Absence makes the hits go yonder..

Sorry folks, I am officially a slack bastard. While visiting you all and even slipping in the odd comment here and there, I have sadly forgotten to update my own blog with the promised sequel to the last adventure.

I have however finally replied to the comments on the last post so apologies for ignoring you all.

It is on it's way but I just have not had time to give it the attention it deserves.

Part of the problem is that summer is here in full swing in good old Sydney town. Summer never arrives until just before school goes back and generally right when work is getting that whole frantic, start of the year atmosphere.

Summer also means more Kite surfing and yacht racing (Yipee!!!) and less time in the glow of this here monitor. That is just the way it is ok.

As I type I have just come home from a great little twilight race. The day was a stinker at over 34 degrees Celsius but with a cool change and thunderstorms forecast to cool it all down about mid race.

We had a bunch of guests (read sponsors) on for the race. As the black clouds rolled over the city and harbour and the fat drops of rain started to hit the deck, they ran for cover to the comfy confines of the cabin.

Except one.

She got it. She was not there just to swig the champagne and be taken on a joy ride. She was interested in the race, her face was lit by the moment and the action as the rest of us race crew kept pushing the yacht to the finish line.

I don't know her name, I hardly had a chance to say two words to her but she obviously enjoying being out there in the heart of a storm, wet hair frizzing up and chin set against the pounding rain.

I love it when people get excited. I love enthusiastic people. It was almost as good as the race it's self just knowing how much fun she had on this wild and wet evening.

The other suits missed out. You know they will be telling tales of their big race and the "perfect storm" and just slipping past the bit about sitting it out on the leather seats below deck.

Comment of the afternoon; "Have we won yet?...let me know if it stops raining ok?"

Twat. Even the mystery girl rolled her eyes at that one.

The gift of love

The anticipation was too much, waiting for Christmas day to arrive was never going to happen. After all, some presents are never meant to be opened in front of grandma and the kids.

I had been bouncing from blog to blog, comment to commenter when I landed on a discussion about glass dildos. Hours of research later and just a little bit of self relief later I had made a purchase for a special friend.

As a fan of the muff, one of my greatest and least elegant struggles has been to work some sweet penetration and a little G spot play while dining down there.

A toy is by far the best answer I have found. It gives me reach and control without finger cramps or the need to break lip and tongue contact on the lady in question.

The toy I purchased looks like this one.

To our surprise the coloured bits were stick on and weeks later I am still finding them around the house in the strangest of places. A note for the fun loving public, always wash your gift before giving because it sure breaks the mood if the reaction is as desired when they unwrap this beauty.

There is a fantastic range out there to every one's taste and kink. They are fantastic pieces of art that fill the roll of function too.

The test drive went something like this;

I had let on about a week beforehand that I had made a purchase. Her eyes lit up with curiosity quickly followed by a sly smile when I let on that she might have to receive this gift in private.

When we returned home from a function the gift was waiting on the bed, wrapped in silver paper with a thin ribbon to match.

She gently hefted the box in one hand and shook it lightly. I smiled in anticipation of her reaction. Would she be shocked, scared or offended by this toy? We had not played with dildos in our short time together, it might be a bit forward, she may not like toys.

That would be sad.

I enjoy using toys on my lover, it opens up so many opportunities to explore and raise the intensity.

As the paper came of there was a sharp intake of breath and her eyes widened.

"Can we use it?" she asked.
"That was the idea." I replied, relieved at her acceptance.

As happens, passion took over and the gift remained snug in it's box as we kissed and fondled out way out of our clothes. While I wanted to get this bad boy into the action I also wanted to make sure she was as ready as can be. I wanted to taste every inch of her body and leave this glass magician to last. The Christmas gift was not just the toy but a session devoted to pussy worship and the introduction of our new bed partner.

She was restless and fidgety as I kissed the inside of her thighs. Every now and then she would sit up and reach out for me and I had to push her back gently with a kiss so she would relax and allow this to happen. While my cock was hard as all hell, this was for her and there was time for cock later.

As I parted her lips with my tongue I was greeted by her sweet taste. It is amazingly sweet and always wet and ready when I get there. With one finger holding her open just slightly I drifted my tongue along one side of her slit stopping just short of her clitoris. Breathing out gently on the hood for a moment before caressing the other side with my tongue.

The roll of her hips told me she was ready for a direct hit and I plunged my tongue deep into her pussy then licked from bottom to top, teasing over her clit and ending with a gentle suck that sent a shudder through her body.

After a little more time spent like that it was time to get serious. With one hand I groped around for the box and freed the toy from it's wrapping. As with any toy in a presentation box there is always a hidden twist tie to keep it looking just so and at I worked on her with one hand and the box with the other, the element of surprise was lost.

In hindsight it was a good thing. As she negotiated the unwrapping for me we became aware that the pink blobs in the shaft of this massager were in fact painted with a cellophane like material.

One of the painted bits peeled off in her hand as she stroked its length and got to know her new lovers form. As quick as I could it was off to a sink to gently remove the offending decorations with the bonus that the cool glass was now warmed and ready for action by the water.

Back in the bedroom and we were back on track in no time. Lying between her legs I raised my head so she could see me take the round head of the dildo in my mouth, applying a light coat of saliva.

I have never sucked a cock before and the head on this thing was impressive as it filled my mouth. I tingled as not for the first time I wondered how special it would feel to be a girl and how it would feel to be on the receiving end of this sort of gift.

As I pressed the head against her opening two hands appeared from above to hold her folds open for me. I lent in and flicked my tongue on her clit and pressed the dildo home slowly teasing it back and forth until the head broke though and slid inside her.

Looking up over her tummy I could see her head pushed back into the pillow, back arched and breasts heaving with each laboured breath. Her bottom lip was pinched between her teeth.

Pulling the dildo back I revelled in her lips gripping at the head before puckering around the shaft as I moved it deeper into her. I released my gaze on this beautiful sight to return attention to her clitoris with my tongue. Pressing it flat against the top of the dildo and licking firmly up to her clit tracing a firm circle around it once, twice then third time before driving back down to the dildo to taste more of her fresh juices on it's shaft.

With a gentle downward pressure the head of the dildo tilted up and hit home on her G spot. With firm and rhythmic strokes I took the cues from her body as to how much pressure and how deep to drive each time.

In no time her knees came up and closed me out as she drew her knees together. All I could do was drive the toy home and watch the show as she started to buck and weave under it's spell.

With a free hand I reached around to embrace a nipple and the touch was like an electric shock pushing her over the edge. I was no longer driving this train, it was crashing down hill with no brakes and all I could do was hold the base of this glass marvel as she rode it to the end of the line.

As the waves of contractions and shudders subsided I slowly tried to withdraw the toy. As the head pushed her open one last time it caused an aftershock almost equal to the first orgasm.

Curling up beside her on the bed, she rolled into my shoulder and lay their breathing hard. A small tear rolled onto her cheek and she smiled the glazed smile of the deeply pleasured.

"Thanks.." was all she could get out before we kissed.
"Merry Christmas" and was my reply when our lips parted.

The dog with three dicks..

As we crossed the finish line the air of excitement and colour rushed out to meet us.

The salt and sweat of the past four days washed away in a moment of realisation that we had done it, finished this great race and better than that we had done ok.

Friends and family were on the edge of the docks as we slid into Constitution dock, still coiling sheets and flaking sails. The work far from done.

The colour of the docks as we looked for our berth.

There were cheers and clapping from locals, other yachts and family alike. You could not help but smile and feel that this was a special moment in a life, one to be cherished. For those that were welcoming you, you could sense that you had lived their dream or shared in a journey that meant every bit as much to them as it did to you. We were brothers and despite the hard competition out there, it was time to party, reminisce and tell tall tales from the battle field.

When we tied up the support crew of family piled onto the yacht along with cold beer and food. There was a moment of sadness and isolation for the few of our team that did not have that special person there to hug and kiss. They would arrive later or in some cases be met back on the mainland in a day or twos time.

It did not matter though, after a few minutes we were welcomed back as one team and you could not begrudge lovers, sons or daughters their minute with their heroes. Ours would come.

As always there are more people than you know or have met and there were two beautiful young ladies that had slipped under the radar in the months leading up to the race.

Both were tall and attractive, one more assertive than the other but both worthy of a good whip lash injury when passing in the street. For simplicity I shall call them "Aye" and "Bee" to protect the guilty.

Bee appeared as the quieter of the two and was the daughter of one of my fellow team mates. Aye was a friend of one of the families through connections too tedious and sad to explore.

As if their beauty was not enough, both were over achievers in their various fields of work and for me that is a very sexy thing too.

I had a special friend of my own coming to visit the next day so I was not looking for trouble but in another world or time, it had just landed in my lap in the shape of Aye and Bee.

With the champagne and Bundy Rum flowing and the singing on nearby yachts ringing in our ears it was decided by the girls that we should go ashore and to the Customs House pub where there was more alcohol infused sailors than a US Navy visit to Kings Cross in Sydney.

I would be lying if I did not say I felt like a god as I entered the pub. It may have been the gut full of rum or the blonde on each elbow but either way I had a spring in my step and felt invincible. For the moment at least.

Over the throb and pulse of music the rum flowed. The Mexicans were in full song after their first ever entrance in the race and much like the end of a football match they had set about swapping shirts with other teams such that in no time they were representing some of the big money yachts from the race.

Their enthusiasm and celebration of life is contagious. Sadly it is probably the one thing missing in our culture.

Bundy and coke was being distributed by the jug and a half empty glass was never that way for long even if you could not make it to the bar.

The comradeship was a pleasure. You would see the name of a yacht on a shirt and it did not matter that you did not know the person in it. You just had to know if they were near you at some point in the race and you had a conversation starter.

For some reason every one wanted to talk to me and it was then I realised it was actually Bee that was drawing attention not our performance in the race.

Aye meanwhile had gone for a walk with a mate and managed to put herself out of commission. Too much bubbly stuff had resulted in a moment where she though she could fly and was harshly reminded by gravity that she could not.

By all rights she should have been in a hospital but she was attempting to soldier on for the cause. What cause I do not know but it was her mission and I left her to it in the corner of the pub.

As we approached lock down in the pub Bee was starting to loose it and running interference for such an attractive lady was starting to wear thin on me. I had not been specifically tasked to ensure she return home in one piece but I like to look after my own and was determined to ensure that the heavily inebriated Bee did not wake the next day having been used and abused buy 300 horny sailors.

At one point with an arm around her waist and trying to secure some water at the bar I felt a tug. Turning around to see who had jostled me now I saw Bee in a deep kiss with a stranger. As they separated he looked at me and smiled and with a chuckle asked if she was my girlfriend.

I had to laugh as Bee's head rolled around to look at me with crossed eyes and smeared lip stick. "Ooops...wrong boy.." she giggled and smiled at me as if to say it could be me if I wanted.

I was a moment from releasing her into the wild of the night with this guy. I had fought the good fight but she was almost beyond saving. I was no more going to hit on her than I would a cousin (even while in Tasmania) and in her current state the risk of being on the wrong end of a technocolour yawn was getting uncomfortably high.

"Not exactly" I replied to my new friend. He smiled and just laughed. "Fuckin hot, man...good luck eh!" followed by a hi-five as he wandered off.

It was not the last encounter along those lines. At every turn there was a long line of very friendly drunks keen to see a lady. There was nothing threatening during the night and as her shadow I was enough to keep Bee safe until she made it home with the broken Aye and some trusted friends in a cab.

The interesting point for me was this. Here were two very attractive girls in a situation full of strangers that happily got themselves so smashed that one nearly broke a leg being silly and the other had no idea where she was and nearly went home in three different taxis with groups of guys she did not know.

Call me a spoil sport but that seems just plain dumb and for me at least just so not hot.

So all this excitement was within 6 hours of making it to Hobart and at the end of a long 24 hours awake. We had not even made it to New Years Eve yet. There is more to come...

Back in the land of the living (dead)

The past few weeks have provided a fair bit of blog fodder so sit back and enjoy as I try to weave you through the adventures one post at a time.

The race;

Pre-start games in the 2007 Rolex Sydney to Hobart

What can I say. Perfect conditions and a fair sea do not make for an easy race despite what the media will tell you. It is almost the opposite in some ways because you have to push the yachts harder and the tactical decisions are key to success. In heavy weather you hang on hope nothing breaks until you get there. Both situations are about endurance which is why this is such a hard race.

There was still a broken mast, rudder damage, keel damage and sailors deposited in various ports along the way with injuries. Three yachts did not finish from the fleet of 82.

When the weather is nice you are mostly dry and warm but we probably averaged two sail changes for every 3 hour watch and I am pretty sure we only had two or three, 3 hour periods without a sail change in around one hundred hours or so of sailing. For me, working on the foredeck that means a fair amount of work and we had a few all hands moments in very high winds where we could have easily broken the boat or people.

We blew a spinnaker on night one and were lucky not to loose another one soon after. On the second last day, a cold front took the wind through 180 degrees of direction change and to twice the strength at over 35 knots.

The sea turned from mild blue rolling swells to a white mass of boiling water with steep waves and the crests of each wave being thrown at us within moments. Four sail changes in 20 minutes to deal with the conditions had us soaked and exhausted.

We had gone from a spinnaker to the number 1 head sail and then down to the number two and finally the number three as conditions worsened. An hour and a half later it was back to the number two but was a long night with more sail changes, punching into the waves as we worked down the Tasmanian coast.

Tasman Island and only about 43 miles to a cold beer.

In the end it paid off. The last 40 miles of the 628 nautical mile race were very exciting with a procession of yachts streaming up Storm bay and into the Derwent river to Hobart. At the risk of narrowing the field for the stalkers I am not going to confirm where we finished and what division but I can say that I am as happy as I could ever hope to be, and that is pretty darn happy indeed.

Back soon with more from the dock side because that is where the real fun began...