Want to see my current favorite place to find pictures of pretty naked people? Here it is: Chagrin.
Via another favorite, Male Submission Art (at some point or another).
Montreal, Part I
A couple of weeks ago when Belle was out of town, I found myself laying in bed with my imagination running wild. I had just woken up and wasn’t fully awake. As I lay there in that groggy state, I allowed an actual event – a trip we took together several years ago – to merge with fantasies being produced by my hormone-soaked brain. The vividness with which this tale spun out in my head was remarkable. Before I lost any of the detail and texture, I tried to commit as much of it as possible to memory.
In the distant past, I tried my hand at fiction. Once or twice, even erotic fiction. That, however, was long ago. What’s presented here is my first stab at anything of this sort in close to 20 years. It may be good, or it may not. You may like it, or you may not.
I think it’s important to point out at this juncture that none of the things related here actually happened. Also, I’m not saying by writing this out that I want any or all of these things to happen to me. This is porn. Porn is fantasy. There are elements of what’s described here that I find extremely arousing. However, at it’s best, porn is a cartoon-like caricature of real life. Maybe that’s the difference between “erotic” and “porn”. Erotic is closer to possible while porn is obviously not. Who knows? In any event, here’s my first stab at it. Please feel free to let me have it in the comments.
Yay, enthusiasm!
So I wrote the preceding post before talking to my Belle Fille. Now, I feel 180% better.
I’m still new to all this and I’m not used to carrying around all these hormones. I think my previous funk was from losing the physical closeness of she who keeps my key. Without her near me, all my energy and pent up frustration just curdled. Once I heard her voice though, it was like the sun shone down upon me. Now I’m excited again and the guys who’s sites left me angry and nonplussed earlier are humorous and entertaining again. Most of that shit’s still not my cup of tea, but who am I to judge what gets them off? March forward to happiness, my sexually deprived brethren!
I told Belle how I was surfing for porn last night but since I wasn’t able to actually do anything to myself it ended up being unfulfilling and actually somewhat mesmerizing in the way documentaries about animal mating habits on the Discovery channel are. She told me to stop torturing myself because she’d being doing plenty of that herself tomorrow night. Oh, that felt good! She also told me that she spent the day thinking about how I looked in the shower and what a great ass she thinks I have and how she wanted to bite it (take note: ass biting sends me over the fucking moon). Suddenly I had a vision of her telling me to get in the shower, lather up, and start stroking myself while she watched though the glass door and fingered herself or, even better, used the sweet little dildo I got her for when I was otherwise detained. (Imagine me now looking like Homer Simpson thinking about donuts: mouth open, tongue lolling out, drool.)
Oh god…there’s that wave of desire building up in me again. Except now it has a focus: Belle. As long as all those tornadoes of testosterone are crashing up against her, it’s fucking great. Absent her, they’re left to batter against my own doubts and insecurities. I so needed her tonight and she gave me just what I was missing. Thanks, Belle. See you tomorrow night. XO