So, last night, I got nothing. I come up all ready and randy, and Jane is whacked out and wouldn't respond to anything. It's like we're running on opposite cycles or something.
What I need, I suspect, is a little TLC from a nurse... I wonder what "the thing" is she has for me... not that syringe, I hope...
Saturday, March 11
In Mr. Winky's dreams
This is how it is in Mr. Winky's dreams.
Needless to day, that's why we call them dreams. Reality of late hasn't been so hot; we all seem to be running a bit high on hormones. Jane at least has an excuse; I'm not sure what my problem is.
Monday found me in the local emergency room for twelve bloody hours; I had a severe stomach pain (lower right); turns out it was... er... well, they don't know. I got some good drugs out if it, though, and proceeded to sleep for the next seventy-two hours. Straight. The boss wasn't too pleased I didn't show up to work, but, hell, I didn't care, did I. Nope. Not on those drugs.
Today, Jane's sister went to court for the auto accident she had a couple of weeks ago. She totalled her car; the cop charged her with reckless driving; the judge tossed her in the can for ten days, right then and there. Needless to say, this set Jane off on another tease.
Here it is, nearly one in the morning, and I'm thinking I'd love to go up and have a nice long screw with Jane. I want one where she's down on the bed, ass up in the air, grunting like a pig and screaming my name while thrusting back on my rod. One of those times when she loses everything and begs for my cum to fill her hot slash. "Cum in me. Cum in me."
Wait a minute, isn't that how we arrived at this very point in time? Ah, well, the good news is I've nothing to fear for the next eight months or so.
So, friends, ride on. And keep the raincoats in your car.
Needless to day, that's why we call them dreams. Reality of late hasn't been so hot; we all seem to be running a bit high on hormones. Jane at least has an excuse; I'm not sure what my problem is.
Monday found me in the local emergency room for twelve bloody hours; I had a severe stomach pain (lower right); turns out it was... er... well, they don't know. I got some good drugs out if it, though, and proceeded to sleep for the next seventy-two hours. Straight. The boss wasn't too pleased I didn't show up to work, but, hell, I didn't care, did I. Nope. Not on those drugs.
Today, Jane's sister went to court for the auto accident she had a couple of weeks ago. She totalled her car; the cop charged her with reckless driving; the judge tossed her in the can for ten days, right then and there. Needless to say, this set Jane off on another tease.
Here it is, nearly one in the morning, and I'm thinking I'd love to go up and have a nice long screw with Jane. I want one where she's down on the bed, ass up in the air, grunting like a pig and screaming my name while thrusting back on my rod. One of those times when she loses everything and begs for my cum to fill her hot slash. "Cum in me. Cum in me."
Wait a minute, isn't that how we arrived at this very point in time? Ah, well, the good news is I've nothing to fear for the next eight months or so.
So, friends, ride on. And keep the raincoats in your car.
Thursday, March 2
Wednesday, February 22
Sunday, February 5
Down for the count
I missed the women streaking down the hall.
I missed hooking up with Rebecca of John E. and Rebecca. A touch ago, I was midway in the hall talking with someone about "they can't fit any more people in the jacuzi; it's arms and legs everywhere" and I glanced to that end of the hall and noticed a crowd of people, including four or five folks buck naked, including one boner pointing straight out and Rebecca's ass and little boobs. I couldn't get away in time to find them.
Found Jane in the orgy room, racked out on the couch, eyes barely open, as a couple went at it on the bed, he eating her out, and her moans filling the silent room in a breathless cacaphony.
Jane is now in bed, asleep, and I'm headed there too. My eyes hurt. My legs hurt. Mr. Winky hurts. It's time to snuggle in bed with my Googly Bear. I'm down for the count.
I missed hooking up with Rebecca of John E. and Rebecca. A touch ago, I was midway in the hall talking with someone about "they can't fit any more people in the jacuzi; it's arms and legs everywhere" and I glanced to that end of the hall and noticed a crowd of people, including four or five folks buck naked, including one boner pointing straight out and Rebecca's ass and little boobs. I couldn't get away in time to find them.
Found Jane in the orgy room, racked out on the couch, eyes barely open, as a couple went at it on the bed, he eating her out, and her moans filling the silent room in a breathless cacaphony.
Jane is now in bed, asleep, and I'm headed there too. My eyes hurt. My legs hurt. Mr. Winky hurts. It's time to snuggle in bed with my Googly Bear. I'm down for the count.
I have a hickey on the tip of my penis
Okay, so, I'm in the grope room, alone, just zoning. Jane walks in.
"What you doing, honey."
Like she doesn't know I don't like crowds. I can hear the lesbian feast across the hall in the orgy room. Joanne discovered that one of the women attending has never been with another woman, so she decided to rectify that. They got the other woman in the orgy room in the center of the bed (actually, 2 queens pushed together) and then surrounded her. At one point there were seven women playing with this new-to-the-experience woman and about a dozen people (men & a few other women) standing around watching. So, I'm now sitting alone in the dark when Jane finds me.
I tell her I'm okay, and she says that Maryanne is looking for me.
"Send her in," I say.
So, Maryanne finds me and I suggest we go down to my room to mess around. And we do, meeting up with Jane in the hall. Starts out the three of us in bed, and after a couple of minutes of kissing and talking, Jane says she's leaving us and going off to find Paul. Maryanne and I are left to our devices.
I'll say this, and I don't mean to be cliched, but she can suck the chrome off a bumper. I don't know that I've ever experienced such vacuum forces on my penis. I came, and then she kept right on with it. I think I deflated for a minute, but then she sucked the blood right down into the little guy and he was hard again.
She was wet. She said, "Talk dirty to me. Pull my hair."
Okay. You know, when a woman asks, deliver.
I called her a slut. I talked about her wet pussy. I cajoled her. And then I slid a raincoat on the old guy, turned her onto her stomach, and pushed the old guy right into her wetness.
Damn.
My second at-bat went for a while, including a change of position. When I finally came, she was on her back, her legs wrapped around me, making tiny gutteral noises.
Meanwhile, Jane is drunk -- very drunk -- and out looking for Paul so she can "loosen him up."
"You go, girl. You go," I say.
Now, time to go find Rebecca. I wonder if she'll notice the hickey on the tip of my penis?
"What you doing, honey."
Like she doesn't know I don't like crowds. I can hear the lesbian feast across the hall in the orgy room. Joanne discovered that one of the women attending has never been with another woman, so she decided to rectify that. They got the other woman in the orgy room in the center of the bed (actually, 2 queens pushed together) and then surrounded her. At one point there were seven women playing with this new-to-the-experience woman and about a dozen people (men & a few other women) standing around watching. So, I'm now sitting alone in the dark when Jane finds me.
I tell her I'm okay, and she says that Maryanne is looking for me.
"Send her in," I say.
So, Maryanne finds me and I suggest we go down to my room to mess around. And we do, meeting up with Jane in the hall. Starts out the three of us in bed, and after a couple of minutes of kissing and talking, Jane says she's leaving us and going off to find Paul. Maryanne and I are left to our devices.
I'll say this, and I don't mean to be cliched, but she can suck the chrome off a bumper. I don't know that I've ever experienced such vacuum forces on my penis. I came, and then she kept right on with it. I think I deflated for a minute, but then she sucked the blood right down into the little guy and he was hard again.
She was wet. She said, "Talk dirty to me. Pull my hair."
Okay. You know, when a woman asks, deliver.
I called her a slut. I talked about her wet pussy. I cajoled her. And then I slid a raincoat on the old guy, turned her onto her stomach, and pushed the old guy right into her wetness.
Damn.
My second at-bat went for a while, including a change of position. When I finally came, she was on her back, her legs wrapped around me, making tiny gutteral noises.
Meanwhile, Jane is drunk -- very drunk -- and out looking for Paul so she can "loosen him up."
"You go, girl. You go," I say.
Now, time to go find Rebecca. I wonder if she'll notice the hickey on the tip of my penis?
Saturday, February 4
So, the game begins
I just sat down to blog and Jane is giving me grief about writing.
Earlier, Jane said we weren't allowed to have sex since we're married.
Maryanne's been coming on to me. She keeps saying I need to get drunk. So I don't remember. She wanted to dance, so we went down to the DJ room and danced a couple slow songs. I got hard and decided it was time for a refill and to see where things would lead.
So, we went back down the hall and I dragged Maryanne by her mardis gras beads into the room. I asked her why she wanted me drunk, and then suddenly we were kissing, and I pushed her against the wall. I felt her smooth skin with my hands. She said I was the unattainable one; like for sure, I thought.
And then she pulled away to head back out into the hall.
As I've been posting, Jane has been giving me shit since there's all that "sex stuff" and I'm sitting at the computer. As she just left, she told me that Maryanne was a sure thing.
Like I hadn't figured that out already. I'm not that dense. My question: can I get Maryanne and Rebecca at the same time?
Earlier, Jane said we weren't allowed to have sex since we're married.
Maryanne's been coming on to me. She keeps saying I need to get drunk. So I don't remember. She wanted to dance, so we went down to the DJ room and danced a couple slow songs. I got hard and decided it was time for a refill and to see where things would lead.
So, we went back down the hall and I dragged Maryanne by her mardis gras beads into the room. I asked her why she wanted me drunk, and then suddenly we were kissing, and I pushed her against the wall. I felt her smooth skin with my hands. She said I was the unattainable one; like for sure, I thought.
And then she pulled away to head back out into the hall.
As I've been posting, Jane has been giving me shit since there's all that "sex stuff" and I'm sitting at the computer. As she just left, she told me that Maryanne was a sure thing.
Like I hadn't figured that out already. I'm not that dense. My question: can I get Maryanne and Rebecca at the same time?
Tour complete
We've done the tour. At the conclusion of the tour, I came on back here to our room. The party is outside our door; that's the congregating area. Maryanne and Joe were part of the crowd. I gave Maryanne a big hug and a kiss and then turned to Joe. He hates me. I think. I gave him a big hug and started lifting him off his feet. The crowd loved it.
Here's the situation, if you haven't read this entire blog. NCL is a swingers club. They get a floor or two at a hotel, and throw a little party. The rooms on the floor are either rooms for lodging (like our room) or theme rooms. And a safe room with food and drink. The safe room is exactly that: a place to hang out with no pressure.
The theme rooms include an orgy & mirror room, a Sybian room, a camping room (with a tent; great for exhibitionists and voyeurs), a grope room (totally dark), and a massage room (with x-rated videos playing).
Jane's here; she says I have to stop writing and socialize. I hate people.
Here's the situation, if you haven't read this entire blog. NCL is a swingers club. They get a floor or two at a hotel, and throw a little party. The rooms on the floor are either rooms for lodging (like our room) or theme rooms. And a safe room with food and drink. The safe room is exactly that: a place to hang out with no pressure.
The theme rooms include an orgy & mirror room, a Sybian room, a camping room (with a tent; great for exhibitionists and voyeurs), a grope room (totally dark), and a massage room (with x-rated videos playing).
Jane's here; she says I have to stop writing and socialize. I hate people.
Reporting live from North Carolina Life
Well, I made it. I'm currently at a Marriott-family property, the location of NCL this weekend. Jane is taking a little nap in preparation for the rigors of the evening. Me, I decided to blog a bit. My plan is to blog live throughout the night.
This decision to blog live is based on several assumptions:
1. I'm not going to get too much pussy. I'll have time to hide in the room and pound away on the keyboard for a few minutes every hour or so.
2. I'll be sober enough to find the room and the computer, and my fingers will still work on the keyboard.
3. I'll have something to say, at least about my voyeuristic experiences.
We arrived a bit before 3pm; my flight from Atlanta was uneventful, thankfully. Jane picked me up at the airport and we headed here.
A group of folks were unloading the equipment from a trailer. Lots of stuff. Tubs and boxes and whatever. The whole thing is very professional and business-like. When we checked in, Joanne was handling reception, and Paul was one of the guys schlepping stuff up to the party floor. It's been a while since we've been here. They've improved some of their processes, and now have a credit card swipe machine, a membership card maker, and are very organized. Or, perhaps the organization is because we were the first to register today. Anyway, we registered and she gave us our confirmation number which we provided to the hotel's front desk and then we received our room key.
We're on the party floor. We're in the middle of the party floor. We're right next to the elevators.
Not necessarilly a good thing; no privacy at all, and it is likely to be loud. But at least we have a balcony.
We went downstairs at one point, and Jane introduced me to a young couple in the lobby: John E. and his girlfriend, Rebecca. He's a little, er, short... He works at Osaka's with Jane. I gave them grief that pretty soon everybody from Osaka's was going to be at NCL. He seemed up for that. We decided that Joanne is recruiting.
I decided that if Joanne keeps recruiting cute girls like Rebecca, she can keep recruiting.
Jane just made an utterance. "I'm not going to get any sleep." Right outside our door it sounds like there are twenty people all doing a meet-and-greet. Screams of welcome.
Going to be long night, perhaps.
This decision to blog live is based on several assumptions:
1. I'm not going to get too much pussy. I'll have time to hide in the room and pound away on the keyboard for a few minutes every hour or so.
2. I'll be sober enough to find the room and the computer, and my fingers will still work on the keyboard.
3. I'll have something to say, at least about my voyeuristic experiences.
We arrived a bit before 3pm; my flight from Atlanta was uneventful, thankfully. Jane picked me up at the airport and we headed here.
A group of folks were unloading the equipment from a trailer. Lots of stuff. Tubs and boxes and whatever. The whole thing is very professional and business-like. When we checked in, Joanne was handling reception, and Paul was one of the guys schlepping stuff up to the party floor. It's been a while since we've been here. They've improved some of their processes, and now have a credit card swipe machine, a membership card maker, and are very organized. Or, perhaps the organization is because we were the first to register today. Anyway, we registered and she gave us our confirmation number which we provided to the hotel's front desk and then we received our room key.
We're on the party floor. We're in the middle of the party floor. We're right next to the elevators.
Not necessarilly a good thing; no privacy at all, and it is likely to be loud. But at least we have a balcony.
We went downstairs at one point, and Jane introduced me to a young couple in the lobby: John E. and his girlfriend, Rebecca. He's a little, er, short... He works at Osaka's with Jane. I gave them grief that pretty soon everybody from Osaka's was going to be at NCL. He seemed up for that. We decided that Joanne is recruiting.
I decided that if Joanne keeps recruiting cute girls like Rebecca, she can keep recruiting.
Jane just made an utterance. "I'm not going to get any sleep." Right outside our door it sounds like there are twenty people all doing a meet-and-greet. Screams of welcome.
Going to be long night, perhaps.
Stuck in Atlanta... & I'm still stuck on nurses
I was hoping to be home tonight, but I got stuck here. NCL is tomorrow, and Jane and I were planning on attending & starting out tonight with a little one-on-one action. Instead, I'm here at a Hilton Garden compliments of the frigg'n airline.
I left yesterday to check out one of our suppliers down in New Orleans. They're just getting back up and running, and I went down to QA. I got a great send off.
Jane got back from Osaka's sometime between three and four Thursday morning. She was wired. She sat on the bed and started rubbing my legs. I woke up; it felt good. Of course.
I don't need to tell you that we fucked like rabbits. Okay, maybe not like rabbits, but... She was so wet & hot; I think her boyfriends at Osaka's had gotten her wet 'n ready. It was a good sent-off.
I wish we were having a welcome-home right about now.
I left yesterday to check out one of our suppliers down in New Orleans. They're just getting back up and running, and I went down to QA. I got a great send off.
Jane got back from Osaka's sometime between three and four Thursday morning. She was wired. She sat on the bed and started rubbing my legs. I woke up; it felt good. Of course.
I don't need to tell you that we fucked like rabbits. Okay, maybe not like rabbits, but... She was so wet & hot; I think her boyfriends at Osaka's had gotten her wet 'n ready. It was a good sent-off.
I wish we were having a welcome-home right about now.
Wednesday, January 18
Difficult decisions
Received the following from my dear wife:
Why'd she tell me this, other than to get me thinking about her smooth snatch, to get me all hot and bothered.
In light of the above, I've moved a stack of condoms to the glove box of my car.
;-)
Men often face difficult decisions that women rarely have to deal with...Quite funny in light of Lilly. She's always flaunting something. Last week she came in wearing a skirt and told me she wasn't wearing any panties.
I was a very happy person. My wonderful girlfriend and I had been dating for over a year, and so we decided to get married. There was only one little thing getting to me...
It was my fiancé's beautiful younger sister. My prospective sister-in-law was twenty-two, wore very tight miniskirts, and generally was bra-less. She would regularly bend down when she was near me, and I always got more than a pleasant view. It had to be deliberate. She never did it when she was near anyone else.
One day her "little" sister called and asked me to come over to check the wedding invitations. She was alone when I arrived, and she whispered to me that she had feelings and desires for me that she couldn't overcome. She told me that she wanted to make love to me just once before I got married and committed my life to her sister. Well, I was in total shock, and couldn't say a word.
She said, "I'm going upstairs to my bedroom, and if you want one last wild fling, just come up and get me."
I was stunned and frozen in shock as I watched her go up the stairs. I stood there for a moment, then turned and made a beeline straight to the front door. I opened the door, and headed straight towards my car.
Lo and behold, my entire future family was standing outside, all clapping!
With tears in his eyes, my father-in-law hugged me and said, "We are very happy that you have passed our little test. We couldn't ask for better man for our daughter. Welcome to the family."
So the moral of this story is....
Always keep your condoms in your car.
Why'd she tell me this, other than to get me thinking about her smooth snatch, to get me all hot and bothered.
In light of the above, I've moved a stack of condoms to the glove box of my car.
;-)
Friday, December 23
A trip to the ballet: A plethora of brunettes
Kenny Garcia and I are in Savannah. Came down on Monday; we had a little problem back at the plant on some parts for an aeronautical firm here in Savannah. We were joined by a consultant from New Orleans (well, she used to be from New Orleans, anyway) and we spent three days at the plant mucking about to try and solve the problem. I think we got it. Joyce had to return to home tonight, so I dropped her at the airport while Kenny played a little golf. Like that's a real sport: hitting a little ball around fields trying to get it in a hole.
I have enough problems finding the hole.
At 4:15 this afternoon we stopped in at Savannah Gentlemen's Club. We walked in; the place was dark (darkest strip club I've ever been in) and quiet. We sat down. A minute or two later, the bar tender walked in from the back. It didn't take us long to learn that while there were dancers in the house, and in spite of the fact the sign on the door said the joint was open at 4pm, and they wouldn't be dancing until 5. We split, deciding to return before 7 (and the start of the cover charge).
A little before 7pm, Kenny & I walked back into the club. The place was a little brighter, strings of lights around the ceiling, black light lighting over in the champagne room, a neon sign announcing the VIP room, and a dancer grooving on stage. Seren, we'd learn later. She was a little large -- for a dancer: straight jet black hair, ruby lips, soft pale skin. And, damn, she could move. Like fluid.
We sat down. Kenny ordered a beer and I ordered a soda. Diet. I was the designated driver, after all.
We'd been told there'd be 14 dancers. They were each dancing two songs. We weren't approached by any dancers, and we didn't notice anyone going into the VIP rooms. Not a whole lotta pressure. Either that or we didn't look like the buying type. Well, that judgment would turn out to be wrong.
We sat at a high table, talking. We were dissecting the business of the club; looking for income centers. How's anybody making money? Seren, dressed in a black flowing cope & looking goth-like, wandered chatting with customers. One dancer swung past saying she'd stop by later, if we were "still there." Guess she wasn't counting on us staying long.
An attractive blond passed by, wheeled suitcase in tow. A dancer enroute to the dressing room. Lithe. Later, I'd notice the freckles on her face, sharp eyes, and a quick smile. But not then, as it was the color of her hair that made me realize all the dancers -- well, except her -- were brunettes.
& now I realized why I was in 7th heaven.
For a while, we'd been talking about visiting the ballet. I knew that Kenny needed someone to make sure he didn't get into trouble. Right. Before we left Raleigh, I'd told Jane we'd hit the ballet. On the drive down, she called every hour. "Have you been to the ballet yet?" Tuesday, same question. Wednesday, same question. "No, honey, I'm working."
Well, not totally. Last week Jane posted a little add on a swinger's site. She asked me about it. I think she's reaching for something more, some spice, some freak. She sorted through and found a few couples she was interested in; she wondered which I was interested in. "Ah, whatever." So long as she is cute and has long, dark hair. So, Tuesday night I wandered over to the site to see what I could see. I found several couples that looked of interest. Well, okay, so I was focused on the female half of the couple.
Jane likes tall, meaty, bald men. She's got me. ;-)
I sent a couple of emails, initiating a little freak.
Or so I thought.
Last night Jane rebuked me for sending the emails. After all, I hadn't checked with her first.
After ordering the second round of drinks, Kenny went out to the car to grab a couple of cigars. We'd decided we were going to stink up the joint.
We moved to a different table, one near the door and the exhaust fan. We didn't want to stink up the place that much. We decided we'd leave when the tobacco ran out, unless there was a real reason to stay.
As we were lighting up, I noticed we'd been through the line-up. Seren was back on stage, her pale skin glowing under the lights. We hadn't tipped at the rail yet, and I figured it was time to start. I took a couple of ones and folded them lengthwise & walked to the rail, placing the bills on the stage. I sat down, alone at the rail, and Seren floated over and leaned down, drowning me in her hair, pushing her soft breasts against me. When I started breathing, I slipped the bills under her garter.
After her set, Seren disappeared into the dressing room. She reappeared a bit later, sashaying to our table. She was wearing a starched, white, oxford shirt. "You look like you just rolled out of bed and took that shirt from my closet."
The three of us talked for a long while. Our conversation covered the gamut; well, it covered a gamut, anyway. Spouses. Children. The business. Gymnastics. Nurse fantasies. My thoughts for a strip club (Seren said the nurse fantasy would only attract a small segment of the population; not as popular as I might have thought... or so she suggested.) Russian dancers (Hmmm, I perked up, thinking of Nadia.) And Kenny & I told stories on each other. Only the good ones. The best, at least as I can remember as I write this: Kenny's son getting his girlfriend's name (and an apostrophe-s) tattooed right above his pubic hair (they broke up).
At some point, the conversation went round to the Champagne Room and the VIP Room. A hundred-sixty for thirty minutes under the black lights. Twenty-five dollars a song for a lap dance. We'd had a good conversation; I figured I get a dance. Seren and I slid over to the VIP Room, and soon Seren was dancing, her softness and fullness pressed gently against me. A little bump and grind; certainly not as much as at Lipstick and not as chaste as many clubs, but still, nice.
I wondered how freaky she was. I was hard and wondering if Jane would find her attractive. In my fantasy mind, Seren and Jane were "exploring their shared bi-curious feelings." Of course, as Kenny and I spoke on the way down on Monday, "reality never turns out like the fantasy." Turns out Seren isn't bi-curious. Also turns out she believes sex is important in a relationship. And, it also turns out she can't get off; some complication to childbirth. (What women give up with pregnancy and childbirth...)
I, of course, immediately thought I'd like to save her.
That's what I do, of course.
First, however, another dance. They're like potato chips: can't have just one.
Later, after she'd changed into a little Christmas lingerie, a little red number tied in the front, white knee-high socks, and a wide red ribbon in her hair, I figured Kenny needed a dance. I gave Seren the money and off they went to enjoy a little fun in the shadows. Over Moons Over My Hammy he told me he'd had "seconds." Wait, he sucked on her breasts? Hey, I didn't get firsts! Can I go back?
I told Seren she'd do well at Lipstick. She's got the right curves for lap dancing; she's got the right touch; she's got the right scent.
While they were in the VIP room, Mariah -- the club's only blond -- joined me. Turns out she's from Venezuela. Oooo, I like Latin women. I was writing in my notebook, & she wanted to know what I was doing.
This club was fairly laid back. At some places, we'd have been over-run with dancers looking for a little cash. Mariah, like Seren, was interested in conversation, too. So, here we were, real women, real breasts, real conversation.
Or, at least I figured as such.
I could see how these girls would have regulars. As I suggested to Mariah -- after she told me the money to be made was with regulars & sometimes she made buckets just talking to guys, not dancing -- that would be like dating, without all the hassles. With a smile, she noted it would be like dating without the sex, too.
Point taken.
Still, I could see hanging out with them. Bright. Pretty.
And willing to get nekkid.
As I write this, the morning darkness slipping away, I wonder how to create that same sense of ease with Jane. I think she feels it at Osaka's, but I just can't fall into it there. We need a place where we can date, where we can hang without Miller or the older boys, where we can be at ease with one another.
Anyway, Savannah's Gentlemen's Club is now just a memory, a fantasy spread for a couple hours, lives intersecting and then retreating, reality intruding. Tomorrow we drive north.
I have enough problems finding the hole.
At 4:15 this afternoon we stopped in at Savannah Gentlemen's Club. We walked in; the place was dark (darkest strip club I've ever been in) and quiet. We sat down. A minute or two later, the bar tender walked in from the back. It didn't take us long to learn that while there were dancers in the house, and in spite of the fact the sign on the door said the joint was open at 4pm, and they wouldn't be dancing until 5. We split, deciding to return before 7 (and the start of the cover charge).
A little before 7pm, Kenny & I walked back into the club. The place was a little brighter, strings of lights around the ceiling, black light lighting over in the champagne room, a neon sign announcing the VIP room, and a dancer grooving on stage. Seren, we'd learn later. She was a little large -- for a dancer: straight jet black hair, ruby lips, soft pale skin. And, damn, she could move. Like fluid.
We sat down. Kenny ordered a beer and I ordered a soda. Diet. I was the designated driver, after all.
We'd been told there'd be 14 dancers. They were each dancing two songs. We weren't approached by any dancers, and we didn't notice anyone going into the VIP rooms. Not a whole lotta pressure. Either that or we didn't look like the buying type. Well, that judgment would turn out to be wrong.
We sat at a high table, talking. We were dissecting the business of the club; looking for income centers. How's anybody making money? Seren, dressed in a black flowing cope & looking goth-like, wandered chatting with customers. One dancer swung past saying she'd stop by later, if we were "still there." Guess she wasn't counting on us staying long.
An attractive blond passed by, wheeled suitcase in tow. A dancer enroute to the dressing room. Lithe. Later, I'd notice the freckles on her face, sharp eyes, and a quick smile. But not then, as it was the color of her hair that made me realize all the dancers -- well, except her -- were brunettes.
& now I realized why I was in 7th heaven.
For a while, we'd been talking about visiting the ballet. I knew that Kenny needed someone to make sure he didn't get into trouble. Right. Before we left Raleigh, I'd told Jane we'd hit the ballet. On the drive down, she called every hour. "Have you been to the ballet yet?" Tuesday, same question. Wednesday, same question. "No, honey, I'm working."
Well, not totally. Last week Jane posted a little add on a swinger's site. She asked me about it. I think she's reaching for something more, some spice, some freak. She sorted through and found a few couples she was interested in; she wondered which I was interested in. "Ah, whatever." So long as she is cute and has long, dark hair. So, Tuesday night I wandered over to the site to see what I could see. I found several couples that looked of interest. Well, okay, so I was focused on the female half of the couple.
Jane likes tall, meaty, bald men. She's got me. ;-)
I sent a couple of emails, initiating a little freak.
Or so I thought.
Last night Jane rebuked me for sending the emails. After all, I hadn't checked with her first.
After ordering the second round of drinks, Kenny went out to the car to grab a couple of cigars. We'd decided we were going to stink up the joint.
We moved to a different table, one near the door and the exhaust fan. We didn't want to stink up the place that much. We decided we'd leave when the tobacco ran out, unless there was a real reason to stay.
As we were lighting up, I noticed we'd been through the line-up. Seren was back on stage, her pale skin glowing under the lights. We hadn't tipped at the rail yet, and I figured it was time to start. I took a couple of ones and folded them lengthwise & walked to the rail, placing the bills on the stage. I sat down, alone at the rail, and Seren floated over and leaned down, drowning me in her hair, pushing her soft breasts against me. When I started breathing, I slipped the bills under her garter.
After her set, Seren disappeared into the dressing room. She reappeared a bit later, sashaying to our table. She was wearing a starched, white, oxford shirt. "You look like you just rolled out of bed and took that shirt from my closet."
The three of us talked for a long while. Our conversation covered the gamut; well, it covered a gamut, anyway. Spouses. Children. The business. Gymnastics. Nurse fantasies. My thoughts for a strip club (Seren said the nurse fantasy would only attract a small segment of the population; not as popular as I might have thought... or so she suggested.) Russian dancers (Hmmm, I perked up, thinking of Nadia.) And Kenny & I told stories on each other. Only the good ones. The best, at least as I can remember as I write this: Kenny's son getting his girlfriend's name (and an apostrophe-s) tattooed right above his pubic hair (they broke up).
At some point, the conversation went round to the Champagne Room and the VIP Room. A hundred-sixty for thirty minutes under the black lights. Twenty-five dollars a song for a lap dance. We'd had a good conversation; I figured I get a dance. Seren and I slid over to the VIP Room, and soon Seren was dancing, her softness and fullness pressed gently against me. A little bump and grind; certainly not as much as at Lipstick and not as chaste as many clubs, but still, nice.
I wondered how freaky she was. I was hard and wondering if Jane would find her attractive. In my fantasy mind, Seren and Jane were "exploring their shared bi-curious feelings." Of course, as Kenny and I spoke on the way down on Monday, "reality never turns out like the fantasy." Turns out Seren isn't bi-curious. Also turns out she believes sex is important in a relationship. And, it also turns out she can't get off; some complication to childbirth. (What women give up with pregnancy and childbirth...)
I, of course, immediately thought I'd like to save her.
That's what I do, of course.
First, however, another dance. They're like potato chips: can't have just one.
Later, after she'd changed into a little Christmas lingerie, a little red number tied in the front, white knee-high socks, and a wide red ribbon in her hair, I figured Kenny needed a dance. I gave Seren the money and off they went to enjoy a little fun in the shadows. Over Moons Over My Hammy he told me he'd had "seconds." Wait, he sucked on her breasts? Hey, I didn't get firsts! Can I go back?
I told Seren she'd do well at Lipstick. She's got the right curves for lap dancing; she's got the right touch; she's got the right scent.
While they were in the VIP room, Mariah -- the club's only blond -- joined me. Turns out she's from Venezuela. Oooo, I like Latin women. I was writing in my notebook, & she wanted to know what I was doing.
This club was fairly laid back. At some places, we'd have been over-run with dancers looking for a little cash. Mariah, like Seren, was interested in conversation, too. So, here we were, real women, real breasts, real conversation.
Or, at least I figured as such.
I could see how these girls would have regulars. As I suggested to Mariah -- after she told me the money to be made was with regulars & sometimes she made buckets just talking to guys, not dancing -- that would be like dating, without all the hassles. With a smile, she noted it would be like dating without the sex, too.
Point taken.
Still, I could see hanging out with them. Bright. Pretty.
And willing to get nekkid.
As I write this, the morning darkness slipping away, I wonder how to create that same sense of ease with Jane. I think she feels it at Osaka's, but I just can't fall into it there. We need a place where we can date, where we can hang without Miller or the older boys, where we can be at ease with one another.
Anyway, Savannah's Gentlemen's Club is now just a memory, a fantasy spread for a couple hours, lives intersecting and then retreating, reality intruding. Tomorrow we drive north.
Wednesday, December 14
Wednesday: Late for work and maybe I have an excuse
Okay, I'm still on the nurses thing. ;-)This pic is from the Saugeen Stripper... seems some college students up in Ontario had a little party...
Raunchy photographs of a naked female student performing a striptease and a lewd lap dance during a birthday party in a Saugeen Hall residence were merely a product of freshman experimentation, a University of Western Ontario official said Tuesday.Hell, I have to admit, I'm not disappointed. Check out the pics. College wasn't quite like this in my time.
And while UWO says it has no business in a student’s bedroom, the world can see what happened at Western behind closed doors.
The photographs shot in October were recently posted on the Internet on a website called Saugeen Stripper. As of yesterday, the site has had 14,000 visitors.
“Of course we’re disappointed with this whole situation,’’ said Susan Grindrod, Western’s vice president of housing.
Now, moving on to my own life.
This morning Jane came home at 3am from her KJ job at Osaka's. She was wound up. We talked for an hour and then she started getting foul mouthed, talking about how she wants to "date" some of the guys at Osaka's and she wants to get kinky and she was all wet.
Turns out she was all wet.
I slide over to her and we started touching and making out. I was holding her hair back and able to move her head like a puppet. Pretty soon she was desparate and she slid on top of me and then put my pecker it its wet, little home. She was riding me as I was pulling her head back so she was looking at the headboard, and I was biting at her ample nipples. Then I slid out.
She wanted me back in, but I told her she couldn't use her hands. Seconds later, she'd maneuvered herself to capture my cock and it slid back into her moistness.
I could feel it building up; hell, it has been ages... or so it seems. We'd done some caluculating and determined that if I made a deposit, there was a good chance Miller would have a younger sibling, and Lord knows I'm not sure I want that. So, like a good Catholic practicing the Pope's version of appropriate (or inappropriate, as the case may be) birth control, I pulled at an instance before spurting all over her legs, my stomach, and the previously clean sheets and comforter.
I woke up nearly three hours after the 5am alarm went off. Ouch.
Did I mention the wedding between two gay men that is being held at Osaka's and Jane is giving one of the grooms away (and Lilly is giving the other away)? Well, that will be for another post. And, no, I'm not making this up. A gay couple who spend way too much free time at Osaka's is getting married (one of the KJ's is going to do the ceremony... I'm not sure it's more than just a symbolic thing; I don't think it will be a legally-binding ceremony, at least here in the south) at Osaka's and Jane & her sister are giving the grooms away. Oh, and they want Miller to be the ring boy.
More to follow.
Tuesday, November 29
So this explains a great deal
This explains a lot:
ROME (Reuters) - Your heartbeat accelerates, you have butterflies in the stomach, you feel euphoric and a bit silly. It's all part of falling passionately in love -- and scientists now tell us the feeling won't last more than a year.One year, huh? Hmmmm...
The powerful emotions that bowl over new lovers are triggered by a molecule known as nerve growth factor (NGF), according to Pavia University researchers.
The Italian scientists found far higher levels of NGF in the blood of 58 people who had recently fallen madly in love than in that of a group of singles and people in long-term relationships.
But after a year with the same lover, the quantity of the 'love molecule' in their blood had fallen to the same level as that of the other groups.
The Italian researchers, publishing their study in the journal Psychoneuroendocrinology, said it was not clear how falling in love triggers higher levels of NGF, but the molecule clearly has an important role in the "social chemistry" between people at the start of a relationship.
Saturday, November 26
Discovered a new toy
Saturday night. Miller is asleep on the couch. Jane is KJ'ing at Osaka's. And I'm f*cking around on the computer, wasting time, while The Golden Child plays in the background. And I discovered a cool new tool for flickr from flagrant disregard. Now I can build my own mosaics. Cool, eh?
This morning I was up at 9 with Miller. I'd told Jane I'd let her sleep in, so Miller and I went downstairs for pancakes. He loves pancakes. Then, when Jane got up we spent a couple of hours straightening up; eagads, the house is still a wreck.
I never got dressed today. After cleaning and eating lunch we went up for a "nap." Right. SEX, folks, SEX.
Jane's been looking to get laid for a couple of days. My libido seems to be off; I think it's the Zolft. So, I can be depressed and horny or content and lack-all-desire.
We were able to get my desire raised this afternoon, however. By the time I got on top of Jane and slid into her, she was so very, very wet. Nice, very nice.
I slept well for the rest of the afternoon.
This morning I was up at 9 with Miller. I'd told Jane I'd let her sleep in, so Miller and I went downstairs for pancakes. He loves pancakes. Then, when Jane got up we spent a couple of hours straightening up; eagads, the house is still a wreck.
I never got dressed today. After cleaning and eating lunch we went up for a "nap." Right. SEX, folks, SEX.
Jane's been looking to get laid for a couple of days. My libido seems to be off; I think it's the Zolft. So, I can be depressed and horny or content and lack-all-desire.
We were able to get my desire raised this afternoon, however. By the time I got on top of Jane and slid into her, she was so very, very wet. Nice, very nice.
I slept well for the rest of the afternoon.
Wednesday, November 23
The "abyss" is now "flickr"
And I'm think I might have fallen in...
I'm enamoured. I'm not sure there's much else to say...
Jane is off at Osaka's again; they called her in 'cause whoever was supposed to KJ called out. So, Miller & I went to the community Thanksgiving service, but he was tired and kept crying and fussing; I put him down at one point, and he escaped and toddled up to the front of the church & climbed the stairs to be with the minister. Great, frigg'n great. We left before the service was over; I couldn't handle it.
Now he's in bed, asleep, and I'm at the computer, having fallen into the abyss of flickr and having become enamoured and wondering if I ought to move to Kentucky. Reminds me of a trip to Louisville; hmmm, I wonder if that trip was since the start of this blog. I don't think so.
I went with two colleagues; we worked for ten hours a day and then went to strip clubs for another eight or ten. One of the guys I was with, Marc, was from over at the Plant (he's gone now), and the first night we were there, when we walk out of the place he's got a stripper with him. She goes back to his hotel room to spend a couple of hours with him. I never figured out how he did it; and I saw him do it maybe half a dozen times.
Well, tomorrow is Thanksgiving, my most favorite holiday of the year. For the first time in more than twenty years, I'm not going to be at my parents'. After the catastrophe this summer with Jane and my brother (if you're not a regular reader of the Sausage Factory and Jane Says, here's Jane's post about our lovely vacation). Anyway, I'll be burning, I mean, cooking, the turkey tomorrow. And giving thanks for a wonderful wife, three great sons, a decent job, decent health, and everything else I've been blessed with.
And then next week is my birthday, which I'd rather forget.
But that is another story all-together.
Meanwhile, I'm thinking of moving to Kentucky.
;-)
I'm enamoured. I'm not sure there's much else to say...
Jane is off at Osaka's again; they called her in 'cause whoever was supposed to KJ called out. So, Miller & I went to the community Thanksgiving service, but he was tired and kept crying and fussing; I put him down at one point, and he escaped and toddled up to the front of the church & climbed the stairs to be with the minister. Great, frigg'n great. We left before the service was over; I couldn't handle it.
Now he's in bed, asleep, and I'm at the computer, having fallen into the abyss of flickr and having become enamoured and wondering if I ought to move to Kentucky. Reminds me of a trip to Louisville; hmmm, I wonder if that trip was since the start of this blog. I don't think so.
I went with two colleagues; we worked for ten hours a day and then went to strip clubs for another eight or ten. One of the guys I was with, Marc, was from over at the Plant (he's gone now), and the first night we were there, when we walk out of the place he's got a stripper with him. She goes back to his hotel room to spend a couple of hours with him. I never figured out how he did it; and I saw him do it maybe half a dozen times.
Well, tomorrow is Thanksgiving, my most favorite holiday of the year. For the first time in more than twenty years, I'm not going to be at my parents'. After the catastrophe this summer with Jane and my brother (if you're not a regular reader of the Sausage Factory and Jane Says, here's Jane's post about our lovely vacation). Anyway, I'll be burning, I mean, cooking, the turkey tomorrow. And giving thanks for a wonderful wife, three great sons, a decent job, decent health, and everything else I've been blessed with.
And then next week is my birthday, which I'd rather forget.
But that is another story all-together.
Meanwhile, I'm thinking of moving to Kentucky.
;-)
Tuesday, November 22
Tuesday night blahs
Tuesday night. Jane is at Osaka's, working. Dee is at Osaka's, meeting some guy she's going to screw later tonight (same guy she hooked up with the night before leaving to take the kids to New England; that night he was spanking her, and she told him to do it harder, and he did, and she had bruises for the better part of a week). Lilly is somewhere, and the phone keeps ringing; some dozen guys call nightly, here, looking for her; I wish she'd get a phone.
Last night, Jane called in sick to Osaka's... I don't remember exactly the specifics of how the night went, but I do remember this: (1) We were arguing; she claims Kathleen and I have been "whipped" by Drew and suck at parenting. (2) I was tired. (3) She came to bed and wanted to get off, and I was too tired to oblige, so she started in on herself. I started caressing her legs (she had her head at the foot of the bed... don't ask). (4) She asked me to touch her, and pretty soon I had four fingers ravaging her cunt, driving in and out of the wetness. (5) Once she came, I started to jack off, but couldn't get over the edge.
So, tonight, I'm here home, alone. Miller, who was sleeping on the couch when Jane left, woke up but wouldn't eat anything. Now he's on the floor, sucking down a bottle, watching Toy Story 2.
This is my life. Life is, er, what I have created.
Gawds, I need some sleep, some rest, a long vacation, and some freak in my life.
Last night, Jane called in sick to Osaka's... I don't remember exactly the specifics of how the night went, but I do remember this: (1) We were arguing; she claims Kathleen and I have been "whipped" by Drew and suck at parenting. (2) I was tired. (3) She came to bed and wanted to get off, and I was too tired to oblige, so she started in on herself. I started caressing her legs (she had her head at the foot of the bed... don't ask). (4) She asked me to touch her, and pretty soon I had four fingers ravaging her cunt, driving in and out of the wetness. (5) Once she came, I started to jack off, but couldn't get over the edge.
So, tonight, I'm here home, alone. Miller, who was sleeping on the couch when Jane left, woke up but wouldn't eat anything. Now he's on the floor, sucking down a bottle, watching Toy Story 2.
This is my life. Life is, er, what I have created.
Gawds, I need some sleep, some rest, a long vacation, and some freak in my life.
Sunday, November 20
Something about chocolate and whipped cream
I'm not sure I need to say more than this: "Diet? What diet? Let me lick it all off."
Friday, November 18
Er, maybe I can give up this obsession
If the nurses are going to start looking like this, I'm ready to give up my obsession and move on to something else.
