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When I first saw her, I thought she was very, very attractive. Somewhat slender but shapely. A tingling started in my loins and my heart had started to race a bit.

We had made eye contact and I felt that there was some kind of electrical spark between us as she kept looking my way as well.

I was a bus driver at the time, parked up at a terminal waiting for my time to depart.

She was sitting on one of the benches with an older woman, who I was to find out later was her mother, and they had been waiting for their bus to arrive for them to board.

My time ran out and it was time for me to head off.

Why I never introduced myself I will never know. I just couldn’t stop thinking about it and as fate would have it, I would see her some more over the next few days.

The third time I saw her as I was driving the route near the terminus, she had a young girl with her. I was kind of guessing whether it was her daughter, maybe a niece even.

I thought I would never find that out as over the coming weeks I had different routes to drive along picking up and dropping off passengers and thought I would never see her again..

Then around 3 weeks after our first sighting of each other, lo and behold, she boarded my bus alone in a different suburb. The eyes were there. The spark was there again. My heart started to race again. It must have been an omen. There was no way I was going to let this meeting go by unchecked.

As she rose out of her seat and pulled the cord indicating she wanted the next stop, I beckoned her to me. She reached the front of the bus and I already had my phone number written on a ticket stub. I held it out and asked if she would give me a call with the prospect of a date in the near future.

There. I had built up the courage to make the first move. She took the stub and smiled, and said, “We’ll see.”

She would do one of 2 things. She would either call, or she wouldn’t. I had nothing to lose.

A couple of days later she called and we arranged to do a day out. We arranged that I would pick her up and we would go down to the docks to see some tall ships that were on display. She said she would be bringing her daughter along.

The little blonde haired girl I saw with her a few weeks ago was definitely her daughter. Her daughter was a cute little thing but she made it abundantly clear that I was not her father. I took comments like that in its stride.

The woman and I talked a lot on that day while in the car and as we walked around looking at the tall ships. We seemed to be hitting it off very well and I could see a future there for the 2 of us.

We agreed to multiple dates after that as we were getting on so well together. I was not only smitten with her but I had started to fall in love with her and I believed the feeling was mutual.

As might be expected, we had sex. Damn it was good. She was right in to all the aspects of sex that I also enjoyed without any violence. I was relentless in giving her oral sex as she would have multiple orgasms just from that. Gently munching on her clitoris after having licked her lips until she was extremely wet, and what a wonderful syrupy taste it was, would give her thunderous orgasms until she more or less demanded that I inserted my hard steel cock in to her and bring her off again. Of course that would bring me off also as I would jet so deep and fiercely in to her, spurt after spurt, so much so that it made my balls ache so pleasurably.

She would reciprocate the same to me also. She had a talent of taking my hard cock in her mouth, go up and down a few times deeply while firmly massaging my balls, and then jamb my cock between her cheek and the side of her teeth and gums while still going up and down. The wetness. The firmness. Rubbing the head of my cock in all the right places while still jerking me, against her inner cheek and along her teeth, no male could ever deny themselves of that sensation or pleasure. If there was ever a place higher than heaven, I reached it. Many times. And you know what? She would also swallow all of my spunk without hesitation. Seeing her throat muscles moving as she swallowed my semen would bring me off to another orgasm immediately after just having reached an orgasm. A double whammy so to speak. I mean, if a woman can have multiple orgasms, why can’t a man?

And of course there was the anal sex. Doing her doggy style would leave her rosebud winking at me. Very tough ataşehir escort bayan decision not to pull out and just shove my hard cock in to her ass as I was getting closer towards my climax but then she would surprise me. She would wet her finger, reach under behind my balls and stuff her wet finger up my ass. Ohhhhh. Could this woman give pleasure. Then out of the blue, as wet as she was, she would pull forward popping me out and come back to me telling me to put it in her ass. I would already be so wet from her juices, no lube necessary. After pushing the head of my cock in with a little resistance, I would then slide the remainder of my 6 inches in to the hilt, stop and allow her to settle with my size and girth. Then I would start. Slowly at first and gradually picking up speed. She would get worked up just as much as I would and after a short time of doing this, we would both reach our goals. Her orgasm brought on by my hard cock pounding her ass and my orgasm bought on by her tight anal grip. Talk about explosive orgasms. Totally out of breath we would be. Totally exhausted and fucked. That is the time you wished you’d died and gone to heaven.

After some months, I suggested marriage. She was a loving and caring girlfriend, a caring mother, and she ran a nice tidy home. The sex was great. What else could a man ask for?

During our courting time, she had said that she had previously been married and as it turned out, her ex-husband was a dominating and violent alcoholic. With the help of a friend of hers and some family members, she was able to escape his clutches and move back from interstate, to try and resume a normal life once again. I never met the man but from what I could gather, no family members liked him anyways and were happy to see the end of him.

I also found out that the woman that was with her at the bus shelter, when I first saw her, was her mother. Mother was very protective of her daughter after the terrible relationship she had been in before, and I suppose it was expected, but I was able to work around that. My girlfriend had stipulated that if she agreed to marry me, that I would need to take on her daughter as well.

I was ok with taking on the daughter as well, and so we got married.

Things were still great after the first few years, and then she became pregnant. A lovely little girl to our family.

I am sure there are quite a few males that can relate to my next comment.

Ever have the sense of feeling that once a woman gets her wedding ring and the wedding cake acts like a deterrent from having more sex, that the sex dies?

It certainly started to feel that way.

Sure. We would still have sex but there was a definite reluctance on my wife’s part and to actually have sex with her was getting further and further apart and harder to obtain. And no, I am comfortable in saying she always remained loyal to me, just that her sexual desires dwindled somewhat. As a lover, I had always been considerate to give my wife multiple orgasms each and every time we had sex until l eventually had mine. She claims she gets tired. We both still enjoy the sex when it happens but these days they seem few and far between leaving me quite frustrated. To have sex with a woman that has given birth by way of 2 caesarean sections leaves her with the perfect fit each and every time. Nothing short of her being a virgin. What a feeling.

As time progressed in our relationship, the little one started growing up and my step daughter hit high school.

My step daughter could never talk to her mother about things of a sexual nature but for some unknown reason she could always approach me. I had always been the open type to discuss anything and everything, explaining all aspects of life as best I knew them to be.

Now that she was a bit older, she came home from high school one day and asked me, “What is masturbate?”

Believing her to be just a little too young still, my response to her was, “A group discussion.”

Get it? Masturbate. Mass Debate. Group Discussion?

She didn’t catch on and just quietly I think some readers still might not catch on but in the end I told her when she got a bit older I would explain it to her.

She got to the age of 18, and just finished high school. We were in the lounge room when she approached me again with the same question. No one else was home and wouldn’t be for several hours. I thought to myself, “Was she really that naive? Surely other kids at school would have talked about sex and masturbation escort kadıöy and all that stuff? Surely there was more than a young male at the school whose horniness would have been pressed on to her?” Then again, maybe not.

I had been watching her slowly grow up over the years to become model material. A very pretty face, beautifully shaped body, average sized breasts, average looking hips, lovely legs, long blonde hair down to her waist. What a lovely, beautiful development she had become. I don’t mind saying that due to the lack of sex with my wife, I had masturbated several times thinking of my 18 year old step daughter. And they were pretty awesome orgasms for a hand job, ya know?

I sat her down and started to explain about the birds and the bees and she said she was aware of that stuff because she had learnt it in sex ed. The mans hard penis goes in to the womans wet vagina, blah, blah, blah, but she still had no idea on masturbation or actual sexual activity.

Bells. Alarms. Whistles. They all started going off in my head.

I asked if she had kissed any boys, maybe at school or out of school. She said she had, but she hadn’t found it to be too delightful as they may have been a bit rough or sloppy or they would only be quick pecks. She said she got no joy from them.

I asked her if she would like to know and experience what a proper kiss should feel like?

She replied with an emphatic yes, so I approached her. I took her in my arms, gently rubbed the side of my face against hers and slowly slid my lips close to hers. Our lips touched and I started to kiss her. Her response was a little slow until I started to slowly insert my tongue. She opened her mouth slightly allowing me entrance and our tongues touched. We slowly started to battle our tongues with one another and it was a natural instinct on my part to pull her in closer to me. I was getting horny. My penis started to grow in my pants and she was sure to have felt it against her groin.

As we continued to kiss, her arms reached up around my neck pulling me in even harder for the kiss.

Her nipples had gotten quite stiff and she was pressing, then rubbing them in to my chest. My hands lowered from her waist and on to her back side, gently squeezing her cheeks. Surely she must have felt my erection by now and if she did, she wasn’t pulling away from me. If anything, she was pressing herself even harder against me.

We stopped the kiss and looked in to each others eyes.

She then said to me, “Have sex with me. I want to know what it feels like. I want to learn about masturbation. I want to learn it all.”

Was it a wish come true or was I playing with fire?

“Bedroom?” I suggested.

She nodded in agreement. We held hands walking to her bedroom.

Once inside I stepped behind her and started to kiss and nuzzle in to her neck. My hands came up around the front and undid the buttons of her blouse pulling the bottom out of her waist band. I slid her blouse off her shoulders and in doing so l kept kissing her neck and then on to her shoulders. Her blouse dropped off her back and down her arms, and she was wearing a very sexy, lacy bra that did not require to hold her breasts up but merely cover them in a dress statement. As I continued kissing her neck and shoulders, my hands came up and held her covered breasts slowly massaging them and gently tweaking her nipples through the thin bra material. Exquisite little rubber erasers pressing in to the palms of my hands and finger tips. She began to moan. I stepped back slightly and unclipped her bra from the back, took off my T shirt dropping it to the floor and pressed my bare chest against her bare back. I kissed her neck and shoulders again, holding her bare breasts in my hands after her bra dropped to the floor. She reached over her head with one hand to bring my face even closer to her skin if that was even possible.

I turned her around to face me and we kissed again, pushing our bodies hard against one another, embracing one another with her arms around my neck and my hands on her waste pulling her in tightly. My hands roamed up and down the perfect skin on her back as my slightly hairy chest rubbed in to her breasts with those protruding nipples digging in to me.

Boy was I getting hard. I was having some trouble trying to control my emotions as all I wanted to do was remove her bottoms and plough my hard cock deep in to her. But I had to show restraint as I had always considered myself as a lover with a lot of consideration maltepe escort for the woman, and her feelings and emotions.

I asked her if she was ready to take things further and she nodded with a huge smile.

I said that she needed to step out of her jeans which she did, and I stepped out of my jeans. So there we were. She standing, wearing skimpy panties that matched her bra and me in my underwear. We looked in to each others eyes and I said for her to lower and take her panties off. As she did, I lowered and stepped out of my underwear now showing a very erect cock which was facing her way.

I grabbed her hand lightly and gently dragged her with me on to her bed. We kissed some more while I played with her nipples. I kissed her nipples taking her breasts in my mouth one at a time, switching from one to the other and flicked my tongue over them.

My fingers started to delve in to her pussy, stroking her lips and briefly brushing her clitoris.

Her constant moaning indicated that she was thoroughly enjoying what I was doing to her.

Crawling over her and gently spreading her legs, I lined my steel hard cock up with her pussy and asked her if she felt she was ready. I thought she was ready as she was extremely wet down there.

She pulled me on to her, crushing her breasts with my chest and she spread her legs wide and encircled my waste. I asked if she were still a virgin and she nodded yes with a twinkle in her eye. I could see she really wanted this. I told her the first time might actually hurt her a little but she would soon settle and learn to enjoy having a cock in her pussy. She pulled her legs down on my lower back and started me on my journey to that golden gate of pleasure. The head of my cock touched her lips and she shuddered as my cock started to part her lips. Slowly I entered her. Just an inch or so until she could feel my girth and let her get used to that. Again, slowly, with only an inch in her, I started with back and forward motions. Gradually I inserted more until I felt her hymen giving a little resistance. So back and forth I went again. She was breathing heavy. Her nipples were still very erect. She had her arms around my back and my neck. I looked at her and kissed her very passionately again. She relaxed and kept enjoying the minimal thrusts I was giving her. Moaning and groaning. She climaxed right there and then. She shuddered with eyes rolled to the back of her head.

She asked me if that was all it was and I told her there was a lot more to come.

“Please” she said. “Give me more?”

I nodded and with a flick of my hips I penetrated her hymen sinking in my entire length of 6 inches in one full swoop. In to the hilt balls deep I was. Damn. It was so hard not to explode right there and then. I so wanted to come in her but I also wanted for her to climax with me when I was ready to also climax. I could feel her insides grabbing hard on to my cock and I hadn’t even started pumping. The claws came out. She scratched my back deeply drawing blood. She settled a little and so I started. Slowly all the way out, then just as slow all the way in. She was raising her hips to meet my gentle penetrations. Slowly in. Slowly out. I sensed a feeling of frustration from her and could tell she had accepted my size ok but now she wanted some action. I started to speed up my assault on to her pussy and with every thrust she moaned, and moaned, and moaned. And then she started with the Oh Oh Oh.

I knew she was getting close to her climax and I had been ready for a while now, ready to release my torrid spray. It was so painful holding back from ejaculating in to her.

Now she started with the Oh Oh Oh and a shortness of breath. She was close, as was I.

Then she climaxed.

Her orgasm was fierce. She held on for dear life, literally squeezing the life out of me. I gave her a couple of more very hard thrusts and let loose. My semen jettisoned, 3, 4, 5 times, from my cock so fast and so hard that when I gave a final thrust I swear I went in another ½ an inch deeper.

WOW!! What an orgasm. Her first at receiving and mine, which was way over due, hadn’t felt this good for a long long time. Aching balls and all.

My cock started to die, as it does, very slowly. I lifted my weight from her so she could breath and slowly rolled over, taking her with me, still buried within.

Both of us were perspiring and were getting our breaths back again when she said, “Is it over?”

I nodded.

She nearly cried. “Why???? I want more!!” she said.

I kissed her sweetly and told her that, “This is the way guys work until they can rebuild their strength again.”

“Let’s give it a rest for now and I promise you that you will have some more and I will definitely teach you what masturbation is


Loch Modan

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tagMind ControlToymaker Ch. 03

Toymaker Ch. 03

And then, I hit my real windfall.

I'm not actually going to tell this part of the story in detail. I found the wife of a very rich man, and conned her to the tune of over two hundred thousand. I played it well and she never suspected she'd been taken. But due to the way the con was structured, it wasn't in my best interest to run into her again, which meant I was going to have to relocate. And that meant dumping Majorie.

I found that hard. It's not that Majorie and I had much in common. She was young and there was enough of an age difference that conversation went slowly sometimes. (This became an ongoing problem - my turn-on is women in their twenties, but intellectually I need someone with more life experience.)

But in spite of that difficulty, she was turning into a hot, hot fuck, ever more enslaved to the storm of emotion she felt at my feet. And I loved that. Call it shallow, sure. But I was hooked on her sexual ecstasy.

I considered convincing her to move with me -- I probably could have done it. But I'm not that much of a prick. She had a life; dragging her with me as my sex slave meant taking that away from her until, eventually, I really did tire of her.

But I am a bit of a prick, because the argument that swung it for me was just this: I could find another Majorie, in fact an endless variety of them.

My last "regular" night with Majorie was memorable. She knocked on my door, wearing only a tight tee and shorts. It was part of our routine - she had to come to me looking slutty, and risk being seen that way at my door by neighbors. When she got through the door, she took it all off, walked over to me, knelt down and kissed my foot. She was always in flames by that point -- she'd been well conditioned, by many orgasms. She'd also been forbidden to masturbate, or come with anyone else, so I was deeply associated with her sexual gratification.

I stood her back up, and walked her over to the largest window in my apartment, and pulled back the curtains. It was evening and the room was lit, and anyone happening to look our way would get an eyeful. She turned deep red.

"Look up."

She did, and found I'd replaced the curtain rod with a steel bar. There were two handcuffs locked onto it. She gasped.

"Put them on."

She did, and I bound them to the opposite sides of the windows, so her arms were wide apart and up over her head, forcing her to step up against the window glass. She was already starting to shake.

I put ropes around her ankles and drew those apart as well. She whimpered a little as the coldness of the glass pressed against her nipples. She knew better than to beg for mercy, but horrified embarrassment washed off of her, along with arousal.

I got behind her and moved my hands, slowly, up over the inviting curve of her hips, and along her sides. And then I pushed slutty hunger and need into her mind. I let shame and lust fight it out in her for a time, and then pushed harder, to make sure lust won.

We were many floors up, so she couldn't be seen well from the street, but there were plenty of buildings around with a good view of the window. I cupped her breasts, and began working her nipples, squeezing them between my fingers and forcing them against the glass.

"Are you wondering how many men can see you, right now? How many can tell you've been bound here and are being toyed with? How many are taking their cocks out and stroking?"

My hand shifted, and suddenly I caught her hair and pulled her head back, roughly, so I could demand kisses from her mouth. She tried to resist kissing back, but that didn't last long. I bit her lips and then broke the kiss.

"Take me to bed," she moaned.

"You'll have to earn that," I told her.

I fetched a device I'd had special built for this occasion. It was a vibrator, but it was not one that a woman would ever have invented. The body of the device had elastic ties on it, making it easy to attach to a leg. The head swiveled, so it could be positioned easily. It also... adjusted. Part slid inside, and curved upward, like a typical vibrating dildo. Part stayed outside, overspreading the clit. These two parts clamped together under the tension of a screw, trapping the clitoris between them. With the screw tightened, it didn't move no matter how much the woman writhed, and there was no way to back away from the vibrations. A control wire ran from it, allowing me to independently control the vibrations of the inside and outside parts. A design like this had been developed in the 80's for some research that never saw the light of day. It had been quietly nicknamed the Bitch Tamer.

I spent a few minutes attaching it. Majorie couldn't see what I was doing very well, but it wasn't hard to guess, and even before I turned it on she was panting.

"How... how do you do these things to me?"

"You'll never know. Lick your lips. I want you to think about the men who are watching you."

"There's... I mean, no one's looking... are they? Did you... oh gods, did you tell people to watch?"

"Yes." I turned on the vibrator, on the lowest setting.

"Oh shit. Oh shit no. No, it's wrong. James, please! I don't like this!"

"You're lying." Which wasn't quite fair; her horror and her secret craving to show off were in a locked battle again. "The reality is, deep down, being wanted makes you hot, and the more men that want you, the hotter you get. "

I flicked the room light off and on a few times. Show time. She whimpered in erotic horror. "Fuck," she whispered. "There's someone in the building across the street, he's looking-"

I turned the vibrator up a notch, letting the relentless, uneven vibrations sink into her skin. She gasped.

"I'm going to toy with you until you don't care who sees what."

"James, please no, someone will call the police-"

"In this city? Now you need to be silent." I came up behind her, and tied a blindfold around her eyes. "That will make you harder to recognize. Now you need to listen. The vibrator has twenty settings, and you're on number two. Every time you make noise, I will turn it up a notch. Do you understand?"

"Yes -- shit!"

I turned it up to three. She gasped in rage, and I turned it up to four. I could see her shivering. Every woman was different, but back in the day, most women would come eventually on five, pretty damn fast on ten, and the toughest, most stubborn would go to pieces around thirteen. Twenty had only been used to punish women after they came too soon.

I ran my hands over her back, and then along her sides, slowly, enjoying the full swelling of the sides of her breast. "Men who see your body, all want to fuck you, Majorie. Not make love to you: fuck you. You know this. You feel their eyes on you, and it makes you hot. You've hid that, learned to fight the arousal, but tonight you won't be able to. Tonight you'll lose all control. The thought of men throbbing, wanting to fuck you, pound you, pumping their swollen meat in their fists while watching you fight not to come..."

She bit her lip, but she was already molten inside. I slapped her ass suddenly, and she squeaked; now she was up to five.

"Rigid cocks wanting to plunder your mouth, pussy, ass... aching to open you, pound you, taking you selfishly, demanding more and more from you... men wanting every part of your pretty, pretty body under their huge rough hands, man watching you whimper, sliding helplessly into sluttier and sluttier need, thinking about what it would feel like to push into you just as you lose control..."

I dipped my finger into some oil, and pushed it without warning into her ass. She shuddered from head to toe, her imagination going out of control.

"And now, one more little surprise for you." I opened my laptop, plugged in headphones, and put them over her ears. "There. You can hear me through this microphone? Just nod... good. There really are men watching you, my pretty slut. But I made a deal with them. They had to call into my laptop, and when I click, you'll be able to hear them all, through the headphones. They won't speak to you. They'll just masturbate while looking at you, and you'll hear the noises they make. One hand on the binoculars, another on their cocks... they are almost all here. Get ready, Majorie."

She exploded in every emotion possible, at those words. Lust, rage, excitement, shame... I had to sit down just to process it all, and for a moment I couldn't speak or think. But I pulled myself together, and clicked the button.

There were only two men actually on the line. There are not a lot of people I'd open Majorie up to like this, even though a distant window. But a friend had hacked me up something a little special, and I was also able to play three recordings into the mix. They were also masturbation sounds, and they had nothing to do with Majorie, but she'd never be able to work that out. She'd just hear a lot of men coming.

Men and women are deeply wired to get off on the sounds of the opposite gender cumming. It makes perfect sense; the female orgasm convulses the belly in an attempt to draw sperm in deeper, so evolution knows that's a good time for a man to cum. Majorie tried to fight her reaction down, but those sounds sank straight into her mind, and she was fully aflame in seconds. I got behind her and stroked her again, cupped her breasts, bit her neck and ground my cock against her ass. She moaned, suddenly and long and deep and helplessly, and I turned the controls up to eight.

Then I pushed her, stopped, pushed her again... she fought like mad to hold it back, but then there was an explosion in her mind -- I guessed one of the guys on the line was cumming. She arched helplessly, and what she felt, even over the lust, was a kind of intensely pleased satisfaction. Her body had made a man come. A second after that and she was throwing herself over the edge as hard as I've ever felt.

I pinned her there and turned the control up to eleven.

She screamed, repeatedly, writhing in a kind of agonized ecstasy, her mind a bright white flame of desperation. I slapped oil on her clenching ass, took my cock out and ground it against her, and got my fingernails into her nipples. And there must have been another orgasm on the line, because that's when I found out that it was possible for a woman to come even if I was pinning her down. She came magnificently, and started screaming "Fuck me! Come on me while they watch! Use me! Fuck me up!"

I think I set a record for getting a woman out of handcuffs. She topped to the ground, still tied by the ankles, and I got the vibrator off of her and myself in her. She kept coming, holding the headphones to her ears and sobbing in desire, working her hips for me, unable to stop coming. I pounded her until I couldn't take it another second, then pulled out, and came on her breasts and belly. I fingered her, gasping, until she kind of went still. Then, with trembling hands, she cupped the cum off her skin and licked it up. The headphones slid off her; the line had gone dead.

She whimpered incoherently, and it took me a few seconds to realize she was saying "close drapes... close them..."

I staggered to my feet and closed them. She crawled to my feet and wrapped herself around them. I smiled down at her.

"There's -- things -- in a woman -- that should never come out," she whimpered. "Darkness... No one should see... you made it come out... scared... so scared... you're evil..."

"Yes." I scooped her up, and carried her to the bedroom. I kissed her and pet her all over, just enjoying how nicely shaped she was and how utterly I could bend her. Shuddering, she fell asleep, clinging to my thigh, with my hand in her hair. She was perfect. I'd have to find another one like her.

Want to know one of the quick ways I can pick up cash? I go to a bar, especially if there's a convention in town. I strike up a conversation, and complain about being psychic. When the laughing starts, I wager ten dollars (it moves up for fifty after a few scores) that I can guess what number they are thinking of, from one to ten. I don't actually read thoughts, but there's a simple trick that makes it work for me. I have them write the number down and hand the paper to one of their friends. Then I close my eyes and say the numbers from one to ten, aloud, slowly. When I speak their chosen number, there's a little emotional spike that happens, no matter how good their poker face is. I get it right over 95% of the time --when I run into the very rare people I can't read, I still have better than one in ten odds of getting it right, because there are patterns in the numbers people pick.

I have no idea why, but men in general rarely pick the number two, and women strongly avoid one. Few people pick ten, and plain women never do. Women are very fond of prime numbers. People who have just eaten, amusingly, often pick eight. And mostly, everyone likes seven.

My best run was the night that a convention of bankers was in town. I made two thousand that night; there's nothing like the foolish arrogance of people who think they are the masters of the numbers. Every one of those fuckers brought one of their friends over, so they could watch them lose, too.

Between poker winnings, investments and the last windfall, my cash position was around four fifty. If I gave it over to an investment broker to handle, I could just let it grow at 7%, and that would take care of my eventual retirement, but it wouldn't give me current income. And as much fun conning rich women was, it wasn't a game I could play twice in the same town.

I made an anonymous, fifty thou contribution to the university. It was a conscience thing; I'd blown up their gear, and I didn't blame them for shutting down the research.

That afternoon, I got a call.

"James... it's Angela."

"Hello, beautiful," I said. "I'm... surprised to hear from you. How are you?"

"Not well," she said. "I'm in voluntary checkin at Madison. You've heard of it?"

"Yes. I'm so sorry... Was it your work? I know you did some high pressure stuff."

I sounded cool, but I was suddenly terrified. Madison was psychiatric.

"No," she said. "It's... more personal issues. I'd like to talk to you. I know we weren't... anything but fun and games, but I really need to talk to you about... those fun and games."

"Angela... What does your doctor say about this?"

"Please, James. I just need to talk to you. Here, at the hospital. It's not more than that, just talk. As friends."

I owed her this. "I'll be there in about an hour," I said, and hung up.

There was no fuss about letting me talk to her. As a voluntary patient, she could see anyone she liked. We got a small room to meet in, with a soundproof door and a window onto the main floor.

She gave me an tentative smile. "I'm going to go straight to the point. Since I stopped seeing you, I've had... issues. Sexual issues. I keep flashing back to the things we did, imagining them vividly. It was happening at work, when I slept, when I saw friends. I'd feel uncontrollable sexual need. Sometimes I got release by masturbating over and over. Sometimes I couldn't get release at all, no matter what I did. And then I... started throwing myself at guys, trying to get experiences like... we had. That was... a mistake," she said, her voice fragile.

"I'm so sorry," I said, earnestly. "But I don't think we should get back together, it sounds like I was somehow very bad for you-"

"Not asking for that," she said, unsteadily. "We were never together, James. We were just playmates, friends with amazing benefits. If I wanted another playdate, I wouldn't have asked for it here. I'm here to ask you if you... did something to me."

"That's cr -- that's absurd. What could I have possibly done?"

"I looked you up. You were doing parapsych research at the university, and they cut you off, very suddenly. No one would say why, but maybe it was an ethics issue? What were you researching?"

"It wasn't an ethics issue -- we had a lab accident and ruined some expensive gear. And we'd had no results to show for months of work... they just pulled the plug, that's all. We were studying the effects of mental activity on random chance, and nothing to do with anything remotely sexual."

"And the next night, we were playing poker and you had all the luck in the world. Including getting lucky with me. I practically crawled to you, and had orgasms like no one's ever seen. Every time I was with you I was a volcano, and... I've never been like that, ever. And don't take this wrong, but you're too old for me, and even so, just sitting here, I want you. I don't know what happened, but there's no way this is normal. You were studying random chance -- which sounds like luck to me. That's an expensive wristwatch you've got there. People say your poker game is pretty damn good. Maybe poker isn't as random for you as it is are for me? Maybe nothing is."

"Even if it was possible to affect random events -- and I was looking at random events at the quantum level, nothing as macro as a playing card -- that doesn't affect how cards are shuffled. You're way, way off base."

"But it could affect your luck when it came to knowing what to do with those cards. James... I know you have something going. When we were together, I was insanely needy -- when it suited you that I was needy. I wasn't otherwise. And you're a great guy and all, but you're not what usually flips my trigger. I'm not the sort that licks feet and begs for sex. Women like that are out there, but I'm not one of them. I know exactly what I like and don't like... but now I'm obsessed with things that used to horrify me. And even when I... arrange to get them from other men... it doesn't work. Fuckdamnit... I'm broken. And I think you are responsible somehow."

"Angela, I'm so, so sorry. I don't know what happened to you, but it makes me very sad, and I hope you can get good help here." I got up to leave.

"Alright, you won't talk. Let me make you a different proposition. Let's go pro together."

"There's no such thing as teams in pro poker. And you know this. Pairs get spilt up at the tables, for very obvious reasons."

"But online, it can be arranged."

"No. There are ways of detecting colluding players. My play is clean. I'm not going to muddy it up, not when I have a real chance to go pro someday."

"James... please. I want what you gave me -- no matter how you did it. I wasn't an ice queen when I was with you. I was... I had something new, wild, I felt alive. Please give it back to me, even if it's not good for me, I don't care!"

"Goodbye, Angela. I hope things get better for you. Don't call me again."

She cried, and I couldn't block out her sadness. I left.

It was at this time that I realized just how wicked I'd become. I can't describe my reaction to this well. I knew what I did was wrong and selfish; I just didn't care much. Somehow, being able to do something, made it ok that I did it. Nietzsche might have been proud of me, but I was not proud of myself.

But I certainly didn't stop, even after seeing Angela. I realize, now, that I'd stumbled on a drug so addictive that I'd gone out of control on the first day. At the time, I only knew I was on a joyride and made women moan in delight, and it was all good.

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Escort in Dominica

You feel safe you feel seen you feel emp. Do you like what you read? If so then do not hesitate to contact my agency in Madrid Universitarias Madrilenas as this is how we will coordinate the day time and place of our appointment. Im sure we can enjoy our time together Lastly if you have any questions please feel free to ask me. It coursed through me echoing from every nerve ending and crashing back to my pussy like a symphony of phenomenal pleasure. And his hands were moving on my whole body and I really say in starting I was feeling hate but now I was also feeling wet and was eager to lie under him. A minute later Mom was slipping and sliding steadily up and down my face her fingers gripping my hair tightly. Joni as she preferred Lindsay and Tommy call her instead of grandma was an eclectic soul who studied eastern religions ate vegetables and sprouts hugged trees and practiced holistic medicine among other things and. Your small frame and youthfulness fulfill his sexual dreams. Baban bu parayla baska arac getirir koyar zaten. I had no idea where the nearest bus stop was or which bus to take home or even if there was a bus that went near my house. Priya was sucking his cock while he was fingering her. After a brief moment of that. She wiggled and twisted her ass all over the bed shouting obscenities as we fucked. Brian was even more good looking in person. I want you in my arms Your skin under my hands Your taste on my tongue. Oh God she moaned Please fuck me Mistress. We wanted to tell you that you aren t in trouble and that you can ask us for help whenever you need it. Jilly s slender fingers took my hand and led it between her legs allowing me to feel the heat emanating from her fevered cunt as she guided me into taking hold of the long thick dildo that she said came closest to being the size of my dick. I picked some fingernail polish my favorite pink thongs and found my earrings and bracelet. Her name was Vonn something to do with her Danish dad insisting over the protests of her Irish mom so her middle name was Mary.

HOT! x


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Title – Ripped For Her Pleasure

Author – Kaybee

Rating –R, just in case.

Disclaimer – I own nothing.

Summary – Luke buys condoms.

Author's Note- Title thanks to Emily.

Luke tried to remember the last time he'd been this embarrassed. Nothing came to mind. It wasn't as if he'd never bought condoms before. That wasn't the embarrassing part. The embarrassing part was the fact that Miss Patty was standing a few feet away, watching him.

He would have grabbed any kind, just to get out of there as fast as possible. But, this was sex with Lorelai. Oh, man, there he went again. Grinning, like an idiot. Really, though, it wasn't as if they'd made plans to have sex. Who did that, anyway? Hey, come over my place tonight, so we can do it. Although, Lorelai was the type of person who would probably say that. He grinned again. He really had to stop doing that.

It was mind boggling, really, how many different kinds of condoms there were. When was the last time he'd bought condoms? He couldn't even remember. Nicole bought his for him, which was a little weird, to say the least.

Oh, wow, there were even flavored ones. Luke briefly considered getting them, but he thought that might seem a bit forward. He had no idea if Lorelai would even go for that. Just for fun, though, he let his eyes wander over the various different kinds of flavors. Cinnamon, spearmint, strawberry. Ok, that's a little weird.

His gaze lingered over a package of ribbed, lubricated condoms. Ok, well, ribbed was definitely good. He was definitely going to buy ribbed ones. Lubricated, though, hmm, that, he wasn't so sure about. He wasn't sure if he had any KY Jelly at his apartment, and he wasn't even sure if he should bother with it, anyway. It's not as if he had any clue what sort of stuff Lorelai was into.

Then, there was the question of Polyurethane versus latex. Luke had heard that Polyurethane was…more…pleasurable, than latex, however, he also knew that there was a greater risk of it breaking, and that was definitely not something that he or Lorelai wanted happening. And then there was sheepskin. No way in hell was Luke wearing that. He could just hear Lorelai mocking him.

He thought back to the night before. All they'd really done was makeout. They acted like hormonal teenagers, unable to keep their hands off of each other. They'd almost had sex, but Rory had come home and they had to stop. However, tonight, Rory was sleeping over Lane's, so; Lorelai had invited Luke over, promising him a good time.

Luke wasn't the type to get ahead of himself, but when Lorelai said, "good time", he knew what she meant. She knew that he knew what she meant, and they both knew how much they wanted it. Luke wanted the sex to be good, although, there was no way it couldn't be. How could it possibly be anything less than amazing? Lorelai Gilmore and Luke Danes, having sex. He'd never once thought about how she was in bed – ok, that was a lie, but, he certainly knew, well, assumed, at least, that she was nothing short of spectacular.

His gaze lingered on a pack of Trojan Man "Her Pleasure" condoms. Those were the kind that Nicole always made him use, and he hated them. They really made the sex not that great. Then again, it wasn't as if he and Nicole had had sex that often. It never really bothered him, though. There wasn't really that much chemistry between them, anyway.

Rachel, on the other hand, was a completely different story. When they were about to have sex for the first time, back when Luke was eighteen, he didn't really care how the sex was going to be, they were having it, that was all that mattered.

But, damn, was it good. It was good every time. Especially when she'd last visited, and they'd had sex her first night back. He was pretty sure Lorelai had an inkling that Luke Danes had "gotten some" the night before, because, the morning after, he woke up late and was friendlier than usual. He even remembered Babette making a comment to him about it.

Miss Patty coughed from behind him, and he turned to face her.

"You look like you could use some help, honey," she said, smiling.

"Oh, uh, no, I'm fine," he responded, blushing.

"Are you sure? Because, I'm sure you want to please Lorelai, and I can probably help you pick-"

"No," Luke interrupted, "really. It's fine." He really didn't want to discuss his sex life with Miss Patty.

"All right," she replied sweetly. "Have a good time tonight." She winked. And stood there. Now, with Miss Patty hovering over him, and practically breathing down his neck, Luke wanted to get out of there as fast as humanly possible. He hastily picked up a box and rushed to the counter to pay.

"Hello, Luke," said Kirk.

Luke just nodded his head. "Kirk."

Kirk focused on the condoms, and gave Luke a knowing look. "Good choice. I've used these before with Lulu, and, they're very-"

"Kirk. Just ring it up."

"In a hurry, I see. Gotta get back to Lorelai, huh?"

Luke was really considering hitting him. Kirk scanned the condoms, and a weird beep followed. He furrowed his brows.

"Hmm, that's strange," he said. He picked up the phone and pressed the intercom button. "I need a price check on the Durex Large "Her Pleasure" condoms."

Luke cringed.

"This rarely ever happens," Kirk said, as if that was supposed to absolve the matter.

"Great," Luke replied.

No one seemed to be coming up the counter, so, Kirk repeated his announcement over the intercom.

Luke ran a hand over his face. "Oh, my god." He took a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet, and put it on the counter. "Just take that."

Kirk raised an eyebrow. "Luke, that's a lot more than it-"

"Just shut up and take it."

Kirk nodded. "Ok." He put it in the register. "Have a good night." He winked. "Although, I think we both know you will."

Luke sighed. "Yeah, thanks, Kirk." He rounded a corner, and bumped into someone. "Oh, I'm sorry."

She laughed. "Hi!"

"What are you doing here?"

"Buying some stuff."

"So am I."

Luke looked in her basket and saw two packages of tampons. He looked back up at her.

"Oh, um, those are for Rory." She paused. "She is so going to kill me for telling you that."

Luke laughed. "I grew up with a sister, remember?"

"Right," replied Lorelai. "So, what'd you buy?" She started to take the bag from him, but he grabbed it.

"Wow, ok, now I really wanna know what you bought. Is it more of that Megaman protein stuff?"

"It's nothing, ok?"

"Why are you being so secretive?"

"I'm not being secretive."

"Yes, you are! What did you buy?"

Luke sighed. He opened the bag and she looked inside. There was a moment where she said nothing, and then she started laughing.

"It's not funny," Luke said sternly.

"So, you were the one who was buying the Durex Large "Her Pleasure" condoms?"

Luke reddened. "See, this is why I didn't want to show you what I bought."

"Aw, I'm sorry." She bit her lip to keep from laughing. "That's really thoughtful of you and everything, but, I'm on the pill." She watched his expression change and laughed. "And, I'm really not a fan of the rubber, plus, I don't have any diseases, so, it's not necessary."

"Are you kidding me?"

"I had to stand there, picking these out, while Patty stood right next to me. Then, with the whole intercom thing, and, now you tell me that you're on the pill?"

"You never asked!" she responded. "However, I must say that you're a very thoughtful man for getting the "her pleasure" ones. Also, a little presumptuous." She winked at him. "Planning on getting lucky tonight, huh?" He could do nothing but blush. She leaned in to whisper, "That's ok, so am I."

"You are, huh?" He was grinning now.

"Oh, yeah. So, um, how about you come over in about two hours? Rory should be gone by then."

"I'll be there."

Lorelai smiled. "Ok, I'll see you then." Impulsively, she kissed him, briefly, but passionately. She pulled apart and bit her lip, contemplating. "On second thought, make it one hour." Then, she was gone, and he could do nothing but stand there, grinning.

Maybe he would stick the condoms in Kirk's mailbox.


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Sex Toy Reviews

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Toy: Devon UR3 Vibrating Pussy & Anus
Reviewer: joeyjoe
Categories:Vaginas / MouthsFor MenPornstarVibrating
Overall rating:
  Devon PussyDevon's Pussy at The Toy Chest

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I bought this toy mostly due to the favorable reviews of similar products reviewed in the UR3 Doc Johnson line on this site. I'm pretty happy with this toy and thought I should give back to this site by voicing some of my concerns about the product.

First off, I've never owned any sex toys before, so I don't have a great amount of experience with similar products. In the past, I have masturbated dry, and for this product, you will need a *lot* of lubrication for it to be effective. Something I was not used to. Upon first opening the product, I could tell by the feel of it that some lubrication would be required, but I didn't heed the warning of the other reviews and decided to use the included lube. How bad could it be? It was awful. I spent about 15 minutes with the thing and couldn't even get myself inside. I was convinced it was too damned tight.

But then I noticed that the lube had pretty much dried up, so I threw the included lube in the garbage and went for some hand lotion. At that point I wasn't even completely hard, but with the hand lotion I slipped right in. Definitely not too tight. It was a little dry inside though, so I put on some more lotion. The key to this product is generous amounts of lubrication.

How does it feel? Again, I was a bit skeptical of the reviews, but it really does feel pretty close to the real thing. I think as far as simulated flesh goes, this is about as good as it'll ever get.

My gripes with this product are minor. As other reviewers have said, it does help if you elevate it on a pillow, but it isn't completely necessary. In fact, personally I thought it was better if laid flat on the bed, and instead of getting right on top of it, do girl push-ups onto it. Meaning your knees are laid out on the bed while you do push-ups with the rest of your body. It lets you get as deep into it as possible.

The 'exit hole' is designed for easy cleaning, but make sure you put a paper towel or something under it, or you will likely spill out from that end when you finish, defeating the point of easy cleaning.

The smell of the UR3 material is pretty strong, and I'm hoping it'll fade over time. If it doesn't, not a big deal, but it sure doesn't smell good.

The piece is obviously designed to be of realistic size, so as you can imagine, that doesn't make for easy storage. If you live with other people, this is something to consider.

Again, if you live with other people, this toy is not very convenient to just pull out for a quickie and be done with. It's big and it can get messy, and remember you'll have to clean it after each use.

I can't speak for the durability. I haven't had it very long, but there's already a small tear in the vaginal hole. Nothing serious, and I don't expect it'll rip much more, unless my penis gets a growth spurt. It seems like it will last a long time though.

Lastly, it's rather pricey, but if it holds up for as long as I think it will, it's worth it.

Overall, it's a good product that gives a very realistic feel.

Browse sex toy reviews ->

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Posted on Mar 26, 2022 in Solo

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What Is Sexy, Exactly? Absolutely Anything.S

You'd think something that works its way into so much of our advertising, art and general conversations — "sexiness" — would be easier to nail down. But when Esquire, a men's magazine that has ostensibly printed enough "sexy" covers since 1933 to know, asked a man and a woman to answer the question "What is sexy?" as part of a "fair and balanced investigation" into the notion, the responses that came back are, to traffic in cliché, about as clear as mud.

But you don't have to read it to discover what sexy is, because I can tell you what is sexy: Everything. Anything. Everything is sexy. Anything is sexy. I really mean it. It's not all sexy to you or to me, of course, but pretty much everything is sexy to someone. Or even a lot of someones. (I know you will be able to trot out some horrible/depraved thing that is not sexy at all, and I have to say, remember the guy with the constipation fetish? Alright then.)

Perhaps this is why it's so hard to define, and so hard to talk about accurately. What is sexy is like asking what is pretty — the answer is, it depends. There are lots of things most people think of as sexy, but no one definitive thing that amounts to sexy in the eyes of everyone, or even at all times. And that's probably for a very simple reason: sexiness is in our DNA, so the sheer number of things we could find sexy are truly unfathomable. It is so subjective, so whimsical, so dependent on a particular confluence of experiences, images, and cultural conditioning, to say nothing of circumstance, that no one notion of sexiness is quite going to get it.

As a culture, we are constantly striving to define "sexy." If you just Google "what is sexy," the most recent results are roundups that place in sexy's mailbox behaviors ranging from being affectionate to laughing at a guy's jokes to being nice, to being modest.

We tell men things like, real sexiness is when you do the dishes, and we tell women things like, real sexiness is when you have bulletproof confidence. But real sexiness is both everywhere and elusive, and could be any of the following items from this extremely impartial list:

  • Sexy-insecure
  • Sexy-ugly
  • Sexy-portly
  • Sexy-scrawny
  • Sexy-androgynous
  • Sexy-dumb
  • Sexy-smart
  • Sexy-funny
  • Sexy-serious
  • Sexy-nice
  • Sexy-mean
  • Sexy-controlling
  • Sexy-generous
  • Sexy-clean
  • Sexy-dirty
  • Sexy-goofy
  • Sexy-bored

You get the point. The sheer range of what could be considered sexy is so vast, so expansive, because at our core, most of us want to have sex at some point or another, meaning, it behooves to not be limited in what turns us on, no? It would be problematic, population-wise, if the only thing we thought was sexy was, say, the smell of jasmine on Saturdays in July for a five-minute window.

And when you are a sex-having people, it would seem then that inclusivity would be a good thing. But don't go looking for that over in Esquire's thing — but should you want to read it anyhow, go for it. It involves a dude talking to a bunch of models and a woman who doesn't think men should Care about how they look. Sure, I love when investigations turn over precisely one leaf, and one leaf only. But nowhere are the following obviously sexy things covered:

  • The word desiderata
  • Reading out loud
  • Drawers that open slowly
  • The explaining of scientific/sophisticated concepts in lay terms
  • Big, long, tedious, nuanced debates
  • Old books
  • Handwritten letters
  • People who are willing to talk about handwritten letters

I could go on. We haven't even started talking about knee socks or people who have good watch arms or elbow patches on tweed blazers or the way hair that isn't supposed to be messy looks when it gets accidentally messy?

These things are sexy. You could put all these things in a room and I might never be pulled from that room. The takeaway here is not to send me a care package of avocados and old letters, though you totally can, it's that sexy is a construct, and unfortunately, in this world, it's a very very very unimaginative, narrow, boring one that fails to address many sexy things and focuses on other, boring things that have been sexy for so long I'm willing to suggest right here they might have even lost some of their sexy. (Boring can be sexy, truth told.) Maybe it's all the hot body fatigue, but I'm really looking forward to sweaters.

Here's the thing: If you think about the first thing you thought was sexy, it might be the silliest thing in the world. I think one of the first things I thought was sexy was a guy on the cover of an old Sweet Valley High book, just some preppy guy with like, an oxford shirt? But this image had been framed for me, through the books targeted to me, through current fashion, through the way other girls I knew coveted them, to the way the very stories written about them encoded their desirability for me, ready-made, as ideal. Also, he was a cute guy?

But the point is, almost nothing happens in a vacuum, especially our notions of what's appealing. That is to say, your idea of sexy is a mash-up of images, ideas, cultural conditioning, particular preferences, and your own specific experiences in the world. We know that notions of sexy over time have changed alongside fashion — women's weight, men's facial hair — thus explaining the ability to go back and find photos of bearded Civil War soldiers super hot without even having to visit Brooklyn.

What bugs me is that when people think anything that isn't a Victoria's Secret model/George Clooney isn't sexy, they feel like they are the exception to the sexy rule, that their taste is somehow offbeat. I do it all the time, and then I catch myself: there's nothing offbeat about being drawn to regular humans with all their flaws and peccadilloes. What's weirder is that we're so conditioned toward the fake image that it is has become normalized as Definitively Sexy.

That said, there's another big contradiction in the discussion: What we say looks sexy and what actually looks and, more importantly, feels sexy are often two entirely different things. Soft, fleshy skin looks and feels lovely to me — I am one of those people who almost always prefers the look, instant-judgment style, of the before picture of the woman over the really gaunt, zero-body fat after-woman I know I'm supposed to want to be. But the general perception is there's this one version of sexy, and only one.

Then there is not what merely looks or feels sexy, but what sounds sexy and also stimulates the mind. For an easy example of what I'm talking about, see Sarah Polley's brilliant film Take This Waltz, a movie that swims in the idea of sex and sexiness without indulging in it, at least, not like you'd expect. One of the sexiest scenes in the very lushly shot movie involves no actual sex, it's Daniel (Luke Kirby) describing in sweet-yet-simultaneously-pornographic language what he would do to Margot (Michelle Williams), if he were, in fact, able to do with her what he pleased. And it all happens at 2 p.m. in a bar with martinis on the table that are never consumed. Sexy is sitting there telling someone how you want to explore them, even when you are not touching.

Of course, yeah, those are good-looking people in movies. It's going to be sexy regardless I guess. But this, to me, seems closer to real life than the majority of what is sold to me as sexy — hyper-groomed, hyper-cultivated, antiseptic images of sexy perfection that don't allow for flaws, quirks, or most of the time, even words.

Not that images aren't perfectly sexy. It's just for every person to decide, and it might be of use to consider how unexpected sexiness can be. On that note, I leave you with an essay someone sent me a while back that I still think about sometimes. I doubt it's the sort of thing most people conjure when they think about sexiness, and it would never make it into most men's mags to be heralded as such, but it's a pretty radical read on seeing a sex surrogate from the perspective of a quadriplegic that forced me to reconsider my ideas about this whole sexy business. Perhaps it will for you, too.

Image via Jim Cooke


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As soon as you stroll into the poorly lit massage parlour, a sense of calm washes over you. The relaxing sounds of soft instrumental music play in the background, and the scent of soothing necessary oils fills the air. You can't help but feel unwinded just by remaining in this space.

As you make your way to the massage room, the masseuse welcomes you with a warm smile and a mild handshake. She guides you to the massage table, where you rest and let yourself become one with the soft, inviting sheets beneath you.

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Your masseuse's hands slide over your skin, checking out every curve and shape of your body. She utilizes her fingers, palms, and even her elbows to knead away any sticking around tension, all while keeping a mindful and attentive touch.

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As the massage reaches its climax, you'll feel a sense of pure bliss wash over you, as if all your concerns and tensions have actually simply melted away. And simply when you believe it can't get any much better, your masseuse will give you the supreme present: a "pleased ending" that will leave you feeling completely and entirely satisfied.

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“We will break the bed tomorrow,” I texted.

“Lol, are you going to bring a saw?” M asked.

He didn’t know I had a fetish for wrestling, but responded well to my overtures: I pinned him and he pushed me off his belly with pelvic thrushes, both of us tumbling down the bed.

I have always found grappling arousing. After getting bored of the passionless daddy porn, I am now hooked to veteran wrestling, a professional sport where mature men fight for the title.

The veterans bringing themselves to the arena at an age when men start worrying about their weakening bones is awe-inspiring. Whether it’s the short and stout Kasradze Z bringing down men much taller than him or the hefty Markov M using his enormous weight to his advantage, the duels are an exciting show of strength and technique. They’re more real and relaxing than the spectacles of hate and gore WWE and the ilk put up. Of course, the bouts always end with the two opponents shaking hands or parting with a slight pat on the back, but my voyeuristic brain is always good with conjuring juicier stories.

After getting bored of the passionless daddy porn, I am now hooked to veteran wrestling, a professional sport where mature men fight for the title.

Internet is full of references around homoeroticism embedded in wrestling. The oldest contact sport between same-sex players imitates many sexual positions, be it the ‘par terre’ that resembles mounting or scissors, created by entwining one’s legs around the opponent’s body to twist him around.

“All these positions seem strangely familiar to me,” said a Reddit user about Greco Roman wrestling bouts in Olympics. “The only thing that differentiates this from gay sex is that there is a judge present. Imagine the duels were fought naked in traditional Olympics.” Turkish oil wrestling invites much more scrutiny because of its hand-inside-leather pants move and butt dragging which can be overtly homosexual to a Western gaze. Amateur wrestlers vehemently decry such connections, while famous queer professional wrestler Effy is going full hog to claim wrestling for gays with his merchandise.

“The only thing that differentiates this from gay sex is that there is a judge present.”

Wrestling in bed is a common fetish among both queer and straight folks. It varies distinctly from other BDSM activities because of constantly shifting power equations between partners, ensuring a tough fight and hence making it more arousing. Certain online platforms even help men meet each other for duels, usually—but not necessarily—followed by sex. The users live out their fetishes by imitating storylines from WWE, taking up wrestling avatars, and trash-talking while dueling in makeshift rings in their living rooms. Many of their videos also end up on gay porn sites. This is a throwback to the 1940s, when British men tried to meet each other by placing ads in magazines devoted to health, fitness and male physique. A lot had to be read between the lines, though since same-sex desire had not gained clear articulation at that time.

“Wrestling practice wanted by inexperienced ten-stone near York,” reads one ad.

“Reader, keen on Boxing and Wrestling, would like to hear from others similarly interested,” said another.

“Male Reader keen on weight-lifting, posing, sunbathing, seeks companion for camping holiday in South France, August,” yet another one explains.

Around the same time queer artist Francis Bacon painted “Two Figures”, depicting two beefy men grappling in bed, the suggestion of an erection almost at the center of the painting almost resolves any possible ambiguity. Bacon’s paintings are often identified as symbols, perhaps symptoms, of a time prior to the 1970s when homosexuality had not yet become a social, political, or public form. In an interview, Bacon said that inspiration for the painting came from a series of sequential photographs that Eadweard Muybridge took of two nude men wrestling. In the photographs, however, they were still just wrestling — gripping, lifting and pinning the opponent — and not getting involved passionately. In the painting, however, the bout moves to the bed, physical exertion becomes sex, rivalry made passionate, and supposedly neutral spectatorship comes much closer to voyeurism.

Physical exertion becomes sex, rivalry made passionate, and neutral spectatorship comes much closer to voyeurism.

We may have different reasons for this fetish: A bisexual friend, who identifies as femme, told me that for her, it’s about being in control and it varies. “I am a switch, so it depends on the person. With women, I like trying hard to get and tease, making them crave for me. I don’t like dull foreplay,” she said. “With men, it’s different. I have daddy issues because my father is a typical patriarch and I don’t have a strong connection with him. I don’t like men pinning me down and prefer to dominate and get my way with them.”

Another date with whom I had a duel called it a dynamic dance that includes passionate teasing and mock fighting to dominate and submit until the spent bodies meld in pleasure. It holds true for me, too, but there seems to be another underlying reason. Wrestling in bed might be my response to not liking violence in real life: I hate to see people fight each other and have never been involved in a physical duel, avoiding minor provocations. In fact, I have had good friends trying to protect me from possible bullies in the play field without my asking. “Beware if you say anything to him,” they used to announce, leaving me wondering just which part of my personality conveys that I can’t stand up for myself.

Sexual wrestling might be my way to feel compensated, a pushback against societal emasculation. Wrestling depicts the primal desire for control, drawing on the symbolism of masculinity like struggle, strength, determination and courage. I prefer to wrestle with stout or hefty and hairy types, a typical image of masculinity, and it’s empowering to pin them down in bed. As much as I fantasize getting squeezed in a bear hug or grimacing in a head lock, I don’t really like getting dominated. It’s not always possible to find a match, however. Not everyone wants to put up a fight and submit too easily. I have to guide others who may not have explored this genre of foreplay but are willing to experiment. It’s a jackpot when I find the ones sharing the interest.♦

Lightbug is a story collector who daydreams about a homo-normative world. He is on twitter at @gaylores


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