No Sex With My Wife

I haven't had sex with my wife in a year and a half. Two years? Let's see. 10 months, plus 9, plus maybe 5. Holy crap, two years!

She thinks I'm gay. For example, yesterday as a joke I hung my sweater over my back with the arms tied across my front, and she said "You're scaring me." When I asked her to clarify, she said "Everything would make sense. Elton John was married before."

Riiiight.

I'm so infuriated! Not infuriated, just incredibly resentful. It's not homophobia; I have no problem with gay guys. But I do not seem like one! Give me a break, I'm the horniest straight guy on earth! She used to bitch me out for flirting with girls, or staring, or having girls as friends (even just email friends), or chatting with a girl on instant messenger, or going to lunch with girls, or she'd check my voicemail and hear a girl leaving a message like "Hi, it's me, give me a call, bye."

I want to yell "I'm not gay, I whack off to girls 10 times a day! Literally! Or MORE! Hell, I've been fucking a girl on the side for over a year! And I'm working on more! Girls are my whole world!!"

Jesus Christ.

~

The thing is, it's that I'm not attracted to her. First off she's super nice, so I see her as innocent. I never saw her as a hot chick I wanted to fuck, and I never saw her as a sexual person. I wouldn't take her seriously if I saw her acting all sexed up. If she were super horny and were making bedroom eyes at me, rubbing her hands up and down her body, it wouldn't look hot to me, it would look like a little kid doing it. I wouldn't see it as erotic and couldn't take it seriously for a moment.

Second, I've been exposed to so much kinky shit, and am in such a perpetual state of drainedness - I mean, 7-10+ orgasms a day, can you blame me? - that normal sex bores the fuck out of me. It won't get me up. I have to see some super sick shit that excites my brain, and start whacking away, to get a semi-hard on. It can't be something that would ordinarily skip the brain and go to the loins, like a hot chick with nicely formed tits or a nice ass.

And, I'm not going to do kinky shit to her. I have NO interest in whipping her tits, fucking her in the ass, gagging her on my cock, or slapping her face.

Third, I'm halfway scared that I may have some slumbering disease like a yeast infection or chylamdia or herpes or AIDS or God knows what, from one of the chicks I've fucked on the side in the past two years. I really have to find a way out of the house and go get a test at some free STD clinic. Otherwise I'll be freaking out that I gave her something, and she'll find out, and she'll leave me. Even if she didn't leave me I'd never hear the end of it. I already don't hear the end of shit that she caught me at before we were married.

So, where does that leave us?

I Have A Dream - Part II

The History, part II

The next year, or maybe the year after, I came back one evening when I knew there was a school play. Plays were always cool because of how liberal the school was; they were really more of an art house or One Act Theater type performance. I was standing at the back of the main hall (a big ski-lodge type building), and sometime after the show started, J. had to enter, from the rear of the audience. As she waited for her cue, she saw me and beamed, giving me a tug on the belly of my striped Gap sweater as she walked past me and then down the aisle and onto the stage.

A couple years later, after high school, I looked up my friend L. - who had become her boyfriend - and drove to the city to hang out with "him." Really I wanted to be with J., but I never let on. I was with my first real girlfriend at the time, but she had been molested by her dad and his brother, and their dad, so the way this manifested itself was in hyperactive sex drive. Oh, it was great. We'd fuck 10 times a day, literally.

Anyway, somehow we got directions to her apartment, and she let us crash there one night when we needed to, when she was out. It was in Berkeley, a very hippie town, so there were like 3 other roommates and people were always coming and going.

Well, a few months later, in the summer, my girlfriend and I got into a big argument late one warm but rainy summer night. I pulled on jeans and a jacket (no shirt), stormed out and drove off. To J's apartment of course. I couldn't believe I found it in the dark, no streetlights, and it'd been a while since I was there that one time. I went up the stairs and knocked gently on the door. 2 AM. Nobody answered. I opened it - whole place was dark, I mean pitch black. Groped my way through the darkness into the kitchen. A tiny bit of light came from under one roommate's door. I knocked, knocked louder, finally opened the door slowly and said his name (I met him that time I was over). I went in, and he was passed out, stoned out of his mind, with a candle still burning. I took the candle and went to J's door. Tap tap, just quietly. "Yeah?" I opened the door and, holding the candle in front of me, went in. She was awake, sitting up in bed, facing the doorway with her back against the wall. A big disbelieving smile spread across her face. "What are you doing here?! How did you get in? Where'd you get that candle?"

We talked all night, and the candlelight with the moonlight and the cracked window moving the diaphanous white curtain so slowly and gently made it look like we were underwater. I wanted to nail her really badly but I was too chicken to make a move.

Proof That I'm Bulletproof

I knew I was right!

Masturbating Lowers Prostate Cancer Risk - Study
Wed July 16, 2003 03:21 PM ET LONDON
(Reuters) - Frequent masturbation, particularly in the 20s, helps prevent prostate cancer later in life, according to new research.Australian scientists have shown that the more men masturbate between the ages of 20 and 50, the less likely they are to develop the disease that kills more than half a million men each year.They suspect that frequent ejaculation has a protective effect against the cancer because it prevents dangerous carcinogens from building up in the gland."The more you flush the ducts out, the less there is to hang around and damage the cells that line them," Graham Giles, of the Cancer Council Victoria in Melbourne, told New Scientist magazine on Wednesday.In a survey of 1,079 prostate cancer patients and 1,259 healthy men, Giles and his team discovered that men who ejaculated more than five times a week in their 20s were a third less likely to develop an aggressive form of the disease.The findings contradict previous studies which suggested that having a variety of partners or frequent sexual activity could increase the risk of prostate cancer by 40 percent.But Giles said the earlier research concentrated on intercourse, whereas his study focused on masturbation. Infections caused by sexual activity could account for the different findings."Men have many ways of using their prostate which don't involve women or other men," he added.

More than 5 times a week? Please. I hit my fifth orgasm by the evening, every day.

Fart Lock

In July I joined an adult personals site catering to BDSM. BDSM means "bondage, dominance, and sadomasochism" or maybe "bondage, dominance, and submission;" I'm not sure. I spent hours searching through the local and semi-local girls and looked at every one. I made a big list of the ones I liked and/or thought I had a chance to hook up with. I didn't try to get in touch with the cutest ones or the ones I liked the most. I didn't want to get my hopes up and then find out they weren't interested. I'd rather at least have a dream. The untried possibility was better than the harsh reality that they weren't interested.

In November I finally emailed one of the top cutest chicks. She was cute, tan, very petite, blonde-brown hair. Not only was she one of the cutest in at least a 300 mile radius by far, she had a really freaky profile, and had put up some really kinky pictures of herself being abused. She seemed kinky, down to earth, unshockable, and upbeat. She wrote back right away, and gave mer her instant messenger name. We started messaging back and forth, and she gave me a very friendly vibe. I tried to keep up with her when she was culturally over my head, by, for example, Googling for song lyrics to make sure I knew which group she was referencing, etc.

I researched her online based on her screenname, and found her real name, address, and home phone number. I also found a personal website she had put up. On it were pictures of her being whipped, caned, urinated upon, brutalized, degraded, and humiliated. Throughout it all she had a sad-eyed smile. I really got the impression she just wanted someone to love her, and was trying to find it by offering herself up in a way that most no other girl would. That way, she could beat everyone else out for top place for the attention.

I had just misplaced my Harry Tasker cell phone so I used a pay phone to call her to set up dinner. At the restaurant I was exhausted and felt really off my game. Even so, it seemed to go well. When I said we should talk soon, etc, she said she already had my number since it popped up on her caller ID. I explained it was a pay phone and played it off by saying I was against cell phones; had one in the past but got sick of everyone placing expectations upon me of being able to reach me at any time, and what ever happened to the days where pay phones and planning were our only means?, etc. She told me to call her that Friday.

Come Friday I drove to her neighborhood and got ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, then voicemail. I left a message and drove around killing time, then called back and immediately got voicemail.

I was irked, thinking I had been blown off, so I tried to write her off and forget about her. In a couple of weeks she wrote me briefly and we started a light exchange, but eventually I said Fuck it and stopped responding. After a month or so, I was about to email her, but she wrote me back and said she had found me fascinating and couldn't stop thinking about me, and would I please give her a call or email.

I emailed her and we set something up for last night. But when it came time to call her back that day, I found myself procrastinating in any way possible. Finally I called another friend of mine and ended up chatting until it was way too late. I was just hesitant to call her, I don't know why. Sometimes I get this shyness about people who make a big deal about the beginning of a convo. Finally I did call, and it wasn't too late after all.

I drove down, picked her up (she gave me directions, not knowing I knew where she lived), and we walked around this small seaside town until we found a decent restaurant that was still open and wasn't a loud bar with a band playing. It was an uncomfortably quiet sushi joint. We had a good time, and it was fun. She had a real upbeat personality and was very laid back and down to earth. The downside was, I had gas and the whole night I was on fart lock. There wasn't any way to get away from her to cut loose. In retrospect I could have said I needed to go to the bathroom but for some reason I didn't. I mean, what if it was like super quiet and echoey, since the restaurant was super quiet, and so on.

You know how it is if you're on fart lock: You pinch it off and don't let any out, and your gastrointestinal tract goes through this cycle: first the fart swells up and tries to force itself out. Then with a rumbling noise it dissipates and slithers back up your intestines for reinforcements. In a few minutes it has regrouped in your rectum with increased strength and size. When it swells up you have to try harder to restrain it.

After that we went to this place I had been meaning to check out, a Tiki lounge, one of like two in all of southern California. Outside I parked in a dark section of the street under a sidewalk tree, and had on the perfect music - score another one for me, for intentionally having just the right mix CD in the changer - and I could tell she wanted me to kiss her. For you gamehounds out there who want to suck up the game from your big daddy, it's Playground Love by Air, the Vibraphone version, not the regular one. I flirted, played dumb (successfully) like I didn't know she wanted me to kiss her, and made eyes at her. It's all part of my method.

The place's decor was very cool, but it had the ambience and clientele of just a regular beer bar. Sleazebags and lowlifes, not Hollywood hipsters. It wasn't quiet or dark, either. But like I said, the decor was great. A terrific song came on; yes it was angst-rock-y, but it touched me.

We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?

I sat for a moment listening, hoping she wouldn't say anything. I wouldn't want her to talk over the lyrics, because if I heard them I could go download the song off the internet later and I didn't want to have that heartache that comes from knowing that something that touches you is out there but you can't find it. I could hold up a finger and say Hush a moment, let me hear this song, but that would suck too.

She was a good conversationalist, considering she had some unusual stories to tell, such as her having sex with a dog, and how she's always analyzing tits, what being made to drink urine is like ("You never forget your first piss-burp"), and how a girlfriend of hers had anal sex with a horse in San Diego.

We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?

And also like I said, I was still on fart lock and had some heavy artillery cued up and ready to rumble. It was all I could do to hold on to it when it swelled up. What an annoyance.

We ended up talking outside her place in the black moonlit street into the wee hours, then kissing, and finally went into her tiny house to snuggle and talk some more - still on fart lock. Since my wife was working and shouldn't be home til the next afternoon or evening, I fell asleep with her. The next morning it was a beautiful day out, and we layed around in bed talking some more. STILL on fart lock. I hope. Hopefully I hadn't farted in my sleep. Anyway, she sucked my dick, and had me finger her. For some reason I found her unattractive. Online and with her clothes on she was cute, but she had what definitely felt like stubble in one spot under her chin, as if instead of having her crazy-hairs waxed, she shaved them off. Naked and in the light of day she had a very small but very saggy belly. Her ass wasn't as cute as it looked online, and her tits were very saggy since she had lost some weight over the past year. Fooling around with her, I found her tits the most elastic of any breasts I'd ever messed around with. When I'd pull on her nipples, instead of feeling resistance, it felt more like I was fishing a soggy napkin out of a toilet. You know what I mean? You're lifting more and more mass but you don't feel any additional resistance from elasticity. The inside of her pussy - which she called her cunt - was loose and very muscular, felt like a big mess of ridges and lumps, much more so than most or even all of the other girls I've ever been with. She was horny but I was just really turned off. I wasn't horny, plus she was such a nice person that I didn't feel like whipping her tits, slapping her face, or gagging her with my cock, the way I might've if she were really cute but bitchy. She was too loose for me to want to have straight sex with her, and her ass wasn't attractive enough for me to want to sodomize her, and I just wasn't even feeling like I wanted a blowjob. I also didn't want to get into a big seeing-each-other-all-the-time dating thing where I HAD to be accountable for my whereabouts and stay in touch with her a lot - and have her want to visit my home, etc. Nor did I want her to get too close and then break her heart.

Eventually I went home in the afternoon and finally was able to let 'em rip in the car. Jesus.

~

I raced home - over an hour drive - showered, and got ready for my date with my mistress, which was just down the road from where this one lived. Drive home for an hour and fifteen minutes, shower, and turn right back around and drive down (another hour-plus), and drive back at the end of our night (yet another hour-and-some-odd).

Unfortunately I got caught up looking at porn. I justified it to myself by saying I wouldn't have time to go to the motel with her after dinner, and rather than being frustrated, I deserved a whack-off.

I was about 20 or 30 minutes late to dinner because of it. We were at a Mexican joint, a very popular little hole in the wall that features authentic food from Oaxaca - not your regular mexican food, not at all. All the sauces are much sweeter and many have chocolate in them. There's no salsa as we know it with "normal" Mexican food, either. It's good; we go there on special occasions. Like, my Harry Tasker birthday (eight days after my real one).

She looked great; I mean, she always does, and turns heads everywhere she goes, but she had just started going to the gym again and had lost a noticeable amount of weight; was down to 115 lbs (the lightest of any girl I'd dated for 10 or 20 years); thank god her ass and tits hadn't shrank a bit. She's very dark, a very warm cinnamony tan. Unfortunately I still had gas and was on fart lock once again. I tried to avoid eating any cheese or anything with dairy in it whatsoever.

It's nice to have the hottest chick in the place with you, but I felt sorry for the waiters and the homelier of the women working there. These poor bastards work their asses off 7 days a week for $6 an hour, and have no chance of getting a gorgeous hottie like I'm flaunting. And any one article of clothing I'm wearing - shoes, shirt, jacket, pants, etc. - any one of these costs more than these poor guys make in a week. Outside is my gleaming giant new luxury SUV with huge, expensive wheels and tires, custom leather interior, GPS, DVD player and drop-down LCD screen for the passengers, all that. I spent what for the waiters would be an entire day's wages, in gas money driving down here, one way. I feel like such an asshole for having it.

When we finished eating I claimed I wanted to go to the bathroom and wash my hands. Once in the bathroom I couldn't fart without risking shitting my pants. I hadn't timed it right, and to wait for it to regroup so I could expel it would mean taking long enough that it risked her thinking I was taking a shit, or someone walking in on me or trying the door, etc.

After dinner she wanted to go to a motel, and it took easily an hour of driving around trying to find a cheap one. I must have gone into five of them asking how much for two hours, and since none of the ones with vacancy in that part of town were hooker motels, they didn't offer an hourly rate and turned up their noses at the idea.

I used the time to bring up the subject of why she wants to be in charge all the time, in bed. Or at least, doesn't always do what I want. It wasn't a high pressure conversation; I'm not a pig. She pointed out - rightfully - that our sexual relationship is more 50/50. I told her I wanted to be in control 100%, at least some of the time. Maybe we could alternate. Secretly I actually didn't like the idea of alternating, and was hoping I'd never have to honor my half of it, or would be able to get out of it if the time came. Anyway, she asked what I wanted to do differently that we don't do now. Of course there are some things I want to do that we currently don't, but I was taking it one step at a time so I told her, "Nothing, I just want to do what we do now, with me in charge." She got the message though and eventually she agreed to try it.

I went into motel after motel, and finally found one where I managed to talk the Indian night shift guy down from $75 to $50 cash, for all night no less. I had to do a whole song and dance. I was stressing out since I knew my wife would be home for sure when I got back, I mean it was already 10:30 or 11 pm, but I knew I'd get out of it.

Inside, it was a non-smoking room. Nice. Right off the bat, on goes the TV, off goes the sound, and the lights in the room. It's the only way to get the room dark enough. Clothes on the bedside lampshade don't obscure the light enough, and get burnt or melt. Try explaining that to the wife. I set up my mp3 player with my tiny portable speakers and turned on my non-distracting background chillout mix. At first I gave her a massage. The muscles of her back and her calves were sore, and her pained moans as she submitted to it, gave me a raging hard-on. When I got to her calves, I was rock hard, and massaged her with one hand, holding her down with the other as she squirmed, groaning and moaning in pain and pleasure.

Sex was quite possibly the best ever. I didn't change our repertoire much at all, I just had her do pretty much what I wanted, when I wanted it, and put her in the positions I wanted. I had her give me oral sex and suck my balls repeatedly, for more than just a moment each time (as it was in the past), and I gave her explicit instructions and lots of encouragement. She did a great job of following instructions, which turned me on in itself. It got me so hard, despite having rubbed one out a couple of hours earlier, that I pounded her for what seemed like an eternity in doggystyle while I had her reach back pulling her butt cheeks open. Even my orgasm was bigger and better than usual. It felt great to be a man, shooting a big load like that.

When it was over, she was excited and happy, and told me she enjoyed it a lot and that I was getting better and more athletic than ever. I took a shower while she lay there semi-napping, and since the shower had a fan that seemed to be a true exhaust fan sucking air out of the bathroom and into the ceiling, I cut loose with a few. Whew.

On the way home I could finally let go. I felt relief and a mild sense of accomplishment as I raced home farting at 3:30 a.m. Two dates out of the way and I could finally relax. Now to make up an excuse and get myself out of trouble with the wife. Possible drama, but should be a piece of cake.

Fear Factor part II

Shit's heatin' up with this Fear Factor chick.

In case you missed the earlier episode, I've been emailing back and forth with this 25 year old chick who says,

I love watching Fear Factor. I'm looking for a guy who would make me do much of the degrading and humiliating feats as seen on the show. Maybe even kicked up some.

Ideal Person:A dominant male with a sick and twisted mind. Someone who will not take no for an answer and enjoys seeing someone degraded severely. Someone who enjoys tears of humiliation.

First off I just noticed her Yahoo profile says she's 23 and in a long term relationship, when her profile on an adult personals site says she's 25 and single.

Second, I asked her, "Do you want to talk on the phone?" in my last email. In last night's response she wrote me a long, detailed email explaining that she wants me to put live frogs in her pussy and rectum and duct tape her shut. She gave me her Yahoo messenger ID, but didn't give me her phone number.

I responded with a really kinked-up reply as sick or sicker than the fantasy she related, and asked her again for her number and whether she wants to meet for coffee next week.

You never know, it could be a guy, or it could be a chick getting off on the emails but not wanting to meet in person, let alone do any of that stuff.

But we'll see.

~

I did discover that medical leeches are expensive, but mealworms can be bought literally by the thousand.


.

Dreamworld

Man. I feel as though I'm in a dreamworld. I stay up for like 14, 16 hours straight on the computer. I go to sleep in the late morning and get up in the late afternoon, or I push myself and stay up until the afternoon, then wake up at 10 pm or midnight.

I feel like I'm far, far away from my old life. It's a dim memory. And the whole time I'm sleeping it's fitful, paranoid that when my wife is using the computer, I forgot to clear my browse history or my Open/Save As history, or my Realplayer history, or my Windows Media Player History, or my Recent Documents, or I left Morpheus running in the taskbar, or a system popup will come up that Morpheus had an error writing to the file,
[xXx] Anal Destruction 2 - CD1 - ass pussy fucking double penetration lolita BDSM sado whipped whipping tits torture caning shemale tranny zoo beast beastiality (1).mpeg

Or worse - as if that were possible - that her family comes over again, and sees it.


How the hell can I get my life back?

Fear Factor

What I was researching was where to buy bugs. Creepy crawlies. Worms. Cow guts and eyeballs. Did you guess right? Maybe you did after all. Keep reading.

I've started emailing back and forth with this skinny 25 year old chick I met online. She wants me to make her do Fear Factor type stuff. To be specific, from last night's email:

I like the idea of being forced to give deep head with my hands tied, that certainly can be part of it. What else interests me in fear factor are how the girls are forced to do and eat disgusting things. Or like lie in a pit of insects.

Something of that nature, perhaps finding ways to force me to do so, to complete the tasks. I have some ideas on that but I'd like to know what you think.

Fuck yeah I'll let you know what I think, you perverted little freak! Well, not everything. The part I'll let you know about is what I was researching: blended cockroachs and fishheads, bondage and discipline, maggots, humiliation and degradation.

The part I won't tell her about is how I feel so sorry for her. She wants

"A dominant male with a sick and twisted mind. Someone who will not take no for an answer and enjoys seeing someone degraded severely. Someone who enjoys tears of humiliation. a guy who will get off on humiliating me to the point of tears." .

You poor thing. I still want to slap your face and your tits, and fuck your throat and your ass, but, you poor thing. I even feel conflicted about killing the cockroaches and mealworms and night crawlers I'm going to have to blend up or make her eat. I wish there were a way I could still fuck her without using live bugs and worms. I hope they don't suffer when they die.

Did you guess right?

I finally did it.

Twice. It's like, every time I get caught up surfing porn for hour after hour (which is basically every night), I get sidetracked. I start on one site and want to get every good movie or picture gallery off that page, but when I open up individual galleries, I usually see that I can find a back door into that site, and find more from the same company or of the same genre. Or, I get a pop-up window leading me to another porn directory site, and see something REALLY good there, so I start going off into that direction. Meanwhile in the back of my head it's bugging me that I have more and more windows open - usually it goes up toward about 40 windows - and am getting further and further behind.

Then when the wife comes downstairs I have to close all the precious windows; well, I can't do that - how wasteful that would be to squander all that good porn! So, I open a text file, cut and paste the URLs into a big list, add notes as needed, and save it. Then I do the ritual:

Tools, Internet Options, Delete Cookies, Delete Files, Clear History, OK

Open History and check. Half the time it doesn't clear everything.
Check the URL bar by typing in the beginnings of porn site names to see whether it autocompletes. About a third of the time it doesn't clear everything.

Go into Windows Explorer, then go to C:\Documents and Settings\Default User\Local Settings\History and delete everything

Then go into C:\Documents and Settings\default default\Local Settings\Temporary Internet Files and delete whatever's in there. About a third of the time, everything wasn't cleared, so you have to delete everything manually.

Start, Settings, Taskbar and Start Menu, Start Menu, Customize, Clear, OK, OK.

In Internet Explorer, do File, Save As, and see where it tries to save the web page. To a porn folder? Time to either rename the folder (even just add a 2 after the name) so the OS can't find it any more when someone else goes to save a page, or, browse to your default folder (My Documents) and save a page there, then delete that - and if you don't want evidence of that page in your recent documents, time to empty the recycle bin, then another Start, Settings, Taskbar and Start Menu, Start Menu, Customize, Clear, OK, OK.

Now right click on an image. Where's that try to get saved to? Same deal.

And finally try it for a link, try to Save Target As, and check that out and resolve as appropriate.

Did you use Realplayer? Tools, Preferences, General, Clear History, OK

Check whatever mpeg player you use too. Winamp? Windows Media Player? About half the time they remember what the last file you viewed was. Better play an MP3, then close it. And check your library and Remove any porn video files from Library.

Fuckin' A!




Well, the other night I actually got caught up and scored all the porn windows open, I mean it was a ton of them, it was the entire toolbar at the bottom of the screen, filled with windows, three lines high! Must've been like 45 windows. I didn't know what to do with myself. I think I actually went upstairs and tried to spend time with the wife in bed, but I can't remember.

I did it again the other night, and really have just done it again a third time today.

Today I browsed less, and researched more. Granted, I got sidetracked in a big way, but I got caught back up, and I sorted porn for an hour or more. I'll write more later, about what I was researching. Two guesses. Hell, you know my by now. One guess.

Mexican Pizza

The other night it was my wife's friend/ex-coworker's birthday party. These people are Mexican-Americans, the kind who were born and raised here and speak English like anyone else, but don't know what Seinfeld is and never saw 16 Candles, Better Off Dead, or Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, and really love Warner Brothers characters like Tweety Bird and Taz.

We're friends with her and her husband and hang out once in a great while, but it's hard to relate comfortably to people so different.

They had it at a small local town, maybe 15 minutes away. I was thinking to myself, this town is ideal for fucking hot latin chicks. First off it's economically depressed, compared to, you know, me. I could roll in in my shiny new Lincoln Navigator with my big shiny rims and my TV and my stereo... a white guy can really clean up in that kind of atmosphere, especially a rich one. The other reason I was thinking it might be a cool place to scam on chicks is that it's so close to home, yet no-one I'd bang would ever be found in my part of my town, because that place like a Little Mexico, I mean, it's its own community and it's totally encapsulated. A great many people know each other or know someone who knows the other person there, and don't know many people in the more white towns. Then again, that might be bad. Especially since tons of people there know our friends, that couple. Hmm.

Her birthday party/dinner was in a small Round Table Pizza. Naturally I was one of two white guys there. It's a funny thing about white guys in Mexican families: now, you take a black person and stick them in a predominantly white high school, and on the first day of school s/he will be looking at the other couple black kids going "Well I guess that's who I'll be hanging out with the next four years." But white guys in Mexican families, pretty much they ignore each other for some reason. He didn't give me the time of day and I had no interest in him. Maybe we serve no purpose to each other. Maybe it's a primal thing Mother Nature programmed in, for interracial relationships: we know we're in competition so we keep our distance. We're both running the same racket.

Now, there are multiple types of Mexican girls. These ones were the apple body type, which is not my favorite. Short, skinny legs; wide, flat ass; plump body with an inescapable gut; really less of a gut than an entire torso fat barrel thing going on. Their faces are usually similar too; show me a neck-up lineup and I'll pick the apple bodies every time.

There was one there who was pretty cute. She could have been 17 or 18 but then she could have been 24. Her tits were SO big - and round - it was amazing. I compared them to her head and each one was definitely very similar in size to her cranium.

Her mom was the sister of my wife's friend's husband. She was my age or older and had the complete road whore/Harley/crank look to her: missing the upper corner teeth on each side of her mouth, one eye and one eyelid not pointing quite the same direction and a little slower to respond than the other, '80's hairdo, worn-out skin on her face, and jerky head movements. I just knew she'd have a blurry old blue tattoo either on her hand, her ring finger, or her lower arm. Still, she had started life as a cute girl and still had some of her looks. I don't know that I could even fuck her, I mean literally I might not be able to once I saw that big wide flat ass, but I could get a blow job for sure. Girls like her are usually kind of submissive and eager to please, so I should have an easy time getting her to get on her knees, open her mouth, and stick her tongue out so I could shoot a load on it.

She looked at me a few times and I gave her the look. She'd be very easy to get for sure. I gave her the eye a few more times that evening to plant - heck, with a girl like this it's planting and watering - the seed. You never know. I had a hook lined up - when either one of us left before the other one, if I could get my wife a few feet away so she couldn't hear, I was going to say, "It's very easy to see where your daughters get their good looks from." with my devilish smile - a surefire legs-opener - but never got to use it.

~

I still think about mall girl a lot. Does she think I'm older than 27? Does she think I'm too old? Does she know I'm attracted to her? Do I have the upper hand or does she? Would she cheat on her boyfriend? Is he a piece of shit or is he an ok guy? If he is an ok guy, will I be damaging their relationship if I get her to fuck me?

Under The Bridge

Under the bridge downtown
Is where I drew some blood
Under the bridge downtown
I could not get enough
Under the bridge downtown
Forgot about my love
Under the bridge downtown
I gave my life away

Catastrophe - I'm back, bitches!

My hard drive failed. Thank god it wasn't the new 400 gig one with most of my porn collection on it. It was the 160 gig one that came with my PC. Still, it had a bunch of gigs' worth of porn on it, plus a ton of my personal files, and of course, the computer was down for a month while a friend of mine who works at Microsoft was recovering my data.

I could have just bought another hard drive and a copy of Windows XP and been up and running, but I am too cheap for that. It's my weakness. One of them.

Being offline these past few weeks, really caused me to do a lot more with my life. In a way even though I love, crave, and missed my porn, I was dreading having the computer work again. I knew I'd be stuck, up all night, harvesting porn and whacking off. Sure enough, it's 7:00 a.m., and I just spent 13 hours straight doing just that.

~

It's funny; sometimes when I am on a mission, collecting one particular type of porn or grabbing every single file in a series, etc, I get caught up in this altered state, so much so that I don't even realize it. Finally when I have yet another orgasm, it hits me that I was in a dream state. For example, I just spent several hours, not collecting good stuff, but hitting up local women on this bondage and sadomasochism personals site. I must have emailed... let me see. Ok, I emailed 24 people. 24! That is a lot of emails. When I was in the dreamworld, I was horny, so I was willing to do any and every god damn thing needed to fuck one of these crazy bitches. But now that I've just gotten off, the whole process of concocting emails and calling her up and working it during the call, and meeting her and being "on," and going to the motel, and putting her through the paces, it all seems like such a big ordeal.

I Have A Dream - Part I

You know how in the movie Girl With A Pearl Earring, they used an actress (Scarlett Johansson) who looked like the painting?

Last night I dreamt there was another famous historical person, and when they made a movie about "it," I thought to myself, "They ought to use J., she looks exactly like her!"

The History, part I

J. was a girl I knew in high school. Half Irish, half Portuguese. She was so unusually put together: her skin was pale but tan, like very light cocoa powder. It looked like she had foundation on all the time. A color I'd never seen before, nor since. That's also true for her hair: black, and I mean jet black. Not dark brown, not black like a Japanese person, I'm talking India ink. When she was a freshman she was into sort of a rudimentary melange of the whole "alternative" style thing mixed with British "mod", so that meant dyeing your hair black as tar (or bleaching it crispy white). Well, her hair looked dyed, but it wasn't.

One of her cutest features was the gap between her front teeth. Nice body, but I don't really remember it from high school.

We went to a very liberal private high school, so you didn't really have to attend classes or be someplace at a specific time. Some people were boarding students (like her; her family lived about an hour away) and some were day students (I lived about an hour away as well but hated the idea of living at school). It was a lot like a college campus.

Anyway, I started hanging out around her when we were usually alone; I could just go up to her room, or if I saw her sort of hanging out at the Commons we'd spend time together. She seemed to like me. For example, one afternoon we dyed my hair purple with temporary dye - just having her run her fingers through my hair, just she and I in a bathroom, and having her pay attention to me... well, it seemed like she wouldn't have done that with just anybody from school. But I could never tell whether she really liked me because I sensed a sort of... social butterflyness about her. Such as, she liked to be close to cool people, but not too close. Or rather I guess... exclusively close?

After the first two years of high school there I left. I didn't make a big production out of it; in fact, I didn't even tell anyone, including my friends, that I wasn't coming back the next year. I just didn't show up. I also didn't tell J.

I wanted to go back to public school, but why is a different story.

Monkeys Love Porn Too

A new study found that male monkeys will give up their juice rewards in order to ogle pictures of female monkeys' bottoms. The way the experiment was set up, the act is akin to paying for the images, the researchers say.

The rhesus macaque monkeys also splurged on photos of top-dog counterparts, the high-ranking primates. That's like you or I buying People magazine.

The research, which will be detailed in the March issue of Current Biology, gets more interesting.

The scientists actually had to pay these guys, in the form of extra juice, to get them to look at images of lower-ranking monkeys.

Curiously, the monkeys in the test hadn't had any direct physical contact with the monkeys in the photos, so they didn't have personal experience with who was hot and who was not.

"So, somehow, they are getting this information by observation -- by seeing other individuals interact," said Michael Platt of the Duke University Medical Center.

Next, Platt and his colleagues want to see how people will perform in a similar experiment.

Read the full story here.