Means to an end

Despite the fact I’m only now to work four days a week, I’ve been averaging about 45 hours in the office and taking work home at this exceptionally busy time. So the truth is I haven’t hooked up with a guy since Monday. The horror!!

I’m certainly too tired to head on a Friday night into the rough-and-tumble that is the South-East London Cruising Chat Room. 400 odd gayers all looking for sex. Phew. No-one can live at that speed!

I’ve been very lucky recently and recently have met a number of great guys and had lots of naughty fun trying new stuff and generally enjoying myself (and others). Because I haven’t talked about specific assignations for a while here’s a quick summary of the last week or so:

A near neighbour of mine, South African, very nice, very… dominant type!

A guy from a few miles further east, who was really passionate and essentially jumped on me as soon as he arrived. I didn’t even get to close the front door!!

The young man in Vauxhall who I met him at his place after a long, long online chat. He liked licking a lot. Unusual but not unpleasant…

And finally a guy from Crystal Palace who cycled the ten miles to my place but still managed to put on a helluva show. I actually cooked him dinner afterward because, frankly, I was worried he’d not get back home otherwise.

The online cruising et al fulfils two main needs for me. The first is the feeling of desirability; someone out there – sometimes a great many people – sees me as a potential sexual partner. Ergo I am hot (or some kind of bijou hotette) and thus I win! The second is discussing what will be done on said encounter… not talking dirty, which normally just induces a fit of the giggles in me. Rather a tentative negotiation about the limits within which an assignation might be defined.

Of course all experiences contain a mixture of the good and bad. The bad I suppose is that for such assignations virtually anyone would do… but I generally enjoy meeting new guys; and as my counsellor would no doubt agree there appears to be an element of intimacy beyond the sexual derived from being with someone. I don’t know about you gentle reader, but a stonking good romp in bed with some gorgeous guy will get me to reveal all my secrets (bet they never tried that at Guantanamo Bay).

And the good is we learn, we grow, and once the bruises have faded we flourish.

Sandwiched between the good and the bad, however, (and not in the nice way) is the ugly truth that really it’s all a means to an end. But I know most of my fellas have been sent rejoicing on their way. And when Mr Right finally does show up he can be assured of my best attentions at all times.