Sex times

Oh Jesus. Story time, I've got some catching up to do in this thread... I've sort of been on a bit of a roll since I vacated my seven-year marriage that took up most of my twenties - before the divorce papers were even final (it took around 5 months due partially to Washington State's mandatory 90-day processing period, plus living out-of-state and dealing with complicated extra military paperwork BS), I had somehow managed to wander into several sexual experiences, mainly just by chance. I mean I was always the sort of quiet type, and not one to be bold with women in general, and I knew I was extra-rusty after 7 years of monogamy and married life, so it really surprises me that I've been so lucky here - I'm no Casanova. And I'm 5'7" to boot.

In any case, the first was a 27 year-old blonde girl I met randomly at a house party this past late-October who stood at the same 5'7" as I do, who was a slim varsity swimmer from SoCal and was passing through Hawaii and about to move to Guam. I have no idea how I got with her, it just sort of happened. We met at a friend's house-party, then departed and went to a gay club in Waikiki and danced together and had fun. After travelling to a an under-the-radar, local-secret type of strip club and watching with fascination as a middle-aged Asian woman smoked a cigarette through her vagina (which my new-found California girl was mesmerized by, and was quick to light the cigarette with her own lighter), we proceeded via taxi back to my place and had a super fun night followed by a day at the only water-park in Hawaii. Fun times!

Next up was a month or so later, after several flat and uninspired dates on Plenty of Fish I met a bit of an odd case: A 24 year-old 4'11" half-Chinese/half-Japanese girl who was an exotic dancer by night and a professional dance instructor by day - she was not fat at all, but also not quite "thin," only because her body was so muscled from her gymnastics-esque acrobatic routines. She was all muscle, it was amazing. The odd thing was that... Well, you know how some white people fetishize Japanese culture and try to dress Japanese-like and become rabid fans of J-Pop music and Anime and everything else? Wapanese (like Wigger but with an Asian twist) people? She was like, the exact inverse - wore cowboy boots and tight Wrangler jeans at all times, spent a lot of time at the local country-themed bar/club (not where she worked), listened to country music and danced in hoe-downs and shin-digs and square-dances, obsessed over football scores and rabidly played fantasy football (constantly tallying her scores by keeping up-to-date via her cell phone app), absolutely loved and idolized low-brow blue collar humor (like the more recent Adam Sandler movies, Larry the Cable Guy, etc.), and even had the word "twinkie" in her screen-name (an analogy if you're not savvy - meaning yellow on the outside and white on the inside - sort of like white-bred black people identifying as "Oreos"). Our second date, after dancing at her favorite country-themed bar, we got down to business back at my house, and it was amazing, due to her tiny stature and strong, incredibly flexible body. After that we kinda stopped talking, because I'm from the Midwest (Southwest Missouri; bordering on the South almost, really), and never really fit in there. I am very forward-thinking (not quite "liberal" per se, but far more middle-of-the-road than most anyone in the Midwest), agnostic, not at all adamant on set-in-stone gender roles/identities/duties, generally don't glamorize or revel in the realities and trappings of the redneck lifestyle, and don't follow sports - meaning we really had nothing in common except a good romp. Nice girl, but possibly a little misguided. Like a reverse-Weeaboo.

Then another one just hit me out of the blue a few months back in March. My friend Steven was leaving for a few months to go do some kind of extreme tour-guide training out in the icy mountains in North Dakota (or somewhere equally desolate in the North-West-ish), so I was running around with him in the party/bar/club area of Waikiki. He hosts a lot of couch-surfers so he has lots of young travelling foreign friends, and we ran across a girl he knew from Croatia (strangely, I'd actually previously met her the first time I met up with the twinkie-girl above), and Croatia Girl had gotten an apartment with a girl from Canada who was living in Hawaii for a few months. The Canadian girl had invited down her other Canadian friend for just a few days, a 35 year-old 5'2" Filipino pharmacist who was Canadian born-and-bred. Soft spoken (and she even said "Eh?" a few times!), she was recently-divorced, just like me. Apparently the girls had talked amongst themselves at the pub while I was away in the restroom or something, and decided that she should get a rebound lay while in Hawaii before returning to her snowy, moose-infested winter wonderland, and that this rebound lay should be me. She was pretty up-front about it, not being coy like a young'un. Petite and cute though. So we had a couple Heinekens and headed back to my place. I guess her previous partner had been flabby, because she couldn't stop touching and commenting on my abs - which are hard, yes, but are by no means a sculpted six-pack because of my endless love-affair with Chester Cheetah and his orangey goodness. It was still nice to get compliments, though - definitely something different. In the morning we went at it again, and then we hung out all the next day and went shopping at the Ala Moana shopping mall in downtown Honolulu, where I bought my new Oakley sunglasses which I posted about in the "Pictures of Your Most Recent Purchase" thread awhile back. Then we laid out on the beach because she wanted to soak up all the Hawaii sun she could before she left, and we went to dinner that evening. Then back to my place for another brief shag-session, and then I gave her a lift to the airport and sadly watched her fly away into the Northern horizon. She was really sweet and really seemed to have her stuff together in life; I would have steadily dated her, honestly. We really meshed well.

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Now this most recent one just happened, and it's a real adventure. This past Friday night my friend Brooke invited me over to party it up at his place before heading out on the town. I went over, and he had invited over some girls he knew from OKCupid (who were noticeably above your normal OKCupid fare, I must admit). It was us two guys, and the two girls (Tall Legal Assistant Girl (29 and sort of seeing Brooke) and Short Hippie Girl who was 21, single, 5'2" and a barrel of fun), plus Brooke's sorta-fun but socially-retarded room mate Corrie. He's like 36 and single (not by choice), and is the type of vaguely-annoying, greasy, pale, skinny Aspergers-case that normally infests PUA sites - the extremely socially-inept type that sees women as sex-distributor robots which will dispense sex if the correct sequence of voice-commands is uttered - and is bitter with an occasionally-visible sub-layer of seething anger at women and the world in general because he can't for the life of him figure out why girls immediately get a "creeper" vibe from him and keep their distance. But he attached himself to our group just the same because we couldn't really shun him without killing the positive vibe, so we took him with us. Woo-hoo.

We went out on the town and started drinking and walking from bar to bar, and Hippie Girl and I were really starting to hit it off. The Corrie-issue wasn't going away though; at first I couldn't figure out why he kept following us around even though it was obvious he wasn't getting any sex-robot pay-outs any time soon, but it wasn't long before he caught me away from the group's table while I was procuring drinks at the bar and began expounding upon his elaborate plan to get Hippie Girl wasted and somehow "trick" her into some kind of 3-way while she was too drunk to notice. Or something. He also informed me of many disturbing things, including him being apparently bisexual and willing to "suck me off." Now anyone knows I'm not homophobic or trans-phobic or intolerant in the least - given my obvious fondness of Jack and Ianto - but when certain people, especially greasy creepers who are already grating on your nerves by putting a constant damper on the social situation with their magic cloud-of-awkwardness powers, start trying to involve you in weird rapey questionably-homoerotic plots in dark seedy rooms, you're just like, "Oh HELL no." But at the same time, I saw a golden opportunity to detach him from us. You see, Brooke already fucking hated this guy with a passion because he's had him as a cling-on room mate for 2-3 years on and off now and had to put up with his awkward creepiness chasing girls away the whole time as well as other obnoxious shit like getting wasted and pissing all over Brooke's bedroom door a few weeks back, and he was actually in the process of kicking Corrie out of his house that very weekend. And even thus far in the night we'd gone far enough as to actively scheme to buy Corrie exorbitant amounts of Tequila in an attempt to make him barf or get too drunk and give up, which was only moderately-successful - he just got more irritating and danced worse out on the dance floor completely alone, doing some kind of weird stilted jerky techno-dance thing that seemed to be at least partially a seizure. Corrie had already secured himself a new apartment in the down-town area near us, though, so I convinced him to stay behind, and I would break off from Brooke with Hippie Girl and we would show up at his dark, unfurnished apartment and then live out his fantasy, which apparently involved pseudo-consensual group sodomy on a fucking air mattress or something. We departed and left him, and I quickly told Brooke of the development and the quote-unquote "plan" as soon as I could, and he grinned and look like he wanted to hug me. All seemed well! The horizon was bright.

We went to one more bar before grabbing a cab back to Brooke's place. We stumbled in the front door into the living room, and I didn't think much when hippie Girl said, "Hey, who unfolded the futon-couch into bed-mode?" But the answer came all too soon, and I saw Corrie's bedroom door creak open, and horror and exasperation filled my mind as he peeked out like a perverted little mouse, and then came slithering out, shirtless and sweaty and grinning, in full-on I'm-getting-my-dick-wet-and-she-just-doesn't-know-it-yet mode. FUUUCK HOW the SHIT did he beat us back here?!? Did he sense my plan? I checked my cell phone and it didn't have any missed calls or texts - he hadn't tried to call or text, so there was nothing to tip him off that we'd ditched him. Musta been his acute creeper-senses tingling. He even had the bed all ready to go - the ultimate slick pervert, like Family Guy's Quagmire but minus all the charm or any attempt at consent. Shit I was SO not doing this shit. He immediately set up a game of Jenga on a small shaky table in the middle of the living room where we were all sitting, proclaimed we were playing "strip-Jenga," and began the rotation. Hippie Girl, despite having had her share of drinks, actually did the best (thank God - I didn't want anything to encourage Corrie any more), while Corrie "accidentally" somehow lost all his practice and skill that he normally possesses at Jenga, and so "accidentally" wound up in nothing but his sweaty over-sized boxer shorts hanging off his scrawny pale frame like a large trash-bag in no time.

Brooke and I were on the same page though, and through careful social maneuvering in tandem and by drawing out the night, we were able to wear him down over a protracted period of almost two hours. Even Hippie Girl seemed to get the vibe a little, and made a strong point of asserting her preference for me over Captain Sodomy through her body language and by sitting next to me, cuddling up to me, putting her legs over mine, and giving me almost all of her eye contact. Finally, he eventually got weary and retreated to his dark, creepy, sweat-stinking, sodomy-rape-cave in the back of the house, and then Brooke and Tall Legal Assistant Girl retreated, giggling, to his room and left Hippie Chick and I to it.

And we got to it. It was good, but not great - fending off Clinger McPervenstein had taken way too long and left us faded and tired. Also, I must note that I call her "Hippie Chick" because she didn't have a plastic personality, she's a vegetarian, and tends to go sans-makeup (she can pull it off) - she wasn't actually a stereotypical no-shaving-or-deodorant hippie; she had good hygiene and shaved all the bits. Anyhoo, the next day on Saturday after we both went home and slept for a few more hours to stem our hangovers, we met up and hung out for the latter half the day (as seems to be my modus operandi post-coitus), getting dinner, window-shopping, and then went back for my place for some truly explosive sex - SOOO much better when not drunk or tired or vaguely concerned about a greasy perv peeping out his bedroom door and beating his meat to your love-session. Which was a pleasant surprise. OMG, My face must have been down there for 10 minutes on the couch, then another 15 or so on the bed before we really even started. And we went hard. We were exhausted and covered in sweat, and fell asleep in each others' arms. We woke in the morning and spent Sunday wandering around my apartment naked all day (we both apparently have a thing for enjoying nakedness, and she has quite the bangin' little body - and super-cute prehensile toes that she can move individually and pick things up with! Weird but so cute ), talking about our strikingly similar upbringings and friends and life experiences (both of our parents were hippies - mine just moved to Missouri to raise me, while hers moved to Hawaii to raise her), and staring mesmerized at an art book called Transfigurations by the famous visionary psychedelic artist Alex Grey. We had another sort-of sex session, but it was stunted when I tried to go down on her and she immediately winced and said she was way too sore and bruised from our voracious and passionate session the night before. Instead, she insisted on servicing me, which was neat for two reasons - one, I've only ever gotten off that way maybe two or three times; it usually just doesn't do it for me. I guess I have to really like the person and feel a connection. And two, I've never in my thirty years of life been deep-throated. It does feel amazing though, I must say.

So yeah. Those are my recent sexual encounters. Hope they weren't too boring. Hippie Girl and I are meeting up again this weekend too, and we both love Orange is the New Black, and we're going to get together on Friday afternoon and watch a couple episodes of Season 2, she's going to feed me weird Hawaiian food I've never heard of but sounds delicious, and then we'll grab a bottle and head towards Brooke's (now pervert-free) house for another crazy night! I actually fancy her a bit - maybe we'll see where it goes, but then again I am nine years her senior, so that might limit things a bit. Whatever though... Let the good times roll!

It's been weird and crazy for me to have this kind of luck - I'm not slick or smooth, never have been, and once every two or three years I watch Gladiator and get all choked up at the end - I just did it again about 2 weeks ago. I'm probably the epitome of what the angry PUA crowd would call a "Beta Choad," and my success makes me even more skeptical of most of said community's literature. Maybe it's the way-more-sexually-liberated hook-up scene that didn't really exist almost ten years ago in Hillbillyville, USA when I was last eligible, maybe it's the pervasive cultural apathy towards traditional commitment nowadays, or maybe just sheer dumb luck - it sure as hell isn't looks or social grace - but I genuinely wish everyone the same luck I've had in love and lust in recent times.
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im still at 0.0

 

I know the feeling. After a certain time, does 0.0 start going into negative numbers?

 

...For this year?

 

The love might or might not still be there, legitimate arguments could be made for both sides.

The lust apparantly is ancient history.

 

pretty close
--- merged: Jun 6, 2014 at 4:48 PM ---

i know

 

My wife and I were at 0.0 for the last six months of 2013, but since then, things have dramatically improved, to the point of having at least some sexy time almost every day. Like, four times so far in June, and it's only the 6th.

 

But OtherSyde.......how long were you doing the nasty for? That's the operative issue in this thread.

 

Dang! I keep forgetting to look at the clock! Maybe tonight.

 

Maybe not.

 

Under the circumstances......to hell with the clock!

If the duration of the intercourses matched the length of his post , @OtherSyde is probably still recovering.

 

I am officially in negative numbers. Crashed and burned. Oh well. Kinda used to it now.

 

Back to the original OP.
If I haven't had sex in a day + its not going to be a long time
If I had sex in the last hour, its going to be a longish time.
If I had sex in the last half hour its going to be a very long time.
If I'm using a full dose cialis and had sex a few minutes ago, its going to be a very, very, very long time.

 

Oh, I totally misunderstood the title to be like a play on the phrase "Good times" haha, I didn't realize it meant "duration of sexual activity" lol. OK.

Anyways, another wild weekend at Brooke's place transpired. (FYI I changed all the names to protect identities, I think I forgot to mention that earlier). Brooke's long-time roommate Creepy Corrie was moved-out and gone this weekend, which was call for celebration. I met up with Hippie Girl and we headed over to Brooke's about 7-ish. He was trawling Plenty of Fish and OKCupid for a date, but coming up empty, so I called a work friend who was recently-divorced - neither of us really expected any real sexual potential here, it was mostly just so he wouldn't feel like the third wheel. Little did either of us expect where this would lead...

I believe I mentioned in a previous post how much Brooke loathed his pervy, vaguely-pedophilic former roomie, so we entertained ourselves by holding a sort of joyously sarcastic “eulogy” for his departure by lighting a scented candle in front of the TV as it scrolled through a slide-show of pictures of Corrie’s most egregious creeper highlights over the years. We had great fun Facebook-stalking him for awhile (and yes we were aware of the comical irony of an entire group of people FB-stalking a dude because they think he’s creepy), and we reveled in his many countless creepy pictures that he seemed to post repeatedly in astounding displays of social obliviousness and utter lack of any self-awareness like some sort of bizarre trophies – mostly consisting of weird greasy grinning shirtless selfies and pics of him photo-bombing random unsuspecting girls in clubs, with his face peeking out of the shadows behind them – usually grinning and looking at either the camera or their boobs with that leering, intense, Aspergers-esque predatory stare. Like group therapy, we collectively recounted his many glaring social transgressions and blunders. When we were done with that, Brooke lit some ceremonial sage that a New-Age lady had given him at work upon hearing of his plight, and we carried it all through the house to banish any lingering spirits of bitter repressed misogyny. At that point our buzz was kicking in so we decided to move on to more wholesome proclivities.

And by “wholesome proclivities,” of course, I mean “getting even more drunk on Bacardi Wolf Berry rum and Absinthe, and then go-go dancing to Lady Gaga YouTube playlists in the living room in our underwear.” I guess it would have been more along the lines of “Chippendale” dancing for the guys – so thankful I’d been working out and tanning over the previous couple of weeks! We danced and grinded on each other, hormones and horniness spiked, and soon we were all making out on the couch (me with Hippie Girl and Brooke with Divorced Work Girl).

We weren’t really expecting it to evolve the way it did, but since the girls were next to each other on the couch and the lights were a bit dimmed, it quickly became a case of them exploring their not-so-repressed bisexuality by fondling and making out with each other as Brooke and I went down on them. After that it escalated into a full-blown foursome! Crazy positions, love-trains, partner-swaps, and someone even busted out a little vibrator and the two party members who owned clitorises (clitorii..?) went to town on each other with it! It was incredible. I mean I’ve been in awkward pseudo-threesomes and a sort-of-foursome six to ten years ago, back in my early 20’s, but those experiences were always stunted by the other guy being unwilling to be naked in a sexual situation next to another guy because of latent homophobia and/or insecurity, or else people not wanting to partner-swap or do anything particularly interesting due to juvenile possessiveness issues. The experience this weekend, however, was amazing! I’ve never felt such social and sexual flow and synesthesia! Totally mind-blowing, and all performed to the sex-infused, pumping beats of Lady Gaga's greatest hits.

Anyhoo, as far as time/duration, I’d say the actual “foursome” part, assuming it started right after the Lady Gaga underwear-dancing bit and ended as we paired off and went to our separate rooms to continue our sexual exploits, I’d say about 20-25 minutes. And then another 30-40 minutes as separate couples. Hippie Girl and I didn’t jump straight to regular old intercourse - we had a looong session of alternating giving/receiving oral sex punctuated by mutual masturbation when our mouths got too tired/numb. She had just showered right before we had set out for the night and consequently was all fresh and clean, so I got even more experimental (certainly the word of the night!) and wasted no time in putting her legs over her head and rimming her, which she’d never experienced before, and which drove her wild! It was also a first for me – and on that note, so is going on the internet to tell other people about an experience involving my tongue and another human’s pink starfish She didn't reciprocate the favor, which was fine by me.

Eventually we all passed out, and the next morning we went for breakfast at a local pancake house in down-town Honolulu and got to watch the Pride Parade – complete with scantily-clad beef-cake dancers and flamboyant floats – file by on the street outside as we ate breakfast. It was colorful, but honestly we all agreed it was a bit tame compared to what we’d all done together the night before.

Well, this has been another episode of OtherSyde's Crazy Life. You guys let me know if you get sick of hearing about it, otherwise I will continue to offer up my good/bad/bizarre experiences for your vicarious pleasures!

Special thanks to Lady Gaga for sexy auditory inspiration
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you know after looking at the list, it seems like alaska would be number one. its cold in alaska so people should be having sex longer to stay warm. just sayin