Then two buses come along at once...

Strange world we inhabit. You think you're a unique, irreplaceable, vital human being and you find a complete doppleganger... Yes, I have just found Urban Stud's blog. He seems to have experienced a similar shift in his wife's sexuality. He has similar sexual tastes to mine.

Perhaps this is bizarre, perhaps it is just an example of the "infinte monkeys" effect of the world wide web (not that I'm suggesting that Urban Stud is a monkey...).

So I'm adding a link to him. If you haven't found him before, enjoy. If you've been reading him for months and think I'm a derivative, mindless, moron - well, sorry.

Another Woody Allen quote to leave you with:

Sex without love is an empty experience, but as empty experiences go it's one of the best

I should have remembered that for Is there no such thing as "bad sex"?. Damn. Reminds me of a definition of repartee: Something you think of an hour too late...

Toys. To play or not to play?

My wife has never owned a sex toy (or at least I've never found one!).

I was thinking about trying to introduce one into our lovemaking - probably a vibrator (along with blindfolds and handcuffs at a later date - but that is a topic for another conversation).

Is this a good idea? Should I surprise her? Should I bring the topic up in conversation first?

Will I find her throwing me out as a pervert? Will she run off and leave me for a piece of plastic?

Advice, please. My initial view is that she is very conservative / prudish and a little (but only a little) sub - I currently believe that the sub element allows her to let go of her inhibitions. I therefore think getting her turned on and then turning it on is probably the way to go...

I'll leave you with a joke to get your thinking juices going....

There was this couple that had been married for 15 years. Every time they made love the husband always insisted on total darkness. The wife had long since ceased to question his reasons.

But on their 15th wedding anniversary, the wife suddenly felt this was too ridiculous. She decided she would shock him out of this bizarre habit. So that night, while they were in the middle of making love, she turned on the lights.

She looked down and saw her husband was holding a dildo! Soft, wonderful and larger than the real thing.

She went completely ballistic. "You impotent bastard," she screamed at him, "how could you be lying to me all of these years? You'd better explain yourself!"

The husband looked her straight in the eyes and said calmly: "Okay. I'll explain the toy . . . you explain the kids."

I'm more attractive when I stand on my wallet...

When I was at school, I was the nerd - top of the class, uninterested in sport. I couldn't get laid if it were raining women...

When I was at university, I was the jock - playing sport, bottom of the class. I got no sex until I hit the top squad then I got loads...

When I first started work, I was successful and had lots.

Then I got married and it stopped.

Then I got seriously wealthy (in some people's estimation) and I started getting women coming on to me (and not just escorts, to be very clear) - something that hadn't even happened when I had a body like Adonis (35 hours of sport a week at uni makes you look pretty good). Is a Ferrari the key to a great sex life?

What's the point of this?

It's more a question in my own mind. I have always been relatively smart, I've always been tolerably entertaining company. I'm not Brad Pitt but I'm not a BOBFOC (body off Baywatch, face off Crimewatch) either. But when I'm rich, I seem to get more action that when I'm looking good and way more than when I'm just smart and "funny".

So is it that when I'm at the top of the pile that I have greater self confidence and that attracts women?

Or do Alpha male vibes work in some direct subliminal way on women (I feel no different - I am as fucked-up and insecure now as I was at uni).

Or are some women very shallow and in the words of the Good Charlotte song;

Girls don't like boys, girls like cars and money

My vote is for the first one the list but I see evidence for the latter. I recall seeing a billionaire that I vaguely know accompanied by the most pneumatic 28 year old, drop-dead gorgeous model. He is fat and sixty. As I gazed at her, somewhat in awe (my Alpha maledom shrinking second by second), a line from the inimitable Mrs. Merton to Debbie McGee (who for those of you not in the UK is married to a much older celebrity magician, Paul Daniels) sprang to my mind:

So Debbie, what first attracted you to multi-millionaire Paul Daniels?

Mind altering sex...

Sitting watching a DVD, chilled Chablis in hand, I snuggle closer to my wife. She sighs and melts into me. I catch her scent in my nostrils and I know that the film would not get my attention anymore...

I casually put down the wine glass and turn her head to mine, kissing her neck, her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. Her lips part, as her eyes smile back at me. This is what the minx wanted me to do - why had I waited so long? She will have to work for it though...

First, I want to find out how turned on she is. I slide down her body, pushing a hand under her skirt. My hand finds the bare strip of flesh above her stockings - tights have gone the way of the dodo recently chez Salvatori - and her legs part. I stroke the outside of her thong; the laciness causes my dick to twitch but it is the damp heat that starts my erection hardening. She's turned on so much that she bites her lip in ecstacy when my fingers explore inside her lingerie. The slut has been thinking about this....

My lips kiss her thighs, as she grinds her hips against my hand. She gasps as I eventually place my lips on her sex. I lick and suck till she bucks her hips. I slip two fingers into her - she is so hot and wet it feels like she is burning up, melting.

As her orgasm subsides, I reach down and release my throbbing cock - there is only one place I want this now - in her mouth. "Suck it!" She greedily engulfs my manhood. The moist warmth of her mouth hits me. I sit on the sofa with her between my legs, her saliva dribbling between my legs, my dick pulsating in her mouth. "I want you to come in my mouth," she says, eyeing me under her fringe, lips glowing red, her head bobbing.

"Hmm, maybe but not now," I reply and push her back onto the ottoman. I lift her legs onto my shoulders and tease her with the tip of my dick. I slide in easily - she clearly enjoys fellating me... I can't resist, I need to move fast - not making love but fucking. I drive into her hard - she moans silently. "You like that, don't you?" She can only nod. I kiss her, tasting the saltiness of my pre-cum in her mouth.

I turn her over and watch my cock sliding into her pussy, thong pushed to one side, skirt hitched up over her bum. "I want to see you come again," I say, guiding her hand to her clit and feeling her rub herself. As she nears climax again, I moisten my thumb and press it against her anus. I feel her push back against my thumb, opening to receive it. I feel her come through her arse, anus relaxing and contracting.

I turn her over again and, head hanging over the ottoman, I fuck her mouth. The sight of her pussy and lingerie makes me want to see her come again - I lean forward and stoke her clit. Her hand joins mine - my fingers curl into her slit. She wanks me into her mouth, moaning.

But I'm not going to come for her yet. I sit her on me. She rocks back and forward, ginding her pubic bone against mine. Then she squats and pumps me, using her vaginal muscles and the friction of her motion to bring me to another peak. But I want to show her that it's me that decides when I come. I throw her over the arm of the chair and drive into her hard from behind. She melts, putting her head down and her arms behind her back. I hold her wrists and lever myself deep into her, pushing fast, getting close.

Now. Now she can have my come. I push my dick into her mouth and my cock convulses. She can't keep up with the spurts and some of the sperm begins to ooze from her mouth and drip onto her stockings.

She licks and sucks my manhood clean and I wince slightly - I am super sensitive now (and a little sore) - but I do not want to miss out on this. We collapse and kiss; cuddle and pet. We recover our discarded clothes (difficult to explain to the kids) and head off for bed...

My life seems to be like this pretty often. I'm a jammy bastard...

What's sauce for the goose...

It has been suggested to me that my wife's new multi-orgasmic, voracious sexual appetite has been stimulated by another man. Certainly women are likely to stray outside of marriage as this Newsweek article points out (thanks to Cheating Spouse for the link).

Well, I must say, it has crossed my mind. However, if she's got the practice elsewhere, the bloke has done me a massive favour. I can hardly complain, as I'd been playing away consistently.

I think in reality, she'd decided to look at some of the porn and decided to emulate it (yippee!), if that's what turned me on.

Masturbation - a man's best friend?

The Good Wife ran an post about how hurt she felt when she cuaght her husband masturbating whilst he paid her little attention (apologies if I paraphrased it incorrectly).

I thought that I might add my ha'penny worth to the debate, although remember, every marriage is different so this isn't a comment on why it was happening in her life!

I used to masturbate frequently when my wife wasn't paying me attention... Now she has been reincarnated as the sex-starved nympho, I barely have the energy. In fact, I think that I have gone the longest that I have ever lasted without a wank. Let me explain - I need at least one orgasm a day and currently that is what I get (and more, if I want it). If I don't get that, I go around the bend - my mind becomes obsessed with getting release. Having discovered masturbation as a 12 year old, it became almost an addiction. The porn has escalated over the decades from Playboy to what I'd acknowledge (when not masturbating) are rather foul DVD's. * Is porn like drugs - you need to move to something harder to get a fix ? Don't think so personally, I can find pictures of fully clothed ladies very sexually provocative *

Also, one other thing, masturbation fulfills a differnt need to making love - in fact, I'd go so far to say that the sensation is almost totally different. Firstly, you are doing it with the one that you love (joke!), it is totally efficient, you go fast when you want to, pause when you want to. There are no limits to your fantasy - want to fuck Cindy Crawford, well you can. Want her to tell you to tie her up and fuck her hard up the ass, well magically, she does.

Making love, even if you are doing some weird shit, is about sharing pleasure with your partner. If he/she doesn't like what you are doing, then stop and do something that you both like.

Oh and any women that think their men don't wank - there is an old joke:

90% of all guys masturbate. The other 10%? Well...no arms!"

Normal service will be resumed shortly...

Sorry for the delay Ladies and Gentlemen but I do have to earn a living occassionally....

The happy hooker...

Okay. A few words about my favorite escort, bar none. I will call her Cathy for the purposes of this blog.

Cathy was a slim, tall, dark-haired model. Her Mediterranean parentage had left her with thick black hair and dark - almost black - eyes that were framed by long, languid lashes. Her lips were soft and kissable. She was Northern lass, with a soft accent . Her body was not gym hard - her view of a workout was a heavy sex session - but instead soft and beautifully proportioned.

Though stunning, she was not the most beautiful woman I slept with; though slim, she did not have the best body; though bright, she didn't have the sharpest mind. Her flat was always messy and she smoked like a chimney (not a pleasant trait, IMHO). But she had personality, heaps of it. She was funny with a wicked sense of humour, rather scatty and had a vulnerable edge to her that made you want to wrap her in your strong manly arms and take care of her (despite her being more than capable of taking care of herself).

Oh, and did I mention that she was a great shag? Totally uninhibited (looking over her shoulder and sweetly saying, "I want you to fuck my arse now", will live with me for a long time), always willing to experiment ("mmm, that sounds nice"), and totally into sex (she seemed to have a block order in with Duracell to keep her sex toys up and running). I would walk out, legs wobbly and a big smile on my face. She loved what she did.

I have mentioned that pythons can digest waterbuffallos faster than I can orgasm but Cathy could always get me to come with ease.

She was very addictive but difficult to see, mainly because she lived her life in chaos. I'd book her up in advance and she'd get completely trolleyed and be in bed with the mother of all hangovers. She'd forget appointments. She'd come and see me and not have condoms (a quick trip to Boots put that right). But she was great - a spot of light relief from the cares of the day.

I talk about her in the past tense not because I have given up escorts but because she has retired from escorting. Loved up with a great boyriend, she was thinking about stopping. Then some arsehole (why is the world so full of shits - Cathy didn't deserve that from anyone?) blew her cover to the boyfriend and she had to make a quick exit to save the relationship. I spoke to her a couple of times afterwards, to make sure she was okay but I knew, as an ex-client, I needed to stay out of her new life. I hope it worked out for her.

Is there no such thing as "bad sex"?

As a confirmed sex-a-holic, I love sex. Sex in the morning, sex at work, sex outside, sex in a car, oral sex, anal sex: it's all good to me. However, an uncle once told me:

There is nothing so over-rated as a bad fuck and nothing so under-rated as a good shit.

And he's right. Sex with a partner who's not into what you want is just dreadful. I have had some encounters with escorts that were so un-erotic that I couldn't maintain an erection (not normally a problem for me), let alone have an orgasm. I have had bad sex with my wife when she didn't really want to do it.

Wild, uninhibited sex with a young attractive escort can be outstantding when she's having a good time too.

But just to be clear wild, uninhibited sex with the partner that you love is life changing. That's what I got up to last night...

Clouds on the horizon? More than you'll ever know...

"I love you," I murmured into my wife's ear. Post-coital satisfaction wrapped me in warmth. We had had an amazing session, experimenting with positions and practices only normally seen in porn films.

"I love you too, " she replied and after the briefest pause, "More than you'll ever know."

Whoa!

My "Chick Subliminal Message Warning System" moves from "safe" to "red-alert" instantly. I kiss her longingly to disguise my alarm and buy some time. I think about it as our tongues mingle.

My conclusion? That my wife possibly finds her new role, as slut-in-residence, too demeaning for words but will act the whore in bed out of unquestioning love for me - the total prick of a husband.

My reaction? I'm a bloke. Best course of action is to ignore it and hope it goes away...

Journey to the bottom of the bottom...

Anal sex. One of the great taboos... That's why I wanted to do it.

Yes, I'd gotten to the wrong side of 30, indeed close to 40, without travelling the "Hershey highway". And I really, really wanted to tick that experience off the list. It was not something that I ever thought that I would experience with my wife - how wrong can you be? - so, I have to admit, this was a powerful incentive to try escorts.

My first experience of anal sex confirmed that I wanted to do more of it. It was a disaster that nevertheless worked for me. That in itself told me a lot.

I have to first explain that, for all the discussion about sex, I am spectacularly bad at it. It is difficult for me to get an erection and once hard it takes me an age to come - people run marathons faster than I get to orgasm. And as for going at it again, well I can get hard but unless I'm totally in the zone, you better be ready for a lot of humping and pumping. Some women like this: perhaps it's the challenge; perhaps the fact that, as I'm no "two-pump chump" they are more likely to come first.

So anyway, one afternoon, I decided that I would try "A-levels" (anal sex in escort parlance - as opposed to "O-levels", which is oral sex [NB: for reference, O- and A-levels are types of school examinations in the UK: one historic, the other devalued]). I found a willing girl on the web and went to see her.

As I opened the door, I knew I had made a mistake. If the picture on the website were recent, I was a monkey's uncle. It was as though her older, fatter sister had come out to play - and taken a few whacks from the ugly stick on the way. Now this is actually very unusual in London. I almost walked out but I was horny as hell. I was also on the verge of completing a long-held ambition - to move from "tunnel to funnel". I'm not proud...

We kissed and fucked - so far, so conventional. I then asked if we could do "A". She smiled sweetly and lay on her side.

A dab of lube, a bit of undignified pushing and I was cock-deep in booty. Mmm...
I started to move. Ohh...
I reached around and stimulated her clitoris. Yeah...
I slipped a couple of fingers into her wet pussy. Oh God...

The escort was wise; she had positioned herself on her side for a reason. She wanted to make sure that I couldn't thrust too fast or hard. So this felt good and tight but I wasn't about to come. After a while, she took me out, changed condoms and I fucked her pussy till I came.

So, first anal experience should have been a washout but was better than expected. And I still hadn't come in someones arse. I'd just have to keep trying this "A-level" stuff - much more fun that the type I did at school!

As a closing thought - here is one of the great Bette Middler lines:

She say's she's talking to her husband when he say's, "Bette you've got small tits and a tight box."

To which she replied, "Aw, Jack. Get off my back!"

Phnar, phnar...

Sleeping with the enemy (II)...

My first encounter with an escort was a seminal (as in important, rather than the bodily fluid - but I guess it had some of that too...) moment in my life. I had thought about it for a long time. I had the opportunity - an industry black-tie dinner that would prevent me from getting home - and a hotel room. I would use an agency [link to adult site!] (one of the cheaper ones - did I mention that I can be a cheapskate?) - a safer way to start, if you are thinking about the mechanics - and I'd selected the girl that I wanted on their website.

I had not booked her, though. I wasn't sure I should do it. It was the point of no return. A dozen years of marriage, more than a dozen years of fidelity would be changed irreparably by an hour's madness (and £250).

Was there any serious doubt that I would take the next step? It was a bit like a plane at take-off... There is a point (V1, I believe), when then plane is going fast enough to take off but can also stop in time, if there is an emergency. There is also a point (V2), when, even if there is a problem, the plane has to take off, as it would crash off the end of the runway anyway. I knew that I was at V1 and accelerating fast... I was horny as hell and could see a way of solving my problem that appeared easy.

After the dinner, the wine removed my lingering doubts. I committed.

If the experience had been a disaster - and I have had some dreadful sessions with escorts - then I'd have never repeated the experiment. However, Victoria and I "clicked", at least sexually. I treated her like a girlfriend rather than a prostitute and I got that effort repaid in spades.

On an emotional level, I felt nothing. Sex can be "just sex" for men. I'm not suggesting that it can't be casual for women too but I think it is best illustrated by the famous Sharon Stone quote:

"Women might be able to fake orgasms but men can fake whole relationships."

This cause (and, yes, it was deliberate) was helped by the fact that she was Russian and had limited vocabulary. Like most men, my dick will be attracted to any pretty face and hard body. My mind, a far more important erogenous zone, requires much more stimulation...

The sex was fantastic - and it was sex that I was missing. For now, at least, I wanted the physical contact of a human body not the emotional warmth of a relationship.

So I was hooked. I took her personal number (top tip, if you get on well with an escort) and saw her once a month for a while (till something changed the relationship - a topic for another entry...).

It was always good...

Male chauvinist pig...

"Ah ha", you will be saying, "typical male bastard - lets his wife do all the work and does nothing but fuck other women".

If you're not saying that, then you clearly haven't been reading closely enough. Go to the bottom of the class and re-read August.

Well, all I can say is that it's a fair cop - but only to a certain extent.

Firstly, on the most damning indictment (the "fucking around" bit for the ethically challenged amongst you...), I have now stopped. Also, my infidelity was restricted to escorts. Now, this isn't much of a defence, I realise but it is better (in my own mind) than seducing her friends or having an affair with a colleague. This is a theme to which I will return...

Secondly, much of the pressure put on her is her own choice (and one I support, she gets real pleasure from her professional career). There is certainly no financial incentive for her to work. In fact, I suspect that, after we take into account the cost of the infrastructure required to support her desire to work, we are net down on the deal - it costs us for her to work.

Finally, whilst I am a total waste of space around the house, I have employed some staff to take most of the sting out of the housework part (nanny, professional cleaners, full-time gardener, handy-man). Also, I work a 12 hour day and bring in enough money to enable us to enjoy all the material things in life.

Now then, all of this doesn't add up to me getting off the hook. I'm a shit and I know it. It's just that I am not a total shit.

I'll leave you with another old joke:

Ask any woman why a cat strays and they'll tell you, "it's because it doesn't get enough love and affection at home."

Ask any woman why a dog strays and they'll tell you, "it's because it doesn't get enough love and affection at home."

Ask any woman why a man strays and they'll tell you, "it's because all men are lying, cheating bastards."

Proof positive, then, that I am an unreconstructed MCP.

Where do you want to come?

I was making love to my wife last night. She was on the bed. I was standing on the floor thrusting into her from behind. I was close to orgasm.

She breathlessly asked me, "Where do you want to come?"

I have to pinch myself sometimes - how different is that to my old wife? Six weeks ago, my wife wouldn't touch my cock, let alone talk dirty. Now she is giving me a free choice of orifice, any one of the three.

"In your mouth," was my decision.

"Mmm, I like that," she said. "I get a little bit of your happiness."

Outstanding! I love my wife.