Boundaries

Whilst I consider myself very uninhibited, there are some things which I’ve never really come to terms with. Cross dressing and transvestites are one of them. That was until recently.

I’ve always been an each to their own type of person, if it floats someone’s boat, then good luck to them. For me though, the whole idea of cross dressing or being a trans-sexual conjures up images of hairy 40+ men wearing their wives underwear on a tuesday afternoon in Bradford whilst their beloved is out at work.

Not for the first time in history, I stumbled across the thing that changed my mind in a bar recently in Istanbul on a work trip. I was there on my own for a few nights, and decided I would try the hotel bar one night after being out for a meal with some people from the office. I sat at the bar a few stools down from a very good looking woman, hoping the conversation would start when she heard my very English accent, which is usually the catalyst. Within a minute of me ordering my drink she asked where I was from. Turns out she was from Spain and was visiting on work too.

You know how the rest of that story goes, so I won’t bother with the details, except to say it was the best blow job I’ve ever had. I think I took the big reveal in my stride, but I couldn’t help but let out a “what the fuck?” when I first encountered the half erect salami in his\her pants. My surprise was more from a how the hell was I so easily fooled, rather than a shit what do I do now. What did I do? Well, I did what every self respecting pervert does, I had sex with him\her. Very good it was too.

But there I was a few minutes later. Kneeling behind a man on his way to becoming a woman. Breasts were in place and small and tender. Waist was suitably slim. Skin was hair free. Face was incredibly beautiful. Frankly, I don’t think many people would have spotted the signs of her being a him. Anyway, as I’m kneeling behind her, I’m thinking to myself, actually, this doesn’t feel like being with a guy. Yes, every now and then I get a slap of his penis against my balls as he bounces backwards and forwards, but other than that, there was nothing going on in my mind that suggested I wasn’t liking the experience.

After we’d both come, and I did help him to reach his climax too, we lay on bed, with her in my arms stroking my chest. It was a surreal experience if I’m honest. Since then, I’ve been looking through my usual web sites to find someone similar and this beauty at the link below is as close as I can get. I think you will agree there is a remarkable lack of male signs except for the obvious.

Amazing Cross dresser

I don’t think I would go looking to find this experience again, but I am glad I’ve done it.

Envy

I always feel a huge pang of envy whenever I see lesbians enjoying each other. Not because I want to be with them, although I generally do. No, it is because of the sensuality that exists in that relationship typically. More times than not, you will find that two women and gentle and seductive with each other. If you look across the sexual marketplace at two guys, their approach typically seems more animal like.

I am sure some scientist can explain to me how male hormones drive a certain type of behaviour. But I think it boils down to, for guys, having a gay relationship or encounter is purely about fucking. Simple, and straightforward, it is about doing to the other guy what you can. I am sure there are lots of exceptions to this, but all of my experiences have been that guys just want to fuck each others brains out given a chance. In contrast however, women it seems, want to seduce and enchant each other into the bottomless pit of pleasure.

Anyway, I feel envious that woman are afforded this wonderful ability to be so sensual. I hope that if reincarnation is true, I come back as someone like one of the women in this image.

Variety

As I mentioned a few days ago, things at home on the sex life front haven’t exactly been desirable. There are a bunch of reasons I don’t need to go into as to why, but it has been pretty boring to sum things up. I raised this with my angel a few weeks ago and, in the interest of keeping the relationship within a glimmer of hope of surviving, I suggested we come up with 3 things for the following week we wanted to try with the other person.

Now, as you may remember, my angel is not particularly well versed in sexuality or sensuality. Her idea of exotic is turning the lights out. Anything other than missionary is deemed anti social behaviour and akin to bestiality. So my expectations were pretty low about what she would choose.

I, on the other hand, had a list as long as my arm of things I wanted to try with her. I had, however, limited the game to three things though; I had to abide by my own rules. What would your three things be to try given a chance I wonder? Leave a comment.

I proposed a few nights where we allowed each other to exercise one of our list of three. As expected, the angel didn’t have a list, so I offered to go first and expand her education. She went out to work for the afternoon and as evening set in I turned the bedroom into a massage parlour. The bed was stripped back to a bare sheet, towels were laid out, oil was placed in a warming dish, and I dug a blindfold out of one of the many airline wash kits I’ve accrued over the years of travel. My plan was to get her into the bath, as she started to climb out, I’d dim the lights, towel her down, blindfold her to lower her inhibitions, then lay her out to massage her.

That plan was part 1 of my evening and, with a few minor disagreements, went according to plan. The problem was part 2. Now whilst she was at work, I’d laid out the room with bits and pieces, towels, oil as I’ve said, but also a hidden video camera and my phone. My idea was, to get her blindfolded, begin to massage her, but every now and then, take a break, and video her so I can beat myself stupid on my business trips over her naked body. I also wanted to capture her arse on film, since I never get a chance to see it up close.

For the record, there is no way on hell she would agree to me doing the above, which is why I hid the camera in the room. Now when I say hidden, what I mean is that it was on the floor under the bed and that, as the evening progressed, I would grab it whilst massaging her feet, and film a few minutes of her ass whilst her legs were spread apart.

Lighting was a problem, so the results were crappy, but I still managed to massage her and in particular the area around her backside. The point was that was the thing I wanted to do. However, this just got my juices flowing, so me being me, I went to finish her off with my fingers whilst she was still lying face down. This produced excellent results as she shuddered on my fingertips. Very nice.

I was still bursting with an erection, and she was still lying face down on the bed. I’d spent the best part of an hour staring at her ass hole as I massaged her, and I had nothing but ass on my mind.

We’ve never done anal. ever. I haven’t even suggested it because I already know the answer. but for whatever reason, that night I felt like it would be the night to try.

I started to kiss her neck, slowly at first, then with a little more venom. As I did, lying across her back as I was, my dick was already brushing through her parted cheeks. I could feel the end rubbing on something and figured it was her ass. This just raised the stakes further and I started to increase the friction as I moved as I kissed her from behind. By this point, her backside was moving to meet my motions, and I could feel my cock lying down the valley of her arse.

 She was responding to my advances, so stupidly, I thought she was ready. I slowly worked my hand down and held the end of my dick. I could feel the puckered skin around her hole and recognised it was pretty dry except for some pre-cum from me. I rubbed my dick down her slit to get some of her juices involved, which worked a treat. As I was doing this, one of my fingers glanced inside her pussy lips, making her squirm a little more.

I could feel everything starting to lubricate, so I changed my rhythm a little to make more of a forward motion, rather than the vertical brushing I’d been doing. I felt myself pushing against solid skin. Not quite in the right place yet I thought. Lower. Lower still. Then I found it, the holy grail of interesting sex.

Oh my goodness. Was she not ready for it.

The first 2 seconds were her casually mentioning that I was pushing against her ass. Presumably thinking I was making a mistake. Seconds 2-4 were the era of recognition, where she understood that I had intent. seconds 4-6 were spent with her body magically shuffling forwards without any part of her anatomy moving so she could escape the invader. Needless to say, my attempt was thwarted. Did I caress her and attempt another go? Did I explain that we’d agreed we could do anything we wanted to and this was my thing? Did I man up and say that for the 5 years we’ve been together anal sex has been as high on my list as anything you care to mention?

No. I whimped out completely and said sorry, I didn’t realise, and would she be so kind as to climb back down from the top of the headboard so normal service could be resumed. I hate monotony. I want, no need, variety in my sex life. I think it might be time to find someone who can spice things up a little more.

Porcelain

I have a fascination with skin at the moment.

I don’t know if it is through lack of exposure to it, or if it is some change in my attractions, but smooth, soft, delicate skin is right up there on my wish list at the moment. I want to be able to spend a warm, late summer afternoon, in bed with someone beautiful who has amazing skin. From the people I’ve met in life who have this, I find they are quite blasé about it. The reality is that they probably know how amazing their skin is, but think it is perfectly normal and everyone else is flawed in some way.

When I think about fantastic skin, I think about a girl I slept with in Paris. She was the stereotypical French 20 something girl: Liberated, opinionated, demure, petite, hairy armpits, and skin so porcelain like it was incredible. After we’d had sex, she would fall asleep almost immediately. I would be left wide awake, mesmerised by her beauty. Her apartment was two things 1) tiny and 2) hot. I would climb out of bed and go and sit on one of the two chairs in the apartment and simply watch her as she slept. Even though we’d had sex for sometimes hours, she would always have that picture perfect sheen to her skin that made her look like some renaissance painting.

I’d make myself a coffee and watch her naked body from the chair. I told her that I did it and it just turned her on even more. I remember thinking at the time how I could make some sort of art house film out of the whole affair. She was some sex crazed French chick, I was about 10 years her elder, together we made an odd couple. The sex was amazing however, but good god could she argue.

Anyway, the point of this is I am now paying more attention to people who have that fine bone china look about them than I did before. If you see some 30 something guy staring at you and you have perfect skin. Smile at me and say hello.

Excitement

What does it take to raise your blood pressure when it comes to sex? When you stop and think about it, there are some unusual things we might be all used to that, when you consider them, don’t really make a lot of sense.

Lingerie is one of the things I’ve never really come to terms with. I don’t see what part it plays in the sexual space. I suspect this is because I think naked bodies are so beautiful on their own. I think all the frills and lace etc. just get in the way for me. That said, when I found this picture above, I thought it was very exciting. I can see myself, sat in a chair after a long evening, glass of wine in my hand, with this beautiful woman coming towards me to make me realise why lingerie is important in life.

I have to say, I think I’m more turned on by her pubic hairs than I am her outfit. I can, however, probably accept it as a necessary part of the evening if I get to taste what hides behind that beautiful bush.

Hidden

You are walking along the street in the city center. In front of you is a young woman who, from behind, looks really quite attractive. Maybe she is tall and slender, perhaps petite. Maybe she has blonde, black, red, auburn hair. Her hips might be swaying as she caresses the pavement with her feet. Perhaps she is upright, posture perfect.

You keep your distance, perhaps admiring her, fantasizing over her. But she stops to look in a shop window. Perhaps the lights at the crossing turn to red. But the anticipation is there. You want her to be incredible, attractive, beautiful.

But she isn’t.

She has a face only a mother could love.

What is it about the face that leads us to such terrible decisions. Seconds ago you wanted to strip her naked and devour her. But now, you’ve seen the wrinkles on her face, or the pointy nose, or whatever feature it is that has poisoned your view, and you want to walk away.

Stop and think next time this is in reverse and you see someone who you think is unattractive. Ignore the thing that caused that opinion and take a second look. Beauty isn’t always obvious.

Caress

I have a new experience to report that I feel energized to talk about. As I described recently, sex has been very limited for me for a while now for a number of reasons. As a consequence, my mind has drifted to the option of paying for my pleasure. For a good while I have avoided or dismissed this as an option, considering it something I wouldn’t do in principle.

Despite my inhibitions, and with my sexual energy rising daily, I was nudged towards something by chance whilst looking for a non sexual massage. I was sat in an airport on my way to a two day meeting in Zurich, the prospect ahead of me of another two nights in a hotel with little to keep me company than my imagination. So, I went looking for a massage to pass the time away in the evening and to feel somebody touching my body, which in itself is a beautiful and satisfying experience.

One of the first hits on the web I found was for a tantric massage center. Hello, thinks I, perhaps we can kill two birds with one stone here. The place I stumbled across was Dakini. I’m a believer in that nothing happens by chance. As you’ll see if you follow that link, the place is welcoming, open, and very professional looking. This doesn’t surprise me, as someone who’s spent a reasonable amount of time in Switzerland, and Zurich in particular, the place is a very structured and organized city. Trains run on time, crime is almost non-existent, people seem happy, etc. etc. So finding a place like Dakini to be so professional wasn’t surprising. What did surprise me was how open they are about what they do. Zurich is an incredibly conservative place, so having a team of ladies who offer intimate massage services to men, women and couples, is a little surprising.

After a quick read around their website, I very quickly convinced myself this was what I was looking for. Their tantra massage sounded ideal, although their lingam and secret massage also triggered my interest. Not quite sure on what to expect though, I plucked up the courage to email them asking if I could arrange a session for that evening.

Now by this time, it was about 4pm, I would land in Zurich about 5pm, and be in the hotel by about 5:45pm. In other words, I might end up a bit rushed. As I was baording the plane, a mail landed in my inbox from a lady there saying tonight was possible, and would 7pm be ok.

That 1 hour flight to Zurich seemed to last forever. I think I sat there the whole flight with an erection that was leaking with anticipation.

As I landed, my acceptance email that I’d sent just as the plane was getting ready to taxi was acknowledged, and the session was set. Now all I had to do was to get to my hotel, dump my bag, and flag a taxi from the station to the location.

It turns out the place is in somewhat of a quiet backwater in the city. It is what looks like an everyday office block, but inside there is a paradise waiting for you.

I was met at the door by a tall, blonde lady, late 30′s, incredibly elegant in a black silky dress. She welcomed me with a warm hug, kiss and a smile and showed me to the room. The place had a soft mattress on the floor covered in a dark burgundy fabric, low lighting, and various things around the room that I would later discover would help us achieve a connection to happiness I honestly don’t think I’ve ever experienced anywhere before.

I showered and returned, naked except for a kimono type gown. She had changed to a sheer piece of silk around her naked body. We closed our eyes as we stood in the middle of the room. We slowed down our breathing and held each others hands. Immediately I felt a sense of calm and peace overcome me. I felt her warm hand rest on my chest. She then started to circle around me, my eyes closed all the time, caressing my now naked body.

She spiralled down, glancing over my now erect penis with her fingertips, and eventually worked all the way down to my feet. I felt her mouth kiss the top of each foot. Then I felt her warm breath against my penis for just a few seconds. Then a light touch of her lips on its shaft, a loving, gentle kiss.

We lay down, and for the next 90 minutes I was massaged, caressed, and enthralled by this beautiful blonde German lady who took me to heaven on that mattress. There was warm oil, enough to feel it long after her hands have moved on, but not enough to feel so greasy and oily. There was some talcum powder. There was a feather. There was a kiss here and there. There was a lot of caressing. It was a sensual experience beyond anything I have ever known.

I eventually end up on my back, legs apart, she sits between my legs, her’s underneath mine. Her back is bent so her head is close to my  penis. Her hands are warm and paying more attention than I feel like I deserve to the head of my shaft. My hands rest on her lags at my side, and I feel a connection with her like no other. She teases the energy out of me slowly, until I can’t take it any longer and the pleasure floods out of me.

It was that connection with her that did it. Yes, she was beautiful. Yes, she had fantastic massage skills. Yes, our conversation at the start was intelligent and entertaining. But it was the feeling of physical and mental connection through the session that made me feel like I immediately was in love with that woman.

I know that seems stupid, but it was exactly how I felt. I’ve experienced love, and lust, and desire in spades if I am honest. I have a lot of love to give. And in that room, in that moment, I was in love with the woman who had given me an experience I have longed for my whole life. It was complete. I told her afterwards and she laughed and said that once I get outside I would realise it was only a moment and she would be forgotten.

That was last December.

I haven’t forgotten her. I still think she is beautiful and I have love inside me for her even if we never meet again. Thank you, Desiree of Dakini. You put something into my life I could only dream of and I will love you forever for it.

If you ever get the chance to experience a real tantric massage like this, please take it! Especially if you can go to Dakini in Zurich, it is a magical place. I’ve been back several times since and had different, but equally as wonderful experiences. It allows you to connect inside yourself in a way that you rarely experience otherwise. I would compare it to that moment, just as you orgasm, where nothing else in the world exists. But it lasts far longer and you realise how much you worship your own body as well as anyone who can give pleasure to it in that way.