being a Christian. They look down their noses at you as though you're some sort of ignorant, evil creature. Hypocrisy elevated to a very high standard.
And this has nothing to do with slut shaming. Those who read my blog know I wholeheartedly celebrate sluts. A woman can fuck her way through the NFC east, for all I care, and I'd have not one unkind word to say about her. However, if she's espousing to worship her sky daddy while doing it, she's a waste of oxygen.
For example, the girl who owned nothing would scream with delight as I pounded her ass, and called her a whore, but still gave me shit for not believing in God.
In another case, I'd been chatting with a woman (here in the Flat Lands) who seemed to be a good fit; smart, funny, cute, blah, blah. We'd discussed sex and she became rather excited about becoming my dirty girl, even being owned by me. We planned to meet for dinner, then she would come to my house, the next night, to get laid, no pretense of anything else. Fast forward to dinner and the food arrives. Before she tears into her steak, she bows her head. Holy shit, this chick is saying grace! The chick I had just met, who wanted me to fuck her like a slut the following night, was saying grace!
My rant toward these people: You fuckers are the worst kind of hypocrites and numb skulls. You make the rest of us suffer through you wearing your supposed faith on your sleeve, looking down your nose at those who don't share your beliefs, yet you don't live it yourself. Exactly what do you plan to say to St. Peter at the pearly gates, when he points out more men had gone down on you than on the Titanic?
No one should be shocked that I absolutely won't date a Christian. If she truly believes, I'm not waiting until marriage or a 'serious' relationship before we get naughty (and potentially discover she's horrible in the sack). If she does fuck, she's a hypocrite.
And that's life in Kansas...how's your love life?
Tuesday, March 20, 2018
Dating In Kansas
In a word, it sucks. But don't just take my word for it. Empirical data exists!
I rest my case...
I rest my case...
Tuesday, February 27, 2018
What Have I Become???
Recently, I haven't been feeling myself and I'm not sure what's happening. Putting it into words has been a challenge, so I'll share two events that illustrate why I'm so out of sorts.
First, I was in Richmond last week, to deal with a few things and one of those found me in circuit court. It was not a criminal matter and I wasn't the defendant. Since there are apparently not many civil cases at any one time, mine got lumped in with what I discovered was drug court. I'd briefly researched the judge I'd be in front of and discovered he ran his own program for substance abusers. My case was placed behind the various drug cases, which afforded me the opportunity to observe this judge and his interaction with those in front of him.
To say I was astonished by his behavior would be an understatement. He treated each defendant with kindness and respect. It was clear he had read every bit of the case files in front of him. When rendering his decision, this man showed more concern for a positive outcome for these people than he did about 'carrying out justice'. When considering those who've broken the law, my position has always been 'try 'em and fry 'em' but something about the humanity I saw demonstrated in that courtroom struck home with me. I walked out of that courthouse thinking the world needs more of what I'd just witnessed.
The second event occurred just yesterday, when a colleague and I were discussing an execution gone wrong in I think Arkansas, not that it matters. Again, my position has always been to take the bastards out and shoot 'em. But yesterday's conversation made me think about the topic in a different way. Rather than focus on the condemned, what about those who physically carry out the sentence? The guy who administers the lethal injection, or pulls the switch on 'Old Sparky'? What a terrible burden to carry around; I just took the life of another human. With the exception of sociopaths, no one escapes the trauma associated with such an act. In the past, PA used firing squads to execute prisoners. In order to prevent the guilt associated with taking a life, all but one of the guards had blanks loaded in his gun, and the weapons weren't handed out until right before the event. Let me tell you, when you're firing blanks, it's a completely different feeling than when discharging live ammo, so there's no way the man who fired the rounds that killed the prisoner didn't know he was that guy. Studies have shown the death penalty isn't a deterrent in the least.
At the end of the brief conversation, I'd reached the conclusion that the death penalty should be removed as punishment. Not because some nasty scumbags don't deserve a slow, painful death, but to preserve the humanity of those tasked with carrying out the order.
So, what's happening to me? Has my brain been scrambled somehow? Oh shit!
I'm becoming a LIBERAL!!!
Thursday, February 15, 2018
2018 So Far
We're a little over a month into 2018 and not much has changed here in Flat City.
I remain single and am not engaging with anyone, much less meeting; I'm just not interested. Beyond the way too typical problem of meeting my criteria, having something to say, etc. incompatibility when it comes to faith continues to rear its ugly head, here in the Bible belt. Regular readers know of my issue with someone claiming to be a devout Christian, but openly wanting to fuck, and soon. Flat out hypocrisy. Anyway, Kansas is thick with women who fall into this category.
This is a temporary situation and the most I want, while I'm here, is a superficial dalliance.
To that end, a few weeks ago, I decided to put my religious hypocrisy issues aside and meet a woman who was both active in her church and thought she may have wanted some first date sex. Yes, I was in need of some (naked) human touch. Unfortunately, she had already proven to be quite the bumpkin, having moved from middle of nowhere Nebraska (I know, redundant description) to the big city (hah!) of KC, and hadn't been much of anywhere else. She was intelligent, for sure, but worldly, she was not. When we met, I just wasn't feeling it, nor was I feeling well, because of the flu someone gave me on a plane somewhere. I somewhat blew my chances for a quick fuck when I responded to her question of 'So, how do you like it here, so far?' with 'I fucking hate the Midwest'. Did I mention I sort of lose the ability to simulate charming, when I'm sick? And I'm still wondering why she didn't want to go home with me...
On a similar note to the above (the middle of nowhere portion), I was chatting with a guy on a flight 'home' the week before last. I mentioned just moving here and he responded that he and his wife had never been happier about relocating to KC. I asked where he had moved from to which he noted a small town in Iowa. It literally took all of my restraint to not blurt out 'no shit KC's better if you've been living in fucking nowhere all your life!' But I didn't.
The other major contributing factor to my not wanting to date right now has to do with Kansas itself. I've already documented all the ways in which this state sucks humongous hirsute equus asinus genitals and it's truly sunken in that coming here was a mistake. Yes, I enjoy my job; I've gotten to meet real rocket scientists at NASA and a big chunk of my product guarantees every SpaceX rocket functions. But work's only 10 hours a day and leaves a lot of free time to fill. Ultimately, I think I'm avoiding emotional involvement in order to prevent putting down roots here. The same goes for exploring the city; why bother learning about a shitty town when you plan on getting the hell out in the next few years?
While my employment contract has a small escape clause, 'because Kansas sucks' isn't in there; I checked.
As I sit in a place that will struggle to reach freezing today, while Richmond might hit 70 degrees, I ponder another topic that makes me less than jovial. My Porsche is finally in transit from Richmond to here. Ordinarily, being reunited with it after 6 months would excite me, but the roads here, even if they weren't covered in salt, are flat, straight, boring, and in shit condition. The car may very well be sold, since it likely won't exit my garage more than three or four times per year.
I promise to put more effort into refraining from the 'woe is me; Kansas sucks' entries, unless I discover a new way it does so.
Now, get off my flat lawn...
I remain single and am not engaging with anyone, much less meeting; I'm just not interested. Beyond the way too typical problem of meeting my criteria, having something to say, etc. incompatibility when it comes to faith continues to rear its ugly head, here in the Bible belt. Regular readers know of my issue with someone claiming to be a devout Christian, but openly wanting to fuck, and soon. Flat out hypocrisy. Anyway, Kansas is thick with women who fall into this category.
This is a temporary situation and the most I want, while I'm here, is a superficial dalliance.
To that end, a few weeks ago, I decided to put my religious hypocrisy issues aside and meet a woman who was both active in her church and thought she may have wanted some first date sex. Yes, I was in need of some (naked) human touch. Unfortunately, she had already proven to be quite the bumpkin, having moved from middle of nowhere Nebraska (I know, redundant description) to the big city (hah!) of KC, and hadn't been much of anywhere else. She was intelligent, for sure, but worldly, she was not. When we met, I just wasn't feeling it, nor was I feeling well, because of the flu someone gave me on a plane somewhere. I somewhat blew my chances for a quick fuck when I responded to her question of 'So, how do you like it here, so far?' with 'I fucking hate the Midwest'. Did I mention I sort of lose the ability to simulate charming, when I'm sick? And I'm still wondering why she didn't want to go home with me...
On a similar note to the above (the middle of nowhere portion), I was chatting with a guy on a flight 'home' the week before last. I mentioned just moving here and he responded that he and his wife had never been happier about relocating to KC. I asked where he had moved from to which he noted a small town in Iowa. It literally took all of my restraint to not blurt out 'no shit KC's better if you've been living in fucking nowhere all your life!' But I didn't.
The other major contributing factor to my not wanting to date right now has to do with Kansas itself. I've already documented all the ways in which this state sucks humongous hirsute equus asinus genitals and it's truly sunken in that coming here was a mistake. Yes, I enjoy my job; I've gotten to meet real rocket scientists at NASA and a big chunk of my product guarantees every SpaceX rocket functions. But work's only 10 hours a day and leaves a lot of free time to fill. Ultimately, I think I'm avoiding emotional involvement in order to prevent putting down roots here. The same goes for exploring the city; why bother learning about a shitty town when you plan on getting the hell out in the next few years?
While my employment contract has a small escape clause, 'because Kansas sucks' isn't in there; I checked.
I promise to put more effort into refraining from the 'woe is me; Kansas sucks' entries, unless I discover a new way it does so.
Now, get off my flat lawn...
Saturday, February 3, 2018
They Lie About Meat Here!
As regular readers already know, one of the pleasures I cherish most in life is dry aged, prime beef. Back in Richmond, I had a butcher who regularly carried such a delicacy, in addition to pasture raised, and Midwest grain fed beef. They knew me by name, so I may have spent a little time there. Back to KC, I've already documented my first carnivorous outing as a complete disaster, but I still had a few spots to check. One is only about ten minutes from my office, so I popped by on Friday, after work. As I traversed the constantly worsening neighborhoods, not finding prime beef became a secondary concern, behind just getting out alive.
I arrived safely, but quickly became discouraged once I walked through the front door. The cases were filled with a lot of not so awe inspiring meat. Oh well, I'll just get a few things, since I'm here. Once I'd made my choices, the guy who waited on me led me to the register, where another older gentleman was running the machine. Although I surely knew the answer, I still posed the question 'do you ever get prime beef here?' The older gentleman cast a look to the younger guy and said 'show him'.
Long story short, I was taken to a huge walk in cooler, with dozens of sides of beef hanging in it, and told most of that was prime. And the angels sang. They didn't keep it in the front case, because that was the high volume operation. Next time, I should call ahead and they'd cut anything I wanted.
So, this past weekend, I did just that. I'll skip to the part that matters, which is what the butcher told me - 'uh yeah, we don't have USDA graders, so it's technically not prime. If we paid to have graders, our best meat would be prime, though.' Wait, last time I was there, I was shown all this meat that was supposed to be prime. Eh, fuck it; just give me a super thick ribeye with a ton of cap. When I picked my meat up, my fears were justified. What they sold me would have never passed for prime in the first place.
For those who've never experienced prime beef, perhaps a visual comparison would help. The top photo shows genuine USDA prime beef, that's been dry aged 30 plus days. Note the copious amounts of intramuscular fat (aka marbling) and that the steaks look dense and big for what they are. The almost dry look of these steaks are evidence they've been dry aged. These steaks were the best I've ever had (which I'd say about every prime steak I purchased from my butcher in Richmond).
If we compare with the meat in the photo below, which is what I purchased this weekend, you'll see none of those attributes are apparent. It's not that this steak was bad; it was fairly good. But it sure as fuck wasn't prime or anything close to it. Hell, I've had choice grade beef that was closer to prime than this.
To summarize, even the damned Bible Belt dwellers lie like rugs. Oh, and the wind hasn't stopped blowing since I arrived in September. Someone get me out of here!
For those interested in more detail about how beef is graded, take a look at this:
Long story short, I was taken to a huge walk in cooler, with dozens of sides of beef hanging in it, and told most of that was prime. And the angels sang. They didn't keep it in the front case, because that was the high volume operation. Next time, I should call ahead and they'd cut anything I wanted.
So, this past weekend, I did just that. I'll skip to the part that matters, which is what the butcher told me - 'uh yeah, we don't have USDA graders, so it's technically not prime. If we paid to have graders, our best meat would be prime, though.' Wait, last time I was there, I was shown all this meat that was supposed to be prime. Eh, fuck it; just give me a super thick ribeye with a ton of cap. When I picked my meat up, my fears were justified. What they sold me would have never passed for prime in the first place.
For those who've never experienced prime beef, perhaps a visual comparison would help. The top photo shows genuine USDA prime beef, that's been dry aged 30 plus days. Note the copious amounts of intramuscular fat (aka marbling) and that the steaks look dense and big for what they are. The almost dry look of these steaks are evidence they've been dry aged. These steaks were the best I've ever had (which I'd say about every prime steak I purchased from my butcher in Richmond).
If we compare with the meat in the photo below, which is what I purchased this weekend, you'll see none of those attributes are apparent. It's not that this steak was bad; it was fairly good. But it sure as fuck wasn't prime or anything close to it. Hell, I've had choice grade beef that was closer to prime than this.
To summarize, even the damned Bible Belt dwellers lie like rugs. Oh, and the wind hasn't stopped blowing since I arrived in September. Someone get me out of here!
For those interested in more detail about how beef is graded, take a look at this:
Sunday, January 7, 2018
Plenty of Shit
Plenty of Fish was never the greatest dating site in the world, although this was mostly due to the user base. It was free, after all. For some reason, I received less responses from that site versus Match. I've previously remarked how the same woman would ignore my note on POF only to initiate contact on Match. But at least the site worked and allowed you to meet others. Until now.
Around the holidays, the app decided it no longer recognized me. Went online and same thing; username and password no workee. So, I asked the site for a ''reset my password' email. Days go by, no email; and yes, I checked my spam. So, I create a new profile. This one is literally deleted within minutes. Same for the next one and the one after that.
For the record, I've done nothing to violate the terms and conditions of the site. Hell, I haven't been on it long enough to piss anyone off!
So, I decide to give POF some time to fix whatever glitch they're having. More accurately, I'm tired of creating accounts only to have them wiped within minutes. In any case, in a moment of boredom, I tried again tonight. I even register from another email address, just in case my usual one's been flagged for some reason.
It would be great if I could report the site's been fixed, but my new profile was wiped within half an hour or its creation. In other words, POF is still the same massive pile of shit it was over the holidays. I'd report the issue to POF, except there doesn't seem to be a way to contact the site.
As a reminder to my readers, POF is owned by Match.com, as is OKCupid. Considering how unreliable the latter has become, I'm more than a bit concerned that the other sites will begin to experience serious issues as well. Being that I'm a paying member on Match, I'm protecting myself by cancelling my membership and removing my payment information. I would strongly consider my readers do the same, since the online dating house of cards may come crashing down at any point.
Looks like it's back to the bars for meeting people!
Around the holidays, the app decided it no longer recognized me. Went online and same thing; username and password no workee. So, I asked the site for a ''reset my password' email. Days go by, no email; and yes, I checked my spam. So, I create a new profile. This one is literally deleted within minutes. Same for the next one and the one after that.
For the record, I've done nothing to violate the terms and conditions of the site. Hell, I haven't been on it long enough to piss anyone off!
 |
| Plenty of Fish Website - Today |
So, I decide to give POF some time to fix whatever glitch they're having. More accurately, I'm tired of creating accounts only to have them wiped within minutes. In any case, in a moment of boredom, I tried again tonight. I even register from another email address, just in case my usual one's been flagged for some reason.
It would be great if I could report the site's been fixed, but my new profile was wiped within half an hour or its creation. In other words, POF is still the same massive pile of shit it was over the holidays. I'd report the issue to POF, except there doesn't seem to be a way to contact the site.
As a reminder to my readers, POF is owned by Match.com, as is OKCupid. Considering how unreliable the latter has become, I'm more than a bit concerned that the other sites will begin to experience serious issues as well. Being that I'm a paying member on Match, I'm protecting myself by cancelling my membership and removing my payment information. I would strongly consider my readers do the same, since the online dating house of cards may come crashing down at any point.
Looks like it's back to the bars for meeting people!
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