Got hit again

At the supermarket checkout, I noticed a middle-aged woman in a skin-tight outfit. It was 3-quarter pants and 3-quarter sleeves where you hardly notice when the sleeve ends and the skin starts. I carefully observed that her line was the shortest before I joined her.

I moved around too much and I'm automatically sensitive to these things. The local population is quite cosmopolitan and I'm often being noticed in a good way. But the problem is when somebody recently relocated here from nowhere. It was coincident that I followed her out of the checkout and into the customer service area. She was a young wife wearing something comfortable but you couldn't say tight, short or revealing. She was just uncomfortable when I was standing behind her in the line. If it wouldn't look more awkward I would have stood a few more feet behind her. It was difficult to show that you are uncomfortable with the man standing behind you but she did. Finally, when I got to the counter the agent reduced my pain by joking that the color of my stuff that required special internet order was worth the wait. I proudly showed off my internet order leaving the store.

She was probably in her 40's with little makeup on, probably coming straight from the yoga / slimming joint a few doors away. But her body is really something considering her age. Of course, the tightness help but her butt and breasts looked so good. Not only that, you know 3-quarter anything was so hard to wear when you don't have a model body.  She doesn't but she looks good on it. I would hit it given the chance.

Maybe she noticed that I looked impatient checking the line length of the other checkouts constantly. I just didn't want to check out her butt all the time. She noticed that a new checkout was opened and told me helpfully. Why would she notice anything about me at her back? Why would she bother?

Maybe it was my colorless gray sagging pants. It was a nightmare to keep it on my waist all the time but it was worth it for my legs looking great. Maybe it was my well worn blue T-shirt that needed the whole factory to stitch the very few visible seams. Of course, my sagging breasts and beer belly weren't visible in any way. Maybe it was my voluminous long stylish hair that many alpha males cut themselves. I think my little salt and pepper looks good but maybe it was my Clark Kent glasses that made me look like a college freshman or single father getting lost in the supermarket.

She cared enough to start a conversation but I was never good at it. More, if I had an hour to spare I would have booked something. You know what I mean!

I took each fire alarm down, in turn, to listen to the one that gave out the low battery scream. I could have replaced the old 9V battery but then I found out that the alarm was 10 years old. So it was made about the time when I went to Argentine. I only remembered that they were cheaper single sensor types because I was saving money for the non-critical areas; I have different types of alarms.

For about the same money I ordered two new ones with dual sensors that use rechargeable AA batteries. Fire alarms are supposed to be replaced every 10 years. I could try those with 10-year batteries but I don't trust them much. Maybe next time. Looking forward to the next 10.

Where are they now?

Over the years I have some acquaintances in the blogging community. I stopped checking on them years ago partly because I don't want to find out that more blogs becoming graveyards. Partly because Facebook killed RSS and to some extend blogging.

For the same reason, I deleted my blog roll many years ago; it would be counterproductive if it contained lots of deserted blogs. And since Google killed Reader, I didn't have the records to visit my dear old acquaintances. But I still have a list in Blogger that contains blogs in Blogger only.

It's not surprising that many bloggers had stopped. I myself could have stopped many times and still may stop all of a sudden. The most active blogger seems to be blogging her totally new live for as long as I can remember. It's hard warming to see that some book authors are still blogging.

In this business, the opposite sex always tries to take advantage of each other. This is a very individual game so it's hard to agree how to best play it and form fan clubs. It's not easy to "friend" each other and follow each other closely. That's why I still like this Blogger format.

This is my own private corner of the Internet. In five years you may wonder what happened to this guy and you can come back to visit. You may catch up on my new adventures or it might become as dead as my own shrine until Google decides to kill old blogs.

There's no easy way to follow me. Google Reader replacements are either too simple or too complicated or too expensive (not free). So I linked this blog with Google+ to make it possible to follow. But we have to use Google+. RSS is about cooperation but FB got powerful enough to kill it. Google agrees that RSS is dead and didn't even fight. I wonder does AdWord makes any money at all?

Instead of wondering where are you guys now I will tell you where have I been. The publishing of the Argentina trip was supposed to be the start of my memoir. Should I say it was time to hang up the condoms? I remember very well that I got Emma's call in the first few days checking on me. It happened that I was on a compatible network but I didn't pay for international roaming. I could see her number but couldn't answer.

Before that I wrote a lot of things all over;  they are of course as "popular" as this blog :-( For a memoir I wanted people to read so I took some effort on the readability and the topics. If you find that unreadable and uninteresting, you can imagine what my other writings were. Even when I wasn't doing it, I still enjoying writing about it.

Over time, it's less about keeping friends and readers but more about myself and my past relationships, particularly Chanel. You need inspiration and motivation to keep writing. Incidentally, I was invited to write a textbook very early on in my career. The typesetting tech wasn't there yet and it would be a nightmare. More important, I have to keep my Professor for the heavy grammar editing I needed and hence his whole group will all be authors in my book. I could do it all by myself but it would take years and I had no clue how those publishers work. At the time I was worrying where my next meal comes from and how to get a real paycheck.

I regretted turning it down by not replying. It's so much worthwhile if only to put it on the bookshelf to remind Mrs Player that I'm not a fake and I'm a big deal to somebody.

Of course, if money and time allow and when the opportunity arises I will do it all over in a heartbeat. That's what I did and always enjoy writing all about it. And since my old readers and new readers will be few and far between, I naturally let my guards down and revealed more of my individuality. I apologize for your lost inside my own soul searching.

Looking back

You just can't avoid looking back when you always tell yourself to move on. Every year there is the dreaded tax return. You just can't forget about the good years especially the bad years. Worse, with software expert systems, your list of returns aren't hidden somewhere at the corner of the garage.  Hitting the wrong button and the list are right in front of you.

Sometimes it's the number that hit you, for example, 1999. Other times, it's the pattern. For several years in a row, the returns were well engineered online mostly with hefty refunds. Other times, they were done on the PC because the online servers were long closed for the tax year. Because two or more years of returns may be done at the same time, it's not easy to switch back to the online version even though the latest tax year was current.

I was in a good mood today because, for the 1st time in several years, all my tax return were current, including the payments. I'm also in a mixed mood because I'm not so sure about my prior tax years.

Anyway, let's look back at something interesting. Now it's much easier to find your dream girl than a decade ago. They are also more affordable because of competition. I would say the price is the same; you wish it were true for real estates.

Now that I am not prepared to keep regulars I ventured to see the hot VIP model I failed to book several times. But I am more interested to see cute teeny girls like Chanel II torturing themselves riding on me. And when they think it's over, I carried on the torture on top or at their back.

Everything I saw and heard about Vipe is true, and better. At 5'10 barefoot, she is a model material with properly enhanced boobs and possibly bottom. A slender figure with nice limbs and long legs. She is pretty without much makeup. The better part is that at first glance she looks more like a cute teen than a full blown model.

If she sounds perfect, she is. I can think of few girls with such a perfect body but they are not as pretty or not as cute. I can't recall anybody with those pair of long legs. But even if I can remember, I bet no one has her perfect butt, waist and legs combination.

What she does is amazing. She would take off her heels to start a lap dance. With my limited strip club experience, she is one of those strippers who would cause a riot when she comes out of stage for the 1st time. That lap dance alone worth her VIP price.

She satisfied my leg fetish wet in the shower and then dry on the bed. The same went for my butt, feet and toes fetish. She has a habit of sucking my index finger so I returned the favor and then some.

She kisses and with tongue but there wasn't any earth moving. Sometimes it happened for the 1st DFK. More often it is the 2nd. Other times it never happened unless you went all the way for number 43.

She is very generous with her blowjob. I wasn't prepared much and I felt vulnerable. I had to stop her until I knew she knew how to handle the sensitive me.

Since I first saw her, I was aiming for a one-legged bend over finish but I couldn't find anything of suitable height in her room. Maybe next time I'll ask her out in the living room.

Aluminum Anniversary

Looking back at my blog, I published the down under journey to Argentina in the summer of 2007! Since then, I haven't one day without hits from that Gawker story, even now that the site is dead as a gravestone.

It's not yet summer but I it was summer when I was in Buenos Aires. It was December 2006. So, with some compromises on each end, I declare that the Aluminum Anniversary is upon us.

What inspired me is Buffy's Anniversary. I don't share much with her but she must be having a great time on hers, looking backward and forward, but mostly backward. I do have a little story about us, The Player vs Buffy, but it would be for another day.

I'm happy to say I'm still fully functional in 2017, lol. Just the last weekend, after I dropped off my kids for their extracurricular activities, I had a little extracurricular thing for myself. Before picking them up, I went to see a hot model for the 3rd time. But she was fully prebooked.

Surprisingly, my 3rd choice turned out to be schoolgirl material that I wasn't looking for. She is all natural, thin with delicate curves that I liked. But her lack of makeover on her face made her look a lot older than her body at over 30 years old.

Very likely I was her first of the day. She proceeded very carefully after she saw my full erection. At first she was showing off her oral skills. Then she must be enjoying it very much. Later, she must be trying to get me to the edge so as to lighten the workload on her pussy. But after a while, I had the feeling that I was invincible. I let her mouth loose to do whatever she wanted when I remained tough like a steel rod, enjoying every moment of it.

She could have sucked me for the whole hour but realistically she had to let me in. Very carefully, she got on the saddle like a cowgirl. She was warming up slowly and gradually. Then she rode faster and harder. But I wasn't worried. I arched my back a bit so my steel rod was fully inside her.

Once she was warmed up the anxiety on her face evaporated. I could do pretty much any position I wanted. Maybe it was tough after all when you have to be repeated stabbed by a steel rod. We somehow ended up in a reverse missionary. It couldn't be my idea. In addition, she was starting to charge like me when I was on top. I knew time was about up.  Usually, she could finish me this way but not that day. I got back on top that did the job.

It could have been an explosive finish but I ran out of ammunition. After I pre-booked, I must have been cleaned up myself thoroughly and I was oozing with sexuality. The next morning when I put my hands near Mrs. Player's sensitive areas, she didn't resist at all. It was once a blue moon phenomenon so I proceeded to take off all her clothes and fucked her good.

I did think of being silly to have sex with her before the session with an escort. But I took the risk that the 1st round would help the 2nd round. It did beautifully but my cock itself should deserve most of the credit. With Chanel it's different. I would have avoided any sex for the week if I booked her. But usually it was Mrs. Player who wanted sex and it would be very suspicious and disastrous to turn her down.

Things to Do in Buenos Aires Without Your Wife

This is the article in Gawker that made me famous, relatively speaking, now reproduced in its entirety. RIP.

The Player vs the Biker

While we were walking into the motel room, a biker caught up with us and demanded, "I want to have a threesome."

Now you can imagine how hot my girls are. Do you remember the time when I brought the 19-year-old Rapunzel with ass length straight blond hair into a roadside convenient store buying condoms and asking for the direction to the nearest motel? The teen boy storekeeper looked at me like I was a god. This girl was her friend. Instead of Disney hot, she was biker hot.

She had a teen skinny body and she could paint herself into a Princess with the box she carried. I didn't like her much because she always pretended to be low mileage high maintenance when I knew she was the opposite. But she was a good fuck. I got wild when I got her tiny teen body under me missionarily, pumping her pussy and sucking her mouth non-stop. When I took my breath she asked, "Are you done yet?"

The phrase could destroy any erection but I'm the Player. What do you expect? I got even wilder and we mated like a pair of dolphins. I was on top and didn't need any help. She could be hiding her pleasure when she turned her face away, refusing to let me suck her. But I wasn't offended and praised, "You are sooo tiny!". She made me feel like I didn't pay her enough for what I did or the pleasure I had. With her, I always felt I was the mark. If I ever got hooked on her she would cost me dearly one way or the other.

I always wanted her to be Princess Nasty. She got the body and the face. If only she could blow me bare, unload completely in her mouth, spit out or swallow. That would be priceless at the time.

Being the Player, I calmly gave the biker a firm no immediately, even though he looked the part with all the right gears; even though I might have seen his bike outside of their room ten yards away. Yes, it is "they"; he was not alone.

The biker turned his attention to my girl, thinking that she might be street wiser. But the answer was the same. She treated him as if he's a nuisance and crazy and shut the door undramatically. I never thought about it ever since the door was closed until I binge watched the Son of Anarchy.

The motel did have a little inland California feel because many girls hanged out a bit away from the coast when they are not working; the rent is cheaper.

Honestly, the biker wasn't threatening. He was more fat rather than big. He seemed to be more like begging than demanding. And he knew he sounded crazy when he asked. Above all, I didn't know anything about the biker culture. Only until a couple of years ago, I don't know that they are capable of a shooting war between over a hundred people.

I could tell by his face he was sex craved, needing to jerk off immediately like any men. I am sure I would look the same when the right porn moment hit me. His stimulation would be my hot girl walking into the motel room with me, obviously going to have sex the moment when the door close, in a hot desert afternoon. That was why he looked silly instead of threatening.

I was drawn to the series but I am not planning to watch more than a season or two. It would be different if I live in a more rural area closer to the settings.

I was impressed when the doctor came back to her hometown to hide from her stalker, only to be protected by the biker and his arch enemy the deputy sheriff. They all went to the same high school. The gangster mom held fundraising events for the school, just like for any other school in the land, long after her kids left.

And when the undertaker agreed to help to supply two dead bodies, instead of money he wanted the girl he had a crush on since high school. And the biker delivered.

I went to the neighborhood school for a brief time, about a year for elementary school. It was similar to schools with just a number, or just the street name. But actually, I was quite happy there. The good students knew that I was transferred from an expensive private school. Having a business over there, others might know that my dad had to handle the underworld and survived.

It was totally different for high school. Students were from all over so there was no local attachment anywhere outside the school. All the memories left of the place were that of looking for affordable restaurants with least terrible lunches.

I was treated like royalty in elementary school without knowing it. The gangs would leave me alone. When I wanted to play wrestling at recess, they would let me jump the line, roughing me up enough but not hurting me at all even though I was a lot smaller than the other guy.

Even though everybody lived nearby, there was zero chance of meeting others outside school because of the population density. But since I lived there long after elementary school, I remembered I saw a guy who must have been initiated into a gang, selling snacks on the street. He didn't remember me or he pretended not to. I saw a girl selling vegetables in the local farmers' market. She must have remembered me because she went to hide and sent somebody to take her place. I pretended not to have spotted her to save her the embarrassment. I could imagine that over the years, many old classmates would have seen me, remembered me but wouldn't bother to greet me as I must have gone on to do great things while they barely hung on.

I might do the same if I spotted my old high school friends that were successful. But then we knew each other for at least half a decade and that we had a happy childhood. Indeed I met a friend on the underground. He just returned after university from abroad and got a high paying finance job. We were never close but I was still having his books at home that he asked me to sell before he left!

The fact was, we didn't have anything to say! I am always a man of few words. We didn't do much together. I was down but not out while he must be having his great moments. He was always the underdog in high school but now he turned the table. I didn't think he was rude to me nor he was trying to ignore me. I was always humble and nice to everybody and popular. I thought he was used to old "friends" trying to reconnect with him now that he was successful. And that he found no use for them anymore and ignored them for a change. I would think I was different; we just have nothing to say and he had a lot in his mind.

Indeed, all of the high school was supposed to go on to great things, even for the average underdog. But I didn't see myself sitting down in a clinic to see miserable patients all day long. If only I thought about the money and the women. The fact was if you tried to buy an umbrella near the school, the craftsman having spotted your broken one would insist on repairing it for you on the spot, free of charge.

I didn't know if my dad was short of money, sending me to the neighborhood elementary school. Or he knew that there was affirmative action for public school kids or a bit of both. He found the excuse to send me out of private school. Of course, I graduated top of the class for once in my life, probably setting the record for the highest achievement ever since at the school. But no one believed when I told them my ordinary scores while getting into the public high school that no money can buy.

But I wasn't doing too badly myself. I drove dad on cross country road trips in brand new luxury cars and SUVs, across the channel, and across the desert, along famous roads, highways, and streets that the average tourist can never dream of such local experience. In hindsight, dad would have been happier sightseeing cities and monuments that he had heard of. But I know he was happy enough and couldn't stop talking about it. My cousins told me that how happy he had been in his last years.

I am a bit surprised by so many familiar faces in the series. Can you believe it, "married with children"? Come back after so many years?

If they wrote in a hot biker girl permanently I might watch all the seasons. I am also happy to turn on the TV on schedule. But with the whole Netflix to choose from, I'll pass for now.

Burn Notice

After discovering my private porn star, I have been picky about calling anybody. Jade satisfies me in many ways without hesitation and I can video everything if I want to. I saved myself plenty of time.

Cutting my cords for so long, having extra time at hand, I indulged in binge watching for the first time. Immediately, I searched for the series that I missed when I cut the cords - Chuck of Buymore. Even though the series wasn't a big hit with many seasons, it was not included in Netflix or Amazon. It's not a good start when you have to pay for binge watching.

As I have said before, I'm very much into believable spy dramas. I enjoy dramas with multiple personalities, and the real life personality can be confused with the professional ones. The next one I thought of was Burn Notice, whose name I couldn't even recall. When I cut my cords, I was impressed by BN, being the McGyver of the spy world.
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I still remember I had some torrents of the series, and the only series. That was some years after I cut my cord. That was too much hassle and I was off TV altogether.

It was well written and credible. When you have to explain what you do when you are doing it, you can't keep churning out rubbish. Even though I never find Michael Western and Fionna sexy, I missed the series and this is the first one that I settled on binge watching.

Not only that they created climax after climax, season after season, they managed to carry on and on, when I thought they were going to end after the first few seasons. What else can you write when the couple refused to part and fight to the end under raining bullets? But they went on to complete season seven, the magic number. To get there the series have to be a hit, with a lot of loyal fans, and good actors that the audiences never grow tired of watching. And above all, decent writers to keep the plots going.

I like Western of course but I don't think he is acting well. Indeed, I pray for the scene to end faster when he encountered drama and have to act. I'm sure Fionna acted well since she is from the theater, but her character is too dramatic to the extent that I feel her exaggerating. But I like them.

Approaching the end, the couple's wish was to become ordinary people living in peace. I would think many people resonated, particularly the team who must have had a hectic life for the whole seven seasons. They made it finally at the end, a happy ending!

Kids and family are musts, even for a spy series.

Binge watching is like catching up with your life, catching up with what you have missed. I know we all have to learn to move on, but when you have the chance, why not induge in some nostalgia?

One thing I find it strange is that they were still using burner phones in the last seasons.  In one episode, they went through a lot of trouble to install a live video feed when they could just stick a phone there.

So I think they had written all the episode very early on, or their real spy consultants were old school, or just old.

It was a hard act to follow. I had a hard time to find the next target that is included in my Netflix and Amazon subscriptions.

The Italian trip

Finally, partnering with a girl who worth the extra fee, I made a nasty sex video with close up organs and mutual interactions.

I had a narrow window to make myself a happy new year. All my friends were not there that day. Even if they were there, making appointments early in the day without advance notice is a hassle; that will be true also for some hotties.

Without some obvious priority, picking would be hard work. Do you go for looks? Reviews? Popularity? And you have to tell the diamond from the fakes.

After a while, I decided to go with my instincts alone. I picked a thicker Baywatch type model, with blonde hairs to match. She looks sexy as hell all nude, front and back, standing up straight, maybe with a little twist of the ankle and feet. To me, safer bets are skinny spinner girls with smaller or flat chests.

A few times I picked full bodied women I ended up with a BBW bigger than her pictures. I also find hot Real Housewives with fuller legs sexy, but they may come with cellulite or stretch marks.

She wasn't even pretty to my recent standards but I went for sexiness. I hate thick eyebrows and the fake permanent ones are killing me. But she had the Brooke Shields look. I hate the eyes of cat woman look; either they have small ugly eyes or they are junkies. She did make her eyes beautiful to go with her eyebrows and she looks very healthy. She has thick lips with a nice and sexy outline so she doesn't need a bold lipstick colour to alter the look. Her face is perfect oval or almond shaped so every organ looks good on it.

Still, somehow I think she might be ugly, thick and short. But still, I went for her sexy as hell pictures.

On the first impression, I ended up with a Baywatch model but more down to earth. She did wear a lot of makeup to look good but not enough to feel like a photoshopped head or worry constantly about the cover being messed up.

The camera did make her legs longer but her young flesh is bursting out of her skin all over. The camera didn't do justice to her natural breasts; I would say they are smaller D sized. They didn't look too good on photo paper but once I got hold of them in my hands and mouth, I hate to let them go. The best is her full bottom between her killer waist and a well-proportioned pair of legs.

Immediately, she told me where to put the donations and showed me the bathroom for a shower. But I had the feeling that she was trying to sound like a veteran to cover her nerves. Or maybe she wanted to see the money first in the most professional way she knew.

When I was taking my time after undressed, she crouched onto me to start the blowjob. I sat upright to kiss her. She hesitated for a split second but accepted the mission gracefully. It started as a lingering light on the lips. I brought out the tip of my tongue and she reciprocated. I increased the suction and wrestled with her tongue. She didn't back away, which I would say "eager to please". My passion went high in that awkward sitting position so I put my hand on the back of her head and pushed it to my lips for the full DFK. There was no resistance.

While sitting on my legs, I work on her breasts, left, right, left, right and then left ... She was frozen for me to do my things as if she was thinking, "Oh, not the left again. When will it end?"

She was blowing me without reservation but her hands were involved a little too much. That when I told her, "I forgot to do something first." It was her heavenly bottom. But first, I ate her, ate her legs, licked them a little and kissed her feet, a little plump but goes well with the rest of her. When I turned her over, I dived straight into the deep crack between her buttocks and buried my face there, surfacing occasionally to suck, lick and bite on her cheeks.

It was so good that I ordered the Italian on her menu. But she didn't understand. So I explained to her what I carefully checked out on the urban dictionary. Pam said she knew it but not the term for it; maybe because she was from up North. Also, I did it more often than I would admit but neither did I know the term until recently, that it was trendy to put it on the menu.

She took it calmly when I climbed on top of her back, stacking my tummy on her back, head to head, shoulder to shoulder, That is a contrast when some girls will worry about you raping their ass without cover when you are facing their backside. When I was cultivating fiercely between her buttocks with my mighty auger, she bent up all of a sudden like having an orgasm. My cock must have split her lips open down there.

"I am not trying to get in !", I assured her talking next to her ears. Obviously, she wasn't worried bout that and reverted to playing dead for me to do what I wanted.

That reminded me in my earlier career of the rip-off dancer who had a pear shaped body. I was so horrified when she started dancing that I stopped her immediately. It was the time when management put us two together in a room like gladiators. They were not legally responsible for what we do between ourselves as long as we didn't bring any weapons, absolutely no condoms.

Somehow I ended up sliding up and down on her big, exaggerated bottom. I was so into it when she suddenly asked, "Are you trying to fuck me?" I didn't even remember how it ended, probably a handjob.

I was wrong to say that Pam was playing dead. Actually, her head was up and turned around a bit so we always had some face time. "You are such a good girl!", I told her with my mouth on her cheek. Since her shoulder was a little up, I sent my left hand in to grab her left breasts. I am more used to grabbing with both hands when I am flat ironing somebody. But since her head was up, I found it more natural to put my right arms around her front. In the heat of the moment, my left hand would squeeze hard on her breast but my right arm would almost choke her neck. But she wasn't worried. I felt the connection between us because she was so at ease even at the beginning.

When we were cheek to cheek, me subtly swimming the dolphin style, I whispered into her ears, "Can I come?" As if she seriously meant it, her sexy voice said, "Yes! If you want to". I don't remember her exact words but they all say the same thing trying to be unique.

I would think we needed some preparations but she just laid there. Soon I came buckets between her buttocks. When the last drop came out, I rolled over to the clean side of the bed. She got up with a big smile on her face, "Very wet".

She went on to wipe the bed with my tower, complaining that, "I don't like white sheets because you don't know what's on them." She didn't talk too much but she was indeed honest and straightforward.

After cleaning up, I asked to take pictures of us naked as an excuse to leave her a good tip. She offered that on the menu. But she insisted selling me the full video package. I was a bit off guard. I only wanted a little souvenir to remember a job well done, not spending a lot for a short video. I knew she wanted the money but I walked out in good terms. I was late and there wasn't much time left. Sex was over and the last thing I wanted was just some naked video.

She was on my mind after the goodbye because I didn't know when we will meet again. She was new here, not local but lived not too far, and couldn't tell me when will be her next visit. I looked at her pictures in a new light. She does have a Baywatch body and she has a stylish and pretty face. I hate myself for not asking for a video first.

Of course, I love videos with me in action but the girls may have too many rules to be desirable. The prettiest blonde had to use her phone, sending me the picture after editing. I still haven't get it yet. Someone's idea may be letting you taking a naked video of them for a minute or two, posting solo all the way. And I bet someone would not allow their face to appear. Someone may want to hold your camera and take your video themselves.

She might be missing me too, turning up on the next Monday. I asked for an early morning appointment the next day but she is a night person. So I risk using up all the excuses for her, joining her in Sheraton for a very late morning coffee in her room presented by Starbucks.

I was a bit disappointed because her Baywatch hair was all tied up, her makeup wasn't stylish and beautiful as I hoped for, and she was in a morning robe. OK, never meet a night person in the morning. She wouldn't be ready. But she did ask me one hour before the appointment to confirm my attendance. That was enough time for her to put on her foundations, big fake eyelashes, and some tapes.

Even though we seemed to have some deeper connections, she still asked me to put the donation on the table up front. I did pay for a video without asking questions. Last time she said I can use my phone and she doesn't care what I shoot. That was good enough.

Just when I picked up my phone in hand, she was crouching on the bed like a pro, showing off her booty in front of me. I got close to her bottom with a phone in hand, almost pulling off her panty when I remembered I was coming for. It wasn't for videotaping a C-list porn star naked.

With videos by my side on my phone, I can tell you exactly what happened next. Instead of pulling her panty, I wet kissed her legs down to her slightly plump toes, licking them and sucking them. With my phone on one hand, I got more excited and nastier. I imagined myself watching myself sucking on her juicy toes. I praised her for not ticklish and then went no mercy for her toes and feet.

Because the tongue is such a small object, I remembered to turn on the selfie mode before going to the other end to DFK her.

I did have a problem in the morning preparation. I was prepared to shoot TWO videos, one close up on the phone and one on a camera mounted on a tripod. But I couldn't find the high end, compact camera and tripod set that I could almost carry in my pockets.  I could also carry them on my hand because that was tourist territory after all. But if I could have only one I will pick the phone; you will not miss.

I planned it many times in my mind. Not more than two seconds after our lips touched, I sent out my tongue. She understood what I wanted and sent hers out too. She really didn't care what I did with the camera; our tongues was licking each other in between vacuuming. At the time she was still crouching like a tiger, turning her head to receive my "kisses". Pushing her over, I climbed on top of her, changing into a more comfortable position to do the DFK. With the camera on, I felt more passionate, I did everything for longer and nastier. The good excuse was to do it for the camera; I paid for it.

Other than tongue licking tongue, the other fetish I would like to catch on camera was licking her armpits. Of course, not all armpits are sexy.  The bare armpit is a soft, vulnerable, pale, shy and sexy place. I got her armpit on camera and went for it. She was OK with everything but she couldn't stop laughing. I let her off but the reaction was priceless.

I enjoyed enough of her breasts last visit but this time it was totally different. As if holding a small mirror, I saw myself groping her hard and licking on her cherry. Finally, I pulled her panty and dived in.

I made sure to capture my tongue digging on her lips, and also my finger inside her. When I was struggling she offered to hold the camera for me. In hindsight, not only she held the camera, she was making sure to catch my lips eating her lips and my partial finger outside her pussy.

The next thing I had to do was spanking her, using my teeth, tongue and lips on her bottom. During all of that, she wiggled; it was so fantastic.

With the camera on, her blowjob was as good as anybody else. She was showing off. It made a lot of sense because it's impossible to forget her with a permanent copy and if I show it to my buddies it would be great advertisement. She is the sort of person not worrying I post her video on the internet. I don't understand but her home being up North may be the reason.

I complained to myself last time she was using too much hand. This time she went handsfree on her own accord. I was watching her on and off camera at the same time. When I watch again privately afterwards, my cock got so big that I had to vacate the toilet.

I asked her to ride me while I caught her bouncing breasts and her full frontal on camera. After I done what I sat out to do, I let go. What a way to go!

She was so comfortable on camera that I wondered if she was a porn star. Or maybe she was very much into me or felt I was totally harmless. She told me she did some photo shots and she majored in films if I got it correctly. "The female body is an art form", she said. I agreed but I wouldn't go there any further. All I wanted to know if she had done some porn before. I was polite not to use that word and she didn't use that word either.

We had a good conversation because it was a very cold morning and I was warm and cosy on the Sheraton bed even without a comforter on top. She was young and into travelling to more places than she had been. So I told her all about it.

She told me about her partying and asked me if I am a party animal. She even told me that she failed the driving test. Did I tell you she was into me? This time, her face was less pretty and a lot less stylish than her pictures. But I will have no problem driving her anywhere she wants to party together if I were single. I did tell her I have a family because it's hard to hide that I used up all my excuses on her after all.

It was money well spent. Next time I will concentrate on the penetration, on camera that is.

The Italian brought back memories long long before I knew what Italian was. First, before I had steady girlfriends, I did it occasionally on the comforter.

Then it was Mrs player at the starting of our on and off relationship over many years. I was so unsure and she was so young at about 16. I was such a good catch that I was approved by her family. I decided that if I had to walk away I would walk away void of guilty feeling. That's what the Italian was for. After all, it was a big upgrade on the comforter, lol.

We did everything except penetration of anything, not even her mouth. It was so nasty to put that monster into your cute girlfriend's mouth. We did it anywhere, tents, youth hostels, the back of the top deck of a bus and she was so keen to jump onto my bed naked.

When it was time to come, I would mount on top of her, try to a good traction between her legs and buttocks. I would work my cock up and then fire away. It was such good times. After the deed, she would have a sweet, satisfying or even wicked smile on her face. She was proud to have some good catch crazy for her. She was satisfied that I was totally satisfied.

She would also make fun of me from time to time, such as making a crude imitation of me at my climax and refer to the Italian position in many silly terms. Pam reminded me of her, so sweet, so at ease and so eager to please.

Managing your secret photo and video albums on the cloud

Following the Apple lead, Google Photos is going stupid too, turning upside down the way I manage my photo albums, especially the secret ones.

Apple doesn't understand backup or doesn't assume that you understand; at least I can't figure out how to backup your albums on an iPhone. So I guess that whenever people upgrade to a new iPhone, they have to buy twice the memory and carry all their albums for their entire life on the phone.

In the past, you plug your camera or phone into the PC, run some photo and video management app, and your albums will be copied to a central location on some drive, or on the cloud. Only new photos (and videos) will be copied and you have the option of deleting all or some of the photos on your camera or phone. After that, you can hide your secret photos by moving them to some other locations.

Google had been making a mess by launching and killing some photo apps, before Photos is usable. Now it's hard to beat; your photos are automatically saved and organised on the cloud. I am willing to pay up to buy more GB's for the convenience even though I have unlimited Amazon drive, brought iCloud storage and maybe something I don't even know. The problem is when you want to avoid something you download from getting there in the first place and want to hide something elsewhere when they get there.

Maybe carrying all your albums for life on your phone isn't so bad an idea; just double the memory everytime you upgrade. But you have the same problem when you want to hide something while sharing the rest on all devices.

I'm from the old school. If I read something as follows I would have jumped ship totally earlier and avoid some frustrations. It doesn't matter how great features Photo has when I don't know how to copy or move photos into and out of my cloud account.

First, Photos uploads where and when it wants to. Of course, you may or may not change that but with Wifi and charging, all your photos and videos are certainly going up into your Google Photo account. Not just photos in your camera are uploaded automatically; photos in all or some of your apps are included. In Chromebook, anything you downloaded from Chrome appears on Photos but not the camera. You have to "download" from the camera to the Downloads folder first.

The nearest to the old school term of backup is to "free up space" on your phone. Photos that were saved on the cloud are deleted on your phone. So I have no idea how to save your pretty pictures at 18 on the phone while freeing up space to take more pictures when you are older, much older.

It's not possible to hide some photos without deleting them; at least I haven't figured it out yet. You can't copy it somewhere on Google Drive. And even if you manage to copy photos, they may turn up back on Photos again.

A simple way is to create a new Google account. You can "copy" photos across with relative ease. First you create a shared album on the source account. You may do it in different ways. You can select the photos and click on the share button to create a shared album with someone you pick. It is important not to create multiple shared albums with the same person. You should just add more photos into the shared album, also in different ways.

Now you switch to the destination account by clicking on your profile picture on Chrome, your initial by default. You open the shared album, select all you want and "add to your library". This is the way to copy, not linked as in the shared album.

Then you switch back to the source account and delete those photos in the shared album, and maybe the album itself. Rest assure that any photos will not be duplicated on Google Drive or Google Photo unless you manage to upload duplicated copies.

Never dance again

My sad goodbye with Chanel calls to mind one of the scenes straight out of the silver screen. I had no idea yet but somehow I could see her back walking slowing across the long outdoor corridor. In hindsight, she walked so slowly as if she was in deep thought, had a heavy heart, or as if she was hiding that she had just been raped. She must have made up her mind at that point.

Maybe I was looking out of the window or the peephole of the hotel room on the ground floor. Being in a theme park, the architecture was somewhat unique, allowing me to see only her back while she walked out. I had no idea why I was looking. Usually, she left first for whatever reasons, the main one being not offering her time for free. I would stay behind to rest, savour the expensive moments in the past hour, trying to get a little more out of the room booked for one night.

I did know she might be retiring or abandoning me because she treated me badly on a pre-booked lunch date by not caring about my feelings. She didn't try to make up to me or diffuse the situation. I wasn't hopeful when I asked her out again but she was eager as usual. After the deed, she even took the time to take up the Lolita post, dangling her feet up in the air totally naked, looking at me all smiling and seductive. I hated her for that sort of behaviour in a good way. It would have been perfect foreplay if she didn't wait after sex. It was all about enticing me to come back next time for more, all about money.

Seeing that she was her old self once again without the threat of retiring, I began to show my displeasure and she understood. Now that she is gone, what I did was so wrong, so wrong. I could have written off that lunch date as a total lost, forgot all about it and I might have seen her again.

I got over her many times but time can never mend; I still miss her. I deep kissed Kendall so many times but not until the #43, or was it the #78, that I felt the earth moving. When we were taking our breath during the interlude, I had to whisper, "Wooow, what's that?" She gave me the sweetest smile and we continued. It was subtle but her mood, her smile, her embrace was different, enough to shake the ground.

With Chanel, we had a much longer history.  I still remember seeing her on and off for months until she gave me the mint and started kissing me on the next date. It went deeper and deeper until I lost consciousness from time to time. It was that good. But to her maybe it was just caressing my back that did the trick every time. Imagine that Kendall Jenner is your type and when you put some hotties shoulder to shoulder with her, you feel that there is no comparison. For me it's Chanel. I still haven't found a replacement. Kendall had potential but we were as good as splitting up due to irreconcilable differences. Chanel II is also close, but I hate to start something when the timing is all bad.

I should've known better than to get even with a paid girlfriend and wasted the chance that I've been given for happiness. So I'm never gonna kiss again the way I kissed with Chanel, probably.

To the hearts and minds of players, ignorance is kind and there's no comfort in the truth;
pain is all you'll find.

Now that the ball had dropped but here we are still at the last hours of 2016. What a year this is! Many more people had the feelings that I had when the idols of your own generation dropped like flies. Though mine didn't drop within a year. But during sparking moments of your life, epic music can't just be erased from your heart. Prince, Bowie and now Michael!

The reunion

Mrs Player was all wrapped up in Christmas coloured fancy lingerie when I returned to the bed after sneaking out trying to reply to Kendall, who surprised me with a late night text.

Thou shall not text a married man late at night, period. But I didn't have a heart attack as she is a corporation on my contact list. And there are so many spams nowadays, including shopping deliveries and school notices. Incidentally, Mrs Player doesn't silence her email notifications! So I picked up the phone on my nightstand, took a look, and threw it back on the nightstand as if it was just another spam.

I could not blame Kendall because I booked her the next day. It was "confirmed" but I planted doubt in her mind after we had some issues.

Women seem to have six senses for these things. Time and time again, Mrs Player ruined my day after I booked Chanel, hotels and everything else I needed for a day of escape. She would open up herself for sex the night before. It's hard to turn her down considering how hard it was to get into her pants. She wasn't irresistible, but it would have been very suspicious to turn her down, and she could have done worse to me to sabotage my day.

I can still perform well the following day. I have one shot to heaven no matter what. The difference is the volume and my partners feel it. On a normal day, I can flood the condom so if there's no compliment they can think of, "that's a lot" will do nicely. Some even asked me point blank, "what's the last time you had sex?"

For Chanel, it's a little different. She liked the security that I was and would be her regular, and that I preferred to see her more than anybody else, including Mrs Player. Once, she even asked who is better, she or Mrs Player. Can you imagine that? She didn't hide her dissatisfaction when I didn't reply immediately and looked a bit like a spouting kid when I said it was Mrs Player. I didn't know what I was thinking. I did give the reason that we don't wear a condom at home! Maybe it was my hint for her. Was I that clever?

Once I brought a picture of a pretty girl that I wanted her to track down for me. That was an excuse to remind her that I had many options and that she wasn't necessarily the youngest and prettiest. But she immediately thought that the picture was Mrs Player before I could say anything.

Mrs Player didn't have to wrap herself in festive lingerie; tight T-shirts and shorts would do nicely. Actually, anything will do when she allows me to grope her. I took off the gift wrap immediately, resisting the temptation to tear it off, saving it for next time, if there is one.

It's so much better at home than five-star hotels; the bedsheets are perfectly worn. You don't worry about what's the last time they washed the cosy comforter. Above all, Mrs Player is easy. She liked to be sucked and squeezed on her perky breasts, simultaneously and hard. At the same time, a pussy rub will bring her to the edge in no time. So, you know what my left and right hands are busy doing.

She would beg me not to stop before the climax, not taking my time for a detour to expose her naked body, and not sucking her toes or biting her bottom. After the climax, she would beg me to stop; that's the time when I own her. I can manipulate her into any position I want, pulling her to the side of bed, fucking her standing up, and releasing my load whenever and wherever I like, such as at the flat iron position. And then we can cuddle all night long, not worrying if she actually wants to be cuddled.

Actually, I didn't return Kendall's text. I was crossed with her and the best way to show it is to withhold my money. I cancelled the date by ignoring her text. Knowing how she operates, she had waited for my response but had to call me before the end of the day because I was the anchor for the next day. If I turned up for the early appointment, it would worth her trouble to turn up for work and any clients after would be a big plus.

Kendall texted me a few weeks earlier. I never called her after she went under the radar and we exchanged our "private" numbers. But I wanted to if only to see how she was doing. I need sex sooner or later but friends on my contact list have priority.

I jumped at the chance to see her, hoping to ignite my passion for her, and I thought I was helping her out; maybe she needed me to pay rent or the sort.

In hindsight, I don't know if I was even talking to her. I was trying to help but she seemed to fit me into her busy schedule. She gave me advance notice that she would be late for half an hour. I didn't think much at the time, assuming that she had scheduling problems working under the radar, and she couldn't afford to lose any clients.
.
I waited patiently only to find myself in a well "used" hotel room. But still, I thought she could be borrowing her friend's room to see me. I had absolute no complain when I met her. The colour of her outfit was subtle but it was actually sexy and fancy, only a teen model could fare well in it without drawing negative comments on the streets.

When the door opened, we embraced and kissed like long lost lovers. The day before, I thought of many things to do to her but I ended up doing mostly the same thing I had done before, sucking her perky teen model breast, biting lightly on her bottom and munching on her irresistible legs.

When she kneeled by my side blowing away, I forgot about everything. I wouldn't think of any other position while I could see her putting my cock into and out of her mouth on her pretty face. What else I would want when she was blowing so good without reservation, nothing between us except saliva if you count that. You can say we are custom made for each other. Remember that Emma, the oral fixated, had to pause at all the right moments to prevent me from getting too excited, shortening the fun. Kendall just kept at it non-stop while I was invincible.

I felt so good but once I wondered if there was something wrong with my equipment down there, preventing me from exploding. I forced my eyes open to take a look but my cock looked as big as an ice cream cone smouldering her mouth.

But... there is always but. Her face was almost raw. She might have no time to prepare or she looked like having an all night party before meeting me. I didn't think much of it because she doesn't need much makeup while looks pretty all the time no matter what.

She doesn't speak much because I am almost certain she doesn't want to contradict herself. Linsey, the possible Chanel replacement, speaks so much that it is possible for her to lie, while Chanel herself is the professional liar, not giving out any clues naturally and everything she said is believable. In hindsight, Kendall might not have recognised me! I hope it wasn't that bad but she was a bit off that day, but not unusual.

Kendall was certainly her old self when she was performing her signature blowjob on me, trying her best to please without reservation. But... she was holding her hair with one hand at times! What's that? Yes, she looked like she just left the hair salon but in hindsight, she also looked like she was saving herself for her next VIP's, fitting me in between when she had one hour left open.

There's more. Watching her blowjob is like watching porn. When I thought she liked my cock so much, worked so hard to please, so passionately done, she would take a side look at me momentarily to get some feedback. There was nothing in her eyes other than coldness, like a coroner checking the pulse of a corpse. Was she impatient that I still hadn't come? Was she worrying if she was doing it right?

When it was all said and done, I sat down resting with my back on the headboard. Kendall was doing the same right next to me, naked; she never had anything to hide. Before the day, I thought of many things to say. But all I managed was, "It's been a long time." She replied with a sweet smile showing off her dimple, "Yes, a long time." Before the reunion, I thought of doing many things after sex, but all I managed was leaving my left hand on her right thigh. I am sure she wouldn't mind being cuddled. Once I was sure she wanted it to secure her position in my list of girls, but all she managed to do was stretching her arm across the bed, which would be around me if I was going to lay down.

It took Kendall for me to really understand how some girls are so afraid of awkward silence. She is very comfortable saying nothing, even fully naked beside me. I was very comfortable resting until I thought I need to do or say something to fill the time. If I had no desire to do or say anything, I might just as well go home.

While I was in deep thought mode, Kendall brought out her phone. At the time I didn't think much of it; she was bored and she was always not the one to initiate anything. In hindsight, of course, she was answering her text backlog to see who's next. Or just to see if anybody was coming next. My advice is just don't do it. It may not feel bad at the time but soon and for the rest of your relationship. If you have to do it, find some believable excuses like checking the weather.

But anyway, I left early because she was late for a half hour. So my schedule of the day wasn't ruined too much by her and I was doing her a favour. I was still fond of her when I left, giving her a few passionate kisses on her mouth and on her dimple.

A few weeks after the reunion, I texted her in need of good sex. This time she certainly remembered me. Or, the saved messages are very good for customer relationship management. Before syncing our schedules, she joked if I wanted to be her first! I was positive for sure and we were going to have a nooner the next day.

Early in the morning, she told me she was sick and we had to reschedule. I was grateful that she was responsible and thoughtful. We were to meet on a Tuesday and we had to reschedule to Thursday; she doesn't work full-time. Apologetically, she confirmed the appointment. I also confirmed because I could, and I wouldn't think of anything else.

Somehow her words bothered me. Now that she owed me I asked her to do an outcall with me on Wednesday at wherever she preferred as long as it was before late afternoon, so I didn't have to wait another day. She politely declined with no excuses other than that she only works on Tue and Thu. When I took it further she didn't reply. That was the ignition point.

First, her number wasn't that private. It was shared with her friend, who posted it publicly if only temporarily. I am sure whoever can pay will have her number already.

At the reunion, she could have been calling everybody on her contact list when it was a slow day, only to find that she had more clients to handle that day. So I was bumped for half an hour for her good course. Maybe she was doing incall in two towns. Maybe she had to sync with her friend's schedule. But that didn't matter. She had enough time to change that and I could have refused to move my slot or I could have cancelled.

Looking back, her words when she called in sick hurt me. She texted about "priority", "rescheduling", etc. But she doesn't talk that way if she talks at all. After all, the words are meaningless because I was effectively written off for the day. I think I was cancelled because she got enough clients all of a sudden so she didn't have to drive to my town, disappointing her other clients. She was treating me like an overflow parking lot for the Thu appointment.

I was trying to tell her that I wasn't afraid of getting what she got. Occasional coughing and sneezing didn't bother me as long as she felt well enough to have passionate sex. Maybe she misunderstood me and my intentions; first, she had the flu than the cold actually. If it was a conversation, she would have got off easy. But for text, you can read the words again and again until eternity!

I booked her Monday morning, only to see her on Thursday noon. What was she thinking? If she replied my last text, I would have let her off because I confirmed. I know it didn't matter whatever I say except for money. So I decided not to see her unless she begged me or offered me something to compensate. She didn't, and she had two days to do it.

All I got was a lousy text before midnight that might turn out wrong as if she did me a favour by turning up for work just for me only because she promised, but not for the extra money. Could she just say, "I'm sorry and I miss you!"? That would work even as a joke.

Out of respect for myself, I decided to ignore her text. I could have thought of something to say when I sneaked out of bed. But ignoring is the best form of getting even, just as she ignored my text until the last minute, having to decide if she needed to turn up for work. Also, the thought of her turning up a bit off didn't turn me on. I had a lot of fun with other girls without regret. I don't understand why an hour with her could cost me so much grief. So much fail on her part.

When I returned to our bed, I realised that my decision was absolutely correct.

RIP The Team

Relaxing on the toilet seat after the job, I replied to Kendall's private message a couple of hours ago, saying that "I will, and I will!".  Then I opened the contact list on my phone, at the same time I got a ding on my phone that made me almost jumped; it was a message from her.

To my surprise, Queen announced the inevitable news that her team was over. I wasn't surprised by her demise but the timing. I thought the social event was going great and the Queen was able to delay the inevitable. Attendance was great probably because she put herself out on the raffle. All of a sudden, everything was canceled the day before, and she had a few days at most to refund and erase any trace of her team, before severing all contacts with the world.

It was a familiar story. When the girls became established, the middlemen became greedy, blackmailing them for a large continuation fee or they had to start all over. For the team, it was even more complicated since the face of the team, the Queen must have a cut already for all her troubles.

Even though Kendall stayed low profile for a couple of months, she would have a lot to do with the demise of the team. The Queen recruited her and on whom she relied for her operations. But with pictures side by side, it was Kendall that I picked, never interested in the Queen myself. Despite the good words for the Queen all over, she must be under pressure not to compete directly. She picked retirement, living off booking fees from all the girls she recruited into the business.

After a while, even her most loyal fans realized that her girls couldn't be exceptional all the time. The Queen was making do with whoever comes her way. Some never made it to the big time. Some hardworking ones didn't last long. The exceptional ones never bothered. They can make it anywhere and her client base wasn't that exceptional.

That was the time when the Queen put herself back into the market quietly. That was the time when old issues came back to haunt them all. You can't honestly promote other girls when you bill yourself as the best, with a fee to match.

I wouldn't have bothered if the Queen didn't put up a list of girls going their independent ways with new names, but Kendall wasn' t on it. Even though I wouldn't have much time to patronize her, I was sad to see her go. We never had bad blood between us. I would have seen her already if not for ...

My Lucky Star turned up after so many months after I saw her, having deleted her account briefly. I would have rewarded her but she moved across town far away. In a private conversation, a guy told me that she is the one to get married to. I agreed; I saw her three times in a week! But no, I wasn't enchanted. I liked her character and she was the first one in the line of girls that satisfied me in many ways. The sex was great; she was able and eager. But I could tell that she wasn't charmed by me, not having a deeper connection than a client-provider relationship.

Then it was Pretty Schoolgirl. She was charmed by me but she chose to keep a distance; I took that as a challenge. So I jumped at the chance after so long, almost an absence as long as Lucky Star. She recognized me of course. And her Mrs. Robinson's outfit didn't disappoint. But she wasn't into ordinary clients like me. She turned ups again because her relationship with her last sugar daddy ended naturally after a couple of months. She even refused to get off her saddle when I tried to push her up and off my equipment. I didn't know if she really enjoyed it that much, or she didn't want me to mess her up too much for the next appointment.

She was really what I wanted so I tried to book her in advance the next week. Finally, my charm worked. She was all smiles, kissed me more and with tongue, talked about things and even other girls. She told me her preferred schedule and I was supposed to see her next time. But then she didn't appear and her booking line was unanswered. She is my type but I wasn't in a position to pursuit further.

Then it was Chanel II, of course. I didn't see her because her picture wasn't outstanding. Maybe some clients like it that way. Now she put up some model like pictures, showing off her model legs. Indeed she was within an inch or two of Kendall's height. She is most likable; who would text her friend for a threesome chat, when their mutual client, me, was lying naked next to her? I just couldn't find the chance to see her again because of the way she operates. I did try, though.

Stephanie, everybody's wet dream as documented in the urban dictionary, is real and she came back to the area closest to me so far. I always have a place in my heart for her and always have an hour reserved for her. She is all that, blond with milky smooth skin, pretty, having nice curves and breasts to die for. But the only problem is that she is a safety girl. A deep French kiss would be at least a few months away if I work tirelessly on her. I don't have that much time to spare. And since she is an unspoken member of Queen's team, I doubt if she will turn up anytime soon.

I missed Kendall, and I wasn't the only one, obviously. Another guy posted in a public forum his admiration for her. Though it may all be a promotion in disguise. Then a friend of her responsed, telling everybody that they can contact her privately for Kendall. I did, mostly out of curiosity. But I did want to see her, even more so since she could disappear for good.

Kendall was helping out her friend to start her business in the area. Her friend sent me Kendall's new number and I told her to explain my situation to Kendall, that I have very limited chance to get away to see her. My charm must have worked, again.

Very soon, Kendall used her friend's private message to reply with her own "signature", telling me to save her phone number, and come to see her whenever I have the chance. I got what I wanted and I was very satisfied with myself. I didn't reply immediately because all was said and done. And I treasure her response too much to just write something.

When I needed a toilet break, I brought everything with me for the long haul. Despite being on the toilet seat, inspiration came and I replied, "I will, and I will!" That was the most poetic way I could think of to say that I will carefully save her phone number, and I will see her whenever I have the chance. But that wasn't the best line.

I sent her my number again, writing that, "You can send me updates anytime; it's not likely that I will be buried with text messages and PM's whenever people hear my name, LOL." Seeing that I was so good, I woke up my phone, opened the contact list to save her number. That's when my secret line dinged. It was a message from Kendall, telling me to save her number. She beat me by a mile. She entered my phone number, sent me a message before I even managed to open my contact list to type her number.

Whether she is very keen to see me, or very keen to fill up the slots on her next working day, I wouldn't know. But in giving me her private number, she overtook Chanel II in my heart. And that she doesn't advertise anymore for now while keeping some of her clients begin to look like what Chanel had done.

My client work flow

Real-time classified makes it very easy for part-timers and travelers to connect with their clients. They may post a classified in advance or when they are available for business. Almost instantly, those on my very long "short list" will trigger sending an email to me. I have email filters to control who will get to me instantly on my cell. I can ignore others for the time being until I change my mind.

Initial contacts will be made using PM, which can be handled by mobile Chrome even for very primitive websites.

The main communication will be off websites. Nowadays, I bet the most enterprising people use Hangout. It's not cool for personal use anymore, but for business, it's different. There are simple checks online to see if a phone number is a Hangout (Google Voice) number. Nobody complained about mine.  A booking agent can have many phone numbers, one for each girl.

Multiple users share the same phone and SMS history, but not for Hangout, making the multiuser mode solidly private. I don't even use a separate secret contact list anymore. Each girl is an entry with a put off company names like IRS or some election polling organization. I put the girl's name on the title field, which is searchable but not within Hangout.

With the stored SMS, Hangout is a pretty good CRM - client relation management. If only more booking agents use it. If someone sends me a text out of the blue, immediately I can see when and where did I see her last time, and what we texted about last time. It's hard to forget her name even if I didn't mention her name once in the history. Nowadays, I'm using 100% text for appointments.

When you get a call on Hangout, only the company name will be visible on the answer screen. You can put all the girls in two companies, accepting calls for one but ignoring the other. Also, the call screen displays the Google account containing the caller in the contact list. You can use it for further differentiation, but first, you must use a tame email address.

Nowadays, I almost always get a text of the address to park. Since everybody uses Google Maps, they can just as well share their GPS location with me via SMS so I can start navigation right away. But with Google Now, I just need two seconds of pressing the home button to scan all the address and landmarks on the SMS in view, while mapping and navigation is one more click away.

With the Project Fi data only SIM, it's a good excuse to put a spare phone in the car, better than a backup phone battery. It's a fully functional phone, with voice and SMS via hangout, but doesn't cost anything if you never use it.

While Google Maps and navigation have been indispensable, now, it seems as though that they have a traffic camera on every lamp pole in the land. Last time, Maps gave me a suspicious travel time at the morning rush hour. I put my faith in it and wasn't disappointed. I was told not to get on the freeway, roaming the empty streets instead. Just when I thought I made the epic trip without using the freeway at all, Google told me to get on it, avoiding all the bottlenecks.

One drawback is that while Google knows when traffic incidents happen, it can't predict how long it will end. So, by the time you reach the trouble spot, they could have cleaned it up already, making the longer detour unnessary. Similarly, Google returns the estimated travel time in the future with a wide margin, although it must have know the exact time it took the day before.

Better than state traffic cameras on the freeways, Google has, in addition, every Android phone as a position and hence speed sensor. But Google does have other use of cameras for navigation. Once Google told me to get off, say, "Hollywood Bee El". I laughed out loud when I saw the big exit sign, exactly what Google said, "Hollywood Bl.".

The day after

With her still sitting on my cock, I lifted her up and put her down back on the bed clumsily, only to find her head dangling completely over the edge, supported by my two hands. There was only one right thing to do. I kissed her deeply.

She must be finding her predicament amusing, her position slightly novel, and accepted her fate merrily.

I was still horny after writing about the one night stand the day before. Then there was a golden opportunity to spend my time productively. Being two days on a roll was excessive, but it could be a long wait for the next chance even if I would have the capacity to take it.

In the darkest of times, I never dumped Chanel for whatever reasons; I  had monthly rendezvous to look forward to until she dumped me to get married. Not knowing that I was driving with or without glasses, she did wonders. For keeping me sane always and through my last comeback, she was a bargain.

The nameless girl that I met yesterday left town, and she was too far away nevertheless. I was looking for someone similar, but this girl shrank from her pictures in all dimensions. Instead of more of a Warrior Princess with a narrow waist, she was a spinner, a bit older than the type I used to.

Knowing that she was happy to have me and that she wasn't likely to refuse, I took her into the bathtub for a shower. In turn, we soaped up each other and then rinsed. Being tiny, I noticed that her feet were doable. I washed her toes thoroughly.

I remembered the days when Jordan, and even Chanel, her threesome partner, tried to destroy my evil plans. Drying myself on the shiny white bathmat, I was contemplating whether to wait for her creepily outside the tub or go into the bedroom alone. She ended my dilemma when she stepped out of the tub when I had to give way for her by stepping onto the shiny white bathmat by the sink.

After drying myself, I just stood there watching her. It was a very natural behavior to stare at a naked girl drying herself. When she finished and before she could take a wrong footstep, I offered to carry her. Not only did she had no desire to resist, but also she understood and was expecting.

I put her on the bed, got on top of her making full body contact, and then kissed her deeply. She taking it calmly, there was nothing spectacular. More commonly, girls would duck out of it or give it some passion getting it over with for once, and then no more.

Next, I fixated on her imported pair of breasts. They were in great shape, with an excellent size, highly squeezable and indestructible. Unlike some other pairs, I could hold tight on both simultaneously, so tight as to milking them while still had more than enough below the nipples to suck on alternatively and repeatedly.

She having decent skin, I tried to freak her out by homing in on her armpits. For the first time, she resisted, leaving me nowhere near my targets. Instead, I wet kissed her tummy, all the way down to her pussy.

While dining on her pussy, I remembered to give her the chopstick, fucking her with two of my fingers. Munching with my lips and painting with my tongue, I went down both of her tights, knees, lower legs until I reached her feet. I stretched her legs like chicken wings while enjoying her small feet. Seeing that she took it well, I began to test her tolerance by licking and tickling her sole. She was immune. When my passion ran high, I hold her foot like a bottle, put her big toe in my mouth, sucking like a hungry baby. I left no toes unattended.

When I turned her over, I was surprised to find her Hercules heel. She giggled when I licked her calf muscle like a giant churro. That was the excuse to do some more of the same and then more, finally reaching her butt.

I treated her bottom equally with her breasts, the difference being that I had to dig into her cheeks with my fingers to hold them tight. There being no center of attraction, I had to kiss, lick and suck all around.

When my passion ran higher, I bite on her butt, gently first, then harder. Knowing that I wasn't going to hurt her a bit, she just laid there. Before I released her, I bite as hard as I could without leaving any marks, shivering uncontrollably as if in a minor tremor.

Obviously,  she knew that I was satisfied, being able to do whatever I wanted, mostly. Consequently, she cut short her pleasure routine to compensate for the time already spent. There was no need for it nevertheless because my cock was as stiff as a rod then. After giving short, but undivided, attention to my shaft and balls, she put on the cover, climbed over me, and began to ride.

Being greedy and shameless, I held tight onto her boobs when she was riding hide and low until I lifted her up, set her down and kissed her intensely. As awkward as it looked and she felt, it was stimulating.

There was little difference from kissing a severed head, the only being that she was alive, warm-blooded. I tested her limit by bringing out my tongue into her mouth, searching for hers, and then starting a fight, over and over again. During the intermissions, I would drop her head about two inches down to look at her reactions, and laugh at her predicament. She took everything graciously. Being screwed by a stiff rod, placed under a human meat press, she sure had the passion brought out of her, so different from the kisses when I came in, and those when I first set her down on the bed.

When I knew the end was coming in that familiar situation with a little twist, though, a missionary with deep kissing on a severed head, I pulled out to accomplish what she inspired me to. She was such an obedient girl that I had to flat iron her.

When I twirled my index finger, she seemed to read my mind as she turned but didn't get up on all fours. I should have remembered that it was an impossible task entering directly, but I tried anyhow and failed.

If I ever got into a flat ironing position, it was first a doggy, followed by leg pulling so my opponent would collapse flat on the bed. But it was rather clumsy to keep my cock inside. From numerous experiments, the easier way is to do the spoon first, after that it is just a matter of rolling 90 degrees.

My insight was substantiated when I was spooning Friendly just a few weeks ago, she asking me in some barely audible pillow talk why I didn't carry onto the flat iron, meaning that it was usually the way to do it. I would love to if she had asked earlier when I still could. Unfortunately, that explains why some girls don't like spooning. Doing the spoon itself had its beauty when I had the excuse to spread her legs and lift one high up the way I wanted artistically, exposing the sight of her vulnerable entrances.

Even though it was my favorite position, I didn't linger on a bit, rolling her over flat on the bed as soon as I penetrated. The climax was near and enough time had passed that I knew I should hang over to the next lucky guy. I was fucking her like a meat tenderizer, fast and furious.

To keep our connection throughout, she kept her head raised, making it possible to maintain eye contact and lip contact for that matter. I found my arm naturally around her neck, hard not to choke her when I needed one more anchor to stable myself during meat tenderizing. I even had the urge to twist her head off!

As fun as it was, the climax was nothing dramatic compared to that of the day before, when it was as spectacular as the decisive moment of a great tug of war.

In raising her head during the flat iron, I think she tried to avoid her makeup staining the bedsheet, or more likely, unseen stains on the sheet from getting on her face!

If you think that a grammatically correct, well-read, well-bred, extensively traveled person has taken over the blog, you are insane. I always have put up the undecipherable shield to protect my copyright. I happened to turn on the grammar checker just as I did many years ago when I used Word. Some day, when the writing tools become more fun to use, I may write a book, an easy step up as I have been discovered already by the media.  (R.I.P. Gawker)

A female first person version of the book may follow, with multiple endings (pun intended), as the bridge to an audio book, generated by text-to-speech machines that understand intonation tags. It's fun, good exercise when the river runs dry, or before that, money runs out.

What a break

Glancing into the three-piece body-sized mirror at two o'clock, I can see myself penetrating this tall girl bending over on the dresser with both legs straightened and tightened, while I was giving out the last battle cry as if being pulled over in a tug of war.

Since I'm preparing for a break from my adventures, my choices suddenly become wide open when I'm horny. One night stand becomes a good thing because if I don't regret it the next morning, I still may not be returning.

This nameless girl is tall and big, in the sense that it is these types that I lust after when I was a little boy. She has long legs, big top and bottom with narrow waist, a bit thicker than models, and very appetizing. Since I have seen most of her naked body, hardly anything can go wrong unless ...

Fake pictures! Fortunately, she is a horizontally stretched version of her pictures. A bit thicker than I imagined but it's worth the price to pay for not picking those delicate schoolgirls who could easily charge $700 for a half hour (and I believe her). With little makeup on, she didn't look any worse than her pictures. By the way, I had the experience of meeting somebody that was a vertically compressed version of her pictures! You might think that it's the same effect but I was imagining a tall model when I got short squashy lower legs.

The nightmare architecture is spreading. I drove a mile in circles up several levels to reach the rooftop, where I parked at the guest spaces. But not being in a classy hotel has it's advantages. There was the choice of mirrors with one wall mirror by the bed and a freestanding three piece by the dresser. While I was sitting low naked on the bed corner having a hard time deciding, she kneeled down and lowered her body further to access my cock and blew.

Whereas she was passionate and her job enjoyable, I told myself "not so fast" and got up. I reminded myself what I came for, even though her pictures were a bit stretched. I pulled her up, held her hands and lead her to the front of the three piece mirror.

Even though she was never who I would call pretty in her pictures, in real life she was every bit kissable. Maybe her body distorts impressions just as heavenly bodies distort space-time. I deep kissed her but she wasn't passionate. Then I moved on to her breasts. They were big, looked natural on her large frame, and seemed to defy gravity. I sucked and licked on one big papaya while holding and squeezing the other, and vice versa, vice versa ... She felt a bit awkward just standing there but I liked it that way, on occasion looking at myself enjoying the fruitiness.

Then it was my turn to kneel down. She is Warrior Princess crossed Bay Watch. You may think she is big but her tummy is a lot tighter than Winter by the look of it, and she looks a lot better because of her height. I checked below her tummy with my lips and tongue, only briefly because it wasn't a convenient position. So I brought up my fingers. I was a little surprised when she refused to be penetrated. I only brought them up because I thought she was those tough, rough and ready type.

So, while still kneeling, I turned her around to look at what I was coming for. Her butt was full, round and tight. Whenever I was looking at that I would hit her with my palm unconciously. My hand just bounced off without much damage. I did what I could do - lips, tongue, and a bit of teeth. And I was holding her cheeks or hips tightly with my hands all the time. Then I did some more, all around.

What drove me a bit crazy was that her crack was so deep that my tongue could hardly reach anything. It was the lure of the explorer's never ending quest.

Lifting my face from her butt, I can see in the mirror that her legs were straighter and tighter because of her bending over position on the dresser. They were a bit thicker than a supermodel but looked great at the moment. Like a master painter, I drew a bamboo on her leg with one non-stop stroke of my tongue, from butt to ankle. Then I went upwards from her other ankle. Not satisfied with my work, I doubled down on her lower legs, which actually looked good despite her size and thickness.

I sat back at the corner of the low bed when she almost crawled to get to taste my cock. She was so good, so passionate and I was at such an excited state watching the mirrors. I cut short her fixation at my cock and asked for the cover. Any other time I would have satisfied even if I blewup on her face or in her mouth if she wanted it. But this time I had things to cover.

When she came back with the cover, I was standing at the end of the bed. Knowing what to do, she laid down on the bed allowing me to do a missionary while standing up. I penetrated with a full erection. Other than standing up, we were having sex very naturally. She wasn't avoiding intimacy. We weren't eye to eye but she wasn't closing her eyes, wasn't looking away, nor turning away from me. I kissed her cheek, near her ears and then went for her lips. With a hard rod inside, I think she became passionate, not as much as some of my schoolgirls but a lot more than a dozen minutes ago.

Soon I realized that it was my release position, my check mate position. I trained myself so many times on this. Again, this wasn't what I was coming for. So immediately I ducked out of an intense tongue fight, pulled out, got up and pulled her up to the dresser.

She knew she had to bend over on the dresser. Having not enough warmup, she pulled my cock between her cheeks and aimed it at her pussy. She wanted me to penetrate but retained her hands as a buffer. She was pulling me into her but not for the full length of my equipment. Then she was stirring herself with my rod.

Once she got comfortable, she let go of her hand and allowed me to roam freely. The only thing I know was to ram her hard, stroke after stroke, faster and faster. Of course there was one more thing; I was looking at both of us through the mirror when I wasn't staring close at her cheeks. I was holding her hips so tight to bang against myself, anybody else would have got deep finger marks.

It was what I was coming for, but got more than I bargained for. I wouldn't have expected the dresser by the three piece mirror. When I pounded harder and faster, her body naturally tensed up to absorb the blows. Her tighter muscle and her post in the mirror in turn drove me to pound even harder and faster.

I knew it was coming. I stopped her when she was crawling on the floor sucking me. I stopped myself when I was deep kissing her while standing with my cock inside her. Now I wasn't going to stop. But I didn't want it to end either. Holding her tight and banging her hard, I was using as much as energy and force as in a tug of war. I am usually a quiet person, but in sports and battle, you are allowed to shout, cheer or cry. Perhaps it was my last ditch effort before the end. Perhaps it was the victorious scene in the mirror. Perhaps I was trying to say no like a kid not wanting to leave the park. Perhaps I wanted to shout, "I did it".

"Ahhhhh!", I uttered a loud sound not unlike some adult movies. It's my first time, I think. Maybe it shouldn't be a one night stand after all.


 

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Nexus 5X & Project Fi updates

First review

It's the end of the road now for the 5X. Good or bad, every phone has a life of one year, before a newer model takes over. I'm still very happy with the 5X for the price I paid. Now Project Fi members can get more for $200! It's really not a bad deal for an unlocked phone with those spec.

Of all the bad things you heard about it, nothing happened to me. I would adviced against those memory resident apps that are there running all the time. School kids all install some security protection programs to feel safe and some cleanup programs to save storage. These are not doing anything or not worth the resources or just slow phones down.

I do have some complains that should be improved with a newer model. Somehow the phone can be triggered inside my pant pocket. And it always clear the list in my outofmilk app.

You may be able to notch or shake the phone into doing something. It's a mistery to me.

You can't easily wakeup the phone lying flat on the table. You have to press the power button, wipe up to get the pattern login screen (if you set it). It's so much inconvenient compared to picking up the phone. Once you pick it up, your index finger print will be already on the sensor and the phone unlocked before you think about it. Of course you can use voice command now but you don't want to do it at your open office.

OK, there are some lags occassionally but they are more likely due to temporary network or cache issues. Most of the time, touch response is instant. And it depends very much were you came from. If you have an iPhone 6, you may feel the occassional lag on the 5X. If you were stepping up like me, it's heaven compared to my old phone. I also have the 6S plus. Usually you have the same instant response for the 5X and 6S, or other flagship phones for that matter.

The good? Fingerprint sensor. LG pioneered (?) putting the power button and volumn buttons at the back. It was pretty good once you get used to it. The fringerprint sensor is even better there. It's flat, no bulk and no moving parts.

Voice input/command is pretty good too. I haven't try Siri much but I prefer a short list of simple commands with high reliability. I can call and text using voice with high reliability. Google can catch the simple phrases that I often use reliably. I can see that the phrases are recognized and corrected heavily by AI in the cloud. It's useful when you have a bad accent and bad environment.

Now you can use voice to unlock the phone too. So it's perfect using it on car dashboards, totally handsfree.

I basically used Hangout for a 2nd VOIP line, a separate number for voice and text. It works perfectly. And two lines are active at the same time. But Hangout can be used by one account at a time. You can only login as your main account or your secret player account, not both. Though you can switch instantly but it's not good enough.

I suggest using Hangout only for the player account with a secret 2nd line while it last. And you refuse to use it for your normal open social life. Use Allo or SMS instead for your normal friends.

In my setup, my secret friends all belong to the same company. You have to dig into the contact details to find out their names. I have a duplicated contact list like a normal list with their names, but it was hidden in another Google account, logged into a different user on the phone.

Now I seldom need to log into the secret user on the phone to get the full contact list. I rarely receive calls, but if I do I can tell by the company name that I should receive it. And since sms are stored, I can tell who I was texting just by looking at the history. You can always find some excuse to type her name into the history to make sure. Also, I think I can search the contacts using voice or text input, even the names are hidden deep inside the details.

Project FI is not the cheapest but the killer feature hidden in plain sight is the data only sim. You only pay once for one FI account and you can have a lot of data only sim. It doesn't cost you any money if you don't use it at all, and when you use it, you only pay for the data used, down to each cent I think.

Since voice and text don't use much data, and that you can use a data only sim for a fully functional VOIP phone, you are paying about $0 for unlimited voice and text for every additional line. Or you can use your tablet as the secret phone that nobody suspects.

My 5X survived many falls naked. The screen is hardly scartched. A tough pretty phone.

Break

Are you kidding me? Just when I am having lots of fund, meeting all the right girls, and having all the money I have to spend, I have to take a break!

I think when Margaret came back after a long break and started kissing me, I sold some stocks, even at a good price. I saw her as much as I could and being introduced to Lincy as well. And I am not giving up on any of them. Not yet.

You have to go through all the cycles that your parents went through to understand them thoroughly. Our family was like living at the edge of the city, in a neglected but peaceful residential area. Dad was doing business in downtown. There's nothing much there but it was spacious and plenty of empty neglected space sto run around with other kids. Somehow we felt we were different and didn't ended up like them.

There were those late night parent talks, when the kids were supposed to be sound asleep. Then mom was doing some craft to help out. We did too. You can say it's like the ancient version of making pocelain hands for little babies at home. Nothing of the sort but you can imagine.

It could be years between late night talks and I couldn't have remembered. Then the whole family were moved into a tiny downtown apartment. Now we know Dad sold everything and brought the business himself, putting all his money in the mortgage.

I can understand him when Dad jumped out of the crowd and made sure that the fire engine got to the right spot. The fire was very close to his business. Luckily it was only a small house fire.

It wasn't until after high school that we moved out. We grew up in a tiny downtown apartment, but had fond memories of the childhood neglected neighborhood. We then moved to a normal new apartment in a respectable residential area that you can bring friends home. Actually it became the club house because we all grew up and there was no supervision. Dad was still doing business downtown.

When he retired, he brought another apartment and a nice big house in a posh neighborhood. It was like he owned 3 houses in any middle class neighborhood in the world, mostly paid off.

My life is pretty good until I married a psychopath who couldn't think like others. It's still good but it could be a lot better.

Now is our turn to do some late night parental talks when the kids are asleep. We have been through worse and we came back. It's early days and we will keep our fingers crossed.

I feel so sad when the parents overdosed and one of them will never wake up. One of the kid's worry is finding someone to sign his homework for him. I have no such tendency but I always felt so guilty when I told my oldest kid I had everything going in my head and I couldn't help, when she told me that she had exhausted the class library, forcefully told me to get some books so she could keep her excellent grade! I still feel so guilty!

I can understand the celebrities that I also wrote about - why they drop like flies. Without your future DNA to anchor yourself to the real world, what is there to live after lived a full life?

I have another confession to make. When we settled down and became good at handling babies, what did I do? My baby liked cars. She would fall asleep in any moving car. If she waked up in a parked car, she would just look around briefly and continued to sleep, sleeping like a baby. Often we left her in the cosy car seat in the drive way to continue her sleep instead of taking her into the house.

When nature called, I booked half an hour, drove to a luxury gated apartment complex. I parked right outside the apartment building I was supposed to go, right under a big fig tree. I made sure everything was cozy in the car and I left her sleeping. I went in and out in less than fifteen!

It was a slow Sunday. The girl in this shift obviously wasn't the best. I could see her eyes momentarily glancing out of the window into the distance, thinking "at this rate, how can I get out of this life?" Since I was getting out right away, I always leave good tip to thank her for her service. Happyness is contigeous. Or maybe I would feel less guilty?

I may still see Margaret and perhaps Lincy too. Not that I prefer Margaret but that is their schedule. Or maybe both. But my worry is that I wouldn't be in the mood when I got there. But my purpose is to say proper goodbye. So when I come back they wouldn't think I abandoned them for other hot girls.

If I manage to say goodbhye, it could be only for a few weeks, a few months, or hopefully less than a year. I would tell them two months. It sounds right!


ps That city where I parked, and the cluster around it, took turns to claim the safest city in the country. And they still do. Only now, when my babies all grown up at high school, the sheriff has begun to beg people to lock their cars at night! Crime rate is way up! That's the very easy way to do to keep the crime rate down!