Meeting R

“You have a new message from R” beeped the phone. 

I hadn’t communicated with her for more than a year. 

She worked shifts in the hospital and had odd hours and odd weeks. I was busy with my own work, and opportunity was few and far in between. She was, by her own admission, lonely, and needed company during her off days. She was separated from her husband, who was in jail, not for the first time.

The other reason I didn’t keep in touch with her was her simplicity. While she professed to be careful, she had a simple mind. Conversation topics were rather limited, and in some sense superficial. She said she enjoyed my company because I  made her laugh a lot. And also because I didn’t take liberties. Well, at least not until one of the few evenings, when she invited me to her place.

It was after a quiet meal at Raffle Marina, where we ate salads, chatted, and had a couple of helpings of wine. She invited me to look at her place when I sent her back. Being “single”, the place was not well-maintained. She brought me to her room. Sitting on the platform bed, because there was nowhere else to sit, we chatted a bit. She then excused herself to go to the washroom.

She came out in a white cotton nightshirt with a row of buttons in front. I could tell, from the 2 pointed protrusions on the stretched material at her chest, that she was quite bare beneath the nightshirt.

She lied down on one side of the bed and put her hands behind her head. We continued to chat, and I had a bit of a problem trying to avoid looking at her ample breasts, which rose and fall when she breathed, and which jiggled like a jelly when she giggled. And she giggled a lot, which made breathing difficult for me at times.

I lied down beside her and mirrored her posture, by putting my hands behind my head. Soon enough, it appeared that she wasn’t satisfied with the status quo. She turned her body, and pushed her back and especially her soft, but firm buttocks (a result of her frequent swimming) against me.  I reciprocated by turning towards her and held her around the waist. Unable to restrain myself, my hands moved up to her breasts, alternating between gentle squeezing, and playing with her nipples. Her buttocks must have felt my hidden member, which was already rock hard and throbbing, and straining itself through at 3 layers of fabric towards the object of desire.

She moan lightly, and let my hands wandered around for a while, and declared that I got her all horny. She turned to face me, sat up and undo the buttons to reveal a sight to behold. I must have held my breath and turned blue, or something. She looked at me, giggled, and proceeded to undo my belt, and zip.

With the restraints gone, she went down on me, while I continued to feel my way around whichever parts of the body my hands could reach. Satisfied with her work, she sat on me and rode me. It must be good for her as well, as I watched her squirm and twist in one direction to another. Up and Down. Slow and Fast. To prolong the end, I focused my attention on where my hands, which were having a time of their life massaging the soft and supple breasts.

I felt the beginning of the end approaching, and not wanting to climax too soon, I told her I wanted to be on top.

(to be continued….)

The Plight of Masseurs

I felt relatively lethargic yesterday. The shoulder felt relatively stiff, coupled with aches here and there, the result of golfing the day before, in a tough, undulating course, where buggies were restricted to track. My lack of practice, and hence accuracy showed, and most shots ended up furthest away from the track. 

 With a little time to spare in the late afternoon, I wandered into one of the spas for a massage.

The massage was excellent. I dozed of at some stage, and the masseur was intelligent enough to not interupt the rest, which I needed so much. Work had been stressful, and the toll, of scrambling for an apartment to move to, tired me out considerably.

The first interruption was when I was told to turn over, after work on my back, my hands and legs were done. The masseur started being a little cheeky. That woke me and my little member up somewhat. She popped the question about special.

Why not, was my my answer.

She peeled of her clothing, and I discovered how well endowed she was – at least a D cup. She did all the right things to keep me aroused, capped my member with the required protection, and proceeded to ride me well and good.

I had a good feel and taste of the breasts, and was doubly pleased to discover that they were not fakes. The action didn’t last long before I shot my load. With the time available, she gave me a facial massage and more back rubs.

 She asked if I knew of other joints, and mentioned a few that I didn’t. When I got curious with the line of questioning, she explained that their boss wasn’t been fair to them, and a group of them was thinking of jumping ship.

The deal sounded something like this – they get $10 for every customer. The boss wanted to retain $300 a month to renovate the current place. Her view was that capital expenditure was the owner’s problem and as workers, they shouldn’t be bearing such cost, especially since they were not given any basic salary to begin with.

After all, the place charged $1 per minute per customer and was taking the lion share of the earnings. The boss sort of threatened to employ masseurs from China, where he only needed to pay them only $5 per customer, if they didn’t agree with the new deal.

Their dilemna led them to consider working for a new establishment, which led me to think if there was a business opportunity here – something like a collective and collaborative arrangement. Perhaps a little like what Henry Winkler and Dan Ackroyd did in “The Night Shift” for hookers.

Types of Sex…

Unoriginal. I read it somewhere, and saved the contents in my hard disk.

I’m living on the 3rd and 5th kind…. 

Types of Sex

Recent research shows that there are 7 kinds of sex:

The 1st kind of sex is called: Smurf Sex.

This kind of sex happens when you first meet someone and you both have sex until you are blue in the face.

The 2nd kind of sex is called: Kitchen Sex.

This is when you have been with your partner for a short time and you are so horny you will have sex anywhere, even in the kitchen.

The 3rd kind of sex is called: Bedroom Sex.

This is when you have been with your partner for a long time. Your sex has gotten routine and you usually have sex only in your bedroom.

The 4th kind of sex is called: Hallway Sex.

is is when you have been with your partner for too long. When you pass each other in the hallway you both say “screw you.”

The 5th kind of sex is called: Catholic Sex,

This means you get Nun in the morning, Nun in the afternoon and Nun at night.

The 6th kind is called Courtroom Sex:

This is when you cannot stand your husband any more. He takes you to court and screws you in front of everyone.

And last, but not least, the 7th kind of sex is called: Social
Security Sex. You get a little from time-to-time, but not enough to live on.

Making Out in the Car (II)

It was a cold and wet evening. The rain had stopped, and the car air cond, which was turned up 3 notches, because I was feeling hot, caused all the glasses to be fogged from the outside.

Inside the car, she guided my hand down her tummy, where I discovered her unbuttoned and unzipped jeans. She did tell me earlier that she wasn’t correctly dressed to meet up. I had wondered what she meant, attributing the comment to a lady’s thing.

Playfully, my hand and fingers spent some time wandering around the tummy area. I realised that she was actually a little on the flabby side. Further down south, before I reached the critical zone, I fingers felt pricky short hair, pretty much how my chin would feel like after a day or two without shaving.

She gasped as the middle finger searched, felt the whole area to be wet, and then found the magic button, the clit. I continued to kiss her on her mouth, while my fingers went to work, rubbing the clit, varying the speed and the pressure, always mindful not to be doing it too hard.

She was obviously enjoying everything that I was giving. Soon, she started squirming and her moans grew louder. There was a short pause, like the calm before the storm. Then she twisted even more rigorously, as I felt a tremour through her body. All this time, my finger kept at doing what it was doing, staying connected with the sensitive button, despite the twisting and turning of the body.

She asked me to stopped, and across the obstacle between our seats in the car, she placed her head on my left shoulder and went limp. After some time, her breathing returned to normal.  Her hand undid my zip, and took out the throbbing, and so far neglected, member. The lady went down on me, and for the next 5 minutes or so, i just sat back and enjoyed what was on offer.

Endof Part II

Making Out In The Car (1)

It started rather innocently.

I knew her in 2005, and we chatted on and off on the msn. There was never any pressure to initiate chat, even when we see each other logged on. We’d neither seen nor heard each other in the past 2 years.

Which made what happened yesterday a big surprise.

During the chat, we stumbled into a topic where I was totally ignorant about – Lingerie. She was describing some of the finer points of this kind of attire.

Then things got a little suggestive.

Then it dawned upon us that we’ve never met.

One thing led to another. I bought red wine, the kind that didn’t need a cork opener. We met at a carpark. She parked hers and we took my car, and I drove it to a remote place in Singapore.

We talked for a while before she commented suddenly how my hands were so much bigger than hers. With that she initiated physical contact. Holding my hand for a while, she brought it to and brushed it lightly against her lips.

I needed no further encouragement.

We kissed.

And we kissed.

And we kissed some more.

I was starting to have difficulty with where to put my hands. They wandered to my favourite part of the body. Through the soft material, my right hand had the first touch of the equally soft breast. My senses heightened when I realised how generous the size of her breast was. Her moans grew louder as I shifted my attention from one mound to the other.

My own urge rose, and while slipping our tongues into each other’s mouth, I focussed my hands on unbuttoning her blouse. Alas, my lack of practice, and the very tiny buttons made progress slow, which she quickly corrected by helping out.

Taking my time, I caressed her through the material of the bra, again alternating my attention on one, then the other. I felt her breathing quickened. I shifted my hand and felt the smooth and silky skin on the uncovered parts of the desirable flesh. I couldn’t help it any longer, I uncovered more of her breast, and as gently as I knew how, I went to work on one of them with my mouth, sucking the nipple, and occassionally flicking it with my tongue. At the same time, my hand gave the other the due attention required….

 endof Part I