my diary intro
Introduction:
who am I: enough has happened to stick with truth so far!
My sex life? As I want to start by writing in diary format, I don’t know what is going to happen, but I am sexually active- my first orientation was heterosexual, but I became pansexual in my early 20s- meaning that the sex of any lover is not of prime importance to me. I was in a big hetero relationship, and that left me with a little girl, called Meritxell (thats a Catalan name- her father’s influence). She is five years old, and gets looked after by a couple most days- especially if I have work to do in Madrid or other places.
Are things a bit dead for me at the moment? Yes, I suppose so, although I did go on a date this week, with I guy I have seen a couple of times, who occasionally has business in Madrid. He called me up out of the blue and I met him in his hotel bar. He arrived desparately late, and hour or so- I’m thirty and reasonably glamourous, dyed blonde hair, quite smallish, so he is interesting enough to have me come to his hotel when he’s in town, but I am have got enough allure about me to not be an hour alone in a bar of a posh hotel without anyone coming to talk to me. Well, a pretty abusive Mexican talked to me for a few minutes, telling me how pretty I was, then talked to me for a few minutes more telling me how wonderful he was, and then I tried to make excuses: I rang up my date, Jamie from the toilets, and gave him the ultimatum that he should arrive before he “lost” his heavily made up lady, in a greenish cocktail dress, which I reserve for posh hotels.
“For God’s sake, please arrive, I stand out a bit, a single chick in a hotel bar, and its too cold to walk round the block”
Phew, finally he arrived, and he took me to the restaurant, and we dived into a medium rare steak.
Married back in Seville where he lives, his business trips are a bit on the open side, so after five minutes seriiously satisfying his appitite, he started putting his hand on my knee.
His bedroom was one of the “budget” ones, which meant a semi-single bed for both of us. He is around fifty, but doesn’t have too much middle aged spread, and we fitted nicely in the bed. He was exhausted, but he wanted to make my life interested, as well as having some nice skirt with him at the end of a long day- so- we “did” it a couple of times, the second orgasm not quite satifying a young, maybe even oversexed lady, but it certainly did the business for him, and he was well asleep in seconds.
No pre-breakfast fuck for me either, he was rushing. I had come a little prepared, with a white embroidered night shirt, but these little touches didn’t really make Jaime smile- the morning saw him focused on other things and I left a bit disappointed.
The abusive Mexican saw me at breakfast, and came over and asked for my number. OK, OK, I gave it to him, he’s hardly Adonis, and not really full of charm, but in my day-job I need to network!
Anyway, why my first diary entry at all. Because I received a bunch of flowers- Its valentine’s day, from a couple: Watto and Julie, who were part of my life a couple of year’s ago. We had an amazing menage ?rois weekend so long ago- but that was over 1500 kilometres away in England, and I thought that they had moved on, and on and on. However, they remembered me after an eternity of lack of contact.
I know a bit about swinging, and often couples who look for chicks as secondary partners, move to younger ones all the time. I was a good fuck then for both of them, but I thought I was history. What do the flowers mean? Hopefully, there will be a diary entry later if we manage a rendez-vous.
And so, that would be the end of my week sexually, if the Rumanian girl, Neti who lives above my flat hadn’t called round yesterday. She is hard going, as she is really always complaining about one thing and another. While I avoid her, she had got a fit little body and I would quite like something to happen with her! mmm, if I can stand the conversation long enough.
Only time this time to start the seduction- I said that I wanted her opinion about a dress, which I wanted to wear, and asked her if she minded if I could wear it for a minute, and that she could let me know how it was. I undresses in front of her- partly to see her reaction- and put the said garment on. In a state of undress I smiled at her, but she wasn’t too trained in these matters and averted her eyes. I don’t give up that easily, I am sowing sees for another day!
Talking of not giving up, Jose Antonio, an anti-deluvian character who dwells in the bar in the street below my flat bought me a drink today. He’s known me for a while- he’s happily married but has the hundred year itch- and is clearly looking a young bits that are likely to be responsive. Would I be? Hope for a new diary entry soon.
