The Dating Couple

While driving around earlier today, we were behind a police officer for about a mile. This is no big deal, he was going the same way we were, but then suddenly turned off. I realized that it was because he had reached the Jefferson/Orleans Parish lines but what if that hadn’t been the reason?

What if, we made him nervous and he decided to turn because of us. I posed the simple question to Jonathan “Do you ever wonder if cops get nervous when we follow them like we do when they follow us?” He thought for a moment and then his eyes lit up. “I want to try it” is all he said.

So, the rest of the ride home was devising how we would do it. First, we would need to get a very recognizable car, think traffic cone orange. Then we would need to spot a cop and just start following him around for a little while. Finally, we could record our little experiment and document the cops reactions.

There was some silliness about if they tried to pull us, following them and telling them that we were following them first. Think, Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd running in circles around a tree. We had a good laugh and continued home.

Continue reading ‘Conversations’

Highway 49 is a desolate Louisiana Highway. It stretches north to south through the state, starting up in Shreveport, cutting through Alexandria and down to Lafayette.

It travels through some of the loneliest parts of the state and, especially at night. It’s primarily used by truckers, who need to get their goods from the port in New Orleans up to Dallas or other points north. This means that, on weekends, it can be especially dull.

The most barren stretch is between Opelousas and Alexandria, a seventy-mile stretch with no towns, just woods, farms and marsh.

It was there that Crystal and I found ourselves late Friday night. We were heading north toward her parents’ house and we were bored. Crystal was driving, as she usually does the second leg of the trip, and we were both tired, the conversation had slowed and the music was uninspiring.

I looked over to her after checking my mail on my cell phone, “What do you want to do to pass the time?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, “But you could always masturbate.”

Continue reading ‘Stroking At 70 Miles Per Hour’

After a long hard day at work, we went by the house we plan on buying. Today was its inspection day and it passed fairly well. There are a few concerns, but nothing major. So, tomorrow I will send off the check for the appraisal.

When we left the house, we headed to one of our favorite local restaurants, Cafe Rendezvous. It’s a great place to go and relax, not to mention we have become fairly good friends with the daytime manager, J.

Tonight, J came and sat at our table and asked her to come up with some drinks to put on the sign out front. We came up with quite a few and laughed and acted shocked at some of the names. She joked about asking a male bartender for a “screaming orgasm” and a few other names.

She then told us about an incident with the sign. Now, you have to understand that J is Spanish and though she speaks English very well, she doesn’t always spell it very well nor does she understand every word of American slang. The cafe is on a very busy intersection and she has mentioned many times people stopping in to let them know of a misspelling.

However, this wasn’t her usual tale of misspellings. Here’s what happened: J had asked one of the girls to go and change the sign because she couldn’t be pulled away from work at that moment. Four hours later, J had to go to her car for something. On the way back, a couple leaving the restaurant were giggling.

The man said “Honey, if I knew they were serving that, I might have ordered it for you.” Then they both started laughing.

Curious, J went over to check the sign. Instead of reading “steak and cocktails” it read “steak and cock.” Unfortunately, the tale doesn’t end there.

J never hearing the term cock before (I couldn’t believe it either) went inside and started asking customers what the strange word meant.

Finally, one of the waitresses told J that she just couldn’t go around asking people about that word.

J responded “Why not it’s on the sign.”

After it was explained to her J couldn’t believe that the other girl would put that on the sign.

The waitresses excuse? “I couldn’t make cocktail fit.”

So, after a long hard day, hanging out with a cute Spanish woman (who always hugs and makes physical contact with me) and hearing a funny story at the end of the day made the evening a little brighter. It was the perfect choice for dinner tonight.

Right after our first threesome, I was in a state of pure bliss. Not only had I just had some of the most incredible sex of my life, but I was in bed with two very beautiful, smiling women.

We were all exhausted. Orgasms had been traded back and forth for hours on end and, though it was only mid-afternoon, we felt like we needed a good night’s rest. After we cleaned up we all jumped back into the bed, still nude, and began to cuddle, softly and affectionately.

It was, and still is, one of my favorite memories.

Continue reading ‘The Problem With Threesome Cuddling’

As Jonathan and I were walking around our neighborhood last week, looking at houses, a car drove past. Nothing unusual about that, however what was unusual was that a girl yelled out “Nice Ass” to me.

I’ve gotten many compliments on my posterior before. It wasn’t anything new. However, it did take me by surprise that a girl would so brazenly yell out her appreciation. Unfortunately, she was driving too fast. By the time the her cat call reached my ears and registered in my brain, she was gone.

I walked back to the edge of the street and looked after the car, but to no avail.

I have to wonder what would have happened if she had slowed down to see if I would stop and turn around. I have to wonder had she somehow known that Jonathan and I date girls, if she would have gotten out of the car to compliment me. I have to wonder, who she was and if she thought about my ass while masturbating that night.

I wish that she would have stopped. I wish that women would have the courage to come up to me and be so direct. And, I wish that I could be just as direct back.

I think that, as women, we’re taught to be sensitive to other women’s feelings. We’re taught to not talk like guys to other women. We’re taught to play games and not to be straight forward about how we feel or what we want. Even though this woman in the car was blunt, she was still playing a game because if she had truly not cared about what I would think, she would have stopped the car. She would have gotten out and she would have told me to my face/ass what she thought of me.

I wish she had. We might have made a new friend from the experience, and she? Well, she would have had a great time I’m sure.

We have a new love in our life, it’s a cozy 1000-square foot home in an upscale part of town. We fell in love with her at first sight. She had her flaws, a hideous teal paint job on her interior, a few bad outlets and a cracked pane of glass to name a few, but she’s a sturdy, capable partner.

Sadly though, she is something of a prostitute and not a cheap one at that. Getting into her will be an expensive process and, worse still, she keeps us out until well past dusk signing papers, chasing realtors and learning a new language (mortgage-speak).

These are confusing, nerve-racking but exciting times for us. We’re settling finances, planning for the future and wondering when the damn inspector can get by. It also means pinching some pennies right now and trying to come up with the down payments.

We’re very happy but it does mean that posts might be a bit scarce for a few days while we dig ourselves out from under the paperwork.  When it’s all said and done we will, hopefully, have a new place to call our own (it will be our first home that we own) and a great “bachelor pad” of sorts.

Yeah, we’re devising evil plans for the spare room… Stay tuned.

He slowly brings me to the center of the room and tells me to close my eyes. I throw a quirky / curious smile and obey. I feel his hands rubbing over my body, through my clothes. He brings his face close to mine. I can feel his warm breath on the back of my neck as he stands behind me.

He kisses my neck softly, lightly. Then nibbles a bit while his hands work at unbuttoning my shirt. With each button, a finger explores my newly exposed skin. The satin shirt glides off my shoulders. More kissing, more nibbling, more caressing. I’m growing wet with anticipation of what he will do next.

Continue reading ‘Bliss’

We stayed in last night. There was nothing going on in the city that really enticed us, the place was a wreck (so bringing someone home was out of the question) and a girl that we had been interested in, at least as a friend, had pretty much jilted us the night before.

To top it off though, I’ve been feeling rather down lately, stressed out by my current job situation, house hunting and everything else going on. I’ve been feeling about as unsexual and unsexy as humanly
possible.

Crystal, however, has been wonderful through it all. Last night she poured me a very tall and very strong Crown & Coke and we stayed up late watching campy science fiction, namely Star Trek and The Outer Limits. Cheesy, but fun.

Still, some sex things have been on my mind lately, consider the following…

Continue reading ‘Crown with Coke, The Condom Debate and Romance’

My boss is out of town for the next few days and I’m already feeling better. I like her well enough, but all the stress of this past week really did a number on me. I’m glad that the week is almost over.

In big news, Jonathan and I are looking for a house. So, if the posts are a little later than usual, I apologize. We’ve seen a couple of houses including one really cute one today and it has a lot of cute girls in the neighborhood, always a plus. It’s small, but it might work out to be our best bet.  We’ve been looking for a house for a very long time now, but now it seems a little more possible to find something.

In other news, we’re heading out tonight to go to the bar where one of the burlesque dancer works a couple of nights a week. She told us she’d be there tonight. So, we’re going to go and stop in to see her. Perhaps I’ll be able to nail down an appointment with her to sit for me.  If she does, maybe I can put some of the photos on here for you all to see.

I’m in much better spirits now and apologize for being such a downer lately. I’m looking forward to screwing Jonathan’s brains out after we get back in, or perhaps getting oral from him. I am feeling a little selfish this evening.

Maybe I’ll work on my next post about his oral skills. He’s bragged so much about mine, but ladies he’s not one to shy away from a good pussy licking. Not to mention that he’s had seven years of training/perfecting his technique.

On the other hand though, there is his lovely cock which would feel really good pounding away inside my tight, wet, throbbing  cunt. Hell, maybe I’ll just take both.

On the whole, Crystal and I are about as sexually compatible as two people can get. Our libidos match, we like most of the same things (including our taste in women), we enjoy the same porn and, even after seven years, are still very attracted to one another.

Sure, we go through periods where we are out of sync, where we need some time alone or whatnot, but over all we seem to match up pretty well.

The one issue we do have is one with our internal clocks. I’m the most ready for action late in the evening, Crystal, on the other hand, is a morning person when it comes to sex.

In this regard, we couldn’t be farther apart…
Continue reading ‘Morning People’