that they don’t intimidate you. They lose their power over you because, to you, they’re just another guy in the club. It gives you confidence because you know, at least in the club, that you have the power over them. Even if they’re sitting there in an expensive suit. Even if they do intimidate you, you’re not so cowed down you won’t speak up. You know, to get what you want.
He looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him up. He stuttered, ‘I…uh…me…yeah.’
He did! He stuttered, I…uh…me…yeah.
I grinned, leaned down (so my tits were in his face) and asked for a pen. He took one out of his jacket and handed it to me. I took his hand and wrote my number across his palm.
‘That’s my cell,” I said and wrote another number. ‘And that’s my landline. Got it?’
He nodded like a good boy.
I winked and sashayed off. He called the next day.
It’s getting late and my hand is about to fall off. I better stop writing for a while.”
I smiled. I’d forgotten about all that. I got up and stretched. What now? Should I make some calls? What should I do?
I stared at the journals. I was only through one of them. I ordered a pizza and picked up the next one.
“So, Bruce called the next day and I’ve already masturbated about nine times to a fantasy of him and me in a hammock.”
Oh, good God. I did the same thing! But, however, I had made myself masturbate to take the edge off. I didn’t want to be too eager when we saw each other again. My fantasies had been less romantic, though. I had fucked her in my bed. Then on top of my car. Then on the kitchen table.
“He asked me to dinner.
I feigned indifference and said, ‘Sure, why not?’
He took me to this really nice Italian place and then he asked if I wanted to go to a movie. I stared at him. The thing with me is I always fuck on the first date. I figure, if the guy sucks in the sack, I won’t want him anyway, so why waste time? I kind of figured Bruce might get the wrong idea, like I was some sort of major slut or something, but I really didn’t care. I was so horny, too. I hadn’t been with anyone since Frank.
I asked him, ‘You wanna go back to my place? I’ve got some movies we can watch.’
He got my meaning immediately.”
I smiled and put my feet up on the table. This ought to be good.
“He was so nervous. He just started shaking like a leaf. I was nervous too, but I tried to stay calm because I could tell I was going to be in control and the one who would get things moving. I don’t think he was capable of even making the first move. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to miss his opportunity. I sure as hell wasn’t going to let him.
Good thing, too. If he’d chickened out on me, I would have kicked his ass to the curb. I don’t like wimpy men. I once met this guy at a bar and planned on taking him back to my place and having some wild monkey sex. But he said, ‘I don’t have sex on the first date.’
I was appalled that he had said something so stupid. I told him, ‘We are not on a date, asshole and after you said that, I wouldn’t fuck you anyway.’ What a damned idiot. Who are these men who have these kinds of rules?! Did they get them off some stupid movie or something? Or in church?
Well, Bruce and I got back to my place and I offered him a beer. I didn’t have anything else. He said he’d like one. I got us each one and we sat down on the couch and stared at the damn TV and I thought, fuck this shit. I want to fuck him.
I turned to him and smiled. He smiled back nervously and kept his eyes glued to the TV. Mmmm… Whatever.
The thing about Bruce is that he’s hotter than Wayne and that’s saying something. He’s so damned good looking but, like Wayne, he really doesn’t have a clue he is, which makes him even cuter. And he’s tall, about six-something. I don’t really know how tall he is. I just look up at him ’cause I ain’t got much choice. Because he’s so big, he
He looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him up. He stuttered, ‘I…uh…me…yeah.’
He did! He stuttered, I…uh…me…yeah.
I grinned, leaned down (so my tits were in his face) and asked for a pen. He took one out of his jacket and handed it to me. I took his hand and wrote my number across his palm.
‘That’s my cell,” I said and wrote another number. ‘And that’s my landline. Got it?’
He nodded like a good boy.
I winked and sashayed off. He called the next day.
It’s getting late and my hand is about to fall off. I better stop writing for a while.”
I smiled. I’d forgotten about all that. I got up and stretched. What now? Should I make some calls? What should I do?
I stared at the journals. I was only through one of them. I ordered a pizza and picked up the next one.
“So, Bruce called the next day and I’ve already masturbated about nine times to a fantasy of him and me in a hammock.”
Oh, good God. I did the same thing! But, however, I had made myself masturbate to take the edge off. I didn’t want to be too eager when we saw each other again. My fantasies had been less romantic, though. I had fucked her in my bed. Then on top of my car. Then on the kitchen table.
“He asked me to dinner.
I feigned indifference and said, ‘Sure, why not?’
He took me to this really nice Italian place and then he asked if I wanted to go to a movie. I stared at him. The thing with me is I always fuck on the first date. I figure, if the guy sucks in the sack, I won’t want him anyway, so why waste time? I kind of figured Bruce might get the wrong idea, like I was some sort of major slut or something, but I really didn’t care. I was so horny, too. I hadn’t been with anyone since Frank.
I asked him, ‘You wanna go back to my place? I’ve got some movies we can watch.’
He got my meaning immediately.”
I smiled and put my feet up on the table. This ought to be good.
“He was so nervous. He just started shaking like a leaf. I was nervous too, but I tried to stay calm because I could tell I was going to be in control and the one who would get things moving. I don’t think he was capable of even making the first move. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to miss his opportunity. I sure as hell wasn’t going to let him.
Good thing, too. If he’d chickened out on me, I would have kicked his ass to the curb. I don’t like wimpy men. I once met this guy at a bar and planned on taking him back to my place and having some wild monkey sex. But he said, ‘I don’t have sex on the first date.’
I was appalled that he had said something so stupid. I told him, ‘We are not on a date, asshole and after you said that, I wouldn’t fuck you anyway.’ What a damned idiot. Who are these men who have these kinds of rules?! Did they get them off some stupid movie or something? Or in church?
Well, Bruce and I got back to my place and I offered him a beer. I didn’t have anything else. He said he’d like one. I got us each one and we sat down on the couch and stared at the damn TV and I thought, fuck this shit. I want to fuck him.
I turned to him and smiled. He smiled back nervously and kept his eyes glued to the TV. Mmmm… Whatever.
The thing about Bruce is that he’s hotter than Wayne and that’s saying something. He’s so damned good looking but, like Wayne, he really doesn’t have a clue he is, which makes him even cuter. And he’s tall, about six-something. I don’t really know how tall he is. I just look up at him ’cause I ain’t got much choice. Because he’s so big, he
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