Thursday, April 27, 2006
Going Out With "B" (Pt.3)
After a lovely day fucking around with my new girlfriend B at a local bath house, we return home to my apartment. Dave is there, he and B get to meet. She seems quite amiable with him, and he with her. They share a keen interest in pot, if nothing else.
B is about 5'3", trim, short dark hair, nice body. Soft butch. Early 40s. The mood is very amiable between us, and we look forward to future outings.
We make plans, again at B's behest, to head up to the Russian River for a weekend away. It's cloudy, rainy weather, but it feels appropriate somehow. Weather for indoor activities. A quick stop in Sebastopol for some sandwiches, then we roll into the town of Guerneville and check into The Inn at the Willows. It's an old, funky lodge on the river and just off the main road. We get a quaint corner room that looks out on three sides of yard. Large, grassy stretches in front with huge trees leading down to the launch platform. It's quiet and lovely, definitely off-season and a good time to be here.
We do the usual weekend things, stroll around the small town, check out bookstores. Bought B dinner at a local pizza parlor that features a pretty good cabaret with a big black woman who can belt the songs out.
That night we heat the room and play around. Back to that dildo and more sucking of said dildo. I notice B really likes to rub her clit a lot harder than I would care for, ditto her nipples. Again, I come when I am on top of B, with the dildo inside me. I love doing this, and since it works better with a female, I am going to milk this one, as it were, for all it's worth.
We nod off and sleep like logs. In the morning, B gets a massage, and I start my new Swedish thriller novel by Henning Mankell, The Return of the Dancing Master. The owner says we can stay another night, on the house, but we can't. Then he offers us 10% off our next bill. Cheap, that's what we think.
We drive westward from Guerneville, following the river until it hits the Pacific, then drive south. We get lost a number of times. It seems we are talking and enjoying the drive too much to pay attention all the time. A good sign. Back in San Francisco, we have club sandwiches in a little diner near the Sutro Baths, just above the Cliff House.
That night I reflect on a lovely weekend. Dave is so pleased I have met a woman who seems half-way reasonable, like a man, almost. He appreciates that. I do too. She has met Dave, she has no problems with pot, she likes sex, her ex presents no problems apparently, so, we're all a go, yes?
Well, no. The next day I send a thank you email to B but for some reason it gets stuck and can't be delivered. In the meantime, I get an email from B. Basically saying, I love all this, but I can't have a sexual relationship with anyone.
"I just don't need casual sex at this time," B writes. I am thinking....whaaaaattt?? Casual sex? Gee, I didn't realize it was just so casual. What is going on with this woman?
Like it or not, seems like we have some processing to work our ways through. Lucky us.
TO BE CONTINUED
B is about 5'3", trim, short dark hair, nice body. Soft butch. Early 40s. The mood is very amiable between us, and we look forward to future outings.
We make plans, again at B's behest, to head up to the Russian River for a weekend away. It's cloudy, rainy weather, but it feels appropriate somehow. Weather for indoor activities. A quick stop in Sebastopol for some sandwiches, then we roll into the town of Guerneville and check into The Inn at the Willows. It's an old, funky lodge on the river and just off the main road. We get a quaint corner room that looks out on three sides of yard. Large, grassy stretches in front with huge trees leading down to the launch platform. It's quiet and lovely, definitely off-season and a good time to be here.
We do the usual weekend things, stroll around the small town, check out bookstores. Bought B dinner at a local pizza parlor that features a pretty good cabaret with a big black woman who can belt the songs out.
That night we heat the room and play around. Back to that dildo and more sucking of said dildo. I notice B really likes to rub her clit a lot harder than I would care for, ditto her nipples. Again, I come when I am on top of B, with the dildo inside me. I love doing this, and since it works better with a female, I am going to milk this one, as it were, for all it's worth.
We nod off and sleep like logs. In the morning, B gets a massage, and I start my new Swedish thriller novel by Henning Mankell, The Return of the Dancing Master. The owner says we can stay another night, on the house, but we can't. Then he offers us 10% off our next bill. Cheap, that's what we think.
We drive westward from Guerneville, following the river until it hits the Pacific, then drive south. We get lost a number of times. It seems we are talking and enjoying the drive too much to pay attention all the time. A good sign. Back in San Francisco, we have club sandwiches in a little diner near the Sutro Baths, just above the Cliff House.
That night I reflect on a lovely weekend. Dave is so pleased I have met a woman who seems half-way reasonable, like a man, almost. He appreciates that. I do too. She has met Dave, she has no problems with pot, she likes sex, her ex presents no problems apparently, so, we're all a go, yes?
Well, no. The next day I send a thank you email to B but for some reason it gets stuck and can't be delivered. In the meantime, I get an email from B. Basically saying, I love all this, but I can't have a sexual relationship with anyone.
"I just don't need casual sex at this time," B writes. I am thinking....whaaaaattt?? Casual sex? Gee, I didn't realize it was just so casual. What is going on with this woman?
Like it or not, seems like we have some processing to work our ways through. Lucky us.
TO BE CONTINUED
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Have you seen "What the Bleep do we Know?" yet? It's proabbly easier to understand quantam physics than it is to understand a woman's mind.
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