As I was Writing
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Publié :10/4/2017 3h37
Dernière mise à jour :21/4/2017 9h13 15561 vues
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None of what follows is made up.
As I was writing replies to my last post there was a knock at the door. Just as I was writing my reply to Stormyroses about the fact that yes, people do know where I live and could easily just pop round at any moment to offer to have sex with me.
"Oh good grief, not another nice Polish van driver with a delivery for my neighbour," I thought to myself as I went to answer the door. I am sure my neighbour spends most of the day ordering things from Amazon and then going out to make sure only I am at home when they arrive.
But it wasn't. It was a very pretty young woman who said, and I quote, "Hello, have I got the right house?"
Well you can imagine my thoughts. Surely she hasn't just been reading my last post has she? Could she have really just popped round for a quick one?
"Well," I said, smiling what I hoped was a friendly smile, but what, on looking back may have seemed a little creepy given the words which came next, "It depends what you are here for."
Seeing her slightly puzzled look and realising I was on dangerous ground I added "but no, I think probably you've got the wrong house."
"Cleaning for Mrs X?" She queried.
"Ah, next door," I pointed, just as next door, who was in after all opened her front door to say hello.
So endeth today's fantasy.
Actually, one small point in the story above is made up. It wasn't a pretty young woman, it was a rather non-descript, totally unsexy woman in dirty jogging-bottoms with greasy hair and a fat arse and two ugly looking children skulking about behind her back looking as if they wanted to throw stones at my windows. But apart from that, for a moment I thought I was going to get lucky.
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I Need to Get Laid
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Publié :1/4/2017 8h46
Dernière mise à jour :19/12/2018 13h21 15558 vues
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Okay, I know it is nothing new. But honestly, it doesn't matter whether it gets me in a mess or not, I really do think I physically need to get laid. Or is that psychologically?
I was driving through town this afternoon, and OMG there was some crumpet about. Long languorous legs here, temptingly terrific tits there, a pretty face in the car alongside me. I nearly crashed gazing at an amazingly admirable arse.
Maybe it was the weather. Definitely spring, but not particularly warm - I can't say there was flesh on display. It was just me. I just want one of those wonderful women lying underneath me in a soft bed for a few hours. Or on top, I don't care. (Alongside even, although I always find that a bit awkward.) A man shouldn't have to deny himself that should he? Or, as Dreamer would say, if he wants to deny himself, why should I have to as well?
I don't suppose any of you are in my area some time next week and fancy dropping in just on the off chance? Lol, it's a long way to come for most of you I know, and some of you are lesbians, so that probably rules you out. But there are one or two.....I would be an easy target at the moment I think.
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11
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Good to the Last Drop
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Publié :21/3/2017 13h42
Dernière mise à jour :28/3/2017 10h12 15453 vues
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I was leafing through a shelf of vintage vinyl in a junk shop over the weekend when I found, and bought, an old 1950s blues compilation on which there was a track called "Good to the Last Drop" by Buster Benton.
It made me think of you guys for some reason.
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4
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Hello
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Publié :20/3/2017 10h55
Dernière mise à jour :28/3/2017 10h11 15490 vues
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I had something I was going to post about, but then I realised that even though it was completely unconnected, it would be insensitive to the feelings of someone else who blogs here and might be reading, so I decided to let it pass. It wasn't that important.
So just pretend you know what I was going to write about, say "Hello, hi Dreamer, yes, I agree with you, what a clever post - I've always thought that myself but never been able to put it as clearly as you have here," or "Oh wow Dreamer, that's so sexy, it's such a turn on reading your blog," (or whatever you feel like in your own words) and and then we'll all be happy!
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10
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Why do I Struggle with Relationship Sex?
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Publié :27/2/2017 13h40
Dernière mise à jour :14/3/2017 4h15 14537 vues
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Someone asked me question the other day which lead me to put my feelings into words in a way I have not managed so well for some time.
I was trying to explain why it is that I struggle to maintain interest in sex within a long term relationship. And it isn't that I fall out of love, or like to play the field or simply need variety, or any of those other clichéd, but possibly quite real reasons men are often accused of suffering from.
I can only say that I seem to have a problem with the kind routine run-of-the-mill sex I think most of us assume many couples who stay together past the initial falling in love stage end up having. And I am partly to blame for not being keen to sort that problem out when it occurs. I am not absolutely sure why, but I almost get embarrassed by sex once I get into a longer relationship. I have even seen the effect happening to me here on this site. As I become more friendly with, and better known to my blogging friends here, I not only feel less inclined to share sexual secrets and fantasies, I also find it harder to be sexually interested in the blogs too.
This doesn't happen to me with all relationships - I have had some which stayed red-hot, but I need someone who makes some of the effort to be sexy for me to be keen. I seem to need that kind of slightly-out-of-control-turned-on feeling to really enjoy sex, or to uninhibitedly enjoy it, and I definitely need the other person to be really into it too. Otherwise I tend to lose interest completely and not want sex with that person at all. But I am perfectly capable of carrying on loving that person, and not wanting to be single again. Neither would I feel comfortable in an open relationship, or by cheating. But I sometimes get monumentally frustrated.
I suppose it may be why the fantasy of some kind of long term Willing Gift girl friend-with-benefits who wants me, cares about me, but isn't demanding in relationship type ways is such a seductive fantasy for me.
The whole thing is a complex kind of emotional mind-trap I suppose, which is probably why I have so far found no way to stop it recurring.
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6
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Storm Doris
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Publié :22/2/2017 2h48
Dernière mise à jour :14/3/2017 4h03 14413 vues
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I am uneasy about the whole idea of naming storms and hurricanes. Obviously I realise that meteorologically it is helpful for a storm to have a name, rather than be 2017 Atlantic Low Number 476 or whatever. Although even then, I suspect it is more a mechanism for the meteorologists to get public attention, and therefore action and dare I say it, funding, if the thing has a name. The scientists themselves are probably more than happy with AL2017476
Anyway, getting away from that side of the politics, here in Bloghampton, Storm Doris is forecast for tomorrow, and it's just that I wonder how often there is some poor girl somewhere who gets called "Storm Doris" or whatever for a while, maybe even permanently as a result of this, and as we all know, what someone is called definitely can have an effect on them.
How many Hurricane Katrinas are there out there these days I wonder? (I would love to meet one by the way, lol ) I am sure I would have laughed at this if I had been at school, or maybe even in the office with a girl called Katrina at the time. I would never have meant it unkindly, but we all know you can sometimes bully people by accident. Of course it could be a good thing. She might have wanted to be a sprinter and the nick name spurred her on. But equally, she could have been naturally hot tempered, and ended up in anger management.
Of course hurricanes are named after boys too.
Although as far as I know there has never been a "Hurricane Dreamer."
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10
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The Smaller Joys
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Publié :21/2/2017 7h46
Dernière mise à jour :22/2/2017 2h34 14183 vues
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I was thinking about this post driving back through a drizzly Bloghampton town centre this afternoon.
I am driving my old car which is very old and needs replacing. The interior lights don't always come on any more, and the passenger side window doesn't quite go all the way up to the top. It makes a seal, but it isn't a snug fit. The car has issues, but it goes well and I have had it a long time. I have just had some new tyres a new radio aerial so I can listen to Al Stewart's "the year of the cat" which is playing as I stop at the lights. (The old aerial fell off a while back, but I could still get some stations so it took a while to get round to ordering a new one.) We have been to some great places together and had a lot of fun. I have chosen the model I want to buy next and have the money ready, but I can't bear to part with him.
While thinking along these lines I find myself wondering why a single day, like today for instance, can seem to be taking an awfully long time, while the life of a car, or even a person, can seem to have flashed by almost before we really knew where we were heading. I resolve to take more notice of the small things which can brighten a day. What if you treated every day like the last day of a holiday - something to make the most of and be savoured? There are always things to look out for and wonder at.
A motorcyclist draws up along side me at the lights, his slightly over sized bum swelling out above his jeans, pushed up by his weight on the saddle, suggesting a hint of a crack but mercifully covered by superbly blue undershorts. I wonder if he knows he is bulging out there? Amusing....
A pretty girl with ridiculous jugular vein red lipstick is walking across the pedestrian zone on the roundabout. A woman driving cross town gestures, exasperated at a car illegally crossing her path, then sees me watching her and smiles. I smile too.
The lights change and I squeeze through a tiny gap between me and a red mini in the next lane, impressing myself with my spatial awareness. Home, I consider the rest of today's work tasks. The will have to wait. I need to check in with the site, see what the blog everyone else is doing. I might have a cup of tea. maybe watch an old episode of JAG and wish I was snuggling up to Catherine Bell's bosoms.
Dreamer here. Looking at the smaller joys in life.
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7
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Feed the Wolf
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Publié :9/2/2017 15h24
Dernière mise à jour :21/2/2017 10h41 14401 vues
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Do you ever have that feeling where you don't quite feel yourself....when you're not even completely sure who you are any more, or who you want to be? I'm not used to it.
I have always had a pretty clear idea of who I was, what was right and what was wrong. I knew what I ought to be thinking and doing, even if I sometimes broke my own rules. But quite a long time ago, for a while there was a time when I started turning into a man I know I never wanted to be. I don't think I realised it was happening. Then something happened which turned my life completely upside down, and when the fallout all settled years later, I was different. Part of me had gone. But then end product was somehow right again, if a little older and sadder.
For a little while now I think maybe I have been wondering if I was somehow wandering off track again. It's so hard to tell when you are in the middle of it. I don't even know exactly what the track is meant to be. You know how people always say "Be true to yourself, follow your heart, you'll know deep down what is right." Well I don't. Not that I really have any decisions to make. It's just I keep feeling as if I haven't quite acted like me.
Maybe it is just that I have been spending a lot of time recently helping a friend who is going through a really awful patch in life, and well, it makes you question how you spend what's left of it doesn't it?
The tonight there was a TV program on in which someone told that old story about the wolves. You know the one - there's an old man telling a boy a story of how all of us have two ravenous wolves inside us. One represents fear and hate and greed and envy and all that stuff, and the other is love and kindness, generosity and hope. And they are always fighting. And the boy asks, "if they are always fighting, which one wins?" And the old man says, "The one you feed."
Sometimes I feel as if I have a whole pack of wolves living inside me, and I am never quite sure which ones to feed.
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6
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Sperm - the elixir of life in more ways than one, apparently
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Publié :6/2/2017 15h47
Dernière mise à jour :28/1/2021 10h09 14307 vues
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I went to get a haircut today. Having to wait while two or three sadly unattractive women were "styled" (I'm using the word loosely, ) in front of me, I perused the usual magazines on the waiting area table. Skipping past formulaic pieces about Nadia Sawalha's battle with faddy diets and Julia Roberts' troubled marriage I came across a curious article about a woman who eats sperm for breakfast.
She's a 31 year old single mother, and according to her, it keeps her looking, and feeling young. She has a single male friend who brings round a jar full a couple of times a week and she stores it in the fridge apparently. There followed the usual comments about how what he has been eating affects the taste, you know; peppermint and pineapple please and not too much smoking or drinking thank you, but then she asserts that actually he eats very healthily, always gives her a heads up if he's had a curry the night before donating, and in fact it normally tastes so good that although mostly she has it with her blueberries and cereal instead of yoghurt, she also likes to eat it by the spoonful on its own.
And according to her, ever since she started this daily diet, her chronic skin condition has cleared up, her energy levels have improved, and the ache in her hip flexor which had been troubling her for years has completely disappeared!
Well, as you can imagine, I was intrigued. I did question mentally whether really she was entitled to such an animal-based product in her diet as she also claimed to be a vegan........but glossing over that, I was wondering whether, as a healthy living guy with no other real outlet for my life-giving fluids, there might actually be a market for profitable harvest in this?
I for one though, would prefer it if my customers were willing to take it direct from the source so to speak, rather than requiring me to set up cold storage facilities.
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12
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It's Too Much!
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Publié :25/1/2017 8h23
Dernière mise à jour :8/2/2017 14h37 14571 vues
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Honestly, I don't know if I can cope!
I mean, I'm outside the front of the house, getting something from the car when I see what can only be described as a vision walking up the street towards me.
I'd had to park a few yards away because some other fucker had parked outside my house, and spaces are always rare since they brought in the residents' only permits at the other end of the street closer to town. (Is that giving away too much information? I'm not going to have a load of frustrated women hanging around Bloghampton all week trying to work out which is Dreamer's house am I? Some might say chance would be a fine thing. If that's you Zandi, Ama, Violette, Wildfire, Brokenromantic, Stormy, just email me and I'll give you the address. Anyway, I'm digressing again.)
So I'm walking back towards my house, and she's walking towards me, and as we close on each other her features gradually resolve into what can only be described as all my fantasies rolled into one lust-inducing packet of perfection!
Tall, slim, endless legs in black stockings under a crisp short skirt, sexy curves and a gentle, easy-going, smiling face topped by a bob fringe of straight, flaming chestnut red hair. And she walked like.....oh I don't know, I was too far gone by then to think of an expression to fit, but she had a kind of "I know I'm sexy" confidence about her without it in any way seeming like she thought she was God's gift.
The only problem is, she was clearly on her way home from school. I mean she didn't look under age, they do make 18 year old school girls here, and she looked about that, but well, it's too young isn't it. It's not just too young to actually think I would be interested in her, or of course, her in me, but it is just too plain young to be even thinking about it. But I can't help it - something about her got to me!
It isn't fair! I don't think they even made girls like that when I was young enough to take advantage of one. Let me re-phrase that.....young enough for it to be legitimate for me to be lusting after one. There were sexy girls of course, but this woman was in a different league altogether. She reminded me of Amanda Seyfreid in "In Time," only she was taller and the hair was a darker red.
Sometime soon if not already some guy somewhere's going to be..........oh, I can't bear to think about it.
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10
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Mind-tricked to Orgasm
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Publié :19/1/2017 5h32
Dernière mise à jour :1/2/2017 10h49 13817 vues
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I was lying in bed last night, not thinking about sex at all. Not even feeling sexy. Not even feeling that warm, which, for me, is an absolute killer. If I am cold, then, these days Baby, it just isn't going to happen. Maybe when I was young, but now. No. Well.......I wouldn't want anyone to think I was in any way lacking function, lol, but it has to be faced; I am a lot older now, and it takes a little more to really get me really turned on than it used too, and it is harder, (or rather softer ) when I am cold.
I suppose maybe if you are hot enough, and you were to spread yourself over me like a blanket, your arms warming my cold sides, warm skin against mine, your breasts pressed down against my chest, kissing me, letting your body heat seep into me until.....
Hang on, where was I? Oh yes, lying in bed not thinking about sex. Anyway, I was watching random TV, because sometimes I find that helps me get drowsy quicker, and then I switch off and sleep sooner than I would if I just lay there or read a book. And suddenly on the TV show there was a scene which though sexual, was pretty mild really. Certainly not pornographic. Except that it created an image in my mind which was incredibly erotic. I'm not going to describe it here, because out of context you wouldn't get it, and anyway, the point isn't the fantasy it hinted at for me, but the effect my mind had on me as a result. I was instantly - I mean really literally almost instantly rock hard. I began to stroke my cock, and realised I would be able to come in just a few seconds. As quickly as I can ever remember apart from when I was a teenager.
Of course this has happened to me before, either with a known fetish/fantasy, or with a gorgeous girl who knew exactly how to tap into the orgasm triggers in my brain. But I can't remember such an instant effect simply from the thought of something for quite a while.
I don't know how much this affects other people, but it reminded me - always, it is mainly what I think about, not so much what I see hear or feel, which most makes a difference to how turned on I get.
And yes, the result was an unexpectedly spectacular orgasm!
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7
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Sexy Nervous
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Publié :11/1/2017 10h12
Dernière mise à jour :13/1/2017 3h10 13639 vues
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I admitted she made me feel nervous. Younger women don't necessarily know what that means, but over thirty-five or forty you might just as well say, "you are gorgeous and I think I might be falling in love with you."
I mean, I am reasonably confident in most situations. I know what I am good and bad at and mostly what my faults are. But I still suffer, occasionally, from that lovely feeling of being a bit tongue-tied when I am faced with someone I am instantly attracted to. When I was younger I hated it, but now it feels good in a breathless kind of way.
Even more exciting is when I can tell she feels nervous too.
But there is a special quality to it. It doesn't happen every time I fancy someone. I can't quite put my finger on it - maybe someone reading this can describe it better than I can, but it has to do with the level of instant connection and the amount of sex in the attraction I think.
Her name was Emily Gainsborough, but sadly, I was just dreaming again. I had been out for coffee in Oxford with my niece. (Don't ask me why Oxford, I don't go there very often, although it is a town I know quite well. ) Anyway, I suddenly realised I had to go to a business meeting, which, incidentally turned out to be in a big modern office building in London, a short walk sixty miles away. (it's a dream remember.)
So I realise I am A ) late, and B ) wearing very casual clothes rather than a business suit. There isn't time to change, so I decide I can wing it, explaining that I had to meet my niece and didn't have time to change. (! ) I walk up to reception, tell them I am here to see Emily Gainsborough, (? ) and they tell me to take a seat. I am still waiting when a Lady Gaga sort of woman breezes through, singing. Her name is River Punk apparently. Clearly this is a diversion, and anyway before I can wonder what she is doing in a big London lawyer's office, another absolutely stunning woman walks in. Late thirties, dark hair tied back in a sort of loose pony tail, tight A-line drop-dead-red skirt just above the knee. I can't help staring. She looks at me and stares too, saying nothing.
I say, "You can't possibly be the person I am meeting?"
"Try me."
"Emily Gainsborough?"
"You must be Dreamer."
Long silence.
"I'm so sorry I'm not properly dressed, " I say, thinking: properly dressed, you total idiot. "I had to meet my niece and I haven't had time to change. " That sounds worse!
But then, she says something stupid too, (I can't remember what ) and I realise she is also tongue tied.
"I'm sorry, you are making me nervous, " I admit, because I know she will know what I mean.
"Me too."
What a rush. The dream carries on, gradually descending into eroticism. But, as with so many of mine, the key is that deeper interconnection of minds. Okay, as well as her fantastic body. We decided to get the business out of the way quickly and then go out for lunch. The rest is bedroom certified.
I know I know, my dreams sound ridiculously vivid, but that was really what it was like. And I woke up realising that the nervous feeling you get when you like someone enough to worry about saying the wrong thing is actually quite rare, and worth savouring.
It's also the most delightful give away, but without having to risk any awkward rejection either way.
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Is it Possible to Actually Laugh your Arse off?
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Publié :4/1/2017 3h04
Dernière mise à jour :5/1/2017 9h28 13214 vues
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I was going to pose the question "why don't I like the word 'conumdrum' " as I mentioned it in a recent post, but then I thought, here are these age old unanswered questions on the header page of my blog, and why don't we examine them in more detail?
So, Question 1: Is it possible to actually laugh your arse off?
I am not going to research medical evidence here - I will leave that to rainbowsox if they ever come back up for air, because that seems to be their bag, to dredge up an old expression. But I expect they, or perhaps Marysia would be able to find some internet story of mirth induced prolapse somewhere, and that's as close as I want to get. Anyway, technically that would only be laughing your arse out.
But that whole phenomena of the all-out-belly-laugh is an odd one. It's something that happens to me a lot less these days and I miss it. Not that I am unhappy, I'm not, and I still laugh often, but it is in a dryer, more wryly amused way rather than actually ROTFLMAO. I'm not sure why this is.
I remember student days when a simple quip by a friend could send us into endless giggles, gasping and clasping our sides. Or watching movies. When Arthur looked up at the stuffed head on the wall and said to Mr Johnson, "You must have hated this moose," it made me properly laugh out loud. Now I just chuckle at Seinfeld, but I still think some of his scenes are the funniest TV ever. I don't know, maybe when you get older you've heard them all before.
Thoughts anyone?
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