Budmo!

Time for me to fess up. I am not a big drinker. I like to be in control.

A few nights ago I was not in control and shit happened. Lots of naughty but cool shit. I think I need to drink more often.

A few posts back I mentioned a drinking and dancing session with some Polish and Ukrainian people. It was good fun, it was mostly under control and I came to learn that a girl there I liked the look of was actually married to a guy I did not like the look of.

Such is life.

The problem was that there seemed to be a little spark. There were times when we seemed to lock eyes across a room for just a little too long and yet when we spoke, the conversation was just a little too awkward for no good reason.

I thought I was imagining all this. Hell, she is married - to a grumpy, unhappy looking person, but married all the same. I was thinking I had been single a little too long and was starting to read more into situations than was warranted.

So here I am again a few weeks later at another event and there they are. The same couple. The same grumpy dude and the same vibrant, attractive Ukrainian girl. After a few days It was getting obvious. We just both always seemed to know where in a room the other was.

Fast forward to yet another end of event party with large amounts of alcohol to be consumed. Beer, sake and shots of mysterious liqueurs from all corners of the globe mixed with huge amounts of bullshit being talked. Then there she was. Alone.

She slid through the room like a shark and dropped down onto an already crowed couch beside me, almost ejecting another person from the other end. As we made small talk in the crowded room she lent in closer, the eye contact was intense.

Her husband was sleeping, "He does not party, as you know. I hoped you would be here." she said.

Time slid by, the room slowly spun under the influence of the mixed poisons. There were too many bodies crammed into a hotel room made for two so we escaped into the hall way. It was not much better. There were people everywhere but we had a little more room to talk without too many ears.

"I feel like you understand me, I could talk in Russian and you would know what I mean."

She was gently squeezing my pinkie finger. It was an intimate touch and loaded with intent despite the subtlety.

"You are married, this is going in a really bad direction isn't it?"

"I am not happy, that is bad, if not worse?"

Fuck it I thought. I have had a conscious for too long. People make choices and I can't be held responsible for what I know or don't know. She is stunning, her eyes are like deep and mysterious pools of dark water and in that moment I make my choice.

"Is it the drink or is this more?" she asked.

"The drink plays a part but we have been arching like a short circuit for weeks." I said.

"Yes, I felt it also. I smile when I see you. Lets walk, no?"

We made our exit to the stairwell. It was well into the morning and the party was thinning. As we walked down the stairs her hand reached out for me. I squeezed her hand softly and it bought her to a stop. I took one more step down so we were eye to eye.

There was no hesitation, we leaned in together and kissed deeply. Our hands pulled our bodies together and we embraced tightly before she gently pushed me back.

Looking back up the stairwell, her eyes were wide with excitement, her cheeks were flushed and breathing was short.

"What am I doing? How do you do this to me? What if we are found? Kiss me again."

So I did and it was great. It was forbidden fruit and for one moment only. There was no sex but it was every bit as intense and the connection as strong.

It was the answer to the question of what if the time and place were different, would it be as good as it looked from afar? The answer was a resounding yes it just might be.

Will we ever meet again? maybe in a year or so. Who knows. All I know is that I have a warm memory of her eyes and the feeling of her lips on mine that will stay with me for a long time. I feel alive and I have no regrets.

Cops are tops.

I live on a busy road. On any given day there is a metric tonne of traffic flowing past and while I sure would not want to have small kids zipping around here on bikes, I can live with the nose.

What I am struggling with are the pricks that chuck rubbish out of their cars as they drive along. Nearly every day when collecting the mail I will pick up various drink bottles, fucking MacDonalds wrappers and other assorted rubbish deposited on the verge.

Yesterday I was mowing said verge and picking up yet more crap before it got pulped in the mower. As I stood there with another handful of bottles a passenger in a car driving past tried to collect me with his donation of a MacDonalds drink cup. He missed me but put the container square in the middle of the grass with a cheer and a wave of his hand.

My first reaction was to throw something at the fucker but he was doing about 60km/h and it was all a bit futile. Then I laughed. Indeed I laughed so hard I nearly pissed myself.

A few cars behind him was a copper. As they accelerated past me the lights came on and the female officer in the passenger seat gave me a big grin and a thumbs up. The road has bit of a bend in it and I did not get to see them tag him but I went back to my mowing knowing that there was good chance his day was not going to be as good as mine.

About 40 minutes later the cops pulled up in the drive way for a chat.

They wanted to know if I wanted to take it any further, file a complaint or something because the litter was thrown towards me and at some speed. I asked them how far it had gone already.

The female officer (Cute one too!) giggled and got a dirty look from the obviously more superior and straight bloke.

It turned out that the driver was driving while disqualified. Thanks to his passenger he got a free ride to the police station and now had a court date as well as a fine for littering to deal with. I figured that was funny enough to leave it at that.

It made my day.

Go the toe.

There is nothing sexier than a pair of pants with something to say.

I am not sure if it was an early exposure to a Jane Fonda aerobics video or just growing up in the 80's where lycra and leg warmers were the go but I have been warped into an appreciation of the mumble pants and that much maligned camel toe.

For years, guys who were growers rather than showers have been resorting to the old sock in the jocks. Even most girls seem to have tried the chicken fillets to increase the boobage at some point but advertising the clam has until now been purely the pleasure of fashion victims and dependant on the ability of their snatch to gobble the cloth.

Until now.

I found this little ad that should bring a blush to any camel toe loving guy or gal.

I think I will apply to be a distributor. What do you think? Will it sell?


I think it is time to head on down to Jacksons on George to get myself a Cougar with a Cougar.

Cultural observations

I consider myself a pretty lucky guy.

I get to travel a fair bit and while it is technically work, it is really play on a grand scale.

As I type this I am sitting in a funy little internet cafe booth in Japan. The booth is about 9 feet long by 3 feet wide and has the generic Dell computer, a TV and a funny little chair that has no legs. I am sitting on the floor in my socks as is the custom.

I love Japan. It is a crazy place full of contradicion. History battling with technology, youth fighting against tradition.

While I don't speak Japanese, like many others it is a language under seige to the advance of English. Every time I come here it becomes more apparent. Even cha has beome tea. One word at a time they are loosing one of the things that makes them so different. It makes me sad but they do not see it. They are too close.

Tonight I am drunk blogging. The event I have been at is over and number of us have hit a club to have a boogie, have some Japanese water and laugh about the week passed. I am currently trying to sober up a little before going home to pack for the flight back to OZ in the morning.

The thought about language came up because the people I was hanging out with were Japanese, Polish, Hungarian and Ukranian. English was the common language between us other than pointing, waving and laughing. I wish I had a tallent for languages...

Even english is a problem right now so I think I will leave it at that. Too much sake has made my fingers and brain numb.

I'm leaving, on a jet plane...

Yep, I am packing my bags and flying away. I will attempt to post while away but things may be a bit sparse over the coming weeks.

With some luck I will come back with fantastic tales of sex in exotic places or with exotic people. At the very least I hope to be able to tell you about having sex with exotic parts of people...

In the mean time, I have been tagged by Phish to do one of these things that some spawn of the devil comes up when bored. Now that is not a dig at you Phish, I am actually flattered that you might want to know these things about me but the whole meme thing just irritates me for some reason.

So, here we have "5 things that I do, did or like that I’m proud of, but that others may think are totally lame. "

1. I procrastinate. Now I am actually proud of this because I am the master of it. Other, more focused and organised people think it is a lame skill, but they just don't understand the effort required to waste time avoiding stuff you need to do.

2. I am an insomniac. I regularly go for weeks at a time on three hours or less per night. A bit like Phish mentioned though, when the chance comes up, I can sleep for 18 hours straight. I realise this will no doubt shorten my life if not rectified but hey, the number of waking hours will probably total the same, just in fewer years right?

3. I am obsessive about stuff I enjoy doing. There are no half measures with me. If I find something I like doing, I will go at it full speed ahead to the exclusion of all other things until I perfect it or achieve a skill level that I am happy with. I will then keep doing it or compete in it to the highest level I can until I break something / run out of money or find a new favourite thing to do.

4. I am a geek. As I type this I have three computers surrounding me, all on and all doing something different. I love high powered and well written software and the possibilities it presents to procrastinate.

5. I am a big softy who will walk away from a potential shag to avoid hurting or taking advantage of someone. I have probably missed out on a tonne of good bootie because of it but I don't really mind.

I am revoking my right to tag 5 people because I am feeling a little lazy and I figure that if people want to do these things they can always just do it.

I wish I could draw..

Ok, this is a little bit of a lame post but hey, this made me laugh.



Life is good. Hope yours is too!

A mystery man - loosing his virginity!

A covering note by Josh...

Wow, now this is interesting. My first post by a guest. I am not sure why I have been chosen for this honour but I will take it because I have been too pre-occupied to be creative.

So the background story is this. I got an email from a reader who had a story bursting to be told but too many real life visitors on his own blog and a kick arse case of shyness. So he will remain unnamed, and anything but shamed.

Because I am posting this on his behalf, I am going to close my opening with my comment; Dude! I wish I lost my virginity to you! And don't talk down your writing ability. It worked for me..

OK, well hi. This is in response to Betty Boob Hug's how I lost my virginity post.

Who am I - well lest see. I'm a boy. I blog, I'm 30 something. If you read here you've possibly encountered me on the interwebs but I didn't want to post under my nom de blog 'cause, well, my blogs not really anonymous and this is not the kind of stuff that you generally put out there for your mum to read. I'm not pretending to be anything like the writer Josh is. In fact I know I'm a crap stilted writer, especially as this is all true which sort of limits the creative aspect of the writing, so begging your forgives now, allow me to weave you a tail....

I had to wait till I was 13 and a half. It was in the bush one summer evening with a girl I knew had a crush on me from the neighbourhood. She and I had been mates for years and used to play doctors and nursers and pee in bottles and all that shite when we were 7 or so y.o, she was a few months younger than me but we were in the same year at school and had started out in the same kindi and primary school. Fast froward to a summer holiday night in early 1983. We'd been to see a move and were walking back to our street from the bus stop through the bush. There was lots of light around from some near by flood lit sports fields.

begin digression

I'd seen her naked before in a variety of contexts, from truth or dare games with other kids to being a peeping tom and perving on her in the shower or even brazenly pulling her top off at the beach once.

I had always been very sexually experimentive and sure of myself, from feeling up girls in primary school to brazenly pashing the girls when we played catch and kiss on the playground.

We weren't boy friend/girl friend, we just knocked about, went camping with other kids, played on the local soccer team together, did martial arts, swim team, sailing on her dads dingy. Built a cubby house in a tree. We were friends. Perhaps saying that I knew that she had a crush on me may be a bit much but I knew she'd be game if I asked. I certainly had a crush on her and would get a boner in seconds if I thought of her in that way. Which she would purposefully illicit every now and again by flashing me a boob or saying something suggestive.

..end digression , back to the walk home..

There's sort of a grassy clearing in the bush there with a big white sandstone bolder that had rolled down the hill from some cliffs higher up. As we walked through the clearing I piped up the courage to say - 'Hay Ro', ( her name was Rowena), 'Take your clothes off and stand on the rock. I want to see you naked'. She stopped and looked at me and said quid pro quo. She went to a snobby private school where she did Latin and stuff and always made me feel dumb - I had no idea what she meant but pretended I did and she took me by the hand and lead me up and onto the rock. It's a full on rock climb to get on top but on top it's flat, bigger than a dining table and full of memories of games as kids. She laid out the rules, you take something off me and I take something off you.


Cool, I thought.


She was taller than me, very fit with long legs and long long blond hair, pretty but not beautiful, sort of a boyish body with small very round boobs and straight up and down hips but I liked her tummy - you could see the mussels; long on either side, cut abbs and the long narrow oval belly button. Her back was nice, mussels but smooth and tan from all the sports.

I started with her shoes;

- chest pounding -

she with mine,

- nervous tight tingling feeling in my hands and chest like I'm breathing butterflies -

then socks,

her cut off jeans.


She stood up for me and I pulled them down slowly, she was facing away from me, half way down I cheated and pulled her undies aside in the middle and had a good look, pulling her apart a bit to see better. When they were off and she was standing there she asked me “what do you want – what do you want to do”. I've very clear memories of that night except for what I said next, I can still see her standing there in a loose white t-shirt, it had a little flag on one sleeve, and smallish light tan coloured cotton knickers, little straps on the side, I can remember the chest pounding heartbeat, her goose pimples, the smell of the little wet patch on her undies. I know by “what do you want to do” she meant "how far do you want to go tonight" , but I have no idea what I replied to her, the memory of the nervousness and euphoria is however acute, what ever it was she replied 'OK, good' .

- ravenously horny, and I knew we were going to fuck -

She folded up her pants and put them under her and sat or knelt down and tugged my shorts down. Undies and shorts at the same time. I knew when she pulled them down that my cock would be right in her face and I imagined my cock rubbing against her neck and cheek so I sort of purposely aimed myself at her. As they came down I sprang up and whacked her in the face and straight away she took me in her mouth whilst my pants were still around my knees. The world stopped for me. I had imagined her doing this to me for ages and here I knew that I would remember this for the rest of my life.

She stopped and took my pants off the rest of the way. I clearly remember her transfixed on my cock. She was looking at it and had my testicles cupped in her hand like she was weighing them. I wanted to take her knickers completely off but I didn't want her to let go of me so I took her top off first. She didn't have a bra on so when I pulled it off there she was, holding my balls and sitting naked but for a pair of knickers. Her hair had come out of the clips when I took her t off so she let go of me and and was putting it back, I reached froward and tried to pull her knickers off whilst she was doing her hair up but she was sort of sitting on her butt so it was kind of awkward, she was leaning back and shifting from side to side to help me. Kind of anticlimactically they came off.

But now she was naked.

- tickling in the chest, can't breath out properly-

She took my t off so now we were both naked.

I was a skinny teenager. I'd done lots of sports so I wasn't a total weed but I had long gangly arms and legs that I hadn't grown into yet. I'd never thought of myself as good looking or worried about what I looked like at all. It had never crossed my mind that someone would want to see me naked so I was thrown when she said that she liked my shape and started rubbing my chest. It felt nice to be told that and I had a very warm feeling inside alongside all the other butterflies. I became aware of her breath near me and started to hug her and feel her up. I remember how warm she felt. I spent ages rubbing and licking her nipples delighting in making them go all stiff.

I asked her to lie down so that I could look at her which she did for me, laying out some of the cloths against the roughness of the rock and adjusting her a bit so that I could see better in the lights. She had a very calm expression on her face as I peered between her legs for ages, I looked, I poked, I tasted. I knew what was what but I had always assumed that the hymen completely covered the entrance except for a small hole. I sort of imagined a gossamer thin 'membrane' like a piece of stretched balloon so I was disappointed thinking that she had already lost her virginity and asked her about it. She was a virgin she said, and guided me to all the relevant bits to satisfy my curiosity and suggested that if I wanted I could look again later and see if anything had changed.

She sat up and made me lie down where she had been then squatted over my face and told me to lick her first. Her / my aim was off and I ended up licking her ass as much as anything else but she went wild for it any way. Bending forward she started 69ing me and licking my nuts, my anus, my whole cock. I have no idea how I didn't come.

She turned around and asked me 'How do you want to do it?' I had a massive lump in my throat and couldn't answer but somehow we manoeuvred ourselves into the missionary without loosing any skin.

I was kind of lying on top of her trying not to squash her and we positioned everything. I remember feeling this sort of pushing sensation which I look back on a sort of prompt from evolution - here is how you do it son - I really wanted to push. Well, here it was. Time

I expected more resistance. She gave a little yelp and pressed her hands against me to slow me - she had this face that was half way between a grin and a grimace but let me go further till it was in to the hilt. I waited for a bit then the pumping urge took over. We'd seen plenty of porn by that time in our lives and knew what it was all about. She wriggled a hand down between us and started playing with herself. We tried a few positions. Her on top was good, she was sitting up which gave em a great view of her. She told me it was OK to do it inside her, she hadn't had her period yet - whatever that meant, I hadn't thought about condoms or pregnancy or anything like that. Then bang, gasp, all over. We sat there for a while, her on top of me rubbing herself till she came. She stood up and it all dribbled out of her onto me which I didn't expect and thought was odd - something else you never see in the pornos. She offered me a tissue and as we cleaned up. She put her t-shirt back on and lay back down and pulled her knees up into her chest. I can't say I saw too much that was different except for the raw look and some blood around the minora. 'Does it hurt'. 'No but it still feels full like it is still inside me'.

Pretty soon after that the teen social dynamic started to dictate our friendship. She was definitely one of the 'in' crowd, I was a total dork. She stuck up for me on the school bus once tho' some kid was being a bit of a bully calling me gay or some such and she said something like - 'lay of him Martin, he fucks like marathon runner - you're just a fuck head'. Respect.

Over the next year we fucked a few more times then I moved house. I was a bit of a geeky dag and didn't have girlfriend until year 11 but she had a series of boyfriends pretty much after that. We smiled and chatted when we saw each other on trains to and from our respective schools but never dated. I hooked up with her again at an inter varsity winter games where we did a threesome with another girl who later became her lover - not for the last time in my life would I 'turn' a chick. She was with her for at lest a few years that I know of and I suspect, given that I just Googled her and found that she's working under the same surname that they are still together. And me... well, I may have a few more stories that would be worth the telling :-)