[Continued from “What A Guy (Part 1).”]

From: S M <shazamsf@sbcglobal.net>
To: [Mike]
Sent: Friday, June 26, 2009 12:21:34 AM
Subject: Re: Its nice to say hello

I would welcome anyone telling me I’ve fucked something up in my blog or my SF Sex and Relationships Examiner articles.

I’m not sure what you would expect from me if you fly me to Florida.  Please be as explicit (or not) as possible, and I will be the same with you.



Nice to hear back from you. Everyday I read your twits and enjoy your “out there” attitude about what is on your mind and what you crave. I take you for being honest to what you put out there and not just spouting things for effect and attention. It is one of the things I enjoy about your twitter. As far as what I expect, well that can be a two edge sword with some women (used correctly 😉 ). I think “You can handle the truth” so I will not pull punches. I want a friend to come visit and get her dreams and fantasies fulfilled. I have a number of connections to make even the most decadent fantasies come true.

I once had a marred lady friend from Canada come for a visit with hubbies permission as usual and we went to the swingers club I am a member of and with no plans, we ended up fulfilling her dream of being the center of a 13 man (safe sex) gang bang with me photographing it for her and I being #13 as she was DP’d. One friend arrived as we were preparing to leave the club for airport, and in the van, got to fist fuck her and cum all over her huge tits.  She went right to the airplane with dried cum on her and did not realize it until she reached Atlanta. She got home to tell her husband all about it, and of course he had seen the 300+ photos I took prior, and they had a night of sex to remember.

For your trip, I would ask when we talked about some of those lingering fantasies you have yet to live out. I for one have a few and would love to find an open minded sex partner to fulfill them with. Upon your arrival in Tampa or Orlando airport, I expect you to be dressed as slutty as you can be, with no panties/bra on and picking you up and asking if you had done as I requested on your flight here. M request would be to make a sexual advance to your row partner and regardless of man or woman, to engage in mutual masturbation and getting them off, but not allowing yourself to cum, because you did not have my permission to get off without me being present. You will allow them to fondle you under your skirt and play with your tits while you finger fuck a woman or jerk a guy off to completion.

Upon arrival, I will pick you up and take you to a local area bar/restaurant to get a meal and also take advantage of the sexy mini skirt you have on, and tell you to let it ride up and sit yourself to allow others to peak at your legs and gander on your now wet cunt. I will occasionally finger your dripping pussy and lick my fingers quite blatantly and offer my fingers to you as well. During dinner we will go to the restroom and go into a stall where I will have you blow me and then bend over the toilet and tell me to fuck your dripping wet pussy so hard as you have been dying for it all day. I make you grip my cock from between your open legs and put my cock at the entrance to your cunt, and tell me to fuck you hard and in one stroke I bury it balls deep.

We will continue to fuck, regardless of anyone who enters, making you bite your lip to keep from screaming out from my complete strokes into your dripping cockpit. You will cum quickly and as you begin to relish in the waves of pleasures, I pull out my hard cock and begin to explore your tight asshole. I tell you to spread your ass cheeks wide open and I enter that tight ass, and stroke deep and hard and I will
explode and leave my cum deposit deep in your asshole. We then return to our table and I make you keep your legs spread as I like seeing the pool of cum leaking out of your ass onto your chair.

We will then leave the restaurant, and on the drive to the hotel at the nudist resort, I make you lean over and lick off your cunt and ass juice from my cock the entire ride home. Leaning over, I pull up your mini skirt and leave your ass exposed to any vehicle that may pull up alongside of us on the expressway. When I notice someone looking in, I tell you to reach between your legs and spread your pussy open and finger your cunt for their enjoyment.

Suzanne,that will begin your adventure to see me here in Florida and that is only the first few hours. The trip I hope will be something to quench unfulfilled desires so when you return home, it keeps you yearning for how soon you can return to Florida and get nasty with me and others.

Here to your ass being on the next available plane from SF to Tampa/Orlando. My treat of course.



From: “S M” <shazamsf@sbcglobal.net>
To: [Mike]

Sent: 6/27/2009 2:54 AM
Subject: Re: Its nice to say hello

Should I make the trip I would need to be compensated for my time.


Suzanne, time compensation? Are you really broaching that area? Seriously? What happen to two people who get to know one another and begin a fulfilling friendship and enjoy the company of one another without there having a fucking $ figure added to it. I was offering you a very nice getaway with a similar person and offered to fly and take you to a nice resort and have a nice experience that who knows, could possibly lead to more of such adventures. Being blunt, like you enjoy, I am not about hiring escorts. There are amazing ones close by. I do however enjoy knowing them and other sexually aware women because they are not afraid to say they love sex and I do not have to be someone else around them. I have been a BF to an escort (I harbor no jealously) and I appreciate what they offer, especially when they make the choice to be all that they can be to make the other feel great.It is disapointing that from all of which you write on Twitter and in your rimjob blogs, this is the first I have heard of you also requiring compensation. I too could be a male gigolo and in fact with my previous GF, was in the opportunity to assist as one.I am a realist and a man who enjoys dating and treating someone to a nice time. I have even had a 2 year LD relationship with a woman in Texas, who still is a friend though we broke up. I could not be the man she wanted, and I was truthful to her and let her know. She is now married and had a child as well. That was not in my deck of cards at that time.

Your stance in this rendezvous, is a date breaker to me. I was willing to pay your expenses to come and while here, but additional time payment is not on the table. Sorry.

I hope you give some thought, and if this is a prerequisite to us enjoying one another company, that at least we will still tweet. I am not sure if you follow me or not, but I have a feeling you don’t and maybe you will add me and get to know me and enjoy me in a different realm that you currently have.

Pardon me if there are errors, as I am using my phone to type this email. I will reread and hope to catch any T9 predictive corrections.

PS: As always, I hope you appreciate my upfront and honest replies. I am not even sure what you thought of my previous “explicit” events. They were not fantasies but realistic ideas of just a part of what I enjoy in life and sex.


[Mike then continued to @ tweet to me regarding what I wanted to do when I was in Florida, asking what kind of alcohol I like, that he was enjoying himself at the nudist resort (though inexplicably he’d always capitalize the “n” in nudist.)]


ShazamSF: Just because I want to fuck doesn’t mean I want to fuck YOU.


@[Mike]:  @shazamsf, wow that was pretty well put out there 🙂 Ducking and hoping it was not for me 🙂


[Mike @ tweeted some more asking if I’d received his email.  So fucking annoying.]


[I emailed that I had received his email.  At the time I was not planning to respond at all.]


Stick around, because it really does keep getting better.  And there’s another photo coming.

I swear.  True story.

My face smelled like balls.

The other night Pedro, one of the guys from “International Day, and Night,” called to invite me to a party.  He kept saying that it was a private party.  I assumed he meant I wasn’t to bring a bunch of my rowdy friends since the party was taking place at a friend’s apartment, but I asked to make sure.

He told me there would only be six to eight people at the “party” but that he really wanted me to be there.  I’m no dummy so I told him that if his idea of a party was to have me fuck everyone there that I wasn’t going to go unless he was willing to name a price.  That was a joke?

OF COURSE he assured me that that was not the case.  It was just that the neighbors were very sensitive to noise so they didn’t want anything too loud or too late.  Pedro told me that we’d more likely than not start out there with a few drinks and then go out dancing.

It was a Friday night, I had nothing else to do, and I figured it was good for me to get out of my Mission comfort zone every once in a while, so I showered and got dolled up a bit.

I took a cab to the designated party pad.  The “party” consisted of Pedro, me, and one other guy, our host.  A much less cool chick would have been at least a tad perturbed.  As I’m extra cool, I was not.

The three of us sat in the living room, where there was a bottle of Jose Cuervo, a salt shaker, and a small platter of lime wedges.  We each had a shot.  I pointed out to our host that the limes should have been cut much thinner for our purposes of taking shots of cheap tequila.

Our host, Alberto, pointed out that he didn’t know to what size he was supposed to cut the limes since he wasn’t Mexican–tequila being a Mexican beverage.  Alberto told me he was from Lima.  That’s in Peru, folks.

We each had another tequila shot, and then I got a phone call from a friend with whom I had to talk.  I walked down the hall of the Edwardian [After doing some research I may or may not be naming this style of architecture correctly.] apartment, past at least one bedroom and to the kitchen.  It was a nice apartment that was clean and didn’t look like a stereotypical bachelor pad at all.  After ending my phone call I rejoined Pedro and Alberto in the living room.

The tequila, another shot of which I probably had, was definitely doing it’s job, because I really don’t know how the three of us ended up in the bedroom which was adjacent to the living room.  The bedroom was large–there was a queen bed, a love seat, at least a couple of pieces of dresser-like furniture, and plenty of room to walk around.

Only I didn’t notice such things at the time because the the three of us were quite busy.  Of course I had fucked Pedro before (on two separate occasions), so I knew I liked him.  And Alberto had soft, hairless skin, a tight body, and a hard cock–yum!  We were having a whole lot of fun.

It seemed as though the next time I looked up there was a third guy there.  Huh?  I was having so much fun that I was happy there was someone else to join us.  I don’t recall ever seeing this third guy, Esteban (whose name I didn’t learn until much later, of course), with his clothes on–I swear the first time I actually noticed him he was already naked with a hard cock (this is NOT a complaint).

We happily welcomed Esteban, who was Alberto’s roommate.  At the time I remember thinking, and possibly saying, that it was only fair that he join us considering it was his place in which we were having our “party.”

There was a lot of cock sucking–per usual, I wanted ALL  of them in my mouth.  We didn’t try putting more than one at a time in my mouth, I think only because none of us thought of it.

A cock went in my ass.  It felt really good, only I hadn’t properly prepared for such an eventuality and I had to use the facilities soon thereafter.  As this was an Edwardian (I think) abode, finding the bathroom wasn’t the easiest of activities for me in my intoxicated state.

This type of place is long and skinny.  All of the major rooms, including the living room, any bedrooms, and the kitchen, were to the right of the hallway that ran the length of the place.  The bathroom was to the left.

Only bathroom, singular, isn’t quite correct.  This kind of place, which is very common in San Francisco, had split bathrooms.  Well, a split bathroom.  The bathtub and sink were in one room off the hall, and the toilet was in another room off the hall.  At the time I was drunk and had just been pounded in my ass and my mouth (at least) so my sense of direction wasn’t at its optimum.

I recall looking in the bath/sink room at least a couple of times because I was sure I just hadn’t looked hard enough for the toilet.  And it seemed as though the other doors off the left side of the hall were so far away from that room as to not be plumbingly associated.  Finally, I found the toilet and took care of business.

Afterward, I went back to the bedroom where the four of us continued our various permutations of fun.  I recall being on my back on the bed with one cock in my pussy and one in my mouth when I requested that all of them come on me at once.  I made it clear that I wanted to lie there whilst they all shot their wads on my face and tits.

But that wasn’t to be.  Eventually Pedro left.  At the time, though, I didn’t notice until he’d been absent for some time.

Alberto and I really seemed to like fucking each other.  Whenever we were alone on the bed we once again launched into making out, and his cock going into my mouth, which eventually lead to him fucking my pussy, again.  While we fucked I gazed upon his pretty, sweet face.

Alberto was on his back while I mounted him.  I slid my pussy over his cock.  Without preamble I felt Esteban’s cock pushing into my ass.  I remember holding still so Esteban’s cock could work its way into my ass.  And then I had a cock in my pussy and another cock in my ass at the same time and it was fucking glorious.  It felt so good.

I’m not sure how long the three of us were able to keep it up, but I do know it felt FANTASTIC and I will do it again, hopefully soon.

The three of us fucked some more, in various ways, and eventually one of us came. It was Esteban–he came all over my face after I insisted I wanted it.  Alberto and I really seemed to not want to stop fucking, or I was just drunkenly and hornily assumptive.  He and I fucked some more.  That sweet face; that smooth skin.

Then I realized I needed to get back home to my animals.  While I dressed we chatted.  I learned that Esteban was 25, Alberto was 23, and that though they were both from Lima they had met in San Francisco at a private English-language school.  I got Esteban’s phone number and then they called a cab for me.

Esteban has since made it clear he wants to fuck me again.  I want to fuck him too, but also Alberto.

I swear.  True story.

I want to go into Humphrey Slocombe and taste some ice cream.  They have these tiny metal tasting spoons and they’ll spend as much time with you as you want, and let you taste as many flavors as you’d like.  They’re so nice and friendly.  They must realize that a lot of people who go there are stoned out of their gourds.

I want to go there and taste a bunch of ice creams.  It won’t be busy at all so I won’t feel guilty about tasting every flavor and savoring each one for a LONG time.  Yum.  I’ll take a tiny spoonful into my mouth and slide it off the spoon.  Then I’ll push each tiny spoonful of ice cream to the roof of my mouth and let the bit of ice cream swim around my mouth, between my teeth, to all of my taste buds.  It’s all so fucking creamy.  I can smell it as I taste it, as if the smell is going to the backsides of my sinuses.  It’s so fucking good.

Then I’m on the counter.  I’m face down right at the register.  The register is going through me (this is a fantasy; anything can happen) but the employees can still work.  It’s almost as if I’m an enigma. But the customers can touch me because in order to get to the register they must walk between my legs.  My legs are wide open, my feet are bare.

In order to make any purchases people must walk between my legs.  I’m spread wide so each customer must snuggle up to my crotch in order to hand over cash to get his yummy, yummy ice cream.  Some slide their licked-clean tiny metal spoons into my ass.  In and out … in and out … in and out.  So slow, so nice.  And cold.  Some people bend down and lick as they’re sliding their tiny spoons into and out of my asshole.

Some people attend to my ass and slide fingers into my pussy as well.  Several people come into the shop and take it as normal that when making their purchases they play with my ass and my pussy.  My ass is always involved.  Eventually, I get wet enough that each customer is able to slowly and easily slip his entire hand into me.  The women fist me too.  Nice and rhythmic and easy.  In and out.  I’m so wet.  It feels especially good when someone’s fisting me and caressing my sphincter with her tongue simultaneously.

The shop starts to get busy.  No one can spend nearly enough time slowly sliding his fingers into my pussy and my ass; there’s a line forming.  The busier it gets in the shop the faster each person must thrust her hand into me.  Pretty soon, every time the register drawer opens there’s a fist punching my pussy.  Each time.  Faster and faster.  The shop is doing great business, as is my pussy.

Alternatively, I’m on my knees in front of the counter so I must suck and lick everything that’s put to my face.  Cocks are shoved down my throat.  Pussies are ground onto my face.  No matter what, all the store’s patrons can do whatever they want to me.  I’m a nasty, slutty tool for each person to use as s/he wants–my mouth, my cunt, my ass are all to be objectified, and heavily.

Harder and harder, faster and faster.  EVERYONE puts his hand in me.  They take turns thrusting into my wet, loose cunt.  Each time I grunt.  I can take it.  I can take more.  Until finally, I come.  I scream.  S-C-R-E-A-M out as I come.  Everyone looks up from eating their ice cream, but in a very nonchalant way.  “Yeah, that chick on the counter came because we were all treating her pussy like the sloppy cunt it is, but that’s so not a big deal.”

But then business slows down.  My pussy is spent, the store closes.  I sit on the floor naked and eat salt and pepper ice cream.  My legs are long and lean (it’s a fantasy, dammit) and stretched out before me.

I swear.  True story (of my fantasy).

Army Guy wrote this little tidbit for me when he was in Iraq.  No fucking makes for some fine writing (for him, not me–I’m not testing the theory on myself).  And this was most definitely written for me (the sunscreen reference makes that clear), which I absolutely love.

Army Guy:

It’s a breezy summer day and I appreciate you flying down to meet me at the big air show at the Naval Air Station in San Diego.  We met up prior to the show at our static display, but shortly after the gates open, my co-pilot, Jake, and I were mobbed by attendees asking us stupid questions about our helicopter or random losers telling us the story about how their uncle was a P-51 (or was it P-47?) pilot in WWII.  You enjoy the show, manage to use sunscreen and get a little tipsy on draft beer.  By the time the sun goes down, you’re more or less air-showed out.  After we pack up the display board and recruiting brochures, Jake and I dismiss our crew chiefs who are eager to have a night on the town away from their officers.  As our second crew chief is leaving, you walk up to see what our plans are for tonight.  The sun is going down and the last of the attendees are trickling out.  As this show is put on by the Navy, our aircraft is at the end of the line to make room for all the F-18’s and A-6’s.  It’s a well-known secret among pilots that those guys are all unrepentant cock-gobblers, but that’s another story.

You’ve got a healthy buzz on, and are eager for us to lock up so we can all go out, but I ask if you want to see the helicopter before we leave in a couple of minutes.

You haven’t seen one before, so you put your beer down and climb in.  You sit up in the cockpit and I show you how the cyclic, collective and tail-rotor pedals control the aircraft and how all the radios and system instruments work.  There’s lots of gauges, etc, etc….  As I’m reaching over you to show you the GPS, my arm grazes across your thighs.  You don’t know if I did it intentionally or not, but it immediately sensitized you to what might be happening here.  When you climb out, I grab your hips to help guide you down.images

Jake is in the cabin and wants to show you the crew chief stations and cargo hook.  You step up into the cabin and I climb in behind you.  The cabin is ceiling is about 4’ high, so you either have to hunch over as you’re walking around in it or you have to walk on your knees.  You choose the latter as you’re standing between Jake and I.  Jake finishes up the little speech about each part of the helicopter.  He’s done it a million times before, but he’s clearly distracted by you standing so close to him, as he keeps staring at your tits.  I notice him doing it and am grinning at him as he tries to keep his composure.

While he’s talking, I lean in and kiss the back of your neck.  You weren’t expecting it and it causes shivers to go up the back of your scalp.  You momentarily lose your balance and lean a little too far forward.  The combination of the sun and the alcohol may have affected you a little more than you had estimated.  Jake catches you in his arms.  As you look up at him, he leans over to kiss you on the mouth.  You return his kiss.  It isn’t a romantic kiss, but more of a drunken probing of each other’s tongues.  The obscenity of it only sets in more as you feel my hands reach around and cup your breasts.  You experience a flash of guilt for letting these two relative strangers molest you like this, but that very thought excites you.

Jake stops kissing you to help you pull your blouse off.  As it goes over your head, you feel me unhooking your bra to free those luscious tits.  We both want you so fucking bad and are stripping out of our flight suits as you wiggle out of your jeans.  The soft amber glow of the evening sun warms the tarmac and it feels good on your naked skin.

You look at Jake and admire his thin sinewy frame and completely shaved body.  By contrast, my build is a little stockier and my chest his decidedly hairier.  (No, I’m not hairy, but I’m definitely not as metrosexual as Jake.)  We both trim our pubic hair, but what you notice more than that is we both have raging hard-ons.

Since you’re facing Jake, you lean over, grab his cock and feel its weight in your hand.  He pushes your head lower and you open up to take it in your hot, wet mouth.  He moans in approval and I admire the hourglass shape your ass and hips make, bent over in front of me like that.

While you’re sucking him, you feel me wrap one of my arms around your hips and start to massage your exposed pussy with the head of my dick.  You continue to stroke and suck on him rhythmically as I start to work myself inside you.  Once I’m half-way in, I begin to slide back and forth until you loosen up a little bit.  After a couple of minutes of this, I thrust into you as hard as I can, which causes your mouth to slide all the way onto Jake’s cock, making you gag a little.  We both start to laugh (because you have to admit, that was funny) and I can’t help but thrust into you one more time to elicit the same response.  “Hey, just because you’re taking a cock from behind doesn’t mean Jake’s going to let up on your mouth, you fucking slut!”

At this point, Jake pulls you off his cock and reclines on the pile of clothes, flight suits and jackets.  You don’t know what he’s doing at first, but as I guide your hips down towards his erect cock, you get the picture and get on your knees.  You’re already wet from me fucking you, so you glide down onto his pole with little resistance.  Jake comments on how wet you are and thanks me for lubing this whore up for him.  As I release my hands from your hips, Jake’s hands replace them and he begins rocking you back and forth.  Again, I can’t help but admire how shapely and feminine you look from behind.

You’re sitting upright as you’re riding him, so when I push your shoulders down, to make you lean over, you have to put both your hands on either side of him for balance.  I can see your pussy sliding up and down on Jake from this angle and see your glistening juices, dripping down his shaft.  My own cock is starting to dry out in this West Coast air.  As you rock forward, I push you all the way off of him.  As you rock back I slide my own cock into your now well-used slit.  The change is a little disconcerting, but it feels great and you continue to back yourself onto me.

Once I’m good and wet, I pull out of you.  Jake guides you back onto him, and pulls you forward.  Once you’re laying on his chest, you feel me spread your ass cheeks open.  At this point, you feel very exposed, and you know what’s about to happen to you, but the fear and the anticipation feels like an old friend, visiting after a long separation.  You must admit, you’ve become quite the hedonist (at least by this Southern boy’s standards) and your desire to experience something new has been growing with each lackluster encounter you’ve had.

As Jake continues to fuck you, you feel the head of my cock, bumping into your back door.  You relax a little and take a deep breath as I start to slide in.  Once I’m inside you, I pause and Jake stops moving in order to give you a moment to accommodate me.  I reach underneath you to rub some of your moisture on my shaft.  When you tell me you’re ready, I slide into you a little further.  Jake is still inside you, and I can feel him through the thin wall of your vagina.  Since we’re both inside you, that negates the “you’re gay because you just touched a cock” rule, so we’re both OK…

When I’m completely inside you, your perspective shifts for a second to contemplate what’s happening.  You’re getting used as a fuck-toy by two horny soldiers in the back of a helicopter.

As I slide my shaft deeper, I can’t help but notice how unbelievably tight you are.  You fit me like a lambskin glove.  I start to pump slowly in and out of you and Jake matches my rhythm with his own hips.  You feel full and violated inside.  Your desire to be penetrated has never been so thoroughly addressed as in this moment.  As you grow accustomed to what’s happening, you begin to tentatively rock back onto us.

It’s a little awkward at first: the three of us trying to synchronize to each other, but we all soon get the hang of it and are both thrusting into you at the same time as you rock back and forth.  I too, can’t help but laugh of the absurdity of it all.  “This feels so fucking obscene.  Jake and I love having our cocks buried in your tight holes.  Now keep rocking back onto us.  You need to be filled to the brim with our come.”

You abide and begin to increase your pace.  Jake and I both grab your hips and begin thrusting in earnest as you impale yourself on our engorged poles.  I start to quiver and grab a handful of your hair to pull your head back.  I’m about to explode inside you and I want you to arch your back.  The synergy of it all is overwhelming and Jake is on the verge as well.

Your desire to pleasure us is being granted and from the energy you feel between the two of us, you know we’re about to explode in both of your holes.  The imagery that goes through your mind isn’t of any particular past experience, as you have no benchmark to compare this to, but more of an abstract visualization of being impaled as deeply as possible by as large an object as you can bear.  You tense up and grab onto Jake’s shoulders as your body is wracked in orgasm.

I, too, enjoy giving pleasure and that was all that I needed to push me over the edge.  In that fleeting instance, I succumb to that white-hot oblivion that I want so badly.  I scream your name and dig my nails into your side as I make three final violent thrusts into you.  On the final thrust, you feel my balls slap into you as I pivot my hips forward to go as far as possible and inject my seed deep into your ass.  The orgasm is so intense that I feel as if all my essence and every last drop of energy in my body is being passed to you.  I want to collapse, but I’m still hard, so I remain inside of you for a few more seconds.

It’s Jake’s turn.  He tells you to hold still.  Shortly after, he grunts and spasms underneath you as you feel him shooting deep into your womb.  You want this moment to last as long as it can and even think for a second that you wish two more men were standing by to take our place in order to continue punishing your well-used pussy and ass.  Nevertheless, you feel like a pure sexual being and an object to be fucked, violated and used for gratification.  To that end, I can say that you’ve done a superb job today.

Exhausted, I can’t hold myself in this position any longer.  I slide out of you and roll over onto my back.  You sit back and lean against a crew chief’s seat on the opposite wall of the cabin.  You still feel wet between your legs.  Your skin is glistening in perspiration and your hair is a beautiful mess.

You first look to Jake; then to me.  I wink, which causes you to laugh.  Ever the gentleman, Jake grins, motions with his chin to the profusion of semen dripping out of you and proclaims with as much panache as he can muster in his diminished state:

“Ma’am, on behalf of a grateful nation, please accept this small token of gratitude for the invaluable service you’ve rendered today.”


Text received from Army Guy after he read the post (he’d not read it since he wrote it):

Aww.  That was so sweet!  I remember writing and rewriting that over a period of a few days.  Took frequent delays to ponder the mechanics of doing a DP in the back of a helo and to stroke myself whilst pondering the sensations of fucking your nice, round ass.

That is the kind of text message a gal wants to receive!

My neighbors, Rose and Dieter, met in Germany.  Dieter is German, and consequently he and Rose often host German friends when they’re in town.  They had two German friends staying with them when I was invited out to lunch with them at Papalote. Yum.

I was the only person at the table who did not speak German.  Everyone spoke English very well, but understandably conversation would slip into the comfort zone of three of the five people present (and a language one other of the five could understand and speak very well).  Which I loved.  I really do like listening to the rhythm of a language I can’t understand.  Because I don’t have the ability to listen to the content, I can listen to the cadence.  The sounds are less coherent communication and more music to my ears.  Even German–a language which has been accused of auditory assault–sounds lovely when articulated by a native speaker.

Later that day, I ventured to the Marina to attend my friend’s book signing.  She illustrated a children’s book, Freckleface Strawberry and the Dodgeball Bully.  Julianne Moore wrote the book so the signing was packed with people and their little brats.

I dipped out to a bar, where I met a British bloke.  I chatted him up, and got his business card with his home number on the back.  Apparently he’s the person without a cell phone.  I’m definitely going to call him, if for no other reason than he’ll take me out to eat–I’m a food nerd.

Then back to the book store, where the signing had thankfully ended.  Met my friend’s husband and kid, congratulated the friend on her book, and saw Julianne Moore.  I opted for silence over saying something supremely stupid, but did exchange smiles with Ms. Moore.  She is beautiful in person.  And shorter than I expected.

I do not go to the Marina often.  It is not my kind of neighborhood.  I like gritty; in San Francisco I’ve lived only in the Tenderloin and the Mission.  The Marina is too damn clean for me.  But mostly it’s the people who live there that don’t appeal to me.  I refer to the Marina as LA North.  I dig LA–loved living there when I did–but the pressure of having to put on the right outfit and full make-up just to go to the damn corner store for some fucking wine is too much silliness.  And that pressure comes from the people who shoot dirty looks when I go to the corner store in flip-flops and–shock–no mascara.

But, as I was already there, I thought I should take advantage of it.  Only it was a Tuesday, and not much was going on.  I went into another bar and sat amongst the five people already there.  As it was still early–and dead–the staff had little to do.  Watching bar staff reminds me of the old pool hall days.  The camaraderie of bar work simply can’t be equaled in an office.

Finally, the Marina was boring me, so I hopped on the first of two buses I needed to take me back to the dirty Mission.  I changed buses at Fillmore and Geary.  Actually, I saw a bar at Fillmore and Geary and dipped in for another drink.

The Boom Boom Room was deader than the Marina bar had been, but I wanted another drink, dammit.  I was finishing up my drink and about to leave when in walked a group of guys.  How convenient.

They were a group of soccer players, I think; drunk Shazam doesn’t listen too well.  Drunk Shazam did, however, realize that English was most definitely not their first language.

Two of the guys were chatting with me.  One of them spoke no English so the other acted as translator.  I got to hear them talk to each other in Spanish during the translation process.  And that’s when I decided I would be fucking these two men.

I told the one who could speak English, Pedro (sure, that works), that I wanted them both to come back to my place and fuck me.  I made it clear that our goal was to DP me so they had to be ok with seeing one another’s dicks, and with having them touch.  I was not about to have two hot, but uptight, guys to my place.  Pedro affirmed that they would happily fulfill my need to have my ass and my pussy fucked simultaneously.

We hopped in a cab, stopped at a liquor store–because more drinks were surely required, right?–and then went to my house.  They made drinks and smoked on my patio while I took Isis out.  Only my dog knows how much of a slut I am.

Spoiler alert:  I still have not experienced the glory I imagine is getting DP’d.  I will some day, dammit.  That night I was too fucking drunk.  While a bit of alcohol can be nice for eliminating those pesky inhibitions, too much and things just don’t work properly.

And because I was too wasted, I have only snippets of memory once the three of us were in my bedroom.  I do recall making it VERY clear that condoms would be required.  I have a huge supply thanks to San Francisco City Clinic and recall repeating, “Condoms” and, “You have a condom on, right?”  Not too sexy–the repeating, not the insistence on using protection.

We did attempt, a couple of times I think, our goal.  But it just wasn’t happening.  Even for a basic ass fuck I need to relax and breathe and mentally and physically open up.  This drunk idiot is not capable of that much thought.  This sober girl wants so badly to feel a cock in her pussy and her ass concurrently, and will definitely be making it happen, and soon.

All the while, Pedro and the other guy were talking to each other in Spanish.  I’ve lived in California all my life so I’m used to hearing Spanish, as spoken by both Mexicans and Chicanos.  The Ex speaks Spanish nicely.  These guys, however, were South American, so the lilt of their speech sounded new and exciting.  So fucking hot.  I love hearing a language I can’t understand, and I love being spoken about as if I’m not there.  I had both with Pedro and the other one.  It was in so many ways the perfect situation and I fucked it up by being too damn drunk.  Boo, me.

I think I fucked both of them.  I assume I sucked both of them–because I want all the cocks in my mouth–all of them.

Eventually, they took their leave and the next morning (Isis assures I get up early no matter what) the only evidence of their presence was the bottle of vodka and the massive quantity of condoms, and condom wrappers, on my bedroom floor.

I swear.  True story.