‘Tis Better to Give Than to Receive?

I guess we all had this mantra drummed into us at Christmas time in our childhood. But long ago, I learned the importance of being able to “receive” gracefully in a manner so that the “giver” feels appreciated.

And its not just in the giving and receiving of physical things that this applies.  A couple of years ago, I found myself spending so much time browsing the internet and reading blogs - then it suddenly hit me - the majority of people are “consumers” but there are very few “producers”.  It was at this point that I was challenged (in myself) to start blogging and to start sharing with the blogosphere some of my own experiences.  From the dearth of comments on thus blog, I gather that the ratio of readers to writers/commenters has changed little - so come on - how about a little feedback!.

And it is rather stating the obvious that reciprocity is the spice of sexual encounters, even in the payment-for-service environment.  So I am amazed when some of my regular ladies tell me of clients that barely speak, treating them as an inanimate sexual “receptical” and leave as soon as they have cum despite remaining time “on the clock”.

For me, one of the great joys of getting into punting, has been learning the delights of cunnilingus and the taste of “cunnilinctus”.  I seem to have achieved some modicum of skill from the compliments I have received and the number of orgasms I have elicited.  And there is no doubt that a lady that has been fully excited is more than ready to return the compliment, so much so that with some of my regulars we have got rather “carried away” (VBG)!

And its not just in the purely sexual aspects that reciprocity contributes to an enjoyable experience.  Particularly with regulars, sharing a conversation, personal events, gifts, a sense of humour and the warmth and tenderness of a shared cuddle add immensely.

In closing then for 2011, can I wish all my readers a very Happy New Year!!!

Embarrassing Moments - Forgetting to Pay

It was a recent post by Capital Punter on the protocol of paying, that brought this incident to mind.  It wasn't just forgetting to pay that was embarrassing, but the situation that led up to it.

I had started to see T privately after she decided to leave the "industry".  I was her only "client" but we had never actually discussed payment or amounts.  On previous visits I had simply left a generous "gift" in an envelope on the table.

On this particular occasion, we had planned to go out to lunch on the Wednesday, but a massive storm blew up Tuesday night and the roof of T's house sprung a leak and she had water dripping through the ceiling.  The owner and/or agent were to come to inspect the damage on the Wednesday afternoon, so our little tête-à-tête was postponed to Thursday.  

So on Thursday, we had had a wonderful couple of hours and were reclining in the lounge, sipping hot chai lattes, she in nothing but a bath-robe, and me mostly dressed but in stockinged feet and jacketless.  

Suddenly the dogs started barking outside - T looked out the window and saw a couple of tradesmen coming to the door.  It appears that they had been sent to prepare a quotation for repairs.  T was thus tied up showing the workmen the problem, so I quietly said my goodbye and excused myself.

It was the next day that I got a text message from T saying that she couldn't find my "envelope" and that she thought we had a "business relationship".  Oops!  Red face!!!  I quickly arranged a wire transfer.

 

Breaking the Fast

OK, so my little 7 week sabbatical hasn’t really been a "fast", since I have managed to slip out once or twice for a little pick-me-up, though somewhat average.  But this week I’m back at work and was able to slip out for a regular lunch-hour catch-up with one of my best regulars.

I first met V three years ago in a double to celebrate my birthday (a big ‘0’), but its only been since early this year that I have been seeing her regularly.  And our times together have just got better and better.  Today hit the "awesome" level.

I arrived just before 12:30 on Monday, just before the lunch time "rush" and I got V straight away - a quick glance at the clock told me I could squeeze in a 45 minute booking (before I had to be back at work).  

I think I must have been her first client of the day and in fact her first since her last shift last Thursday.  To say that she was 'horny' would be no understatement and she matched my needs exactly.  Once she was stripped off, she dropped to her knees in front of the low settee on which I was sitting for a regular oral welcome.  I lifted her face and our tongue entwined in some delicious DFK then I kissed down her neck to her nipples.  Now V is not well endowed in the bust department but does have very prominent, VERY sensitive nipples - in fact I could swear that they are hot wired to her clitoris. In no time flat she is crushing her pelvis against me (remember I am sitting on the edge of the settee and she is kneeling) and has wormed herself onto my manhood, rubbing her clit along my shaft.

After a couple of delightful minutes, I help her up off her knees and back onto the bed where I have full access to give her my special tonguing.  She starts coming almost straight away.  I don’t think I have ever had such an orgasmic lady.  As I kiss my way up her body to those nipples she arches her back yet again and we slide together.  What follows was the most awesome 25 minutes of continuous DFK and grinding, thrusting orgasms.  Thank goodness I was V hard and not liable to come.  

Almost breathless and covered in perspiration, we finally roll apart.  V then goes down on me and swings a leg over to receive some soixant-neuf.  Her oral and handy-work is great but I’m just not reaching the line.  I finally suggest that I take charge - I dry off and with some vigorous DIY, V sucks my knob at the critical moment for an explosive CIM finale.

Soixant Neuf miniature: Sex Museum, 
Shanghai, China (Flickr)

We have five minutes left on the clock and chat about birthdays, the health benefits of a good sex life and how fantastic sex is with someone you can relate to, trust and can completely relax with.

And so its shower, gargle with her mouth-wash, dress, share a glass of iced water, and head out back to work.

It’s so good to be "back in the saddle"!

Cunning Conversations - “Viagra is not for ‘Boys’”

Having enjoyed the fruits of my Viagra, one of my regular ladies started telling about a bad experience with Viagra.

One afternoon, two teenagers came into her parlour to celebrate the 18th birthday of one of them.  He had raided his father’s Viagra supply and thinking if one is good for his father, then all four in the packet would be a great birthday present for himself.  He was barely out of the shower and he was rock hard.  By the time he was on the bed, he was writhing in agony.  Needless to say, sex was out of the question.  The lady called the parlour madam and an ambulance was called. 

 
He was carried off on a stretcher to hospital, very red faced and in dreadful pain.  I am told that the ER procedure in such cases is a needle into the penis to relieve the blood pressure (and pain). 

 
The lesson to be learned is that potent medication should only be taken on doctor’s instructions and then only the recommended dose.  Viagra should not be taken purely as a recreational drug.

Come Down to Appreciate the heights

I’m still on my “sabbatical”, but grabbed a short opportunity when I had to drive and hour away to pick up mother-in-law for a visit.  Just the very thought of a couple of days of 90+ yo MiL visiting, forgetful and hard of hearing, plus continuing to nurse my sickie, meant I needed a pick-me-up.

I dropped into my local early and only N was available. (Luscious Lips G from my last visit hadn’t arrived yet).  N is around 30, OK looker, pleasant personality and OK with my service questions.

But although our session was not ‘bad’ (star-fish), it was just very average.  We didn’t have much of a connection, I just felt she was ‘holding back’.  On reflection, this is entirely her prerogative, and what I experienced was very much the average/norm parlour visit.

It really made me appreciate the fabulous ladies I have been seeing regularly with whom I have great connections, great fun, great affection and great sex.

Sometimes it is a good idea to step back, take a break and experience the “average” to really appreciate the greatness of what you have.

Sabbatical Back-Sliding

So much for my sabbatical abstinence. This 24/7 carer stuff is heavy going. The doctor now tells us that the leg cast must be non-load bearing for 8 weeks (ie. 5 more), then a load-bearing cast for another 4 weeks, taking us to mid. January. And my patient can’t manage crutches, so I am stuck as wheelchair pusher, bum wiper, cook, bottle-washer, etc, etc, etc. So the opportunity to go out shopping is a relief. Last Friday, I had to go to the pharmacist for meds. and was told there would be a 30 minute wait, so I popped down to my “local” to have my own aches ministered to.

Now week days in suburban parlours is a bit hit-or-miss with respect to the quality of ladies available. But this Friday lunch time was busy - three ladies in bookings and two available, including G who had been called in for an extra shift. Now G might not be poster-girl material and her escorting days might be past, but her winning smile, cheery attitude and lovely personality won me over.

Up in room #5, after the preliminaries, I formally introduced her to Thomas the Tongue Engine and her enthusiasm jumped up several notches. Before I knew it, she was on her back with legs splayed showing me her very large luscious lips and telling what she wanted me to do to her. Of course I was more than happy to oblige. And what lips - major, major majora.

When she finally came down, she rolled me over and started to lavish her tongue on my tackle. But with my continued digital attention, we never got past the cover-all to CBJ - she was too anxious to feel me inside herself (“Never mind the length, feel the thickness”).

The main course was very enthusiastic, cowgirl, reverse, arched back, squatting, grinding, maximizing stimulation of her clit at every opportunity to at least one more orgasm (hers) before mine.

G is a talker - sexy talk - and lets you know in no uncertain terms what she is going do to you and what she wants.  She is certainly a personality that hit it off with me and an hour on my next visit would be awesome.

Having Sex With Stangers - NOT!!!

I have heard and read people put down seeing prostitutes as “having sex with strangers”.  For those of us who have chosen this (sexual) life style, that ain’t necessarily so (though I guess there are some that never see the same lady twice).

One of the advantages of punter forums is having some idea of what a lady will be like before you meet her in the flesh.  Then there is the “introduction”, and again from what I have learned from forums plus personal experience, I believe I have grown a lot in judging how I will get on with a lady just from the introduction - its important to ask the right questions and to not be led purely by looks and the little head between your legs.  Mind you, the “introduction” varies greatly between parlours, from the ‘parade’ perhaps with numbers (the worst), to non-English speaking Asian ladies poking their head through the door with a simple “Hello, I’m xxxx”, to the private intro. room where questions can be asked (and very occasionally an encouraging grope).

Of the 15 ladies I have seen this year, I have seen 6 more than once.  I feel I am changing.  I went through a phase of resentment (about my wife and home situation) and set out to visit multiple ladies and parlours.  But I find myself settling down now and enjoying a small number of regulars.

What makes a regular enjoyable is “clicking” personalities, good conversation, a sense of humour, plus good sex.  It means we can relax, let go and mutually enjoy our time together.

I now have around six regulars at my favourite parlour, so on some days I have to toss to decide who I should see, or check my diary to see who I haven’t visited for the longest time.  Mind you, if I only see my ladies once in three months, are they still ‘regulars’?

Of course, all Working Ladies have their own individual traits and “protocol” about how their bookings progress.  Some have their ‘standard’ conversation pieces. One or two (eg. the “Wicked Wench”) play the ‘slut’/’porn-star’ role.  I remember M, one of my early regulars, aimed to make her clients feel that they were “making love” with her.  

A current regular, ‘A’, has a fun-filled ‘game-plan’ of pretend infractions that require ‘punishment’ - this starts with ‘stumbling’ on the stairs so you ‘bump’ into her arse or get a flash of her black silky knickers.  Watching her undress from the shower earns a further ‘punishment’.  My ‘punishments’ have included having my hands tied to the bed-posts with her stockings and her knickers draped over my face as a blind-fold, whilst she has her way with me.  Its not BDSM at all, just play.

Great Sex that is fun and play-full is just the best!!!

A Short Sabbatical

Unfortunately, my small (and growing) group of readers, I am forced to take a short sabbatical.  Due to some unforeseen expenses plus I am taking 6 weeks unpaid leave to nurse my wife after major leg surgery, I will be unable to see any of my lovely ladies of pleasure for at least 6 weeks.

"6 weeks"? God, how did I ever manage with only sympathy sex once every year or two?  You know "sympathy sex"? - "Oh, allright if it will shut you up.  Hop on. Hurry up and get it over with.".

However, I should be able to grab some time occasionally to monitor this blog, so I would love to receive your comments and feedback.  I'm sorry that commenting wasn't correctly enabled in the early stages, but its all fixed now.  This blog is not about erotic "stories" - every thing is true about real people and documents my turbulent course through love and sex and the joy of intercourse (in its fullest sense) with other ladies.

Regards,

Tom.

Breakfast With Benefits

I have previously written about how I came to be seeing T privately in "Client or Buddy?".  On this occasion, I had arranged a morning/breakfast visit. I left home at 7:10am as if going to work, then diverted down the Peninsula Freeway, arriving around 8:30am, having stopped along the way for orange juice  and croissants, and to message my boss to say I had a 'family situation' and wouldn't be in until lunch time.

I am welcomed by T in her black nightie with a very big hug and kisses.  In the kitchen,  we arrange my flowers in a vase, then I send T back to bed whilst I pour orange juice and warm up our croissants.  T is sitting up in bed with a big smile, still in her nightie, when I come in with breakfast.  Now there is something very special about slipping into the bed where your lady has just spent the night and to slide under the covers (compared to the barren bed of parlours).

We manage to drink half our juice and eat most of our croissants between kisses and  cuddles.  We have a brief discussion about going "au naturalle" last time - T is very  apologetic, to which I tell her not to apologise, since it was obvious we both wanted it, nay ‘needed’ it and enjoyed it.  But we agree that it might be best if we do try to contain ourselves to 'safe sex'.

T is quite playful this morning as we slide down for some serious kissing and cuddling.  I help her pull her nightie up over her head.  We are all body and hands and kissing now.  My hand is rubbing her knicker covered crotch and I ask "Where are the  crotchless knickers you told me about?".  She responds with giggle. As I help slide her knickers off, she says, "Wait a minute, I've got a present from the girls (when she left the parlour)".  She jumps out of bed with a giggle, gets something out of her dresser  drawer and runs starkers into the lounge room. "No peeking" she calls.  I hear more  giggling and comments like "What goes into this hole?" and "How do I get this on?".

Eventually she sidles back into the bedroom wearing a black, crotchless, fish-net body  stocking, swaying her hips and giving me a little show. Her magnificent 38DDs strain  under the plunging neck-line and her hot red nipples poke through the netting like  traffic lights.

Then its back into bed and into a clinch.  There is much rolling around, cuddles, and hands all over each other and kissing up and down. Finally, under Thomas-the-Tongue's ministrations, with a huge arch of her back and an "AAAGHHH",  T comes to a shuddering climax.

I come up her body and pull the stocking off her breasts for some more licking, sucking  and kissing.  I find the stocking a bit rough on our skin, so I help her slide it off and  we enjoy the warm smoothness of our nakedness as she kicks it off her feet.

Remembering our earlier discussion, I roll on a rubber, I lie over her to embrace, kissing and cuddling and we again slide together, with no awkward fumbling.  We just "click" intellectually, emotionally and physically. T is still quite  horny and I am hard, and our coupling becomes passionately vigourous. We roll around for what seems like for ever - time stands still - but I suppose it must have been 30 minutes or more.  We are hot, sweaty and breathless, but I know my sensitivity is declining.  

We roll onto our sides and reluctantly de-couple.  T strips me bare and works her oral magic. But still, she can't bring me off, but she has the taste for more!  So she tries some handy-work, but that makes it worse for me.  I gently ask her to stop, show her that for me, a hand-job must be dry.  I show her my DIYHJ - she sits astride, watching and admiring.  She tells me how horny it makes her watching the straining muscles of a guy's arm and the thickening, reddening member.  She leans forward and licks the pre-cum.  T is watching intently.  She sees me tighten, now red hot and hard I feel like I am ready to burst.  "Its all yours!" I  say.  T pounces, sucking hard as I explode, savouring ever drop, swallowing twice.  I continue spasming for what seems like ages.  This is awesome.  T certainly knows how to please her man.   Wow!.

We lie back and cuddle and chat for a bit, then drift off in petit mort for perhaps 5-10 minutes. Then its reluctantly off to the shower and dress.  We settle in the lounge for a cup of chai tea and chat about T's upcoming trip. I leave my 'gift' on the table and head off to work about 11:30 - wow, what a fabulous 3 hours! What a way to start to day.  What better way to break fast!

 

Cunning Conversations - "The Show Must Go On"!

Last year, Melbourne had a once-in-a-century storm and my favourite bordello, "The Main Course", even got a small mention in the daily paper about its flooding.

A week later during our post-coital chat, my favourite lady was telling me about that day and having a bit of a winge about the madam/boss (don't we all)!

At the height of the storm, a couple of inches of rain along with hail was dumped in some 15-20 minutes.  Drains and roof gutters quickly blocked and water poured into the ceilings of the top floor rooms, running through light fittings, saturating matresses and blowing the power fuses.  Water ran down the stairs and the ground floor corridor had an inch of water flowing through it.  Emergency workers were on site within the hour with hoses down the corridor pumping out the water.

"Madam" summoned the ladies to the lounge and told them that they were to continue working with torches or candles in the unaffected rooms.

Now in Victoria, the usual working arrangement is that the ladies are 'self-employed' with a room usage fee charged to clients by the house.  So the ladies told the madam what she could do with her candles, besides, there were no clients beating a path to the door, wading through the torrent that used to be the road outside.

Apparently, this madam has some "history". 20-30 years ago before the industry was legalised, the parlour she was operating at the time had a fire.  A candle in an upstairs room torched the curtains when a window was opened and a gust of wind blew in.  All the upstairs bedrooms were unusable for a month or more, so madam spread mattresses on the floor of the ladies "lounge" and hung sheets as dividers and business continued as usual(?).  So much for privacy!

Well, business is business!

Cunning Conversations - Seducing a BoyFriend?

Continuing the occasional series of “Cunning Conversations”...

‘B’ was a lady I clicked with straight off.  When I asked about DATY, she said that she probably wouldn’t come, but in 5 minutes Thomas The Tongue Engine had proved her wrong.

In our post-coital cuddle and chat, she was telling me about her other job as a Funeral Parlour Receptionist (does this lady have a thing about working with “stiffs”?).  Then she got onto telling me about her new boyfriend.  They had been going steady for 4-6 weeks and everything was looking wonderful, except . . . he hadn’t made any move yet to try and have sex.  She doesn’t want him to know about her 2nd job, so she asked my advice, “How can I get my boyfriend to have sex with me?”

What am I, “Dear Thomasy Dick”?  Here is this lovely lady-of-pleasure that has just come under my tongue and screwed my brains out, asking my advice about the gentle art of seduction!  

So we talked about suggestive kissing, of ‘accidental’ touching, and asking “When are you going to ‘introduce’ me?”

Booty Buddies?

I first started seeing M at a parlour more than 2 years ago.  We had immediately ‘clicked’ with similar senses of humour and interests, despite an 18 year age difference.  M provided a very passionate service, aiming to make her clients feel as if they were “making love with her” (her words).  In time, she asked if I would be interested in seeing her privately as she hated the time limitations in the parlour.  We exchanged mobile phone numbers and in time some friendly phone banter developed and we started using real names instead of our “working/punting” names (M became T and I became G).

There are several equivalent terms for this sort of arrangement, 'Booty Buddy' 'Fuck Buddy' and 'Friends With Benefits'.

Then early last year, M/T had a small medical accident (no, not that sort - dental in fact) and took time off work.  Her dental situation was addressed and after a couple of false starts I finally got to make that private visit.

I took an afternoon ‘sickie’, had bought a bottle of Cab-Merlot the night before, then a bunch of red roses on the way out.  It’s an hour’s drive from work to her seaside cottage, so I stopped half way for a mouth-wash and dose of Viagra (full tablet - bad move - with wine, ended up with a whopper of a head-ache that evening).  

I received a very warm welcome, big hugs and passionate kisses. Had a quick show-around her lovely cottage.  In the kitchen, we arranged the roses into a vase, then opened the wine.  We settled in the lounge with our wine and cuddled up for a lovely catch-up chat.  M/T has decided to give up the parlour and still has difficulty shaking off her old “M” personna. It’s been over 3 months and T (no longer M) is as horny as anything.

Two glasses down, we decide to retire to the bed-room. I open my "punting kit" on the bed-side table - massage oil, lube and rubbers. We cuddle some more, and help each other undress.  T is down to bra and knickers.  She finds a hanger for my cloths, concerned I might get dog hair on them from the floor (thank goodness the dogs have been put outside).  I replace my knickers with the "pyjama G" I have packed and T turns me around admiringly.

We slip into her big old bed with big fluffy pillows and eider-down and enfold each other in each-others arms with more deep passionate kisses. I tell her how honoured I am to be  asked to come into her private home and to share her private bed.  This simply elicits another big kiss and cuddle. There is lots of caressing and I kiss her neck, nibbling her ears and kiss down to her breasts, gently easing aside her bra.  With one arm around her I mange the one-handed unclipping for which she congratulates me.  I now have full access to her glorious 38DDs and my kissing quickly has her pert nipples rosy pink, hard and erect.

Our hands are all over each-other now, breasts, backs, thighs, legs, privates.  She spreads her legs for me as I ease her nickers off.  She is very wet under my exploring fingers. I kiss my way down to her clit.  I've worked my way down the bed now till I have full access to her love petals.  As I lick and nibble her love lips swell and are opening, and my face is getting wet from her juices. Within 5 minutes she is arching her back and stiffening as a series of orgasms sweep through her body.

I pull away since she is very sensitive now.  Her hands slide into the band of my G-string and I assist her to slide them off. With T's immediate appetite sated for the moment, I kissed my way up her body.  Just as I reached her mouth to kiss her once more, OMG, we just slipped together - no conscious effort, no fumbling, not planned (at this time) nor expected.  I froze - WTF - no condom.  What do I do? What do I say? Do I apologize?  I wasn't ready for fucking just yet.  But, God it felt good.

As I eased out, I asked if T would like a massage.  I reached for the massage oil on the bedside table and proceeded to give T my best, most sensual, all-over, front and back, massage.

Finally, with T totally relaxed and me a little worn, we lay down, side-by-side, cuddling and totally relaxed.  

After 5 minutes or so, T pulled my to her and whispered, "Come here" and pulled me over onto her.  As we kissed, she spread her legs and as I slid between them, we just slipped into full coupling again.  This was no accident any more.

God, T was so hot and wet and horny.  It must have been 4 months since she had had any man.  I knew that she had had her last monthly STI test back then, and I had had a clear test around the same time.  I had been "snipped" some 30 years ago so I knew "au naturalle" was quite safe for us at this time.  T had always followed the "safe sex" protocol at "work", so goodness knows how long it had been for her since she had gone bare-back - it had probably been 5-10 years for me.  God it felt good.

This was no longer a "client service", nor sex for fun, nor just because it feels great. This was a deep down primordial "need" to be loved, to be wanted, to be needed, to be joined in flesh and spirit.  Despite the passion of our ensuing fucking, I paced myself as much as I could.  When covered, I don't come easily these days, but now the sensation was awesome. I could feel ever ridge in her pussy and the slightest squeeze, twist and turn. And I knew that T could feel every twitch of my cock. It was hardening even more and swelling now, so I asked T, "How would you like me to come?" (Now T has quite a taste for cum and I have enjoyed numerous, explosive blow-jobs from her and she swallows every single drop). 

But today was different - she had a special need. "I want to feel your cum pumping deep up inside me" she replied. "Only on one condition" I responded, "That I can lick you out". No words were needed to answer me, as she wrapped her legs around my waist and pulled me as deep as possible into her, lifting her hips to thrust against me, twisting and writhing against my pelvis. Her arms wrapped around my neck and pulled me into wild passionate kissing. We fucked with wild abandon till my body stiffened and my hips involuntarily thrust my cock as deep as possible into her hot, hot cunt, pumping, pumping, pumping my creamy cum, deep, deep, deep up inside her.

As I slowly subsided from my orgasm, T squeezed my still semi-hard cock (thank you Viagra), holding it tightly inside herself as her own spasms continued. Finally we collapsed. I had a smile on my face as broad as a Cheshire cat's, and kissed T again, gently. I kissed my way down T's body to her sopping wet, red hot cunt. My cum juices were just starting to trickle out. Now I don't normally have a taste for (male) cum, but the mixture of my cum and her pussy juices had a heady aroma and our well stirred cream-pie tasted yummy.

T then called me to "Come up here" and I offered her my cock for her to lick and suck our combined cum and pussy juices off it till it was completed licked clean.

We collapsed onto the bed, entwined in each other arms. Our bodies glowed with the post coital sheen of perspiration. I think we must have dropped off to sleep together for 5 minutes or more.

When we finally woke and got up to shower, T exclaimed, "Look!  You've christened my sheets" - I felt honoured!

Although we had never discussed money, her original invitation implied a "client" visit, but wow, this morning was a real "booty call". Even so, I knew her financial situation was strained since finishing work, so I left a discreet "gift" on her bedside table.

We unwound in the lounge, sipping chai lattes, listening to "Love Songs of the Sixties" and chatting some more.  She mentioned that she had met someone and had started dating semi-seriously.  I was the only (other) man she was “seeing” since leaving “the industry”.  I reassured her that at any time, if she felt our “relationship” was inappropriate, she just had to say and I would back-away.  In many ways, we had something more than a “service provider/client” relationship. Over the last couple of years we had shared many things about our private situations.  In T’s words, we were “survivors” and were “there for each other”.  Over the coming visits and months, we never did have “that conversation”, though I did continue bringing presents.

And so reluctantly, I slipped my suit coat on, and after a long lingering kiss at the door, headed off to home in the fading twilight.

Sex and Aging

I guess its easy to write-off our wife’s loss of libido to aging and menopause, but there is also an impact of aging on our (men’s) sex life too (if not quite as severe as total loss of libido) that needs to be discussed more.  I am writing this from experience, being in the middle of it, so YMMV.

I come from a history of “hair-trigger” and learnt early on to prolong and enjoy foreplay before “the event”.  And so it was on my first punt some 25 years ago.  It was an overnight business trip away, I was sick of porn and needed the “real thing”.  Now this was before showers in bedrooms so I was washed by the lady from a bowl of warm water (does that give my age away?  It was all of $20 (which I claimed as a business meal allowance)).  Into bed, a little foreplay, then into “it” and, “bam”, it was over in 30 seconds.  So my feeling about my first experience of punting, was “Is that all there is?  What a waste of time and money”.

Fast forward to my middle fifties.  Home “life” had got so bad I was getting quite depressed and so tried punting again.  Fortunately, the first lady I saw was extremely helpful, took command, calmed my nerves, the main event lasted longer than 30 seconds and a most enjoyable time was had all round.  But over the following 3-4 years, I noticed significant changes.

Now of course, condoms reduce sensitivity which help subdue the “hair trigger”, but I then found myself losing my erection mid-stream.  Fortunately, I have a very understanding GP doctor who prescribed Viagra. Wow!  (The pros and cons of Viagra deserve a separate posting).  Not only was I enjoying “the ride” much more, but in combination with my new skills in DATY, my ladies seemed to find more enjoyment in riding a thick, rock-hard cock.  From 30 seconds, I could now last 20-30 MINUTES!  The journey was now more important (and pleasant?) than the “destination”.

But my prolonged fucking sessions masked something else that crept up on me.  I suddenly realised that more and more, I wouldn’t cum at all.  To some degree, it was in fact due to prolonged sessions that in fact decreased my sensitivity.  I discussed this with my understanding doctor, who advised that it was simply due to declining testosterone levels with age, and to just enjoy the ride.

I also noticed something else changing.  When I started punting again, I promised myself a FOTM (after abysmal annual or biennial attempts at home).  Needless to say, I soon found I had an “ache” after a fortnight, and by three weeks, I just had to go and “get my rocks off”. (Yes my young readers, I do remember my youth when the “urge” hit a couple times a day, but I never got the chance back then to “scratch that itch”).  But in the last year or so, I have found that that physical urgency just doesn’t come much any more.  There is a psychological “need” for the warmth and intimacy, but the physical “need” has declined markedly.

In the early stages, I think there was a sense of anger over my past situation, and I set out to visit as many parlours and ladies as I could financially and physically manage.  But I seem to have worked that out of my system and have found a parlour where I have a half a dozen or so lovely ladies that tick all my boxes, and I find much more pleasure in seeing my regulars.

With respect to not cumming very often, I have settled into several different patterns.

1. There are times when I really do need to cum, so I avoid masturbation for at least a week, then in our session, enjoy all the delights and varieties of foreplay, then in the main course, not try and prolong it but with my lady’s assistance with various squeezing and pressure techniques, achieve a happy ending.  I am very lucky in having a couple of favourite ladies who at times, to bring our session across the line, have removed the offending desensitizer for a natural or OWO (BBBJ) finish.
2. Then there are other times when “cumming” just isn’t important to me and my lady and I just enjoy the whole gammut of sexual pleasures including a wide variety of positions of the old fashioned....
3. Finally, with some ladies, the specialty is all oral, and one particular favourite has acquired a taste and provides that most explosive CIM finish ever.

As for the future, that remains to be seen.  I read of men having a fulfilling sex life into their 80’s - if I could be that lucky.

My next age related hurdle will be retirement and the loss of that regular income that has made my punting hobby possible.  Perhaps I will have to become acquainted with a circle of divorcees and widows that need some “comfort”!

Cunning Conversations - Longmatrimony?

Now one doesn’t normally go punting for the conversation, but finding a lady with whom you ‘click’ and who has a similar sense of humour makes the time so much more enjoyable.  Its not that there is much time for conversation, but whilst dressing, showering or just cuddling up for the remaining minutes before the buzzer, I have had many very interesting "Cunning Conversations", which will appear at irregular intervals in the “Cunning Linctus”.

Several years ago in the early stages of my punting career, I had a lovely time with an athletic young lady exploring quite a number of positions.   "I have a chart of all the Karma Sutra positions on my bedroom wall at home" she replies, "but I haven't learnt them all yet". (Somehow or other, I never did get to see her again to work through that list).

During our cooling off time, we got talking about “life” and I mentioned how long I had been married.  Then in all seriousness, she asked me, “What’s the secret to a long marriage?”.

WTF?  Here is a young (mid 20’s?) prostitute who has just fucked the brains out of a man twice here age who is “cheating” on his wife, and she is asking for advice on the secret of a long marriage? 

I guess the short answer is, “Don’t get caught!”

"Eleven"

It was my wedding anniversary last week and I really needed a ‘pick-me-up’, so I planned on visiting my favourite ‘dining’ establishment for some pussy-sandwich for lunch.

With so many ‘favourites’ at this establishment (I can hardly call them ‘regulars’ any more), I don’t bother ringing to book first but just see who is on duty and available when I arrive - this way I generally get to see most of my favourites at least once every 5-6 months.  So on this visit, ‘Cristal’ & ‘J’ were in bookings, so I booked ‘Veronica’.

Now ‘Veronica’ has always been quite passionate and she had me in a clinch with her tongue down my throat and feeling my offering as soon as we got to the room, well before I showered and she left to ‘start the clock’.

By the time ‘Veronica’ returned and the clock had started, I had freshened up and was reclining in one of those arm-chairs like an up-turned open hand.  

‘Veronica’ placed a towel on the floor and dropped to her knees for the traditional establishment welcome.  Between more deep-throating, lots of hands over bodies and fumbling to remove her clothes, I got her standing and dropped to my knees to return the welcome.  In no time flat, she was pulling my face into her crotch and was already shuddering.

I lowered her to the bed and commenced my ‘lunch’. The taste of ‘Veronica’s snatch brings memories flooding back and she seems more orgasmic than ever today.

It must have been 20 minutes before I need to come up and give her sensitive bits a rest.  She apologizes for her perspiry face and body as we snuggle into each other’s arms.  Her deep throated kissing resumes then I kiss around her neck, ear-lobes and shoulders.  I kiss my way down across her small breasts to her large nipples.   OMG - her nipples  must be wired directly to her clit for she explodes into orgasm again.  Our writhing bodies are entwined now and all sense of proprietary and decorum are out the window and we have a veeeery ‘happy ending’, just as the buzzer sounds.

Thank goodness I booked a longer session - a traditional half hour wouldn’t have been enough!

With a sigh and big grin, ‘Veronica’ wipes the perspiration from her brow before cleaning up.  As we shower and redress, we ignore the second buzzer, and chat about life, our coming and goings and catch up about old ‘friends’.

As ‘Veronica’ shows me out the door, she has her tongue down my throat again and gives me an encouraging departing squeeze - the receptionist ignores us.  I have a couple of minutes walk back to my car to catch my breath and cool down before heading back to the office (ho hum)!

That was an 11 (out of 10) on the Sir Thomas ‘fuchter’ scale - there’s probably a law about punts this good!

Maid in Morocco

I had to bring the car to work last week, so I took the opportunity to venture out to the western ‘burbs to surprise an old friend (D) that I first got to know in an outer-eastern suburban parlour back in ‘07.

On the 1st intro. to D, there just didn’t seem to be a spark to attract me, but on a subsequent visit, having won 3rd prize in the weekly door raffle, I selected D for my “French Maid” fantasy prize.  In the bedroom, I quickly discovered the spark that I hadn’t seen previously and D certainly dusted off some of my cobwebs with her feather duster.  We found we similar senses of humour and D had a really wicked fun streak.

Image 'dreamstime.com'

Over the next couple of years we became regulars, shared a little about our lives and became very relaxed and comfortable in each other’s pleasure.  It was D that really developed my taste for “Linctus” and coined my nick-name of “Thomas the Tongue Engine”.  And it was with D that I first (despite 35 years of marriage) enjoyed having a lady riding me with ecstacic abandon for her own satisfaction.

It was a real pleasure to walk in and to see her face light up on seeing me then run down the corridor, throw her arms around me and kiss.  On more than one occasion she expressed pleasure in our times together after a “shitty” day, often running well over our allotted time.

D is one of those people that is totally comfortable in her body, with the light olive skin of her French-Moroccan heritage and beautifully toned curves belying her two young teenage children.  It was a delight just to stand and admire her beauty as she went around remaking the bed at the end of our times, butt naked.

Then one day in the middle of 2009, she was gone and of course the parlour staff couldn’t give out contact details.  We hadn’t exchanged numbers so we lost contact. Then a year later by way of the internet forums, I discovered her working in the western suburbs.  It was well out of my way and I would have to make special arrangements to drive to work since it was a 30 minute drive from work for a “Long lunch”.  We caught up once last year and exchanged phone numbers this time.

Then I got a message to say she had moved to another parlour out west.  And thus we come to our most recent reunion.  And a wonderful time it was too, taking up exactly where we had left off, just as if it was last week.

Thanks again D - I will carry happy memories of our times for the rest of my life. All the best in your classes, the upcoming competitions and potential new career. Happy birthday for last month, and I look forward to future “reunions”.

Star Fish

I hadn’t really expected to be writing on this topic this early in this BLOG’s life, but into every life, a little rain must fall.

 
I had been seeing a small group of wonderful ladies in the same parlour for quite some time and had accumulated enough ‘points’ on my Loyalty Scheme (“Frequent F**r”) card – 10 visits in 6 months - to receive my ‘freebie’, so I thought it was time to venture to new pastures (well actually an old ‘watering hole’ in the ‘burbs of which I have some fond memories).

 
So I left work 30 mins. early - this parlour is close to my train-station destination - and I had to some shopping on the way home, so I felt I could squeeze in a half-hour visit.  I hoped to see KC, a lady I had a good time with last year, but found the parlour fully booked - one lady was due out in 2-3 minutes.  I waited and met her, but all the lessons I have learnt went out the window - I had forgotten my hearing aids, so combined with her speech impediment/accent, and not asking probing questions, I didn't confirm that she would provide the service I was looking for.  (First rule of 'punting', if no lady meets your requirements, walk away).

 
Needless to say, in the room I find that there is no kissing, no oral, no eye contact, no conversation, no connection.  In some ways, I actually felt sorry for her - she was younger than I had initially thought and had only been in "the industry" for a couple of months, and here she was 'entertaining' a 'senior citizen'.  

Fortunately, there was a "happy ending", which is not always the case with me these days. But no "linctus" today!

 
Ce la vie!  Thank goodness my judgement is usually a lot better - I probably average only one "star-fish" per year.