Hisoka and I had both just arrived in Hong Kong from short flights and long airport delays, so neither of us objected to a soak in a hot tub. I brought a bathing suit to Hong Kong because our new apartment has two swimming pools I wanted to try out. I also brought it to Hisoka's apartment because he said there was a pool downstairs. He never mentioned the hot tub because he wanted to surprise me. And it worked. He surprised the pants off me. Hisoka brought his own tiny trunks, which I never saw on this trip. As private as that hot tub was, he agreed with me that bathing suits would have been gratuitous.
It is worth noting that I see nothing inherently sexual about swimming, or soaking, naked. I have been in thousands of swimming pools, hot tubs, hot springs, lakes, rivers, and general bodies of water without doing anything even adjacent to the neighborhood of sex. Hisoka and I got naked in a Miyajima hot spring on our first real date, and hanky panky was categorically tabu. Not only were we surrounded by older people, but that sort of thing would have gotten us kicked out and banned for life.
It is also worth noting that neither Hisoka nor I had our spices ground for a considerable period of time. The fact of which was vividly illustrated when I got into the water. What is a discreet way to put this? Hisoka shot his load all over the deck faster than a teenager in the back seat on prom night. He was fully erect before he even took off his clothes. Watching me get naked and penetrate the jet bubbles was too much for him. I like to put a positive spin on things, so the good news was that none of his seed spilled into the hot tub. I had no idea how often that thing was cleaned. I only knew that hosing off the wooden deck had to be an easier job.
With sex in the water out of the question, we both sat back and enjoyed a nice soak. Yes, the polite thing for him to do would have been to service me. That would have required me keeping most of myself out of the hot tub, and I wanted to be in it. Besides, we had all day.
We talked about going out to hit the town, but we both had a busy week ahead of us. Sunday was our day of rest. It made more sense to make use of the apartment. Since it was an apartment and not a hotel, we had to go out when we wanted to eat. I like staying in apartments better than hotels, but hotels have room service.
For lunch, we went to Feast, an upscale buffet restaurant on King's Road near Quarry Bay Park. They had a wide variety of local food on tiny plates and local food pretending to be international food, with more soups, salads, and sides than anyone really needs. They even had coleslaw, which is not something you see every day in Hong Kong. I mostly just got desserts, because that is how I roll. Hisoka got several tiny plates of stamina, because he would need it. We both knew that after lunch, I was going to ride him like the Matterhorn. Hong Kong Disneyland has no Matterhorn, but saying I would ride him like the Toy Soldiers Parachute Drop sounds almost insulting.
Hisoka and I are both old fashioned in matters of the heart. I like to wait a painfully long time before I jump in the sack and he tries to get laid as soon as possible. We are more new fashioned in our willingness to find less traditional locations. Hot tubs, for example. Balconies are another. I have always been fond of kitchen coupling. The typical kitchen counter tends to be a nice height. Whoever invented islands was a genius, though quartz countertops can get cold.
Despite being open to several rooms, a few secluded outdoor spots, and pieces of furniture that are not beds, we found ourselves on the bed. Next to the bed was a large, almost floor to ceiling window with unobstructed views of Devil's Peak. I never really noticed the view with Hisoka on top of, under, and behind me. I can say that it was a nice bed, with a bit of give and not too much bounce.. Traditionally, Chinese beds are hard. Pillow tops have only recently made their way to China. You never want anything in your bed to be too soft, while a nice cushion under your butt or knees is good for longevity. What we call queen size on this side of the world is smaller than what I consider queen size. That queen size was wide enough for two, if a little on the short side. I am probably much shorter than anyone in the NBA, yet I have spent countless nights with my feet hanging over the bed.
I may have misspoken about the view. I seem to recall looking at the hills while we were pressed together on the tiny bedroom balcony. Though I suppose, technically, that was not in the bedroom.
Hisoka brought a box of condoms to Hong Kong. That might sound presumptuous, but it is far better to have something you might never use than to not have something you desperately need. He brought them from Japan instead of buying them in Hong Kong because he says Chinese condoms are too small. This is where things get interesting, and probably more than a little offensive to a couple billion people.
According to Hisoka, condoms in China are smaller than condoms in Japan. I cannot verify such a thing, but my first boyfriend in Hong Kong, who was not even a little Chinese, also claimed they were too small. In his case, he was making a mountain out of a molehill. Despite not wielding a katana himself, he assumed Chinese men were all holding a tanto. Hisoka, both on the other hand and using the other hand, has a more realistic self-image. He has seen enough porn to remain humble, and spent enough time in hot springs and locker rooms to boast. When he says Chinese condoms are too small, I have to consider it theoretically possible. Yet I cannot ignore that Durex and Trojan are in more than a few stores, and I know they come in more than one size. Several Japanese brands are widely available. It seems unlikely that those Japanese companies are making extra small sizes for the Chinese market. Unless it was for purely mocking purposes.
On what has to be the most important hand, a typical condom can stretch more than enough for almost every man. Unless you are exceptionally tiny or exceptionally huge. I would imagine more men have difficulties with condoms that are too loose. The funny thing is, I have never heard of a single man in the history of the universe say that condoms are too big.
Which brings us to a question that every man I have ever known has asked me. Does size matter? To men, yes. It absolutely does. To women? I don't know. I speak for only one woman. But I know that even if Hisoka were hung like an elephant, spraying the pool deck would have still been useless to me. It is not simply the motion of the ocean that counts, but how long it takes that boat to dock. A cabin cruiser that makes it to shore is a million times better than a giant oil tanker that spills crude 3,000 kilometers from its destination. The good news is that after Hisoka's blue balls turned beige, he had far more control. The other good news is that he had a box of condoms. Just one would not have been enough for the day. Though I still say what he could get in Hong Kong was sufficient.
Before dinner, we spent more time in and around the rooftop hot tub. November is not the best time to lie out and get a tan, and Hong Kong is not the best tanning city. Not that it matters. My skin goes straight from alabaster to lobster. But that particular deck had ample sitting and/or lying room, and the sun, such as it was, still felt good on my skin. Especially on a rooftop with a soft breeze and no one staring at me. Or at least only one person staring at me.
For dinner, we went to Frites, a Belgian restaurant just off King's Road near Quarry Bay Park. Or at least a Chinese version of a Belgian restaurant. Hisoka picked it because I used to work in Belgium. Except, I have never worked in Belgium. I was a little disappointed that he thought my time in Amsterdam was actually Belgium. Then I realized that we rarely talk about our jobs. I told him I was going to Amsterdam when I did, but that was three years ago, and I might not have mentioned it since. I would be surprised if I have never mentioned Amsterdam. It is a wondrous city. I would be equally surprised if we had any meaningful conversation about my work in Amsterdam. He tells me about places he goes for work, while I only have a general idea of what he does for a living.
Having never worked in Belgium, I cannot say anything about how authentic the Frites menu is, but they had falafel quesadillas, which I support wholeheartedly. You can put falafel in anything, and you can put anything in a quesadilla, so why not falafel quesadilla. Being a Belgian restaurant, maybe, they also had a large beer menu. So we got a bottle of wine. We also got some frites with mayonnaise because when you go to a place called Frites, you have to try the frites. If I went to Mejores Tacos del Mundo, there is a pretty good chance I might get a taco.
Hisoka has always known that I can taste absolutely nothing. He still likes to show me restaurants that he thinks I would have liked back when I could sense flavor. I am more than used to going wherever whoever I'm going out to eat with wants to go, so I let Hisoka find all of our meals. Revealingly, he never suggested anything American, Chinese or Japanese. During business meals, he mostly eats Japanese. On his free time, he likes to try new things. His assumption that I would like to avoid American food is both sound and unnecessary since I rarely come in contact with American food.
Back when I had a boyfriend and an active sex life, I often looked at past travels in terms of food. One of my favorite things about going somewhere new was eating something new. I never reminisce about the places we knocked boots. Now that food is only something I eat to survive, I might start looking back at travel in terms of whether or not I got some action. In a few months, I will forget all about the restaurants on this trip. Without the coleslaw, our lunch would already be forgotten. What I will remember most are the naked bodies twisting around each other. And that rooftop hot tub. If you can put a hot tub on your roof, I highly recommend it. Unless you live in a gabled house.
The whole point of keeping the Ma On Shan apartment rather than renting it out was to have a place to stay whenever we are in town. I spent the first night somewhere else anyway. Lily spent the night in the new apartment, along with our tenant/Kevin's friend. I can pretty much guarantee that they had a patently different night than Hisoka and I. But there is no need to feel bad for Lily. She lives with her boyfriend. They can do all the deviant things Hisoka and I did any time. But we have no hot tub at home.
Showing posts with label human sexuality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label human sexuality. Show all posts
Friday, December 10, 2021
Tuesday, December 19, 2017
Hailey's Novel Diary – 12/19/17
Chapter 10 is now chapter 9 and less graphic than before. It did not need to be graphic. In fact, it works better if everything is described clinically. It's supposed to be as arousing as a colonoscopy.
I have gotten in trouble with adult themes before. That is kind of ironic when you think about how uptight and vanilla I am in real life. I had to rewrite parts of Nudist Cruise because the publisher I was dealing with at the time thought it was an erotic novel, and that was a genre they did not cover. That one is kind of a long story, but the main issue was that, like a lot of people, they could not see the difference between nudists doing their thing and swingers at an orgy. There was never anything swinger or orgy about Nudist Cruise, but I had to tone down the minuscule hint of sexuality that was in there. Now, it is as innocent as a puppy. But it's still considered a “sensitive” topic because some of the people are nudists.
In this story, which is not about nudists or swingers, I'm describing anything that can be even remotely considered sexual in two different ways. It is either clinical and sterile or vulgar and flamboyant, depending on the situation. Ideally, readers will see the difference and understand why. If you find details of Harvey Weinstein's crimes arousing, you might not get it. If you find him and his actions appalling, you will.
Chapter 10, formerly chapter 11, is now much shorter. It kind of dragged on and on, so I cut it down from a long, poetic soliloquy to just stating the facts.
In some circles, there is a rule that you should not use adverbs. That is completely, utterly, absolutely, downright wrong. Adverbs are good. Verbs love adverbs. They can also modify adjectives and nouns. They are pretty versatile little guys.
But chapter 10 was too flowery. Sometimes you just have to get down to the heart of the matter. But my will gets weak and my thoughts seem to scatter. And sometimes Don Henley is in the news.
The Eagles will most likely never come back to Hong Kong, but I saw them in 2011, without Don Felder, and they were fantastic. I will never get to see them with both Frey and Felder, but they put on a great show.
I have gotten in trouble with adult themes before. That is kind of ironic when you think about how uptight and vanilla I am in real life. I had to rewrite parts of Nudist Cruise because the publisher I was dealing with at the time thought it was an erotic novel, and that was a genre they did not cover. That one is kind of a long story, but the main issue was that, like a lot of people, they could not see the difference between nudists doing their thing and swingers at an orgy. There was never anything swinger or orgy about Nudist Cruise, but I had to tone down the minuscule hint of sexuality that was in there. Now, it is as innocent as a puppy. But it's still considered a “sensitive” topic because some of the people are nudists.
In this story, which is not about nudists or swingers, I'm describing anything that can be even remotely considered sexual in two different ways. It is either clinical and sterile or vulgar and flamboyant, depending on the situation. Ideally, readers will see the difference and understand why. If you find details of Harvey Weinstein's crimes arousing, you might not get it. If you find him and his actions appalling, you will.
Chapter 10, formerly chapter 11, is now much shorter. It kind of dragged on and on, so I cut it down from a long, poetic soliloquy to just stating the facts.
In some circles, there is a rule that you should not use adverbs. That is completely, utterly, absolutely, downright wrong. Adverbs are good. Verbs love adverbs. They can also modify adjectives and nouns. They are pretty versatile little guys.
But chapter 10 was too flowery. Sometimes you just have to get down to the heart of the matter. But my will gets weak and my thoughts seem to scatter. And sometimes Don Henley is in the news.
The Eagles will most likely never come back to Hong Kong, but I saw them in 2011, without Don Felder, and they were fantastic. I will never get to see them with both Frey and Felder, but they put on a great show.
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
Hailey's Novel Diary – 8/2/17
Chapter 19 is almost entirely a single conversation about making a sex tape.
If you made a sex tape to become famous, what would you do with it? The most popular sex tapes are “leaked”, which generates interest, which gets them distributed. But those are from people who are already famous. If one of the Game of Thrones actresses makes a “home movie” that gets “stolen” from her “cell phone”, she will not have to worry about how to get it seen. Everyone will know about it.
If the actress who played Student with Backpack #3 on an episode of a teen comedy TV show wants to get her sex tape out there, what does she do? She is not famous, so her leaked tape is not going to generate any interest in the tabloids. If she had a good agent or PR team to generate buzz, she would not resort to making a sex tape.
Put it online, you say. That is where sex tapes belong. Ok, but how does that make the woman in them famous? There are millions of not safe for anywhere videos online. There are websites where you can post videos of women changing, taking a shower, having sex or even using the toilet, no questions asked. I don't think the people who run those sites are too concerned about invading anyone's privacy. All that matters to them is traffic to their site. I doubt the people who watch the videos care about any of the names of the people involved or whether or not they agreed to be filmed.
So the question is, if unstable people make sex tapes to become famous, how does it make them famous?
Video Killed the Radio Star
The Buggles
If you made a sex tape to become famous, what would you do with it? The most popular sex tapes are “leaked”, which generates interest, which gets them distributed. But those are from people who are already famous. If one of the Game of Thrones actresses makes a “home movie” that gets “stolen” from her “cell phone”, she will not have to worry about how to get it seen. Everyone will know about it.
If the actress who played Student with Backpack #3 on an episode of a teen comedy TV show wants to get her sex tape out there, what does she do? She is not famous, so her leaked tape is not going to generate any interest in the tabloids. If she had a good agent or PR team to generate buzz, she would not resort to making a sex tape.
Put it online, you say. That is where sex tapes belong. Ok, but how does that make the woman in them famous? There are millions of not safe for anywhere videos online. There are websites where you can post videos of women changing, taking a shower, having sex or even using the toilet, no questions asked. I don't think the people who run those sites are too concerned about invading anyone's privacy. All that matters to them is traffic to their site. I doubt the people who watch the videos care about any of the names of the people involved or whether or not they agreed to be filmed.
So the question is, if unstable people make sex tapes to become famous, how does it make them famous?
Video Killed the Radio Star
The Buggles
Wednesday, July 19, 2017
Hailey's Novel Diary – 7/19/17
What would you do to be famous? There was a time when people gained notoriety by actually accomplishing something. Explorers were known for discovering new lands and shipping passages. Scientists were known for discovering gravity and planets. Today, people seek fame by posting cellphone videos on Youtube.
But if you are an actor, how do you get people to notice you? The traditional route is to study your craft, work hard, pay your dues and rise through the ranks until you get bigger roles and more recognition. Jack Nicholson's first jobs in front of the camera were soap operas. His first movies were low budget horror and westerns. It was writing screenplays that led to better acting roles. He did Five Easy Pieces 16 years after moving to Hollywood.
Today, everyone wants their first acting job to be the lead role in a giant summer blockbuster that breaks all box office records and wins a million Oscars. If that is your plan, good luck.
A popular route to celebrity for people who want to be famous for the sake of being famous is to make a sex tape. I doubt they are as popular as they used to be, but they worked wonders for great thespians like Pamela Anderson and Paris Hilton. Their sex tapes made them household names, and started a wave of copycats.
But I think people forget that Pamela Anderson was already moderately famous before her sex tape. She was also a Playboy model, so I don't know why anyone was excited to see her naked. That is as rare as seeing Lindsay Lohan drunk.
Paris Hilton kind of bothers me. She was born with every advantage, yet she blew it all just to have 15 minutes. If all she wanted was fame, she could have gotten it by using some of that money to do something worthwhile for humanity. I would not expect her to cure cancer, but I'm sure we could all think of a better use of a billion dollars than a camera and hotel room.
Beverly Hills Hotel
Gil Turner's
But if you are an actor, how do you get people to notice you? The traditional route is to study your craft, work hard, pay your dues and rise through the ranks until you get bigger roles and more recognition. Jack Nicholson's first jobs in front of the camera were soap operas. His first movies were low budget horror and westerns. It was writing screenplays that led to better acting roles. He did Five Easy Pieces 16 years after moving to Hollywood.
Today, everyone wants their first acting job to be the lead role in a giant summer blockbuster that breaks all box office records and wins a million Oscars. If that is your plan, good luck.
A popular route to celebrity for people who want to be famous for the sake of being famous is to make a sex tape. I doubt they are as popular as they used to be, but they worked wonders for great thespians like Pamela Anderson and Paris Hilton. Their sex tapes made them household names, and started a wave of copycats.
But I think people forget that Pamela Anderson was already moderately famous before her sex tape. She was also a Playboy model, so I don't know why anyone was excited to see her naked. That is as rare as seeing Lindsay Lohan drunk.
Paris Hilton kind of bothers me. She was born with every advantage, yet she blew it all just to have 15 minutes. If all she wanted was fame, she could have gotten it by using some of that money to do something worthwhile for humanity. I would not expect her to cure cancer, but I'm sure we could all think of a better use of a billion dollars than a camera and hotel room.
Tuesday, June 13, 2017
Hailey's Novel Diary – 6/13/17
I did some research on vibrators. That's something I don't say every day. This is far from an erotic novel, but there are a couple of scenes that might not be suitable for small children.
Vibrators, as it turns out, are a lot like songs. People who love them really love them, and everyone has their own idea about which are great and which are a total waste of time. And just like with music, there are some real snobs out there.
Something I found interesting was that every article I read had testimonials from sexual health experts about how vibrators are a healthy component to a fulfilling relationship with another person. Every article wanted to convince the reader that vibrators are not sinful, dirty or perverted, or anything to get choked up about. Unless you use them the wrong way. I thought it was interesting because obviously there are a lot of people who must think vibrators are sinful, dirty and perverted. Otherwise, there would be no testimonials from sexual health experts.
The characters in this book are in Los Angeles which, it turns out, has more than a few sex shops. I would assume that most people buy their sex toys online these days, but if you like to hold things before you buy them, Los Angeles has you covered.
Hong Kong, on the other hand, I have no idea about. Prostitution is legal and there are all kinds of massage parlors and dance bars in the various red light districts, but most of that is aimed at men, if not all of it. Satisfying women does not seem to be big business around here.
Then again, China is an amazingly repressed culture. Europeans say that Americans are uptight, which is true, but Americans are all raging hedonists compared to the typical Chinese. In China, you can buy porn at some of the few places that still sell DVDs, but even the porn is censored in China. And, of course, we have HBO. That's practically porn. Except in China. HBO Asia is heavily censored. Have you ever watched an episode of Game of Thrones without any sex, violence or nudity? It's kind of pointless.
Speaking of things that threaten some men and repulse some women, there is a scene in the book that is not nearly as graphic as I'm about to make it sound.
If the story takes place today, then it's only reasonable that some of the women would be as bald as Fred Flintstone's tires. But if it takes place in the late 1990s, everyone might be a little warmer on a windy day. Personal hygiene has changed a lot over the years. That is something to consider that I honestly had no idea I would ever have to think about when I started writing this.
It also brings up an interesting point. When future generations watch movies with lines like “does the carpet match the drapes”, will they have any idea what that person is talking about?
Vibrators, as it turns out, are a lot like songs. People who love them really love them, and everyone has their own idea about which are great and which are a total waste of time. And just like with music, there are some real snobs out there.
Something I found interesting was that every article I read had testimonials from sexual health experts about how vibrators are a healthy component to a fulfilling relationship with another person. Every article wanted to convince the reader that vibrators are not sinful, dirty or perverted, or anything to get choked up about. Unless you use them the wrong way. I thought it was interesting because obviously there are a lot of people who must think vibrators are sinful, dirty and perverted. Otherwise, there would be no testimonials from sexual health experts.
The characters in this book are in Los Angeles which, it turns out, has more than a few sex shops. I would assume that most people buy their sex toys online these days, but if you like to hold things before you buy them, Los Angeles has you covered.
Hong Kong, on the other hand, I have no idea about. Prostitution is legal and there are all kinds of massage parlors and dance bars in the various red light districts, but most of that is aimed at men, if not all of it. Satisfying women does not seem to be big business around here.
Then again, China is an amazingly repressed culture. Europeans say that Americans are uptight, which is true, but Americans are all raging hedonists compared to the typical Chinese. In China, you can buy porn at some of the few places that still sell DVDs, but even the porn is censored in China. And, of course, we have HBO. That's practically porn. Except in China. HBO Asia is heavily censored. Have you ever watched an episode of Game of Thrones without any sex, violence or nudity? It's kind of pointless.
Speaking of things that threaten some men and repulse some women, there is a scene in the book that is not nearly as graphic as I'm about to make it sound.
If the story takes place today, then it's only reasonable that some of the women would be as bald as Fred Flintstone's tires. But if it takes place in the late 1990s, everyone might be a little warmer on a windy day. Personal hygiene has changed a lot over the years. That is something to consider that I honestly had no idea I would ever have to think about when I started writing this.
It also brings up an interesting point. When future generations watch movies with lines like “does the carpet match the drapes”, will they have any idea what that person is talking about?
Monday, April 8, 2013
New Neighbor part 3
I've been flirting with my new neighbor in the building across the way. We both keep our curtains open, which is pretty rare in Hong Kong, and we see each other from time to time. It's all fairly harmless. We can't talk to each other. We don't have each other's contact information. It's not like you can just open the window and scream. You could try, but Hong Kong is a busy city. I'm not sure anyone would hear anything.
Today I was putting away my laundry, which I always seem to be doing whenever we see each other, and I made sure he could tell I was folding my bras and panties. I don't know why I did it, but he didn't seem to mind. Maybe I do know why. I've been accused of being a tease once or twice. I don't know that I am, but I'm not averse to a little harmless tease between neighbors. We can't borrow cups of sugar, so we might as well be neighborly somehow.
There's no harm in it. There's no way he could ever find out which apartment I'm in. The way the buildings are set up, the most we could ever tell is what floor we're both on. Even if he had a key to get into my building or someone just let him in, there's no way he could find my apartment without knocking on random doors and hoping to get lucky.
I don't get the impression he's the stalker type anyway. I've never seen him with binoculars or a camera. Everybody has cameras in their phones now. I've never caught him trying to sneak a picture. Ninety percent of the men in Hong Kong already would have tried, and my curtains would be long closed.
Today I was putting away my laundry, which I always seem to be doing whenever we see each other, and I made sure he could tell I was folding my bras and panties. I don't know why I did it, but he didn't seem to mind. Maybe I do know why. I've been accused of being a tease once or twice. I don't know that I am, but I'm not averse to a little harmless tease between neighbors. We can't borrow cups of sugar, so we might as well be neighborly somehow.
There's no harm in it. There's no way he could ever find out which apartment I'm in. The way the buildings are set up, the most we could ever tell is what floor we're both on. Even if he had a key to get into my building or someone just let him in, there's no way he could find my apartment without knocking on random doors and hoping to get lucky.
I don't get the impression he's the stalker type anyway. I've never seen him with binoculars or a camera. Everybody has cameras in their phones now. I've never caught him trying to sneak a picture. Ninety percent of the men in Hong Kong already would have tried, and my curtains would be long closed.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Ryan’s Massage Day part 2
Ryan’s Massage Day part 1
Ryan was comparing his massage experience to mine, but I pointed out that things in Hong Kong and Fuzhou are sometimes very different. You would think they’re the same country, but they’re often not. In some ways, they might as well be different cultures. He was also a first time customer at a place he’d never been to before, and I go to my place all the time. Everybody there recognizes me and I know most of their names. My primary masseuse is a personal friend of mine.
He still seemed upset and eventually told me that the girl giving him his massage also gave him a hand job. He said it happened before he knew what was happening. When she was rubbing his legs while he was on his stomach, her hands sometimes went a little higher than he expected, but he thought it was just an accident. With the towel on, you can’t really tell where the legs end and the butt begins. When he was on his back, she had the same accident, but it quickly went from accidentally grazing his balls to full on grabbing his dick. He says he stopped her before it went too far, but I think it already went too far.
I was beyond upset when he told me, but the more I think about it, the more I believe his side of the story. First of all, he doesn’t have a thing for Chinese girls. Plenty of foreign men here do. That might be why a great many of them come here. But Ryan’s type is taller, paler, less conservative, more independent, with larger breasts. Essentially me. He thinks all Chinese hookers have AIDS. Some of them must, but the way the Chinese government handles things, we’ll never know any real statistics.
Ryan is a breast man and hates implants. He says they feel like rocks, even though he’s never actually felt any. I’m no Jane Russell, but bigger than the typical Chinese girl. His Chinese is terrible. I guess that doesn’t matter with hookers, but Ryan likes to talk during sex and he would hate knowing that the girl he’s talking to doesn’t understand a word he’s saying. He’s a man, so he thinks whatever he’s saying is important.
More importantly, he told me about it. He didn’t have to. I would have never found out. I’m not friends with his friends in Fuzhou, and he’s pretty much let go of his Hong Kong friendships. He could tell all of his band mates in China and none of them would ever tell me. They’d probably all say “bros before hoes”, high five each other and scratch their crotches. If he’s cheating on me, there’s no way he would tell me about this.
I’m still upset that some Chinese whore grabbed my boyfriend’s dick, but I suppose it could have been worse. He felt guilty about it and said he went home and took a long shower. He’s too paranoid about getting diseases from a hand job to cheat on me.
At least now I know why it was so expensive. A real massage in Fuzhou probably costs a lot less. The next time he gets a massage, he’s going with me.
Ryan was comparing his massage experience to mine, but I pointed out that things in Hong Kong and Fuzhou are sometimes very different. You would think they’re the same country, but they’re often not. In some ways, they might as well be different cultures. He was also a first time customer at a place he’d never been to before, and I go to my place all the time. Everybody there recognizes me and I know most of their names. My primary masseuse is a personal friend of mine.
He still seemed upset and eventually told me that the girl giving him his massage also gave him a hand job. He said it happened before he knew what was happening. When she was rubbing his legs while he was on his stomach, her hands sometimes went a little higher than he expected, but he thought it was just an accident. With the towel on, you can’t really tell where the legs end and the butt begins. When he was on his back, she had the same accident, but it quickly went from accidentally grazing his balls to full on grabbing his dick. He says he stopped her before it went too far, but I think it already went too far.
I was beyond upset when he told me, but the more I think about it, the more I believe his side of the story. First of all, he doesn’t have a thing for Chinese girls. Plenty of foreign men here do. That might be why a great many of them come here. But Ryan’s type is taller, paler, less conservative, more independent, with larger breasts. Essentially me. He thinks all Chinese hookers have AIDS. Some of them must, but the way the Chinese government handles things, we’ll never know any real statistics.
Ryan is a breast man and hates implants. He says they feel like rocks, even though he’s never actually felt any. I’m no Jane Russell, but bigger than the typical Chinese girl. His Chinese is terrible. I guess that doesn’t matter with hookers, but Ryan likes to talk during sex and he would hate knowing that the girl he’s talking to doesn’t understand a word he’s saying. He’s a man, so he thinks whatever he’s saying is important.
More importantly, he told me about it. He didn’t have to. I would have never found out. I’m not friends with his friends in Fuzhou, and he’s pretty much let go of his Hong Kong friendships. He could tell all of his band mates in China and none of them would ever tell me. They’d probably all say “bros before hoes”, high five each other and scratch their crotches. If he’s cheating on me, there’s no way he would tell me about this.
I’m still upset that some Chinese whore grabbed my boyfriend’s dick, but I suppose it could have been worse. He felt guilty about it and said he went home and took a long shower. He’s too paranoid about getting diseases from a hand job to cheat on me.
At least now I know why it was so expensive. A real massage in Fuzhou probably costs a lot less. The next time he gets a massage, he’s going with me.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Ryan’s Massage Day part 1
I get foot massages at least twice a month, sometimes three times. It’s more than a foot massage. They also do my legs, but they call it a foot massage. The main part for me is the leg massage. My friend, Amy, is the one doing the actual massage. She knows what I like and she knows to concentrate on my legs more than my feet. Sometimes I get my shoulders done and I’ve had a few full body massages, but it’s mostly my legs and feet. After dancing all day in Belle’s big yellow dress – which is not light, let me tell you – or some funky Aladdin pants, my legs need a good rub down. When I talk to Ryan right after I’ve had a massage, I always tell him how great it is. Whenever he complains about being sore or tense, I tell him to get a massage.
Ryan is a guy. So going to spas is out of the question. Real men don’t get facials, and have you ever seen a man at a hair salon? I’m sure some do somewhere in the world, but not where I’m from. Minnesota men wash their hair with rocks and comb it with wagon wheels. Maybe not that extreme, but they’re never girly about hair maintenance. It took me a while to convince Ryan that getting a massage will in no way emasculate him and that working out those sore muscles might even feel good.
Unfortunately, I don’t know any places in Fuzhou. I have a regular place in Hong Kong where Amy works her magic on me, but I can’t recommend any place in the rest of China. I can’t even recommend a place in the rest of Hong Kong. The people Ryan hangs out with are not the spa treatment types, so they were no help. When I finally convinced Ryan to go get a massage, he was on his own.
When he came back from his first Chinese massage, maybe even his first professional massage ever, he asked me a lot of questions. He wanted to know what I wear when I’m getting a massage, what exactly they do and how much it all costs. I didn’t want to tell him how much it costs since I really don’t want him to know how much money I spend pampering myself. It’s not a great deal of money, but it is a luxury. My legs work hard for a living and they deserve a good massage, but I could live without it.
His massage was more expensive, which surprised me since everything is cheaper on the mainland. Then again, I get legs and feet, while he got full body. It should cost more, but I was still surprised by how much more. You also have to consider that foreigners usually pay a higher price for everything in China. I don’t get ripped off where I go, but that might only be because I’m a regular customer. Maybe it’s because I know how to haggle. If you buy anything for the initial price in China, you will get robbed.
When I get a leg massage, I either take off my pants or just lift my skirt a little. I’m not anything close to naked, and fully clothed from the waist up. I get topless when they do my shoulders, but they have towels for modesty. Ryan was surprised that they wanted him to get fully naked, but I told him that’s normal for a full body massage. The towel covers your butt and it’s a lot easier for them to oil you up. You don’t want clothes on when you’re getting an oil massage.
He wanted to know how they rub the muscles and what they do, so I told him. It probably takes a long time to learn how to be a really good masseuse, but the basic concept is pretty simple – work the muscles until they are not as tense.
Ryan is a guy. So going to spas is out of the question. Real men don’t get facials, and have you ever seen a man at a hair salon? I’m sure some do somewhere in the world, but not where I’m from. Minnesota men wash their hair with rocks and comb it with wagon wheels. Maybe not that extreme, but they’re never girly about hair maintenance. It took me a while to convince Ryan that getting a massage will in no way emasculate him and that working out those sore muscles might even feel good.
Unfortunately, I don’t know any places in Fuzhou. I have a regular place in Hong Kong where Amy works her magic on me, but I can’t recommend any place in the rest of China. I can’t even recommend a place in the rest of Hong Kong. The people Ryan hangs out with are not the spa treatment types, so they were no help. When I finally convinced Ryan to go get a massage, he was on his own.
When he came back from his first Chinese massage, maybe even his first professional massage ever, he asked me a lot of questions. He wanted to know what I wear when I’m getting a massage, what exactly they do and how much it all costs. I didn’t want to tell him how much it costs since I really don’t want him to know how much money I spend pampering myself. It’s not a great deal of money, but it is a luxury. My legs work hard for a living and they deserve a good massage, but I could live without it.
His massage was more expensive, which surprised me since everything is cheaper on the mainland. Then again, I get legs and feet, while he got full body. It should cost more, but I was still surprised by how much more. You also have to consider that foreigners usually pay a higher price for everything in China. I don’t get ripped off where I go, but that might only be because I’m a regular customer. Maybe it’s because I know how to haggle. If you buy anything for the initial price in China, you will get robbed.
When I get a leg massage, I either take off my pants or just lift my skirt a little. I’m not anything close to naked, and fully clothed from the waist up. I get topless when they do my shoulders, but they have towels for modesty. Ryan was surprised that they wanted him to get fully naked, but I told him that’s normal for a full body massage. The towel covers your butt and it’s a lot easier for them to oil you up. You don’t want clothes on when you’re getting an oil massage.
He wanted to know how they rub the muscles and what they do, so I told him. It probably takes a long time to learn how to be a really good masseuse, but the basic concept is pretty simple – work the muscles until they are not as tense.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Living with Lily part 5
Sometimes living with two other people in a tiny apartment has its share of problems. There’s never enough privacy for everyone. When it was just Ryan & me, we didn’t really worry about privacy. He’s seen every inch of me naked and I don’t mind him getting up close and personal. As long as he gives me privacy in the bathroom, I’m good.
It’s a little different with my best friend and her boyfriend. We try to respect each other’s boundaries, but we inevitably intrude on each other’s personal space now and then. I walked in on Kevin while he was peeing last week. Lily’s walked in on me in the shower more than a few times. Kevin’s walked in on Lily in the shower. Then they were both in there for a long time. I can only guess what they were doing.
Today was the worst one. Kevin came into the bedroom while I was masturbating. No one was home when I started and he didn’t know anyone was home when he walked in. I’m still embarrassed.
I’m not embarrassed or ashamed to say I masturbate. That’s totally normal. Especially when your boyfriend lives in another country and you haven’t had sex in two endless months. That’s an eternity for us. I’m going to see him soon and I’m sure we’ll go at it like tribbles, but in the meantime, I’ll just have to satisfy myself.
I try to do it when no one else is home. Sometimes a ménage à moi right before bed is a nice way to end the day. Lily & Kevin might be around, but they’re in the other room asleep, or too otherwise occupied to pay the least attention to anything in the living room. I can often hear them having sex. That’s just worse because it reminds me what I’m missing. I’m happy for them, but I’m jealous for me.
I used to do it in the shower. We have a hand held shower head that’s great for reaching all the hard to reach places. But now with Lily & Kevin around, I’m never sure if someone’s going to burst into the bathroom while I’m enjoying myself.
The bedroom when no one is home is always a safe bet, until now. When Kevin walked in, he scared the hockey sticks out of me. I covered myself with the sheets as fast as I could and I really don’t know how much he saw, but I was beyond mortified. Even if he didn’t see anything, and let’s say he didn’t, he knows what I was doing. I was wearing a t-shirt, but otherwise naked and lying on the bed.
At least he apologized and closed the door. When I walked in on him peeing, I just stood there and stared. Now I’m wondering if he walked in on me as payback. That’s always a possibility. But then my life is a Friends episode. Who needs that.
I guess I should talk to Lily about it. How do you start that conversation? “So, your boyfriend saw me stirring the honey pot…”
It’s a little different with my best friend and her boyfriend. We try to respect each other’s boundaries, but we inevitably intrude on each other’s personal space now and then. I walked in on Kevin while he was peeing last week. Lily’s walked in on me in the shower more than a few times. Kevin’s walked in on Lily in the shower. Then they were both in there for a long time. I can only guess what they were doing.
Today was the worst one. Kevin came into the bedroom while I was masturbating. No one was home when I started and he didn’t know anyone was home when he walked in. I’m still embarrassed.
I’m not embarrassed or ashamed to say I masturbate. That’s totally normal. Especially when your boyfriend lives in another country and you haven’t had sex in two endless months. That’s an eternity for us. I’m going to see him soon and I’m sure we’ll go at it like tribbles, but in the meantime, I’ll just have to satisfy myself.
I try to do it when no one else is home. Sometimes a ménage à moi right before bed is a nice way to end the day. Lily & Kevin might be around, but they’re in the other room asleep, or too otherwise occupied to pay the least attention to anything in the living room. I can often hear them having sex. That’s just worse because it reminds me what I’m missing. I’m happy for them, but I’m jealous for me.
I used to do it in the shower. We have a hand held shower head that’s great for reaching all the hard to reach places. But now with Lily & Kevin around, I’m never sure if someone’s going to burst into the bathroom while I’m enjoying myself.
The bedroom when no one is home is always a safe bet, until now. When Kevin walked in, he scared the hockey sticks out of me. I covered myself with the sheets as fast as I could and I really don’t know how much he saw, but I was beyond mortified. Even if he didn’t see anything, and let’s say he didn’t, he knows what I was doing. I was wearing a t-shirt, but otherwise naked and lying on the bed.
At least he apologized and closed the door. When I walked in on him peeing, I just stood there and stared. Now I’m wondering if he walked in on me as payback. That’s always a possibility. But then my life is a Friends episode. Who needs that.
I guess I should talk to Lily about it. How do you start that conversation? “So, your boyfriend saw me stirring the honey pot…”
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Clear Water Bay House part 3
I went to the big house after work and went straight to my own private shower in my own private bathroom. I love this house. I want to stay here indefinitely. I didn’t see Lily or Kevin when I came in, so I didn’t know if they were home or not.
After my shower, I went to the kitchen to make my dinner. It was late enough that if anyone else was there, they most likely would have already eaten.
While I was in the kitchen, I could hear strange noises coming from the dining room. This house has a real dining room. I went to investigate and there was Kevin on top of Lily on top of the dining room table. They were not polishing it, precisely.
My first thought was that I eat dinner on that table.
My second thought was jealousy. I haven’t been drilled like that in over a month.
A few other things crossed my mind, in no particular order.
Kevin has a nice butt. That was always obvious by the way he dresses, but you never really know. Until you see it naked.
How did they not hear me come in the house and take a shower? I don’t barrel through the front door like a rhinoceros, but they should have heard the water running through the pipes.
It occurred to me that I was spying on my friends having sex. Maybe it was time to give them some privacy. If Ryan & I were alone in this house,we would definitely not restrict ourselves to the bedroom.
I went back to making my dinner and tried to make a lot of noise doing it. Lily came in after a few minutes, acting casual. I knew she just got some, but she didn’t know that I knew.
I ate my dinner in the kitchen that night.
After my shower, I went to the kitchen to make my dinner. It was late enough that if anyone else was there, they most likely would have already eaten.
While I was in the kitchen, I could hear strange noises coming from the dining room. This house has a real dining room. I went to investigate and there was Kevin on top of Lily on top of the dining room table. They were not polishing it, precisely.
My first thought was that I eat dinner on that table.
My second thought was jealousy. I haven’t been drilled like that in over a month.
A few other things crossed my mind, in no particular order.
Kevin has a nice butt. That was always obvious by the way he dresses, but you never really know. Until you see it naked.
How did they not hear me come in the house and take a shower? I don’t barrel through the front door like a rhinoceros, but they should have heard the water running through the pipes.
It occurred to me that I was spying on my friends having sex. Maybe it was time to give them some privacy. If Ryan & I were alone in this house,we would definitely not restrict ourselves to the bedroom.
I went back to making my dinner and tried to make a lot of noise doing it. Lily came in after a few minutes, acting casual. I knew she just got some, but she didn’t know that I knew.
I ate my dinner in the kitchen that night.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Homererotic
I had a dream about the Simpsons last night. I think that’s weird because I never watch the Simpsons. We don’t get it here.
In my dream, Homer is getting ready to go to work when Marge comes out of the bathroom wearing a bright red chemise with matching red panties. It worked really well with her yellow skin and blue hair. When Homer sees her, he starts to drool on his tie.
Marge climbs onto the bed on all fours and Homer quickly tears off his clothes. He takes Marge’s clothes off with his teeth while she rubs his bald head. As soon as they’re both naked, he goes down on her. Naturally, she has a puffy blue crotch. While he’s eating her out, she screams in that gravel Marge voice. There might be a fetish about that somewhere, but I don’t think it sounds sexy at all.
Homer gets tired and flops down on the bed. So Marge decides to blow him, but she has to find his yellow dick first. It’s not very big and buried under a lot of fat. She eventually finds it and starts slurping away. Homer drools again, sprawled out on the bed while Marge goes to town.
Marge tries to mount Homer, but she can’t get at his tiny dick with his giant stomach in the way. So they switch places and Homer gets on top of Marge. He tries to put it in, but Marge can’t breathe with the weight of Homer on top of her. So they go for doggie style and Homer finally penetrates her.
Homer grabs Marge’s hips and pounds away while Marge looks kind of bored with it all. She sneezes and this excites Homer even more. He asks her to sneeze again and again until he comes. He flops back down on the bed as Marge gets up and leaves the bedroom.
In my dream, Homer is getting ready to go to work when Marge comes out of the bathroom wearing a bright red chemise with matching red panties. It worked really well with her yellow skin and blue hair. When Homer sees her, he starts to drool on his tie.
Marge climbs onto the bed on all fours and Homer quickly tears off his clothes. He takes Marge’s clothes off with his teeth while she rubs his bald head. As soon as they’re both naked, he goes down on her. Naturally, she has a puffy blue crotch. While he’s eating her out, she screams in that gravel Marge voice. There might be a fetish about that somewhere, but I don’t think it sounds sexy at all.
Homer gets tired and flops down on the bed. So Marge decides to blow him, but she has to find his yellow dick first. It’s not very big and buried under a lot of fat. She eventually finds it and starts slurping away. Homer drools again, sprawled out on the bed while Marge goes to town.
Marge tries to mount Homer, but she can’t get at his tiny dick with his giant stomach in the way. So they switch places and Homer gets on top of Marge. He tries to put it in, but Marge can’t breathe with the weight of Homer on top of her. So they go for doggie style and Homer finally penetrates her.
Homer grabs Marge’s hips and pounds away while Marge looks kind of bored with it all. She sneezes and this excites Homer even more. He asks her to sneeze again and again until he comes. He flops back down on the bed as Marge gets up and leaves the bedroom.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Ryan in China part 4
It might seem like I’m getting used to living alone, but I really don’t like it. I want Ryan to come back immediately. I know it’s only been a week, but it feels like forever.
We talk every day on the phone – usually 2 times a day, but it’s just not the same. I can’t feel him or see him. I miss the warmth of his body against mine. I miss feeling his arms around me. I miss feeling him on top of me – or under me, or behind me – I’ll take anything at this point.
Did I mention I’m really horny? It seems like I haven’t gotten laid in ages. I need a man inside me. Specifically, my boyfriend. That’s what they’re for.
There’s a sex toy store in Minneapolis that has this kit where you can make your own rubber dildo. The guy puts his dick in this goo and it gets hard – the goo, not the dick. He should already be hard when he puts it in. It makes a mold of his erection which you then fill with another goo and, after a while, you’ve got a dildo just like your man. We joked about buying it, but we didn’t. I don’t use toys anyway and why play with a toy when I can play with the real thing anytime I want. It’s not like he ever says no. Now I wish we had bought it. At least then I’d have a replica of what I’m not getting.
Lily says I should just buy a run of the mill, non-custom dildo, but it’s not the same. I like the real thing. I also have absolutely no idea if there are any of those kinds of stores anywhere in Hong Kong. This is not the most sexually liberated place in the world. I read somewhere that Chinese men think about work 100 times as much as they think about sex. I think American men are the exact opposite.
I could always order something online, but by the time it got here Ryan would be back anyway.
I need my man to come home.
We talk every day on the phone – usually 2 times a day, but it’s just not the same. I can’t feel him or see him. I miss the warmth of his body against mine. I miss feeling his arms around me. I miss feeling him on top of me – or under me, or behind me – I’ll take anything at this point.
Did I mention I’m really horny? It seems like I haven’t gotten laid in ages. I need a man inside me. Specifically, my boyfriend. That’s what they’re for.
There’s a sex toy store in Minneapolis that has this kit where you can make your own rubber dildo. The guy puts his dick in this goo and it gets hard – the goo, not the dick. He should already be hard when he puts it in. It makes a mold of his erection which you then fill with another goo and, after a while, you’ve got a dildo just like your man. We joked about buying it, but we didn’t. I don’t use toys anyway and why play with a toy when I can play with the real thing anytime I want. It’s not like he ever says no. Now I wish we had bought it. At least then I’d have a replica of what I’m not getting.
Lily says I should just buy a run of the mill, non-custom dildo, but it’s not the same. I like the real thing. I also have absolutely no idea if there are any of those kinds of stores anywhere in Hong Kong. This is not the most sexually liberated place in the world. I read somewhere that Chinese men think about work 100 times as much as they think about sex. I think American men are the exact opposite.
I could always order something online, but by the time it got here Ryan would be back anyway.
I need my man to come home.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Yellow
I was headed to the bathroom and Ryan said he wanted me to pee on him. What the hockey sticks? That’s something we’ve never talked about before. I agreed to be more open about his sex fantasies, but what does urine have to do with sex? It’s waste. Your body’s getting rid of it for a reason.
At least he didn’t want to pee on me. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to handle that, and I’m a little worried that might be next on his to-do list.
I’ve seen him pee before. He’s a guy. There isn’t much they love more than to whip it out and show you how they can aim at targets and write words in the snow. I’m just not impressed by anyone’s ability to write in cursive. When we’re outdoors and he has to leak on a tree or something, I’m not patting him on the back and telling him how amazing it is that he can point and shoot. I’m mostly trying to stay away from him so he doesn’t get any on me.
Eventually, I agreed to pee on him, even though it’s kind of gross. It’s also pretty harmless. It doesn’t hurt me at all. I don’t see how it could hurt him. We were in the privacy of our apartment. If he wants me to squat over him in the middle of Nathan Road, that’s never going to happen. I had to go anyway and it was in the bathroom. If he wanted to do it on the bed or anywhere that’s hard to clean, I would have definitely said no. I’d make him clean it up, so he would never want to anyway. He’s good at making messes, but not so great at cleaning them.
This paragraph is the point of no return. I had to endure this, so the blog world has to read about it. If this sort of thing makes you want to vomit in your mouth, you might not want to read further. Not everything is for everybody.
Ryan took off all his clothes and lay down on the floor, as much as you can in our tiny bathroom. Hong Kong bathrooms are extra small and all tile, making them very easy to clean. You can literally hose down the entire bathroom with the shower head. There’s no carpet anywhere. I don’t think there’s carpet anywhere in Hong Kong.
I took off my panties, hiked up my skirt and straddled over him. I was going to take off my shirt, but he wanted me to leave it on. As much as he likes seeing me without my top on, he loves seeing me just bottomless even more. I don’t know of that’s a fetish or just a preference.
I had to go, but it took a little while at first. I’ve never peed on anyone before. He didn’t want me to get it on his face, so at least he doesn’t want to drink it. That would be too high on the gross scale for me.
I mostly peed on his chest and a little on his dick. It’s not like I can write my name or anything. He got hard as soon as it hit his dick. That didn’t surprise me in the least. It doesn’t take much to get Ryan hard. I’ve seen him get hard just from standing naked in front of a fan, but not too close, thankfully. A soft breeze literally made him hard.
He took a shower afterward. Thank heaven for small miracles. I was a little worried about that. I took a shower just from what got on my feet. I can’t imagine walking around the rest of the day without washing it off. He wanted to have sex in the shower, of course. He always does whenever we take a shower together, but our shower is barely big enough for one of us. We’ve had sex in the bathroom before, outside the shower, but it’s just too small and uncomfortable.
We didn’t talk about bodily fluids afterward. I’m hoping it’s just something he needed to get out of his system. It didn’t turn me on at all. It’s none of my business what kinky sex things other people do, but to me it just seems like an insult to get peed on. It’s as sexy as someone spitting on you. I really hope he doesn’t want to do that next.
So then I took my turn
Oh, what a thing to have done
And it was all yellow
At least he didn’t want to pee on me. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to handle that, and I’m a little worried that might be next on his to-do list.
I’ve seen him pee before. He’s a guy. There isn’t much they love more than to whip it out and show you how they can aim at targets and write words in the snow. I’m just not impressed by anyone’s ability to write in cursive. When we’re outdoors and he has to leak on a tree or something, I’m not patting him on the back and telling him how amazing it is that he can point and shoot. I’m mostly trying to stay away from him so he doesn’t get any on me.
Eventually, I agreed to pee on him, even though it’s kind of gross. It’s also pretty harmless. It doesn’t hurt me at all. I don’t see how it could hurt him. We were in the privacy of our apartment. If he wants me to squat over him in the middle of Nathan Road, that’s never going to happen. I had to go anyway and it was in the bathroom. If he wanted to do it on the bed or anywhere that’s hard to clean, I would have definitely said no. I’d make him clean it up, so he would never want to anyway. He’s good at making messes, but not so great at cleaning them.
This paragraph is the point of no return. I had to endure this, so the blog world has to read about it. If this sort of thing makes you want to vomit in your mouth, you might not want to read further. Not everything is for everybody.
Ryan took off all his clothes and lay down on the floor, as much as you can in our tiny bathroom. Hong Kong bathrooms are extra small and all tile, making them very easy to clean. You can literally hose down the entire bathroom with the shower head. There’s no carpet anywhere. I don’t think there’s carpet anywhere in Hong Kong.
I took off my panties, hiked up my skirt and straddled over him. I was going to take off my shirt, but he wanted me to leave it on. As much as he likes seeing me without my top on, he loves seeing me just bottomless even more. I don’t know of that’s a fetish or just a preference.
I had to go, but it took a little while at first. I’ve never peed on anyone before. He didn’t want me to get it on his face, so at least he doesn’t want to drink it. That would be too high on the gross scale for me.
I mostly peed on his chest and a little on his dick. It’s not like I can write my name or anything. He got hard as soon as it hit his dick. That didn’t surprise me in the least. It doesn’t take much to get Ryan hard. I’ve seen him get hard just from standing naked in front of a fan, but not too close, thankfully. A soft breeze literally made him hard.
He took a shower afterward. Thank heaven for small miracles. I was a little worried about that. I took a shower just from what got on my feet. I can’t imagine walking around the rest of the day without washing it off. He wanted to have sex in the shower, of course. He always does whenever we take a shower together, but our shower is barely big enough for one of us. We’ve had sex in the bathroom before, outside the shower, but it’s just too small and uncomfortable.
We didn’t talk about bodily fluids afterward. I’m hoping it’s just something he needed to get out of his system. It didn’t turn me on at all. It’s none of my business what kinky sex things other people do, but to me it just seems like an insult to get peed on. It’s as sexy as someone spitting on you. I really hope he doesn’t want to do that next.
So then I took my turn
Oh, what a thing to have done
And it was all yellow
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Vanilla
Ryan’s decided to stay in Hong Kong on one condition – he wants me to be more open about what he called his “manly needs”. I always thought I was. I seldom say no to indoor private sex, unless I’m not interested. Every once in a while, I wake him up in the morning in a very special way that no man in the history of civilization has ever resisted. I usually let him pop his cork on whatever body part he wants. I’ve known a few people who find that objectionable, but I’ve never had a problem with it. Outside of your eyes, it washes off effortlessly. And avoiding your eyes is pretty easy. Eyelids were invented to avoid detritus. Even so, he apparently has a list of things he wants to try and he thinks I’m holding him back.
There might be some truth to that. I’m not a sexually freaky person. I’m what they call vanilla. I like committed, monogamous, heterosexual intercourse. I’ll try any position at least once, but I like privacy and comfort. Especially privacy. I’m not interested in being watched or watching other people. I’m not comfortable being naked around others. I don’t want to flash anybody. I’m afraid of being tied up or using mechanical devices. I have absolutely no desire to tie him up or use devices on him.
I understand where Ryan is coming from. He’s at his sexual peak for at least the next few years. He’s living in a far away, exotic land with indecipherable social mores. He has a steady paycheck coming in for the first time in his life. He gets hard at the drop of a hat. Pretty much anything arouses him. And he’s stuck here with me. I’m pretty boring, sexually. Don’t get me wrong, I like rubbing against naughty bits as much as the next repressed American. I get aroused pretty easily, too. I just have more self-control. I’ll never ask him to go down on me in a restaurant. I wouldn’t be comfortable with that. But he would love it.
Ryan also had basically no sexual experience before me. I had a boyfriend when we first met. He only had his sore hand. Now that he has a lot more experience under his belt, he wants to try more and more exotic things. He’s in an experimental stage right now. I guess he’s on a sexual journey. I’m just not sure how far he wants to go, or how far I can go with him.
I’m really worried about this. The line I won’t cross is much closer than the line he won’t cross, wherever that is. Will he always want to try things I don’t like? Will I always be so stubborn? Will I have to go farther than I want to keep him? Will he have to hold himself back to keep me? Is this all just temporary? Most importantly, I want the name of whoever invented boyfriends. We need to talk.
There might be some truth to that. I’m not a sexually freaky person. I’m what they call vanilla. I like committed, monogamous, heterosexual intercourse. I’ll try any position at least once, but I like privacy and comfort. Especially privacy. I’m not interested in being watched or watching other people. I’m not comfortable being naked around others. I don’t want to flash anybody. I’m afraid of being tied up or using mechanical devices. I have absolutely no desire to tie him up or use devices on him.
I understand where Ryan is coming from. He’s at his sexual peak for at least the next few years. He’s living in a far away, exotic land with indecipherable social mores. He has a steady paycheck coming in for the first time in his life. He gets hard at the drop of a hat. Pretty much anything arouses him. And he’s stuck here with me. I’m pretty boring, sexually. Don’t get me wrong, I like rubbing against naughty bits as much as the next repressed American. I get aroused pretty easily, too. I just have more self-control. I’ll never ask him to go down on me in a restaurant. I wouldn’t be comfortable with that. But he would love it.
Ryan also had basically no sexual experience before me. I had a boyfriend when we first met. He only had his sore hand. Now that he has a lot more experience under his belt, he wants to try more and more exotic things. He’s in an experimental stage right now. I guess he’s on a sexual journey. I’m just not sure how far he wants to go, or how far I can go with him.
I’m really worried about this. The line I won’t cross is much closer than the line he won’t cross, wherever that is. Will he always want to try things I don’t like? Will I always be so stubborn? Will I have to go farther than I want to keep him? Will he have to hold himself back to keep me? Is this all just temporary? Most importantly, I want the name of whoever invented boyfriends. We need to talk.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Pastime Paradise
When I came home from work today, Ryan was jerking off in front of the computer. He didn’t even try to pretend to stop when I came in. I’ve seen him go to town before, but that’s usually when we’re together. I know he does it when he’s alone. That’s perfectly normal. Everybody does it. I sometimes masturbate in the shower or in bed if Ryan’s not home. Maybe on the sofa. Certainly not on the computer.
What I found strange about today was that he had no reaction to seeing me. If you’re at the computer, you’re going to notice someone coming in the door. There’s no way you can’t see them. Ryan was totally focused on the Asian girl with far too many gentleman suitors. He just kept pounding away until he spilled his seed all over the floor. He was working furiously, so I guess he was just in the zone.
I would be mortified if I were caught masturbating when he came home. He wouldn’t. He’d want to join me. When I came home and saw him, it never crossed my mind to join in. I think maybe men and women are just wired differently.
What I found strange about today was that he had no reaction to seeing me. If you’re at the computer, you’re going to notice someone coming in the door. There’s no way you can’t see them. Ryan was totally focused on the Asian girl with far too many gentleman suitors. He just kept pounding away until he spilled his seed all over the floor. He was working furiously, so I guess he was just in the zone.
I would be mortified if I were caught masturbating when he came home. He wouldn’t. He’d want to join me. When I came home and saw him, it never crossed my mind to join in. I think maybe men and women are just wired differently.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Amsterdam part 5
Ryan wanted to take me to the Red Light District after his birthday. He went there on his birthday, but said he only looked around – he wasn’t a customer. This seemed a little hard to believe until I went there myself. In the daytime, it’s just like any other residential neighborhood, except there are strip clubs and stores selling porn and sex toys. In the middle of it all is the oldest church in Amsterdam.
What I didn’t like were the signs on some of the clubs. More than a few of them were pretty graphic. These signs are right on the street. At least the sex museum is indoors, in a controlled environment. You have to pay to get in and children aren’t allowed. The very graphic strip club signs are out in public where anyone can see them. Children and little old ladies walk by the clubs on their way to school and wherever little old ladies go. They’re probably used to it, but I can’t imagine seeing anything like this in Minnesota. We had laws against liquor stores being close to schools.
The Red Light District takes on a completely different atmosphere at night. All the customers come out and all the windows light up with red light bulbs. In each window is a girl in a bikini or lingerie waiting for her next customer. It seemed pretty degrading to me. The girls were like products for sale on display. But maybe it’s safer than hookers walking the streets. The neighborhood was also a lot more crowded at night. During the day, people were going about their business. At night, people – mostly men – gawked and lingered. We watched one guy pace back and forth, getting up the courage to go into one of the red rooms.
At first glace, it looks like there are more bars in the Red Light District than anywhere else. Ryan wanted to go to Molly Malone’s Irish Pub because he thinks my family is Irish. I keep telling him my ancestors were Highland Scottish, but he always forgets. He can’t tell the difference between Irish and Scottish, and don’t even get him started on Wales. If we ever go to the UK, he’ll probably start an international incident. Instead of Molly Malone’s, we went to a bar that had loads of Dutch, Belgian and German beer. I don’t usually like beer, but if you’re going to drink it, this was the place. European beer is thicker and makes American beer seem watered down. According to some Europeans, American beer tastes like horse piss. We can only wonder how they know.
Just another street by day
Prostitutes around every corner by night
Out in the open for all to see on a busy canal street
Oude Kerk
The oldest church in Amsterdam
What I didn’t like were the signs on some of the clubs. More than a few of them were pretty graphic. These signs are right on the street. At least the sex museum is indoors, in a controlled environment. You have to pay to get in and children aren’t allowed. The very graphic strip club signs are out in public where anyone can see them. Children and little old ladies walk by the clubs on their way to school and wherever little old ladies go. They’re probably used to it, but I can’t imagine seeing anything like this in Minnesota. We had laws against liquor stores being close to schools.
The Red Light District takes on a completely different atmosphere at night. All the customers come out and all the windows light up with red light bulbs. In each window is a girl in a bikini or lingerie waiting for her next customer. It seemed pretty degrading to me. The girls were like products for sale on display. But maybe it’s safer than hookers walking the streets. The neighborhood was also a lot more crowded at night. During the day, people were going about their business. At night, people – mostly men – gawked and lingered. We watched one guy pace back and forth, getting up the courage to go into one of the red rooms.
At first glace, it looks like there are more bars in the Red Light District than anywhere else. Ryan wanted to go to Molly Malone’s Irish Pub because he thinks my family is Irish. I keep telling him my ancestors were Highland Scottish, but he always forgets. He can’t tell the difference between Irish and Scottish, and don’t even get him started on Wales. If we ever go to the UK, he’ll probably start an international incident. Instead of Molly Malone’s, we went to a bar that had loads of Dutch, Belgian and German beer. I don’t usually like beer, but if you’re going to drink it, this was the place. European beer is thicker and makes American beer seem watered down. According to some Europeans, American beer tastes like horse piss. We can only wonder how they know.
Prostitutes around every corner by night
The oldest church in Amsterdam
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Amsterdam part 3
From the middle of the Central Station – which is mostly under construction, but a great way to get anywhere in the city – you can easily walk down the main tourist street in Amsterdam. It’s all tourist gift shops and expensive fast food until you hit Dam Square.
In the middle of all the tourist traps is the Sex Museum. Ryan really wanted to see that. I was more curious than anything else. It’s the biggest tourist trap in the neighborhood, but definitely worth a visit. It’s not for prudes or the faint of heart. Some of the displays are extremely graphic. There were a lot of modern x-rated pictures and playing cards which seemed kind of pointless. You can easily find all of that online. There was a display of older “vintage” sex pictures from 50 to 100 years ago – porn through the ages. That was more interesting. It shows that people have always been hound dogs. What I liked were the mannequins and animatronics. They had a mini Red Light District with animatronic hookers and johns. There was also an animatronic Marilyn Monroe posing nude for a photographer whose pants bulged.
Amsterdam has a long cultural history of which the people should be immensely proud. This wasn’t it.
Animatronic Marilyn Monroe
Animatronic hooker
Porn through the ages
In the middle of all the tourist traps is the Sex Museum. Ryan really wanted to see that. I was more curious than anything else. It’s the biggest tourist trap in the neighborhood, but definitely worth a visit. It’s not for prudes or the faint of heart. Some of the displays are extremely graphic. There were a lot of modern x-rated pictures and playing cards which seemed kind of pointless. You can easily find all of that online. There was a display of older “vintage” sex pictures from 50 to 100 years ago – porn through the ages. That was more interesting. It shows that people have always been hound dogs. What I liked were the mannequins and animatronics. They had a mini Red Light District with animatronic hookers and johns. There was also an animatronic Marilyn Monroe posing nude for a photographer whose pants bulged.
Amsterdam has a long cultural history of which the people should be immensely proud. This wasn’t it.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Hot Tub part 3
Hot Tub part 1
Hot Tub part 2
Lily & I spent the night at my apartment while Ryan & Kevin were at the big house. We talked about that night last week in the hot tub. Both of our boyfriends wanted a five course meal, but we were just grabbing a quick bite.
We talked about how we could have given them a better show. While all the kissing was pretty hot, our hands stayed above the water – which is more than we can say for the guys. I grabbed her breast and she licked mine – that’s not a bad show – but we could have given the guys a little downstairs action. Lily & I have seen each other naked. We practically live together. But we never got naked in that hot tub. Just taking off our tops would have driven the guys crazy. Imagine if we took off our bottoms. I was never going to do that, but Lily pointed out that no one would have seen anything under the bubbles.
Lily told me that she’s gone down on a girl before and she could probably do it again under the right circumstances. I just don’t know if I could. But if I had let her lick me in that hot tub, that would have given the guys a night they would never forget. I’m pretty sure I would have remembered it as well. The only problem is, everyone would have seen me naked. Unless Lily did it underwater, but that’s not how I picture it. I would almost have to be sitting on the edge of the hot tub. Ryan always says that’s my biggest hurdle to realizing my full sexuality – I need to be more comfortable naked around other people. I’m ok one on one, but if more people are around, it feels like a public performance rather than an intimate act. I don’t have any problem with other people getting naked, though. That’s their business.
Lily & I were fully clothed during this entire discussion, but when I told Ryan about it, I was wearing one of his t-shirts and boy shorts – because he thinks that’s the sexiest thing. And Lily was wearing my Julianna Rae lace camisole and matching panties. Not for nothing, she would look great in that.
Was it a good idea to put that image in Ryan’s head? I don’t know. At least I never said there was a pillow fight.
Hot Tub part 2
Lily & I spent the night at my apartment while Ryan & Kevin were at the big house. We talked about that night last week in the hot tub. Both of our boyfriends wanted a five course meal, but we were just grabbing a quick bite.
We talked about how we could have given them a better show. While all the kissing was pretty hot, our hands stayed above the water – which is more than we can say for the guys. I grabbed her breast and she licked mine – that’s not a bad show – but we could have given the guys a little downstairs action. Lily & I have seen each other naked. We practically live together. But we never got naked in that hot tub. Just taking off our tops would have driven the guys crazy. Imagine if we took off our bottoms. I was never going to do that, but Lily pointed out that no one would have seen anything under the bubbles.
Lily told me that she’s gone down on a girl before and she could probably do it again under the right circumstances. I just don’t know if I could. But if I had let her lick me in that hot tub, that would have given the guys a night they would never forget. I’m pretty sure I would have remembered it as well. The only problem is, everyone would have seen me naked. Unless Lily did it underwater, but that’s not how I picture it. I would almost have to be sitting on the edge of the hot tub. Ryan always says that’s my biggest hurdle to realizing my full sexuality – I need to be more comfortable naked around other people. I’m ok one on one, but if more people are around, it feels like a public performance rather than an intimate act. I don’t have any problem with other people getting naked, though. That’s their business.
Lily & I were fully clothed during this entire discussion, but when I told Ryan about it, I was wearing one of his t-shirts and boy shorts – because he thinks that’s the sexiest thing. And Lily was wearing my Julianna Rae lace camisole and matching panties. Not for nothing, she would look great in that.
Was it a good idea to put that image in Ryan’s head? I don’t know. At least I never said there was a pillow fight.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Hot Tub part 2
Hot Tub part 1
Lily & I kissed like 10-year-olds. Ryan & Kevin were disappointed. I don’t think a tepid peck was what they fantasized about. But they might not have realized that was their fantasy. Lily & I never talked about anything even remotely similar to this.
After some more soaking, a few drinks and more than a little encouragement from our boyfriends, we gave each other a real kiss.
I have two or three thoughts on the subject. I like to think of myself as heterosexual. I enjoy penises. Not that there’s anything wrong with a vagina. They bring life into the world, and all that good stuff. But if I ever want to play with one, I don’t have to go far.
Another important point is peer pressure and boyfriends trying to talk their girlfriends into doing things that maybe they don’t want to do. I’ve never been a big fan of peer pressure. My natural instinct is to automatically go against whatever the group is trying to pressure me into. I could have gotten into a lot of trouble if some of my high school friends had figured out how to use reverse psychology. I’m more open to suggestions from a boyfriend, but I have a habit of sticking to my guns. Some guys call that stubborn. I like to think of it as self-respect.
The third point I need to bring up is that Lily is an excellent kisser. Our first kiss was nothing to write home about, but that second kiss had me imagining our wedding invitations. I realize part of it was putting on a show for her boyfriend, but it was still amazing. I hope Kevin knows how lucky he is.
While Lily & I were making out, I noticed that one of Ryan’s hands was under water. He was wearing swimming trunks, of course, but it would take almost no effort to whip it out, especially with all the bubbles from the hot tub. No one would really notice, unless they wondered what that hand was doing. I don’t know if watching Ryan or kissing Lily led me to grab her breast, but something made me do it. It can’t be my fault. I plead not guilty by reason of hot tub. Why Lily started licking my nipple is anyone’s guess. I was more worried about the guys seeing me than what Lily was actually doing. Make of that what you will. I couldn’t really see Kevin the way we were sitting, but Lily told me later that he also rubbed himself. Ironically, we were all watching each other, but who knows how much anyone could see.
The next day, Ryan & I got into an argument about how unadventurous I am. He wanted things to go a lot further that night, but I couldn’t see myself doing anything beyond kissing Lily. That was pretty adventurous for me. Ryan thought it wasn’t what it could have been. I thought it was a pretty big deal as it was.
Lily & I kissed like 10-year-olds. Ryan & Kevin were disappointed. I don’t think a tepid peck was what they fantasized about. But they might not have realized that was their fantasy. Lily & I never talked about anything even remotely similar to this.
After some more soaking, a few drinks and more than a little encouragement from our boyfriends, we gave each other a real kiss.
I have two or three thoughts on the subject. I like to think of myself as heterosexual. I enjoy penises. Not that there’s anything wrong with a vagina. They bring life into the world, and all that good stuff. But if I ever want to play with one, I don’t have to go far.
Another important point is peer pressure and boyfriends trying to talk their girlfriends into doing things that maybe they don’t want to do. I’ve never been a big fan of peer pressure. My natural instinct is to automatically go against whatever the group is trying to pressure me into. I could have gotten into a lot of trouble if some of my high school friends had figured out how to use reverse psychology. I’m more open to suggestions from a boyfriend, but I have a habit of sticking to my guns. Some guys call that stubborn. I like to think of it as self-respect.
The third point I need to bring up is that Lily is an excellent kisser. Our first kiss was nothing to write home about, but that second kiss had me imagining our wedding invitations. I realize part of it was putting on a show for her boyfriend, but it was still amazing. I hope Kevin knows how lucky he is.
While Lily & I were making out, I noticed that one of Ryan’s hands was under water. He was wearing swimming trunks, of course, but it would take almost no effort to whip it out, especially with all the bubbles from the hot tub. No one would really notice, unless they wondered what that hand was doing. I don’t know if watching Ryan or kissing Lily led me to grab her breast, but something made me do it. It can’t be my fault. I plead not guilty by reason of hot tub. Why Lily started licking my nipple is anyone’s guess. I was more worried about the guys seeing me than what Lily was actually doing. Make of that what you will. I couldn’t really see Kevin the way we were sitting, but Lily told me later that he also rubbed himself. Ironically, we were all watching each other, but who knows how much anyone could see.
The next day, Ryan & I got into an argument about how unadventurous I am. He wanted things to go a lot further that night, but I couldn’t see myself doing anything beyond kissing Lily. That was pretty adventurous for me. Ryan thought it wasn’t what it could have been. I thought it was a pretty big deal as it was.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Hot Tub part 1
As long as Lily & Kevin have the big house at Clear Water Bay, we are all pretty much determined to use it while we can. Ryan & Kevin spend most nights there, while Lily & I sleep at my apartment. That means every time I talk to Ryan, I have to hear about how great the swimming pool and hot tub are. I love to swim. I’ve always loved to swim. And I’m stuck in a tiny apartment that doesn’t even have a bathtub. That also means Lily & I go to the big house whenever we can.
On a rare night when none of us had to work, we spent a pretty good chunk of it in that hot tub. The ocean view from the deck is impressive, and sitting there soaking with a cold drink after a long day is just the greatest thing in the world.
We were soaking up the water and scenery when something different happened. Kevin suggested that Lily & I kiss each other. We’re pretty close friends, but we’re not that close. Ryan told me later that he and Kevin talked about it earlier. They wondered what we did when we were alone together in my apartment, and since they are guys, their imaginations went a little crazy. They wanted to see how far we would go in that hot tub, and more importantly, how much we would let them watch.
Things never went as far as they hoped, but it was more than I expected.
The more I think about it, the less I know how long this post is going to end up. I should probably write it in installments since I don’t have that much time right now.
On a rare night when none of us had to work, we spent a pretty good chunk of it in that hot tub. The ocean view from the deck is impressive, and sitting there soaking with a cold drink after a long day is just the greatest thing in the world.
We were soaking up the water and scenery when something different happened. Kevin suggested that Lily & I kiss each other. We’re pretty close friends, but we’re not that close. Ryan told me later that he and Kevin talked about it earlier. They wondered what we did when we were alone together in my apartment, and since they are guys, their imaginations went a little crazy. They wanted to see how far we would go in that hot tub, and more importantly, how much we would let them watch.
Things never went as far as they hoped, but it was more than I expected.
The more I think about it, the less I know how long this post is going to end up. I should probably write it in installments since I don’t have that much time right now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)