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While I was Dreaming
 
Welcome to The Dreamery. There have been a few changes, but my blog is still simply a random series of Thoughts and fantasies, examining my past and my impossible future. Nothing on this blog is a lie. When I say nothing that follows is made up you can be sure it is the truth. Even the dreams are real dreams that I have had . And all the fantasies are my real fantasies.


There are however some questions which may never be answered:
Is it possible to actually laugh your arse off?
How sick is a parrot?
Are sandboys truly happy?
And just how mad is a box of frogs anyway?

And mostly, I do have it all in perspective!
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That One Special Night
Posted:Nov 21, 2006 3:30 pm
Last Updated:Mar 14, 2017 4:22 am
4158 Views

None of what follows is made up.

It was mid October. My love affair with the Lioness was at its height. We were completely, almost telepathically in love. She touched me as if she could feel what I felt through her fingers. Long slender fingers that could light a flame in my heart by just tapping on the table absent-mindedly; that could make me hard just by touching my arm.

We went on a day trip to the country. She had taught me to ride a , and we went pony trekking across peaceful Dorset fields. My walked like a slug in glue. Just as well since I rode like clothes store dummy. The Lioness rode like a swaying willow, poised, elegant, supremely confident. It seemed to me that her hips moved in the same way as they moved when it was me between her legs instead of the , and I watched her all day, wanting her. She knew. She teased like only a sure thing can. Everyone was looking at her, but her body spoke only to me.
"You are going to have me, but you are going to have to want me first."
I squeezed desperately at my , trying to take my mind of the bulge that was growing in my jodhpurs, and he walked a few more paces. Then, just as I thought I might be incapable of moving my legs by the time we got home, he pricked up his ears. The ride was nearly over and my had smelt his supper.
"They always speed up once you make the turn for the yard," said the guide with a smile, and as he did so his own made a little jump forward. The effect was dramatic. Three horses, mine thankfully not included, bolted for home. Two soon slowed as the guide rode alongside them, but the third, the Lioness's, put back its ears and flew across the field. She was the best rider in the group by far, and had been given the friskiest , she told me later she tried all she knew, but the was out of control. She jumped the first fence, then managed to turn the , hoping it would slow if it was running back towards us. Instead it ran flat out at the fence, then stopped dead, throwing her.
I felt sick. I got off my and ran towards her. The Guide was already there, telling her to keep still. I could do nothing but stand helpless, holding the loose horses' reins. I had never seen someone I loved in an accident. My whole world had changed in a second. Then I heard her voice.
"I'm ok; just winded I think."
I realised I didn't know her quite as well as I had thought because I didn't know what to do. Whether to fuss or not, what did she need? But she must have realised because she looked straight at me.
"It's ok," she said. "I'm always falling off! Not normally as heavily as that though!" And she walked stiffly over, put her hand on my shoulder and took her horses reins from my hand.
We got back to the stables; I can't remember now if we walked or rode. My was quicker if you walked! By the time we got there though she could hardly move and I was beginning to worry again. The guide told me to take her in to the local emergency department just to be sure, so we eased her into the car. We were lucky; it was quiet and they ex-rayed her straight away. The doctor's verdict was a relief; nothing broken, but badly strained and spasming back muscles. Bed rest would be required.
I drove her home as smoothly as possible, but it was clear she wasn't comfortable, and at every corner, every bump in the road she winced. She looked at me once or twice, then she said,
"You were worried weren't you, that's so sweet."
"Yes I was worried ‒ I love you."
"You actually properly love me don't you?" she asked.
"Yes."

We got into the house and I half carried her up the stairs. She wanted a bath, so I helped her undress. I remember she was lying on the bed as I undid her bra and tried to turn her over to unhook the straps. She was laughing and wincing, catching her breath at the same time. I washed her ‒ she couldn't even bend to reach her knees. I had bathed with her before, but even so, sliding my soapy hands over her breasts and thighs was about as sensual as it is possible to imagine. Her skin felt like only soft, wet soapy skin can. She watched my face the whole time, gazing into my eyes. She put her hands behind her head so I could wash her under-arms. She knew how much she was turning me on.
"How are we going to make love?" She asked me as I was washing her feet.
"Don't be stupid, I'm going to sleep on the sofa," I replied.
But she was insistent: "No you are not. I want you in bed with me."
I wanted that too, and she was very persuasive.

I got washed and joined her in her bed, slipping slowly under the duvet, trying not to jog her. I closed my eyes and tried not to think of her beautiful firm breasts and soft flat stomach, lying next to me. Then I felt her fingers close around my already straining shaft.
"Let me suck you," I heard her say. "Just move very slowly and don't rock the bed."
I put a knee each side of her body and with my hands braced against the wall, lowered myself to her. She lay there, lips apart as I slid my cock into her mouth, and felt that heavenly warmth close over me, and her tongue begin its silky rubbing at my sweet spot.
But soon she stopped.
"I'm sorry, I can't, it's hurting my neck," she admitted.
"It's ok sweetheart, I can do without," I told her.
"But I want you to come," she crooned with a smile. "I need you inside me."
Very slowly and gently I moved my legs and she drew her feet up, letting her knees fall either side of my hips. I eased myself forward and rubbed the head of my cock against her pussy lips. She felt hot and wet and I slid in easily, then pulled back very slowly, before easing in a little more. Everything took three times as long as usual. Any sudden movement rocked the bed and she winced in pain, but she wouldn't let me stop. I moved in her incredibly slowly, each withdrawal taking maybe four or five seconds, and each slow thrust the same. The feeling was amazing. Instead of feeling being focussed on the of the head of my penis, every nerve ending began to become super sensitive, straining to feel each tiny moment of friction as her rough velvet sheath held and caressed my shaft.

At first I had to resist the temptation to ram myself into her, but as I continued to slide in slow motion it became hypnotic, intoxicating; intense beyond description. I relaxed and gave myself to what seemed like an endless sea of sensation flooding through my hips and into my belly. Something similar must have been happening to her because she was staring into my eyes with a wild look on her face. Every time I pressed into her she moaned, and as I pulled out she gasped. I realized I was rubbing the head over her G spot ever so slowly every time and she was gradually building an orgasm.

My heart was racing although there was no exertion, and my arms were shaking from keeping my weight off her. I looked down at her perfect breasts and stomach, pressing myself deep into her. Her nipples stood out from tightly puckered skin, and I knew how they must feel ‒ aching like mine. I bent my elbows and took one into my mouth, flicking it against my teeth and biting it gently. She groaned in appreciation and pushed her hips against me, making herself gasp as pain flashed through her back.
Her eyes re-assured me though,
"Don't stop now," she was telling me, and I could feel her using her hips, grinding against me to the limit of the pain she could stand. I hate pain; the thought of it turns me off, but this was a different kind of pain; she was barely aware of it, just touching the edge of it, using it to bring on her orgasm. By then I was in constant ecstasy, almost beyond the level of a normal orgasm, but I felt as if I could go on for ever, just caressing myself endlessly within her. Then she reached up her fingers to my nipples and began to pinch and twist them, and immediately I felt the swell beginning between my legs. I knew she would never have done that if she were not on the point of coming herself; she knew it would push me over the edge. And yet still it was building, everything was in slow motion and the volcano was taking an age to erupt. I realized she was already coming, gasping for breath as the swathes of pleasure swept through her, each one matched by a stab of pain, and still I pushed in slow time; in and out, consumed by the mass of jangling sensation in my cock.

At last I came, an explosion of cum pouring out of me, wave after wave, far longer than usual, and I was dimly aware that she was still coming too, heaving her shoulders despite the pain as the last few pulses ripped through her. I held myself deep inside her as long as I could but my shoulders were on fire from taking my weight for so long, and gradually I subsided on to her, her arms clasped tightly around me. Neither of us spoke. I was still, until finally I softened and slipped out of her, then I gently slid off her and we lay quietly together until sleep washed us away.

In the morning we told each other how it had felt. Her back was looser already, (because of the sex she said!) We tried to replicate this feeling on a number of subsequent occasions. Slow sex was always good for us, but never again was it quite like that amazing, special night.
11 Comments
Show me the Money
Posted:Nov 21, 2006 2:43 pm
Last Updated:Dec 5, 2006 3:17 pm
3302 Views

I had a great day today. I got some useful work done in the morning, then I went to visit a friend I've known for thirty years who is back in the country after five years away. we caught up like she'd never been gone; she has a great sense of humour and we just laughed at the world feeling great. Then I drove home through the low evening sunshine with all the roadside trees red and gold and life seems so much better. We are so lucky.

I am in the middle of writing an erotic memory of sex with The Lioness, but I just had to break off to report to you guys on how happy I am. Some of you know that maybe sometimes I make life a little harder for myself than it needs to be, but just now it's all OK.

Jerry McGuire is showing on TV. I did not put that on my profile list of favourite films....well you can never remember them when you need to can you, but what a brilliant film that is. Even the football scenes are good. Tom Cruise is s decent bloke, Rene Zellwegger is lovable, and Cuba Gooding is just brilliant.

Show Meeee The Monnnaaaayy!
1 comment
Poem: Saying Goodbye
Posted:Nov 20, 2006 10:34 am
Last Updated:Jul 17, 2009 1:29 pm
3475 Views

I notice quite a lot of people put poetry on their sites. I have not written anything very recently, but here's one from a long time ago which seems somehow appropriate at the moment.

Feel free to skip over if you like - I'm not expecting, or trying to impress anyone!

Saying Goodbye

As you walk away, and the cloud lifts
The sound fades back in
Clearing the past,
Like a blast of fresh air in the mind.

When you say goodbye; when it was left up to you
Everything goes on around without noticing
Like moving into a new house,
Leaving it all behind.

When it's all over; after the crowds disappear
It's the silence you hear
Like turning up a day too late,
Wondering where everyone is.
3 Comments
James Bond Update
Posted:Nov 20, 2006 9:51 am
Last Updated:Nov 4, 2008 4:18 am
3480 Views

Well I saw Casino Royal, and enjoyed it, but with mixed feelings. I'm not going to ruin it for anyone who hasn't seen it yet, but I thought the idea behind what they were trying to do was a good one, but they wasted it slightly - Daniel Craig looked the part and played the part, but he didn't quite become the part somehow, and because of the way they used the music it did not quite feel like a Bond film to me.

There were some good scenes, and the way Craig played the love scenes was especially good; I really believed the two of them were in love, which made for one or two quite emotional moments. And if you like your Bond action rough and realistic there were several moments which will give you what you want. How they gave it a 12A rating I just do not know! Not many memorable lines though, and no show stopping set piece scenes like the Terrorist Arms Bazar in Tomorrow Never Dies or the tank Chase in....is it The World is not Enough?

So a good film, but not as good as the hype would have you believe.....
1 comment
James Bond Survey
Posted:Nov 17, 2006 9:24 am
Last Updated:Jul 14, 2009 6:48 am
3484 Views

Well I didn't put it down as one of my favourite films on my profile, but I am no longer ashamed to admit it, I LOVE BOND FILMS!
Some are much better than others, but now I think about it there isn't one I couldn't happily watch any time. I love the music, especially the new David Arnold treatment, and nearly all the songs are brilliant, especially the ones that somehow sound reminiscent of earlier Bond songs and the theme music. Like when the horn section comes in on Gladys Knight's "License to kill" it sounds as if it's lifted from the theme music or from Goldfinger or both.
So I don't know if we are ahead or behind the USA, but the latest has just premiered here, and I will be watching Casino Royal on Saturday.

It had better be good, because (and I don't suppose the girls will all agree with me here) I actually preferred Pierce Brosnan to Sean Connery! So he'll be a hard act to follow.

But when the opening sequence starts I will be spellbound. That is usually my favourite part, before the credits, when Bond is either just finishing a mission (or sometimes a girl, LOL ) before the main story begins. My all time favourite scene is from "Tomorrow Never Dies" when Brosnan is at the scene of a massive arms deal on the Russian border, while Judy Dench as M, and the rest of MI6 are watching on satellite surveillance as he turns the whole thing into a massive explosion and flies off with a nuclear warhead in a stolen jet.
"Get your man out of there now!" yells the minister of defence, "What the hell is he doing?"
"His Job," replies M, crushingly. Absolutely brilliant.
And then there are all the less well known Bond theme songs, like "All time high," (from Octopussy)and "The spy who loved me," Oh it makes me feel nostalgic just to write the titles.

So, do you love Bond?
If so, favourite scene?
Favourite Bond girl?
Favourite theme song?

Anything else you want to add in praise of this incredible film dynasty?
3 Comments
The Danger of My Imagination
Posted:Nov 16, 2006 4:05 pm
Last Updated:Jan 8, 2010 3:19 am
3871 Views

I was browsing the advice line the other day, and I saw a comment from a woman who was the right age to be the Lioness......

And the photo, though it didn't show much, could just have been her........

And the comment she made referred to something that once happened to the Lioness.......

So in my imagination I began to wonder.. It couldn't be ...could it? And what would I do if it was? If she read my blog she would know for sure that Dreamer was me. All that stuff I'd written about her. But it couldn't be her could it? Anyway I can contact her anytime in real life if only I dared. Not that she's very likely to want to speak to me. But perhaps I should, it might finally help me get my head round the whole affair. She might even be pleased to see me. Or is that my imagination working overtime again?

Anyway, back to the beautiful woman on the site. Even if it wasn't the Lioness, it must be somebody wonderful. Perhaps I should try to get to know her.

Then today I read another comment she'd made. EE-YUERGKH! So it definitely wasn't the Lioness then! Well how could it have been!? She wasn't anyone else I wanted to get to know either thanks very much. But it reminded me of how easy it is to let your imagination run away with you.

How many of you have gone so much further than little scaredy Dreamer, and met up with someone you had previously only emailed via the site?

Did you find they were not what you expected?

Do you find that you have fallen in love with an image you imagined, with all the little aspects of their character more perfect than they possibly could be, or are you able to judge what someone will be like before you risk meeting them?
7 Comments
Stormlover's Fantasy Continues
Posted:Nov 13, 2006 6:53 pm
Last Updated:May 16, 2007 2:26 am
3861 Views

That morning they had walked down to the river and played in the snow. The fall had been heavy while they had slept, and the little road out of the hills was impassable. In the late morning another bank of cloud built up, and as they sat drying themselves by the fire and sipping scalding bowls of soup, huge flakes drifted past the windows, filling their footsteps in the lane. They ran out to the wood store and piled logs high by the fire, the only source of heat other than the kitchen range. By the afternoon there had been a slight thaw and the thick snow had slid halfway off the roof and was hanging from the gutters. But the sky had cleared, and Stormlover could sense that the coming night was going to freeze hard.

She put the kettle on the range and made tea, which they drank in front of the fire. She wondered if he felt the same as her. She looked into his eyes, but his smile told her nothing, other than that he was happy. But she was already thinking of the night to come. Last night they had made love, but she needed sex, hard sex.
Already she could feel a hunger churning in the pit of her stomach, and it wasn't for the lamb stew that was already slow cooking in the range. It was an empty prickling hunger which meant only one thing. She needed to come and come hard.

Dreamer was lying back against the sofa, mug of tea in his hand, contentedly gazing out of the window at the winter scene outside. She leaned across him and kissed his cheek. He smiled and turned his lips to her. She lay heavily against him and touched her lips to his, slipping her tongue between them. Oh he tasted so good, like hot, sweet tea. She never had sugar in hers. His tongue responded tracing a hot line around the inside of her mouth. The hunger burned in her belly, spreading downwards, drawing her thoughts to where she wanted to be touched. She willed him to let his hand stray there, but Dreamer broke the kiss and took a sip of his tea.
"Have you seen the sunset?" he asked, pointing through the window. There was a deep crimson glow in the western sky reflected over the lake water through gaps in the trees. A thin line of cloud showed up orange just above the horizon. It was stunningly beautiful and even Stormlover was captivated for a moment. But the sky spoke to her of the coming might, the hard freeze that was falling now that the sun had gone down.
She felt her skin becoming alert, wanting to be touched, and she remembered the feeling of Dreamer moving inside her the night before. Her nipples began to tighten unseen beneath her heavy sweater, and her lips tingled where they had just been kissed. She got up and went to the kitchen returning with a bottle of wine.
"We can call it evening, now the sun's gone down she smiled," pulling out the cork. "Can you pour me a glass?"
Dreamer looked at her, and a grin crept across his face. She went into the bedroom for a moment and returned with a blanket and a thick duvet. She slung the duvet over the back of the sofa and spread the blanket on the floor. The she lay down on the blanket and lifted her chin to look back at him. His eyes locked hers and for a moment she felt as if he was looking right inside her. It sent a shiver down her spine. He slid away from the sofa and kissed her again, this time letting his tongue run over her teeth, then his lips brushed over her eyelids and her ears, bringing her senses alive. She was already breathing harder. She rolled on top of him and pushed him down onto the blanket, straddling him. She could feel the beginnings of his erection pressed against her crotch though their jeans, and she rubbed herself against it feeling it grow as the heat between her legs was growing.
She glanced to the window and was struck by an idea.
"Keep still," she commanded, getting to her feet. She went to the window, opened it and picked a piece of ice from the sill. The heat from the cabin was causing a constant shift in the temperature outside and water from the snow on the roof was dripping down from the gutter then re-freezing to make icicles, like stalactites outside the window. She smiled to herself at what she was planning. Tugging at their clothing, she stripped them both to the waist then pulled the duvet over them. She touched the ice to his nipple, and he flinched.
"Hey, that's cold," he complained, but he didn't tell her to stop. She rubbed the ice over his chest, then pressed herself against him, thrilling as the film of melted ice shocked her own nipples and breasts, then she leaned away and ran the ice around her breasts, finally placing it on top of her hard nipples.
"Ahhhh," she gasped as the chill flickered through her, increasing the heat between her legs and the fire in her belly.
"Kiss them now," she told him, and as his lips closed round the cold hard buds, the heat of his tongue shot into her like a stab of pleasure.
"Ahhh," she moaned again as he bit gently into the flesh of her breast and pinched and pulled at her. All the time his thigh lay between her legs and she pressed herself against it feeling a dull but satisfying pressure against her swelling clitoris. But that wasn't going to be enough. She kissed him again, hard, demanding, thrusting her tongue into his mouth like a cock. Then she went back to the window for more ice.

Hanging from the gutter was a long thick icicle. She reached up with both hands and broke it off at the base.
She noticed with delight how Dreamer's eyes now followed every move she made as she quickly took off the rest of her clothes and slipped back under the duvet. Her legs entwined with his again, and she was pleased to find he was now naked too. She lay back against the sofa, and touched the tip of the icicle to her hot pussy lips. The effect was electric. She had never done this before, but Dreamer's presence had aroused her mind the same way his mind had aroused her body. The icicle was thick and slick and without pausing to think, she pressed it against her aching hole. The cold shocked her, but the contrast with her own hot flesh sent thrills through her whole body. She pressed harder, and almost instantly the ice stem disappeared in her up to the hilt.
"Ooooooh," she gasped, withdrawing it slowly, then plunging it deeply into her again. Her hips were lifted, her fingernails dug into the ice for a better grip. She threw her head back and almost as if oblivious to Dreamer, she fucked herself hard with the icicle. In and in she plunged it, her breath coming in short sharp gasps, while she saw Dreamer watching her, spellbound. At last the sensations began to build towards an orgasm, but the ice was melting away too fast.
"Now please Dreamer," she begged, throwing away the thin remaining stem of ice.
"Oh yes," she screamed as she felt the heat of his cock enter her. "Yes, yes, fuck me Dreamer," as he sank to his full depth within her. He felt a hundred times hotter than anything she had ever felt before, as if he were on fire inside her, bucking and plunging between her near frozen lips like a poker from the fire. The thickness of him filled her as she had needed to be filled and a volcano was erupting in her belly.
"Oh God Yes," she cried out as a massive orgasm tore through her; she felt as if it had flooded her veins with super heated blood. "Yes YES," she sobbed, holding him into her as the spasms continued. Then suddenly he lifted his cock from her and slid up towards her mouth. Her lips closed around his cock and the unexpected coldness of it sent another shock through her. She steadied him with one hand and rammed the other against her clit, forcing herself towards a second orgasm, when she felt a flood of boiling liquid in her mouth. Again the contrast of temperature shot a bolt of sensation through her body, triggering another eruption under her fingers as his cum still jerked into her mouth. She gulped and kept on sucking, stroking herself through her climax with her fingers until at last they both began to relax.

He slipped from her mouth and lay down against her, resting his hand comfortingly between her legs as the afterglow spread through them, and she pulled the duvet over them again, gradually restoring the warmth all around them.

It was still early, and they hadn’t even touched the wine.
1 comment
Perfect Imperfections
Posted:Nov 10, 2006 7:18 am
Last Updated:Dec 21, 2010 3:28 am
4478 Views

Have you ever noticed that sometimes it is the imperfect in some one which we find attractive? Or am I alone in this?

I read a comment in MyEnglishF's blog, [post 583220] by mmmlike2taste, saying you know you are in love when someone's annoying habit drives you mad and yet you love them for it, and this is certainly true. But has anyone else had the experience of finding a physical imperfection attractive in another person, sexy even? We are used to thinking perfect is beautiful, perfect skin, a perfect smile, graceful body shape, etc etc, but I have found that I am often attracted to a small imperfection in an otherwise beautiful woman.

I'll give you a couple of examples.

When I was at college, I had a terrible crush on a close friend's girlfriend. Nothing ever happened, partly because I would never have even considered it, but also because she was completely in love with him. (She and I did have a "moment" much later, years after their relationship was over, but that is another story!) Anyway she was very beautiful, the kind of girl who could look her best even when she had only just got up in the morning after a party the night before, but she had a little imperfection. When she smiled you could see a small chip out of the bottom corner of one of her front teeth. It wasn't much, but I became almost fixated with it for a while. (You're all out there thinking, "this guy really does have some obsession issues," I am sure, but I'm ok, honestly, I'm not weird, I do have these things in perspective ‒ I just thought you’d be interested! LOL )

Without that broken tooth I know I would have liked her, but I don't think I would have lusted after her so much. When she smiled it used to set my heart racing!!!

I had a girlfriend for a short time who had a scar on her lip, and I loved to kiss that scar.
Even The Lioness had this thing, when she got really tired one of her eyes used to wander a little ‒ it sounds awful writing it down like that ‒ Dreamer was in love with some boss-eyed animal, but it was only noticeable if you were looking lovingly into her eyes in the first place, LOL! I did love it though.

Just the other day I had to go to a small town on business, and I was looking in the estate agent's window, as you do, when I caught sight of a very attractive woman in the office. She was on her own, and when she caught me looking at her, she got up, walked to the window and bent over to rearrange some papers, giving me a good eyeful of cleavage! Could that have been on purpose? I thought.
I couldn't resist going in and asking for some property details, and when we spoke she was giving good eye contact, but in the end my nerve failed me. ( Willhe69you2, who is giving flirting lessons on his blog [post 582517] suggested I should have wooed her with the line: "Nice tits, I wouldn't mind running barefoot through an acre of those," but that is another story too!)

The point is, while we were talking I noticed that her face was a bit lopsided and she had a red mark on her cheek just near her top lip; she was attractive otherwise, but the uneven shape of her mouth and the mark really got to me. I really fancied her. I could not have followed it through, and anyway, I perhaps I imagined her flirting with me, she was probably just being personable, but without the imperfections I would not have been so attracted!

Am I alone or can anyone share a similar experience? What imperfections have you got which might turn someone like me on?
1 comment
The Lioness's First Orgasm
Posted:Nov 8, 2006 12:46 pm
Last Updated:Nov 18, 2015 9:38 am
6266 Views

None of what follows is made up.

It was late September. We had spent the whole summer in love but there was always a boundary beyond which we would not go. To say we worked hard at resisting each other would be like saying there’s a bridge in San Francisco. There came a point when, without telling each other, we both knew we couldn’t resist any longer. In fact I remember looking at her one day, and saying,
"It's going to have to be done isn't it."
"Romantic," she replied sarcastically. But she knew I had only said what she was thinking.

We had already talked so much about sex. I knew she would be an incredible lover; she had a way of understanding what made me tick, what made me click; when to kiss and when to lick. You will have heard the phrase, "The eyes are a window on the soul," but the Lioness's were a window onto a world of almost telepathic desire. When she looked deep into mine I felt as if her eyes had reached down into mine and got hold of my cock from the inside. I had had a similar feeling once before, but that was when I was fifteen at a school dance and Samantha Saunders had put her hand down the front of my jeans! (Ok, ok I made that bit up, but that's how it felt when the Lioness looked at me with those steely blue-grey eyes!)

For so long I had held back, like a at the top of a rollercoaster ride, knowing once you have started there is no going back. I mentally closed my eyes and pushed myself forwards, out of control. I got hold of a friend's flat for the weekend. He is still my friend. But I know he wonders sometimes, do I thank him for giving me the push that sent me hurtling into the most wonderful downhill rush of my life, or do I blame him for the injuries I sustained at the bottom? No one is to blame. My love for the Lioness was as inevitable as the tides and the rising of the sun. Once our two spheres had come within range we began to orbit each other, and our gravity had been getting stronger for months.

We walked in, poured some wine and sat down. Suddenly a strange atmosphere had come between us. For all that we wanted each other like a starving man wants food, we didn't know where to begin. I had never seen her look nervous before.
"There's something I need to tell you," she blurted out in the end. "The big secret that everyone knows I've got but only one person knows?"
I had always been jealous about this secret; her friend had teased her about it once in front of us all, but no one knew what it was. I wanted to know everything about her, but I had known enough about her not to push it. She would only ever talk if she wanted to.
"I want to tell you, but the words won't come out."
I was braced for anything; I had no idea what was coming.
"Just open your feelings and let words come out of you," I coaxed, using a phrase which had worked for her before. I knew she trusted me.
"Ok......I've never had an orgasm."
I thought very hard about what to say next. Here was a woman, supremely confident in her sexuality, totally in love, suddenly scared of being exposed as a fraud. I knew she had had several previous lovers, and she obviously loved sex.
"Not even......on your own?" I ventured tentatively.
"I can't do it to myself," she said. "It doesn't work."
I was still wondering what to say next. But she wasn't backing out.
"Do you still want to make love to me?" she asked, part scared, part seductive.
She had broken the ice at last.
"My god of course I do," I said, "maybe this time it will be different."

I slid my arm around the back of her slim shoulders and kissed her deeply, reassuringly, curling my fingers in her hair. Her lips were dry and warm and her neck smelt of an intoxicating mixture of perfume and well brushed hair.
"Let's just get into bed together and see what happens," I suggested.
We took off our clothes. I noticed for the first time what a fantastic figure she had. I had felt her body pressed against me through her clothing many times, but she was never a sexy dresser, and I had had no idea how perfect her skin would be. Her stomach was flat but not skinny, her legs were long, her hips seemed built solely to frame her depths and her heavy breasts relaxed but did not sag as I unclasped her bra.
Still kissing her, our tongues playing a game they had rehearsed all summer, I lowered her shoulders to the bed and ran the palm of my hand across her nipples. She quivered.

They say a woman never forgets her first. The thought came into my head that I might be about to change her life for ever. I did not realise I would be changing my own even more.
I played my fingers over her stomach and her shoulders, kissing her neck and gently tugging at her earlobes with my teeth, then I let my hand wander along the inside of her thigh, down to her knee and back. But it seemed the fire had gone out of her.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Nothing, don't stop."
So I didn't stop, and for a while I went through my foreplay repertoire almost on auto-pilot, but there was little response. It was as if I was lying there with a different woman.
"Wait," I said sitting up. Suddenly I wanted to take a terrible chance. It might ruin everything but I had had an idea. To this day I have no idea where it came from.
"I need to talk to you. You don't seem to be feeling anything."
"It's never mattered before," she said simply.
I felt I needed to make her understand something.
"I want you to give me a blow job."
She looked at me as if I had given her a dare.
"I will then," she announced, perhaps feeling happier to be back in control, and, pushing her hair to one side, she lowered her beautiful lips. But I was ready. I had a plan. I forced myself not to respond. Looking back I can't think how. She worked at me for a while, and in the back of my mind I could feel that her self proclaimed reputation was well deserved, but on the surface I let myself feel nothing. I even began to go a little soft.
"What are you doing?" she asked after a little longer.
"I'm doing the same thing you were doing before, to me." I explained. "I'm not letting myself respond. And it was a difficult job I can tell you, you are very good."
She looked devastated, I thought she might be about to cry.
"It's ok, it's ok; we'll get there," I reassured her. "Remember the very first time I touched your hand and you didn’t lake it away? What did it feel like?"
"Like a little electric current was coming out of your fingers." My cock twitched at the thought of this, but I tried to concentrate on the job in hand. I touched her hand again.
"What does it feel like now?" I asked.
"Nice."
"But not the same."
"No."
"You have to concentrate on the feelings. Let the feeling get into your mind. I love you and I am touching your hand because we are going to make love."
She smiled; a glint of understanding in her eyes.
"So when I touch you here,"(I touched her skin just near the top of her thigh, in the hollow under her hip,) "you have to let yourself feel what it means."
She drew in a little sharp breath, and said,
"That feels different."

I had not expected the effect to be so instant, but it was, almost so that I wondered if she was faking it. But that was something we had talked about and I knew she would not even consider it. I let my fingers trace the same path along her thigh, and when I reached the top, her hips lifted, trying to touch her pussy to my fingers. She sighed, then seemed to think of something and said,
"But let's just finish this first!"
Her mouth sank down over my cock again and this time I gave myself up to her tongue. It was the first of many times she would hungrily suck my cum out of me and she was every bit as good as she thought she was. Her tongue lashed against my cock, while she pushed me to the back of her mouth and into her cheeks. She sucked firmly and with a constant rhythm; she wasn't going for distance, she was going for a quick finish.
I moaned her name, pushing myself up to meet her. "Ohhh don't stop."
She looked up at me for a moment, I could see the lust in her eyes, then she crushed the head of my cock into the roof of her mouth and scrubbed her tongue repeatedly over the sweet spot underneath. I felt the swell of orgasm building in my groin, then my cum burst out of me and into her hungry mouth.
"Mmnn," she mumbled, gulping it down, then running her tongue all round the head, soothing the jangling nerve ends. She lifted her face to mine, then hesitated, but I put my hand behind her head, and slid my tongue over her lips, finally settling my mouth over hers and kissing her tenderly. The taste was exquisite. Her kisses had always tasted special, but now there was an extra sweetness, and a slippery coating of my come on her lips.
"I love you." I told her. It seemed so natural to say it. "And now it really is your turn."
Without waiting for a reaction I slid down the bed and put my face between her legs. Her bush was trimmed to a neat carpet on her pubic bone and her lips were glistening with a little wetness. I ran my tongue over the outside, then tentatively felt for her clitoris.
"Oh!" she gasped, lifting her hips, "Mmmm yes!"
I found her bud and flicked at it with my tongue, gently building the sensations, but I needed a quick fix too and I have always been better with my fingers. I slid my body along hers, replacing my tongue with a finger and rolling her clit with a steady undulating pressure. I sucked gently on her nipple and flicked it against my teeth with my tongue.
I could feel her heart racing under her breast as I brought my left hand up to pinch her other nipple, still keeping the steady rhythm on her clit. Her hips were beginning to grind and her thigh was between my legs. Her body was soft and hard and hot underneath me, her head thrown back as I drowned myself in the feel of her. My cock was hardening again and I wanted desperately to fuck her, to be inside her, but I closed my mind to it and buried my face in her neck. Her perfume drifted into my lungs and as I breathed her in I felt my heart beat faster.
I kissed her again more passionately, then suddenly she whipped her head sideways, my tongue jerking out of her mouth.
"Oh yes, Yes!" She cried, gasping for breath, and suddenly I felt her hips jerk under my fingers, then fall back onto the bed.
"Oh, mmmm," she sighed, as I softened the pressure of my fingers.
"Was that it?" she questioned in wonder.
"I think that was just a little one," I said, smiling.
"But that was incredible, I've never felt anything like that before."
She was breathing a little slower now, and I knew I had broken her hang up.
"I don't really know, I said, but I think as you get used to how it works for you they will get bigger."
I don't think she believed me at the time.
Her delicate long fingers had closed round my cock.
"I want you to come inside me," she gulped, only just managing to say the words.
I pushed her knee away and lifted my body between her legs, touching the tip of my penis to her still wet outer lips. Her eyes shone, and I eased forward, edging the head into her. She groaned and pushed her hips towards me. I rocked back and forward gently, easing a little more into her each time, soaking my shaft in her juices as I edged gradually into her. The heat of her tight hole was burning all around my cock. Finally I sighed deeply as I slid all the way into her and held there, pushing as deep as I could. I did not expect her to come again but I knew she wanted me badly, so I gave myself up to her grip on my cock and worked it in and out, over and over again, gradually increasing the tempo. After a while I felt the distant promise of another orgasm beginning within me, then I realised she was breathing in sync with my movements. On every withdrawal a little gasp; on every stroke a little groan; "Ahhh, Ohh; ahh, ohhh," every time, getting faster and deeper as I lengthened my stroke.

Her gasps suddenly brought me a lot closer, and she began bucking her hips and clawing at my nipples.
"Oh____," I called her name, and came again, ramming my cock into her as my cum pumped out of me. Her hips jerked again and a sudden extra gasp told me she was coming too, harder this time and with a look of amazement in her eyes. I collapsed against her and held her in my arms as we lay together, waiting for our breathing to return to normal.
"Oh God. So that's what all the fuss is about," she said, laughing.
"Well I think that was just an ordinary one," I smiled.
This time I think she believed me. I think she was wondering just how good it could get.
I looked down at her. She looked incredibly beautiful. Watching the woman you love come is one of the most rewarding experiences life has to offer a man. And I really loved her.
9 Comments
The Lioness
Posted:Nov 6, 2006 4:59 pm
Last Updated:Dec 12, 2011 3:18 am
4346 Views

Nothing which follows is made up.

The Lioness was the love of my life. I once said that if her personality could somehow be transplanted into the body of a hideously ugly hag I would still have thought she was the most beautiful woman in my whole world. I remember once lying in bed with her after a marathon of lovemaking, feeling as if I wouldn’t need sex again for a good long while, and that if I did it would probably hurt, when I looked into her eyes and realised I had to have her again, now, just because it was her. She was very very special.

I have never written about her before, although many of the events that happen in my fantasies are based on memories of her. But I thought maybe it was time to describe some of our time together, because if I can capture it in words maybe we can all read it with smiles on our faces. Before I go on I should say that I have become aware that there is at least one “Lioness” on this site, but there is no connection. It is just a nickname I had for her at the time; I am not sure even she was aware of it.

My Lioness was a real person. She was tall, five feet eleven, slim but quite heavily built, a little bit Amazonian. Her hair was darkish natural blond, sometimes lightened by summer sun; long shoulder length and heavy, but wavy; almost permed looking when allowed to dry naturally. Her eyes were steely grey/blue. Her face was unremarkable, not beautiful to an objective eye, but there was an aura surrounding her presence which was felt by others apart from me. She was quiet rather than talkative, and yet always seemed to be the centre of attention at any social gathering.

We had worked together for three years, and I had grown to love her before I realised I was in love with her. We shared our secrets, hopes and fears, and supported each other through difficult periods for us both. One evening we were sitting in the pub talking to a friend of hers who was leaving work. The room was cramped for space and the three of us sat in on a window bench, the friend in the middle. To make more room both The Lioness and I sat with our inside arms stretched along the backrest of the bench. We had become closer and closer over the preceding months, but I thought anything more would be impossible. But that night something finally snapped in me. I reached out and touched the back of her hand. I think I expected her to move it away, but she didn’t. After a few seconds she touched her fingers to mine and for me life would never be the same ever again. We walked to the underground station; our trains would leave from different platforms, hers to her south London flat, mine to Paddington and a mainline train. I don’t remember our first kiss. It’s weird I know, but I don’t remember it at all. I remember saying see you tomorrow, walking away and standing alone on my platform for a minute with my mind racing, before running back to see if she was still there. We kissed again, I said I would get the next train, and we walked back to the surface together and sat in Hanover square talking. I had boarded another kind of train in my life, a night train that was not going to stop until I was lost in the dark and a long way from home.

But before that awful loss there were the good times. One I remember vividly from amongst many in the next few weeks.

It was one of those rare long hot English summers. At the time we had never made love though we both knew we wanted to. The idea that we thought we could resist it seems so stupid now. We left work, and in the glow of the evening sun we walked into Hyde Park and just wandered, arm in arm, laughing and sometimes stopping to kiss. You can walk a long way to the west in the park, and if you do, by the time you are level with Bayswater to the north you come to a wilder area, with trees and long grass where people don’t seem to go very much. We walked into the long grass and lay down. We had never had to learn to kiss each other. With most people there is an awkward period of each working out how the other likes to kiss, but that never happened to us over anything. It was as if every aspect of lovemaking we had encountered with previous partners had been a rehearsal for being with each other. I covered her lips with mine, and slid my tongue into her. She responded with hers and I felt my heart beat faster. She was wearing a simple skirt and a starched white shirt. I twitched one button open and slipped a finger inside. Her bra was still done up, but as I ran my fingers over it I felt the hard knot of her nipple through the material and stopped there, gently brushing over it with my finger.
"Mmnn," she breathed through my lips. I undid another button and rubbed my thumb harder over her nipple. Suddenly she broke the kiss and pushed me down into the grass, rolling on top of me.
"Not here," she said smiling, and lowered her lips to mine again. I knew then that it was inevitable we would make love one day, just not yet. Her hair fell over my face, shutting out all but a few faint shafts of light, like the morning sun through bedroom curtains. I could feel the pressure of her body lying against mine, but it was as if she had closed down the rest of the world, and the only things that existed were the scent of her skin, her lips and the rhythm of our breathing.
4 Comments
A Dreamer Dreams
Posted:Nov 3, 2006 8:58 am
Last Updated:Dec 21, 2010 3:39 am
4378 Views

I'm talking about real dreams, the kind you have at night, not dreams of things you wish would happen.
(I have them too, but I will come to that another time.)

We all dream, but how many people suffer from the recurring dream? I have several, some good some bad.
First let me say that whilst I do have some erotic dreams I have only once in my entire life had a wet dream. I consider this a blessing; what a waste to have a good orgasm and sleep through it! I very rarely dream of coming, and only on that one occasion has it resulted in me actually waking up having ejaculated.

Right that's got that out of the way. What I do have is what I call situation nightmares, two of which involve cars. The first one sees me driving a car in which the brakes do not work properly in reverse. So I am always standing on the brakes as hard as I can but still the car rolls towards a van, wall, lamp post or whatever. This often lasts for some time in a dream but rarely ends with any damage, but I hate it.
The second one has me driving a car which races on ahead of me on its own while I am left behind trying to steer by some sort of remote control. Not so much no brakes as I never think to try and stop. After a while the car usually goes round a corner and I can't even see it but it's still speeding up. This is very scary, but again never results in an accident. I have one of either of these dreams about twice a year and have had them since I learned to drive. It has got to the stage that whenever I dream I am driving this starts to happen.

Another dream I have sometimes is the opposite - up lifting in the extreme. I am standing by water, usually a swimming pool, when I remember that I can do something amazing. I can not remember when this started, and I only have it occasionally, but in the dream I remember that I can walk on water. So I step off into the pool, and my feet just squash down to about ankle deep or maybe shin deep, and I walk across the pool! Sometimes people are watching, but no one is particularly surprised, they just say "Oh yeah, he can do that." It is however a wonderful feeling and I always wake up invigorated after one of these.

Then there is the girl of my dreams. How can I describe her? I first dreamt of her when I was about fourteen, and she has visited me occasionally, maybe about six or seven times since. She never looks the same. The first time, I remember it well, she was about 5 ft 5, slimish, but rounded , dark brown hair in a bob, and she looked deep into me with stunning brown eyes. I remember thinking "this must be what it feels like to be in love."
Since then I have dreamed about a lot of girls; girls I know, nondescript women, even famous people, but occasionally there's something I recognise that this is the one special dreamgirl and I think, "Oh my god it's her again." She has been blonde, tall, pale, dark skinned, small, red haired, amazonian, and even plain looking, but I know instantly when it is her. She looks at me as if to say, I am always here for you, nothing you could think or do would ever stop me loving you. Sometimes the dream lasts a while and we have some kind of adventure, sometime it only lasts a moment.
But every time it is very special.
I don't know if telepathy exists, I don't know if dreams mean anything other than the obvious "Your life is/could go out of control" message in the recurring car dream, but whenever I dream about the girl of my dreams I wonder if one day I will meet someone and be able to look into their eyes and say "Is it you?" knowing they will say "Yes it's me," rather than laugh at me and think it's a cheesy chat-up line!!
Funny things,dreams.
1 comment
The Blow Job Enquiry
Posted:Nov 2, 2006 7:23 am
Last Updated:Jan 25, 2017 3:11 pm
4766 Views

Romanticlvr posted a comment on my last blog Telepathy, and the biggest O of all time about how she would like to know what her blow jobs feel like to a man, so I wrote this reply and when I'd finished I thought it should be on my main blog, so here it is. I would really like some comments on this, most people find it very hard to describe what their sensations actually feel like, and I don't think I've done that great a job myself. Can anyone add anything?

Well I can tell you what I like although you probably know most of this already..

Most importantly, (I'm sure you know this!) Teeth! Teeth must not touch the head of the penis as this HURTS! On the shaft it's ok, but even a light touch on the head feels like a saw blade!
I think it works best if I am on my back with my partner between my legs, or alternatively if she lies back propped up against something and I have a leg either side of her breasts. This is because it allows access for her tongue to work the underside of my cock just behind the head. (I believe this is called the frenulum, and I think we should find another name for it because that just does not sound at all sexy!)
This is the most indescribably intense and erotic feeling, far more pleasurable in terms of pure physical sensation than any other sex act. If you can rub the flat tongue, rather than pointed, across and up and down this area it sends a kind of electrifying tingling feeling spreading outwards, sometimes reaching as far as the whole body. A lot of women move their mouths up and down in a kind of fucking motion, which is great, but I find this just feels like fucking, and doesn't maximize the potential of the blow job. Sucking should be sucking, and I guess if you just imagine you are trying to suck away a lollipop as fast as possible, in other words suck hard (maybe not too hard) and rub with your tongue, then that's how I like it. This also presses the upper side of the head into the roof of the mouth which adds another kind of shooting sensation to the whole thing. (As long as it doesn't touch the teeth!) I expect the sucking brings more blood to the nerve endings....God I'm getting hard just writing this. Where's The Lioness when I need her? Oh yes, haven't seen her for fifteen years, forgot for a moment there!
Orgasm seems to build much more slowly with a good blow job, the woman is in more control, and can keep me hovering just on the edge. I find this happens less when fucking, when once it starts to build it's going to happen soon.
This means the last few moments (the part I like the best when orgasm is coming, but ejaculation hasn't started yet) can last longer with a blow job. This feels like a kind of dam waiting to burst. It's like there's a big reservoir of cum somewhere between the cock and the balls, not quite actually in the balls, and there's a kind of tingling swelling feeling coupled with something rather like the feeling you get when you are just about to sneeze. It is gloriously pleasurable, then the trigger goes and you pump; again it feels like it comes from the area between the penis and the testicles, and also somewhere in between the hips. Your mind goes blank but you are aware of how your partner is reacting - if she looks surprised or uncomfortable then for me it's a bit of a turn off, but if she's holding me in, loving it, or looking up at me smiling and sucking it out of me it intensifies the experience a lot. I especially love it when I can hear her mumbling "Mmmmmn Mmmnn" as she sucks.
When this point is reached I find it very important for my partner to slow down her movements while I come. Sucking is still good, as is tonguing the frenulm, but the back of the head can become oversensitive at this point, and too much friction there spoils the moment a bit. I believe this happens to some women with their clit just after orgasm, can anyone enlighten me on that? Hope all this helps you to understand what the next lucky guy to get into your mouth is feeling!!! Can any women reciprocate with some description of how it feels to have their clit licked and what female orgasm really feels like?
7 Comments
Telepathy, and the biggest O of all time.
Posted:Oct 30, 2006 5:54 pm
Last Updated:Jan 5, 2011 7:21 am
4780 Views

I had this idea a while ago, and not long ago I was reading some research which suggested that one day, in the future it may be possible for people to download their minds onto a computer and so go on living... Well it isn't much of a stretch from a computer to say an MP3 player, and it isn't much of a stretch from downloading your mind, to uploading your feelings, and so I wrote this story.....

Joanne stood the X-Box on the bedside table and turned the switch to empathic mode. She looked nervously at Alan, wondering whether they were taking a terrible risk. As far as she knew no one had ever tried doing this before. But Alan's mind was beyond being nervous; he was dangerously exhilarated by excitement.

When Alan had met Joanne at the medical research institute there had been an instant attraction. It wasn't so much her looks, although Alan would have been the first to admit that she was stunningly pretty.
She had straight blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Her National Heath glasses looked oddly out of place on her perfectly shaped face, and her slim neck led to a sharply starched white neckline that showed just enough cleavage to hint at her impossibly rounded breasts. Real tissue growth stem-cell implanting had come a long way since he had worked on its development back in 2087 he had thought. She was a psychologist; he was a neuro-computer technician. Together they had worked on the first empathic diagnostic scanners in the nineties. The success of their collaboration had made them both money, and had helped cure thousands.

A computer program that could sense a patient’s illness from reading their brainwave patterns. A machine which could feel what the patient was feeling. But they both knew they could do so much more. Suppose those brain patterns could be relayed to another’s brain, a doctor’s brain, so that questions like “Does this hurt?” would be superfluous. Such was Alan’s hunger for success and so acute his eye for neuro-sensor design, that second generation empathic translators were state of the art diagnostic machines by the turn of the twenty second century.

But for Joanne, another hunger was beginning to direct her work.
She was empathic naturally. It was that which had attracted Alan. She loved to know what someone else was feeling. And she was sensual; she never feared her own feelings. The first time they made love Alan gazed in wonder into the sky blue of her eyes and felt as if she were seeing into his dreams. Once she had used the neuro-sensor on him during sex, there was nothing else worth doing. If “does this hurt” could become superfluous, so could “does this feel good.” But the neuro-sensor only worked in one direction.

The X-box was special. One electrode for each person’s temple, it created a cross-flow of feelings between two people. It effectively linked two peoples’ minds. In empathic mode it prevented actual thoughts from being transferred, but allowed feeling, both mental and physical, to flow each way between two people.
Joanne reached out and touched Alan’s face, and almost flinched as an invisible hand, her own hand, touched hers. She touched her finger to his lips and felt a surge of desire through her body as her own lips thrilled to her touch.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, and the beating of his heart thumped in her chest. He leaned forward. He could feel her lust, or was it his own, spreading through his veins, and when their lips met it was as if nothing else in the world existed. Their tongues played over each other and their minds met, filled with each others heat.

Joanne felt something strange below her belly, a power, a weight she had never felt before. He knew that feeling, an awareness of his balls,just feeling that they were there, his maleness. Joanne,cupped her hand under them and felt the power in her own groin. She felt him harden against her and realized her clitoris felt as if it was a cock, big and hard instead of small and sensitive. She rubbed her body against him and felt a satisfying friction. Then she felt something extra. It was her own sensation coming back from him. Her clit was hardening, but at the same time she sensed his awe at feeling the tiny intense bud aching to be touched, tongued and rubbed. She licked her finger, slid her hand between her legs and rubbed herself. He gasped.
“Oh my God, that’s what you’re feeling,” he groaned, “rub yourself harder.”
“Not exactly harder,” she said, but like this,” and she arched her own back in pleasure as the exquisite shocks flowed through her. She ran her finger round her clit in a circle, then slipped two fingers inside herself and gently pushed them against her G-spot. He could feel the wetness on her fingers as he had felt it on his own so often before. But this time he could feel them inside him pressing against that incredible spot.
“You try,” she said with a smile, replacing her hand with his. His fingers moved as if they were hers; from each touch he knew what she wanted because he could feel it. She slid down the bed, then looked back at him, blonde hair across her face like a veil. He knew what was coming; she didn’t. She took his cock into her mouth and ran her tongue around the tip. Her whole body stiffened and she gasped for breath.
“OH GOD,” she breathed, “that feels incredible.”
Joanne’s mouth closed around him again and she was lost to it. She slid him to the back of her throat and tried to swallow him, her body jerking convulsively as the X-Box fed her thrills from his body. She hunched over him and slid him in and out, always as deep as she could take him, her tongue lapping insatiably at him, finding the most sensitive parts. His fingers were bringing her close to orgasm, but he kept her waiting, he could feel her there, just on the edge. But he had no such control over his own climax, and she was in no mood to wait. Harder and harder she gulped him down her throat until she could feel the point of release building. It was as if his cock and her clitoris had become one enflamed throbbing entity, crashing headlong to the biggest O of all time.
“AHHHHH,” they both yelled out as his come splashed over her face, before she swallowed him down again and he felt her orgasm flood through his own body. It was almost too much.
Joanne switched off the X-Box a few minutes later. They had basked in each other’s after-glow, but there came a point when their minds needed the rest of being alone.
“It will never be the same without it,” he said when he had gathered some of his own thoughts.
“No,” she said, “no it won’t.” She picked up the Box, put her lips to one of his nipples, and flicked the switch.

I’m not altogether happy with this ending, and originally I had the idea that they would both die horribly, suffering some kind of sensory overload which fried their brains, but then I couldn’t bring myself to write it. I never did approve of those formulaic horror movies where anyone who has good sex gets slashered or eaten by the shark, and I wanted to send my readers to bed horny, not scared, so I have left Alan and Joanne enjoying their technology enhanced affair in peace. Unless someone else has a better Idea?
3 Comments

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