The Hot Spot

I promised my friend that the next time we go out that it would involve some hot tubbing, and since I personally don’t own a hot tub nor know anyone who does, I had to investigate places that had one around town. I happen to like my privacy so I had to find a venue where we would have the hot tub to ourselves. I thought that surely there would be plenty of hotels that had in-room hot tubs. 

Surprisingly there aren’t very many places that offer such accommodations. A Google search only yielded very high-end hotels and an hourly hot tubbing place, which seems to be the only one in town. I’ve always been skeptical about places that charge by the hour, but my friend brought her bikini in her purse and figured we could always just do something else if it seemed sketchy.

When we arrived, the lobby looked clean, respectable and felt just like any other spa around town. We opted for the Executive Room which is an indoor hot tub room with a sauna, a flat screen TV, satellite radio, and its own restroom. It exceeded our expectations. It felt like a club VIP room with a hot tub.

We got into our swimwear, turned on the jets, the music, the TV, and got into the tub. At this point, I have to admit I was still a little naive. I figured that we were just gonna have a relaxing time, the hot water massaging our backs, and share some nice conversation. But it only took a couple of minutes before my friend started getting into the music, seductively bending over, and wiggling her sexy behind. Still bent over, I pushed her bikini bottom to the side and I complied to her wishes. There was something about the water that really made me enjoy giving her oral. I could’ve been down there all night. She tasted better than any dessert I’ve ever had. And I happen to love dessert.

We spent the rest of the time in various positions, humping like dogs in heat. She even unexpectedly allowed backdoor privileges, which apparently really puts her over the edge. After an hour and a half of adult fun, we left totally exhausted.

Shenanigans Suspended

January is rough month for me financially. It’s when the credit card bills come for all of the crazy spending that I do in December. For now, I’m going to put my exploits on hold (or at least ones that cost me hundreds to thousands of dollars).

For example, the other night, I got a text message from my favorite dancer. She had moved out of Portland last December but was going to be in town to visit. So I had to be honest and told her that my fun money is tapped out this month. As much as I’d like to see her, I had to get a rain check. That was a painful thing to say. Ugh.

On the other hand, I did break down once to join in on a group show for non-nude webcam model MFC’s SuzySmartz. Can you believe it? I spent money on a tight month to see a non-nude model. There is just something about her that I find so sexy (and I don’t even have a “girl with glasses” fetish).

Wham Bam

The other night I met up with a model/actress who I’ve known for about a year. As soon as we got into the hotel room, she got completely undressed and nudged me to do the same. She ran her hands along my body for a brief moment to get me aroused and almost immediately proceeded to ride me.

What bothered me more wasn’t that she started rushing me to get off toward the end, but rather, it was that she was rushed me in the beginning. I actually wanted more foreplay. Maybe if she took her time undressing, at least. I would have even counted light conversation as foreplay.

The whole encounter lasted 50 minutes. Yes, I checked. The glowing alarm clock on the bed stand was practically screaming it. It was so unsatisfyingly fleeting that I considered asking her if she wanted to go a second round.

Ten years ago I would have been totally content with just getting laid. And with a solid nine, that would have been unimaginable. But times have changed. I’m older now. I like to take my time and savor every moment. I want to remember every detail. I’m all about the journey now.

Flesh for Fantasy

A female friend asked me the other day what my fantasy was. My immediate response, having never really truly thought about it, was something about how I like cheerleaders. Lame and clichéd. I think I know where this answer came from though. It stems from back in high school when I had a big crush on the cheerleader who sat next to me in driver’s education class. Or maybe it was from the fact that my earliest exposure to the female anatomy was from seeing Debbie Does Dallas when I was 9, which I’m sure has nothing to do with what I am self-diagnosing as my borderline sexual addiction.

Having had more time to think about, I’d say that my true fantasy is actually fairly simple. I’m totally turned on by two things during sex: lots of eye contact and the girl saying (or moaning or screaming) my name. It’s likely something to do with getting a sense of validation for having some sexual prowess. And maybe it’s because I’ve always liked the idea of being someone’s fantasy.

Starting Over

My all-time favorite dancer is moving out of Portland by the end of the year. The news made me sad because I’ve really gotten to know her over the years and I always had fun spending time with her. She is the only dancer I’ve consistently spent serious money on. And I’ve always looked forward to the days I got to see her. I swear she has some special power over me.

But I totally understand the move. She told me that she’s been feeling disappointed in herself for not being where she thought she would be by now. So she’s going for a change in scenery, cutting down on her expenses, and going back to school. She’s got a good head on her shoulders and I’m sure that she’s going to turn things around. I fully support her decision despite knowing that I will probably never see her again.

What does this mean for me now? I guess I’m back to square one. The new year will mean a search for a new favorite. It may take a while but it could be fun too.

Sex Without Kissing

A friend and I were hanging out at her apartment the other night. She was telling me about her recent financial troubles, and I happened to have some money saved up so I told her I’d give her some money to help her out.

As the night progressed, we had quite a few drinks. She asked me for a back rub and put on some music. She then offered me a back rub. Next thing I know, we’re having sex on her living room floor. We’ve always been just friends and she’s never indicated that I’m her type.

But here’s the weirdest part… Even though we had sex, we never kissed. Not even once. That has never happened to me. Usually it’s the making out part that leads to sex. Not in this case. Our lips never touched.

So what did this all mean? Was she just really grateful for my help? Maybe it was the alcohol but yet she was aware enough not to kiss me?

Hard at Work

It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten an erection at an inappropriate time and place. Years. Decades even. Back when I was first hitting puberty.

So it was a complete surprise to me when in the middle of the afternoon sitting at my desk in the office, I experienced an inopportune time to get a boner. And all it took was a fleeting recollection of the lap dances that I got last Tuesday night.

I’ve done many VIP sessions with my favorite dancer. Her dances are never done half-heartedly, she makes good eye contact during the dances, and it never seems like she’d rather be somewhere else when she’s with me. In other words, she’s really good at maintaining the fantasy.

But Tuesday night’s VIP session was more memorable than any of the past sessions I’ve had with her or anybody for that matter. It’s not like she grabbed my package and went to town on it or anything. Nothing like that. She started out with her usual routine which consisted of dancing on my lap, the occasional nibbling on my neck, messing up my hair, and whispering sexy little noises to my ear. Then, halfway through the session, she gave this very sly smile that I’ve never seen her do before. She got into an interesting position which is when I noticed that she was a bit aroused down there. I don’t know if women can fake being wet, but she had me completely convinced. The image of her in that state was so hot that it’s stayed fresh in my mind for days and maybe even months from now.

So back at the office with my hard-on, I sat there waiting for it to subside, hoping that I didn’t have a meeting I had to attend.  

Sanity Check

I’ve been a strip club patron for years and if I didn’t follow some guidelines, I would be totally broke and heartbroken.

Here are the things I keep in mind when I go to a strip club:

It’s all just a fantasy.

The dancers may be flirty and seem interested in whatever it is that I am talking to them about, but keep in mind that it’s all part of the fantasy.

Expect to spend money.

In order to spend time with a dancer, I need cash. The strip club is a business and the dancers are there to work. I realize that it can be confusing to some because strip clubs look just like the regular bars/clubs. Time is money and just like how we like to be paid for working, so do the dancers. Just remember to set a limit on how much to spend. 

If a dancer gives me her phone number or asks for mine, she’s just adding me to her list of potential regulars.

I admit that I was thrown off the first time this happened to me. I keep a very professional relationship with the dancers I encounter. And I expect them to be the same with me. But the first time a dancer asked for my number, I didn’t immediately realize that they employ the same practices as all sales people do, which is maintain a list of customers. It makes perfect business sense. 

I will not get laid at the strip club.

It’s important to set expectations and pick the appropriate venue to potentially fulfill those expectations. Doing so saves a lot of money. If getting laid is the goal, then the strip club is the wrong place to go. I’m not saying that it never happens. But if you happen to find a dancer who does offer “extras”, it will cost much more than by other means.

Pace the drinking.

Some people are funny drunks. Some people are angry drunks. Some people are mellow drunks. When I get drunk, I turn into a super horny guy who loses control over his wallet. Worst state for me to be in a strip club and the above guidelines go out the window.