Calliope
03-19-2007, 10:30 PM
So today's date was Victor, he sent some seriously sweet-talking emails and looked sorta Omar Sharif in his attached photo.
We met at the book store and moved next door to the trendy little cafe. He seemed nervous and looked haplessly unstylish; I was kinda writing him off.
Took a walk through town and, at his suggestion, sat on a bench in the park. That was his first right move. Conversation got better from there.
What's he do for "a living"? Professional gambler! How totally on the edge. More radical life than mine - alright!
He asked some personal questions - what type of sex did I expect, and so on, which I answered. "That's cool by me!" He's looking more animated now.
Then I ask him: Why choose a TS? He fielded that gracefully, and credibly: "Women always want all this stuff in return."
Back home, a drink first and my 101 Strings playlist. I gave him a backrub; was he ever enraptured! What moaning and sighing, what appreciation. Now I'm really starting to dig this hairy person.
Kissing, cuddling, fondling ("Is that your real hair?"; "Sure the hell is!") - ooh, isn't this nice. I sure feel like a girl looking for trouble. Lovely feeling, that. Well, eventually, it's time to do the deed.
Wow, that went very smoothly! I sure felt like the captain of the cruise. And was he ever gentle, burbling soft encouragments, grateful as all get-out to be getting what I wanted to give.
So, yes, down the hatch and - oh, my! - what puppy-eyed cooing from him. Yeh, I guess I put out but good. Ummm, that does make me feel on top of things, total control. Legitimized.
Then he insists he buy us dinner - anywhere I want, so we go to the nearby gourmet pizza joint, which is cool and he's beaming like a birthday boy, making with that rock trivia I love so.
OK, what a gent. I tell, "You're free to email again and you're free not to, you do what ya want."
And back to our regular programming.
Yummm!
We met at the book store and moved next door to the trendy little cafe. He seemed nervous and looked haplessly unstylish; I was kinda writing him off.
Took a walk through town and, at his suggestion, sat on a bench in the park. That was his first right move. Conversation got better from there.
What's he do for "a living"? Professional gambler! How totally on the edge. More radical life than mine - alright!
He asked some personal questions - what type of sex did I expect, and so on, which I answered. "That's cool by me!" He's looking more animated now.
Then I ask him: Why choose a TS? He fielded that gracefully, and credibly: "Women always want all this stuff in return."
Back home, a drink first and my 101 Strings playlist. I gave him a backrub; was he ever enraptured! What moaning and sighing, what appreciation. Now I'm really starting to dig this hairy person.
Kissing, cuddling, fondling ("Is that your real hair?"; "Sure the hell is!") - ooh, isn't this nice. I sure feel like a girl looking for trouble. Lovely feeling, that. Well, eventually, it's time to do the deed.
Wow, that went very smoothly! I sure felt like the captain of the cruise. And was he ever gentle, burbling soft encouragments, grateful as all get-out to be getting what I wanted to give.
So, yes, down the hatch and - oh, my! - what puppy-eyed cooing from him. Yeh, I guess I put out but good. Ummm, that does make me feel on top of things, total control. Legitimized.
Then he insists he buy us dinner - anywhere I want, so we go to the nearby gourmet pizza joint, which is cool and he's beaming like a birthday boy, making with that rock trivia I love so.
OK, what a gent. I tell, "You're free to email again and you're free not to, you do what ya want."
And back to our regular programming.
Yummm!