I had had a suitcase open, available for random thoughts to be packed; tossed in on whim. I put in all the rope. I threw in the flogger; we’d not yet used it.  Of course the two njoy toys.  Of course.  And the Magic Wand.  Then some clothes.  Ended up being both more and less than I needed.

I was packed.  I checked in online and paid for my one (!) checked bag.  I was ready.  I was excited.  I hadn’t traveled in a while, and despite the airport bullshit and the sitting squished in a tiny space, I was looking forward to going to Chicago.  I had been only one time before, eleven years prior when my step-sister lived in Lafayette, Indiana.

After she and her boyfriend graduated from UC Davis, they moved to Indiana, where he had been accepted into a Ph.D. program in chemistry.  The three of them – Jay had a son, Little Jay, to whom my step-sister had been a mother since he was four – moved to the Midwest.  It was while living there that they got married, and had two daughters.

It was when she was pregnant with her elder daughter that I visited.  I stayed for just a few days; my family knows the fine art of the short and not-too-too-bitter visit.  While there I went to [Step-Sister's] baby shower.  It was a lot of very nice, but very Midwest, white women.  Too tan, hair too “done.”  Makeup.  I did not feel in place in any way.

We also went to Oak Park, Illinois, where Frank Lloyd Wright had lived and designed quite a few houses in the neighborhood.  We went through the full tour.  She had never heard of Frank Lloyd Wright, which I thought was so odd considering we’d lived in the same household for some years.  But there were just a few things that had never occurred to her.  There are many things about chemistry that don’t occur to me, and that’s what she knows, so I guess we both have our areas of interest.

I took BART to the airport, the sky train to the terminal, and queued up to drop off my checked baggage.  I had trouble figuring out the machine where I checked in, and figuring out which of the several numbers on the boarding pass I was to enter to get to my records.  I finally did it, dropped off my luggage, and then met Jules Verne.

Jules Verne had offered to take care of Isis when I was gone.  He has a big yard in the Oakland hills that Isis would love, and he misses having a dog.  He has a dog, only half of the year.  His ex-girlfriend had sued for joint custody of the dog.  That is such the problem of people with money.  He misses his dog when he’s not around so he volunteered to care for Isis whenever I was gone.

I met him in a restaurant just past security.  He was drinking a mimosa and eating French toast.  Yum.  He ordered me a drink.  Jules Verne and I drink together.  That is one of the many things I like about fucking him.  He’s a drinker.  I’m a drinker.  It’s fun to drink together and fuck in all sorts of dirty, nasty ways.  It’s fun hanging out with him.

He’s young, but I forget because we’re hanging out, having fun.  The conversation is usually about sex and flirty and fun.  He’s so young that I would not want to be around him and his friends.  I’d be annoyed and embarrassed and sorry I was fucking him.  He likes dance music.  He likes to get girls drunk and fuck them in the club bathrooms.  He’s been kicked out for such activity since I’ve known him.

We got a few mimosas.  I helped him eat his French toast.  I gave him my house keys.  I told him where to find things that Isis would need.  I know she’s a good dog, so I wasn’t worried that much.  And I trusted him.

I ran to my gate and got on the plane just after they called out my name over the speakers.  I had a middle seat, which I knew, and in which I wanted to sit for as short time as possible.  I sat between two men, aged at opposite ends of their third decades.  I realized on that flight that there is nothing that is safe for others to look at on my computer without explanation.  My wallpaper is from Kink.com.  My blog is called Random Rim Jobs.

The story I was editing had something along the lines of, “OH FUCK, I LOVE TO  CUM, AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH.”  It was in all caps, and the vulgar spelling – which I would have changed to C-O-M-E – made it clear even at a glance that it was sexual.  I mostly listened to podcasts and slept.  Out of fear I’d not get up on time, I didn’t go to sleep at all the night before.

After a blissfully uneventful flight I met the Viking in the baggage claim area.  It is so fucking pleasant to look at someone and know he is genuinely happy to see me.  That makes me so happy.

We took the train into the city.  Compared to BART and Muni, the L’s stations are small.  They also have a lot of narrow stairways.  I feel for people in wheelchairs.  My goal will be to stay out of a wheelchair while in Chicago.

After going to our hotel room and freshening up, we went to a tasty Thai restaurant that interestingly didn’t serve any pork.  The menu did not otherwise appear to be Muslim, but maybe it was.  With bellies full of food we went to our room and slept for about ten hours.  I can sleep, it’s one of my specialties.

We had a good time the next day.

[To be continued.]

I swear.  True story.

I know this is supposed to be a “sex” blog, but though I usually have sex-related items, I did post a recipe way back when.

I love wieners, as should be pretty damn obvious by now.  But for 15 years I had a wiener dog, a miniature dachshund named Otter.  I first saw her when my mother brought her home as a little puppy.  I saw her for the first time and fell instantly in love.

How could I not have fallen in love? She was a tiny black and tan (not red, like this one) puppy with soft-as-velvet floppy years.  And there’s just something about baby animal; baby anything is cute.  Yes, even baby cockroaches (well, compared to their parents).

So I raised a puppy, little Otter.  I had her when I met the Ex.  The Ex really liked her.  He made up nicknames for her, including ‘Tunia, which was short for Petunia.  He sung songs to her.  She slept in bed with us, between us.  She knew to get out of the way when it was “Mama-Papa Time,” but otherwise she was always right there with us.

She was a good dog.  I know this sounds incredibly silly, but Otter taught me what love was.  She loved me no matter what, including through some neglectful times when she was left home alone for several hours.

I could not resist this little tiny baby hot dot dog inside a hot dog bun.  It was posted on someone’s TwitPic account, I think.  If I’ve stolen it without properly attributing, sorry; I will if you let me know.

My dog now, Isis, is an old lady at ten years.  She’s a big dog; I know she won’t live as long as Otter did (despite her multitude of health issues; that dog had more surgeries than most people, including getting fixed, two back surgeries, and ear surgery), and I promise not to get another dog until Isis is no longer with me, but how fucking cute is that dog in a bun?

I swear.  True (silly, cute) story.

I want this.  In so many ways, I want this.  The nice teeth.  The body.  The tattoos.  Especially that gun tattoo.  The underwear.  I’m going to assume he’s got a big cock since it’s my fantasy.  His cock is big and he wants to put it in all my holes, sometimes very gently, sometimes not.  I could have a lot of fun with this guy … so long as he didn’t say anything too stupid.

I swear.  True story.

[Continued from "Jade's Vacation (Part 2)."]

“Um, did you like what you saw?” she managed as she turned slightly to get Teal’s eyes out of her swollen pussy.

“Oh fuck yes, I finger fucked myself and came in just a few seconds,” she grinned wickedly as she pointed at the shimmering wetness on her thighs and knees.

“His dick made me almost pee myself, and watching you ride it and those big suckable tits of yours … mmmmmm, I may need to finger fuck again now,” she bragged as she wiggled her tight ass playfully.

“Nice,” Jade replied as she looked down at Teal’s perky breasts and then down at her smooth, slick pussy. Jade felt her pussy tingle as she looked at the peeking clit that was jutting from the woman’s slot.

“Where is your man?” Jade asked as she leaned on the railing with her forearm and let her right nipple brush against Teal’s shoulder “accidentally.”

“Mmmmmm. Damn your tits are nice,” Teal moaned as she softly touched Jades erect nipple with her trembling finger.

For an instant the two women stood there enjoying the moment. Both of them felt sensual reactions deep inside themselves. Both of them were aroused and wanting to explore.

As Jade came back to reality and moved slightly away, but not too far, from Teal’s finger tips, Teal replied to her question.

“Oh, Anthony is sleeping at the moment,” she said as she nodded toward the suite. “He fucks for hours and then he sleeps for hours,” she laughed as she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

“Do you want to meet him? I will wake him, he would love to see those tits of yours, as well as the rest of you. He will be telling me he wants to fuck you after I lick your cunt,” she chirped boldly as she watched Jade begin blushing again.

“Oh no, please don’t wake him until I am dressed and Jason and I can be properly introduced. I am not interested in fucking anyone else and I am not into women either.  I would appreciate avoiding those kind of comments in the future,” Jade scolded as she felt her nipples become increasingly erect. She crossed her arms to emphasize the point and watched as Teal grinned and nodded her head.

Jason felt his cock flex with pleasure as he watched Jade talking with the young woman. The two women, nude and looking at each other, was an instant hard on for Jason. Seeing the woman touch Jade on the breast made his dick leak new precome.  He began to fantasize about the woman leaning and sicking Jade’s nipples while Jade fingered the woman’s simmering slot.

As they seemed to end the conversation, Jason stepped to the doorway with his raging hard cock still hidden from view. He peeked out shyly and spoke.

“Hi ladies,” he said as he allowed his eyes to explore the young woman talking to his wife.

Jason could see how hard Jade’s nipples were so he knew she was either cold or turned on. Since it was in the 80s out, he knew it was the latter.

“Hi Jas’.  Come out and meet Teal, our neighbor,” Jade invited with a flirty grin.

“Um, hi, Teal,” he replied as he tried to cover his bone with a towel in some way to appear composed.

Jason bent his dick down and pulled the towel tightly around his hips so it was not visible. He stepped to the door and stopped at the opening to avoid walking and losing his composure.

“Come here, silly, and say hi,” Jade teased since she had not noticed the problem Jason was trying to conceal.

“Um, I am not dressed to be outside,” he said as he moved back into the suite, just as the towel slipped and his huge cock swung back up and slapped him on the stomach.

“That is sure not like him; you and I are out here naked and he is shy,” Jade jabbered as she glanced at Teal’s lusty expression.

“His cock is hard, Jade,” she whispered as she nodded toward the window and the mirror behind him in the room.

Jade looked and then saw his reflection and his huge bone sticking up in his fingers.

“Oh damn,” she gulped as she smiled proudly and watched Teal licking her lips.

[To be continued ….]

[Continued from "Thailand, Revisited, Reworked (Part 1)."]

Before I left San Francisco, I had arranged to have my new boss – and landlord – meet me on the day I arrived in Bangkok.  By this time I had a cell phone in the US, but it was nothing that would have worked in Thailand.  It was 2001.  After some confusion we finally met at a hospital.  Coincidentally, it was the hospital where Jesús had had a couple of stays the summer before.

I met my new boss who took me to the office where I met my coworkers.  My coworkers were a Thai secretary and a Thai (for lack of a better term) paralegal, both women.  To paint them with a very broad brush, Thai women are generally quiet, diminutive, and pretty.  My new coworkers fit the stereotype.  A lot of the “quiet” is due to the language barrier; they had nothing to say to me that I’d be able to understand.  While I had taken a Thai language class in San Francisco, and had learned a few choice phrases the previous year, I certainly couldn’t carry on a conversation in Thai.

Other than the boss, there were no attorneys in the office.  I wasn’t sure what it was I was to do for work, but I didn’t care much.  I had done a lot of internet surfing the year before when I worked at a law office so I figured it’d be about the same.

My boss showed me around the building where the office was.  The building was mostly residential, and it was obvious that our office was built as an apartment; his office was the bedroom and the rest of us shared the common space.  The building also had a pool, where I was told I could swim any time I wanted.  The pool was outside, but covered so it was always shaded.

For those of you who’ve not been to Southeast Asia, you might not understand just how important a shaded pool was.  A pool in the open would have been hot and uncomfortable, and the water would have evaporated at a very rapid pace.  As it was, the covered pool’s water was almost bathwater warm.  I swam in the office building’s pool a couple of times.

The office building itself was shaped like a pyramid.  Bangkok has a number of architecturally questionable buildings; I can’t imagine the equivalent of a city planning commission can’t be paid off.  It is, after all, Thailand.  The office building was a pyramid.  A building close to my summer home looked like a robot.  I wish I were kidding.

After a tour of the building, my boss took me to the apartment that was to be my home for the next three months.  It was within a cab ride of the office, and close to my friend’s restaurant/home.  It was on a tiny road, which was off a slightly larger road, which was off a slightly larger road, which was off a six-lane divided highway.

My boss parked in front of an auto mechanic shop.  A lot of the residences in Southeast Asia are shophouses, and my new home was to be no exception; the ground floor was an auto shop with room for several cars parked tandem and an office, and above were four floors of apartments.  We walked through the shop’s gate, past the shop’s office, to a stairwell.   We walked up four flights of stairs and past a few apartments; each floor had one to two apartments.  Finally, on the top floor there was only one door.

My boss walked me into a spacious studio apartment.  Some may think “spacious” and “studio apartment” are mutually exclusive, but they are not.  At the time, I still lived in a studio apartment in the Tenderloin.  It was pretty large, with a separate kitchen and a walk-in closet, but my summer digs were much larger.

The main room contained a queen-size bed in a platform bed frame.  The mattress sat flush with the frame, which consisted of a foot-wide ledge at all but the head of the bed.  The ledge at the foot of the bed held a small television.  The room’s only other furniture was a low dining table.  Low so one could sit on the floor to eat.

There were three doors opposite the apartment’s front door.  One went into the roomy bathroom, one into the tiny kitchen, and one to the closet.  My boss showed me the tiny kitchen, which was only big enough for a small dorm room-sized refrigerator.  He was nice enough to have stocked the fridge with yogurt, butter, bread, and jam so I could have breakfast.  He explained what the peculiar thing in the back of the fridge was.

Inside a plastic bag, which was inside a plastic bag, was a foil wrapped block of densely packed … pot.  There was a brick of pot in the refrigerator.  Uh, ok.  My boss told me that I could smoke as much of it as I wanted.  Between that and the international long distance phone calls I could make whenever I wanted, my boss was very generous indeed.

[To be continued ….]

I swear.  True story.

1 13

Was thinking that KC must not get in front of the mirror until after she’s dressed ’cause her bra’s always twisted and her tits sag so much.  But then to make up for it she spends a lot in front of it when she’s dresed.  She’s always wearing – always – the silver teddy bear pin – I think usually on her – shit now I can’t even think of what side it is – maybe both equally.  Anyway she’s always wearing it.  And shit it’s sad ’cause she tells me about this stuff cause she thinks I care when actually I just don’t have the heart to tell her I don’t give a fuck.

She doesn’t wear much makeup but some days are worse than others the

Fuck I wish I could write as fast as I think ’cause I am being especially brilliant and witty in my ideas and theories.  But I get tired of writing.  I got to the KC think via rings by I don’t really wear that many anymore and never the way KC does – gold with silver and I’ve seen as many as gosh three or four per finger and she wears quite a few necklaces too most of those are gold though.  I have to think and thought and write it down quick before I either get distracted or forget like in that very thought I think as I write I can’t help it if I think a lot.  Does everyone think this much?  All the commotion in your head.  Yest it moves up there when you think/I was trying to figure out/fuck see – the radio how they very rarely tink/Erica and her damn depression/why I put that line there when I didn’t need to and it distracted me/fuck now I’m thinking I’m only thinking so I’ll have something to write/do my friends get embarrased when I talk about my ex being female

10:21 PM

I think Henry’s out with another girl ’cause when I called him he said we was gonna go get something to eat.  It’s been a while though.  Laura’s gonna get more action ’cause Jeff’s in town.  That’s one of her many exes.  She’ll probably have sex with him.  I think the acid’s kicking in.  Yep.  Vidal got it from a friend and gave it to me.  He said there was no money exchange but I know there was cause I saw it.  Maybe I shouldn’t be alone but I am and I can’t do anything.

Laura’s gonna get laid – no fair.  Henry has not had the phone ringing. He’s out with someone else.  He hates me.

No one is home.  Damn.  Why isn’t Henry calling me?

11:45 PM

Fuck he hasn’t called.  Beth says he’s asleep.  I say he’s found another girl.  He always uses a food excuse.  Fuck I did something so now he doesn’t want to talk to me what did I do?  How can I fix it?  He hasn’t talked to me all day today.  Fuck maybe I’ll fuck he hates me I just know it.  What did I do wrong this time.  Maybe I shouldn’t have been so pushy maybe I shouldn’t have assumed that because he kissed me one night when he was buz (one or two z’s) doesn’t mean he would ever want to kiss scummy me again.  Saw Madonna Truth or Dare today it was actually pretty good and quite sexy too and the part where two guys kissed was HOT!  And Madonna gave head to a bottle and I’m not a guy so the actual act didn’t turn me on but I want to learn how to do that she totally had the damn thing down her fucking throat.  And people said she was vulgar w/her language and stuff but she was just human, like everyone else.  Fuck someone might think I’m angry from my writing but I’m not I’m just writing very fast.  Why can’t I just get something out of Henry?  It seems as though I will never have sex or kiss anyone again.  Shit.  Now I’m trying to write neat but it still looks like shit.  What did I do wrong?  Of course I won’t call him now two rejections was enough thank you but now he won’t call me for a long time even though everything looks neat I could still go to sleep but I haven’t showered yesterday or today and I need to shave but I probably couldn’t if I wanted to but I do.  I think I could sleep if I just don’t think yea right he hates me I hate KROQ who says it’s world famous how do they know who did they ask.  Erica said KWOD 106 went alternative cool I guess I’ll have some thing to listen to.  Erica does about herself a lot.  Shit she calls me to tell me about herself not to find out about me no she just loves the questions I ask she eats up my manners.  I should’ve said I had to go and I’d talk to her later, maybe.  It always ends up that she has to go – she doesn’t just go for the fuck of it just get going she has to have a big commotion.  I don’t want to think about her I seem to be doing it a lot anyway.

This is the Russian’s bathroom.  The Russian has other things going for him, for sure.  Otherwise, the first time I saw this bathroom I’d've gone running – far, far away.

I wish this was some sort of joke, but it’s not.

The Russian is not a smelly guy.  He’s not dirty at all.  He is well-groomed.  How he actually becomes clean in this room is beyond me.

The Russian usually doesn’t bring chicks back to his place, and it’s obvious why.  But I can’t always host so I’ve been there more than once.  The first time, thankfully, I was quite drunk.  I was also horny.  And I remembered the Russian’s big, intact cock.

I wasn’t quite drunk enough when I took these photos.  Not quite drunk drunk enough to forget to take the photos.  Not quite drunk enough to forget what the bathroom looked like.  Not quite drunk enough.  Unfortunately, I can remember his bathroom.

I can also remember the Russian’s cock in my ass.  That is a much more pleasant memory than his bathroom.

I swear.  True story.

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