Should There be Doctors for Orgasms & other Questions About Sex

If a person hires an escort (prostitute) should they get their money back if they don’t orgasm?

If they cheat and the sex is bad, should they feel cheated?

If their partner gets off watching them do it, should they be blamed for doing it?

Should there be doctors and clinics that treat ailments with orgasms?

Should politicians have to have at least one debate in the nude?

If someone is working on their roof and watching a neighbor sunbath – out in the open but in their own backyard, who’s fault is it?

If you slept with them first, is it really cheating if you hookup with them again, or is it the the person their with now who cheated you?

If you’ve already done it once, is it twice as bad or no worse to do it again?

Would you choose tell your partner about all of your past sexual experiences with others if you could know everything about your partner’s past encounters?

Are you more likely to not tell your partner because it was too good or because you were too bad?

 

 

 

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Part Six – Vegas Trip – finally someone gets naked, and a come show.

“Everything okay?” I asked. “Did I say something wrong or offend her?”
“No, no, she was actually debating whether to go or not and just making sure I’d be okay.”

“Oh, okay that’s good then.”

“No, she’s just being polite, she likes you. She said if she didn’t leave now, she might try to jump your bones.”

“No way,”

“She was kidding, or sort of kidding, maybe. I can’t stay too long, unfortunately.”

“I’m glad you stayed,”

We began kissing.

Perlah smelled good – was wearing a scent I didn’t recognize. Her  chest pressed against me as we kissed.

She told me I was a good kisser – I felt silly- like I always feel when someone says I’m “a good kisser.” It’s like saying, “you’re a really good toucher,” – seems odd. Makes more sense to say “I like how you kiss me,” or “touch me.” I know, I’m splitting hairs, but I think it reduces kissing from being intimate connection between two people to being a mouth skill one can be “good at.” Never mind, I wasn’t nearly this distracted by the comment when she made it.

The kissing was nice: sensual, careful, tender, and quickly led to more: Perlah started feeling me out. I love when this happens – when a girl starts feeling me first – before I touch her breasts or elsewhere. First of all it’s bold and aggressive – which is hot; also, it makes me feel gentlemanly, that I didn’t move first.

I wanted to know why Perlah was there, what was going on in her mind, why she was cheating on her husband? I squeezed – trying not to get hard too fast, but Perlah’s hand was rubbing directly on me, I just let it go. I was hard by the time I had pulled her shirt off.

She looked so different in her “girl-next-door,” street clothes and her plane, shiny,  white bra  – such a contrast to the frilly, twinkly, revealing top Perlah was wearing at the casino. I slipped the bra down slowly and watched her nipples pop into view. I’d spent hours wondering what she was just barely hiding under the top she’d been wearing at the casino. She helped me get her bra the rest of the way off.

We both were naked when Perlah ask if I had protection. I hate condoms.

“No, damn, I didn’t expect to need them, damn it! This is unfortunate,” I said.

Perlah seemed as disappointing. She replied, “I am on birth control, but have to be safe – sorry.”

Before getting dressed, we laid on my  bed for a while – touching and talking.

Perlah was unusually unashamed about what was happening – had a very practical, matter-of-fact perspective. Basically, she’s been married for twelve years, had a couple kids, and decided that she would have sex with someone if they were attractive enough – before she got much older  and still had her tight body. I guess she had sex before getting married – but not much of it.

I was thinking, “okay so now what’s the reason?” But, that was it – and it was reason enough for her. It turned me on – that she just decided she wanted to fuck someone and wasn’t ashamed about it.

I asked her if she had told her husband about the idea. She said she might but wasn’t sure – she’d see how she felt when it happened. Her husband didn’t have any real problem sexually, other than being boring and “nothing special.” I wasn’t satisfied and pressed her for more.

“Are you just needing variety, or taking out resentment towards your husband? Did you want something different? Is he unattractive? Is it sexual, or, emotional? And other questions of a similar nature.

She seemed to want to keep the issue uncomplicated, and was a bit reluctant to open up – until she realized it turned me on to hear her thoughts. She said that she’d been thinking about sex with other men more and more over the last few years and her sex drive had been growing. Purlah figured, “why just fantasize about it?” She had always assumed she’d have sex with someone else – sometime before she died, and felt now would be as good of time as any.

Purlah reassured me that she wasn’t going to just fuck anyone who came along. It had been around eight months since she decided she might do it, and her only attempt besides me was with the guy who was a bad kisser. Well that, and a “small one” as Perlah later added.

“Wow, so you were really close that time too – I mean you went far enough to see his dick and all.”

“Not true, I didn’t even go in his room. I felt it while kissing him,” Perlah explained.

“First he was a bad kisser, so I was like, okay let’s check what’s going on with that, so then it was two strikes, this guy’s not going to be the one. I never saw anything, and he didn’t see me, I swear.

It was around 2:30am when Perlah left. I was blue – had been on the brink for twenty or thirty minutes while we talked in bed, and Perlah lightly teased around my body with her fingertips. I was praying she’d finish me off, but she hadn’t been there to service me – without getting what she was there for. (note to self, have some damn condoms next time.)

I had to finish to stop the pain – was too frustrated to sleep. I moved a chair right in front of my floor to ceiling window. I looked out over the city. A million lights resisting the middle of night – endless windows to hotel rooms where other scandalous stories happening. I left the room half lit as it had been while Perlah was there, and I jacked off for anyone nearby and interested enough to see – hoped that someone was watching.

After trying on some different scenarios, my focus ended up on Terry, not Perlah. I thought about her being alone in her place, horny and sexually frustrated, and the ways I could help if I was there.

I thought about Terry leaning over, dripping wet, facing me with her huge tits hanging in my face, while she yanked hard on my cock  and begged me to fuck her.

I didn’t bother to grab a towel nor aim somewhere safe. I was intensely turned on and in a hotel room, so i stroked my shaft, held back and held back, then let it go, shooting out where ever, all over my chest and wherever else it went. My own come was all over me. I stood up and looked out the windows, searching for lookers, then when and showered.

This brings us to Sunday Morning, 3:30am.

To be continued, probably.

 

Part Five: Vegas Trip

I made us Gin and tonics.  At first, we looked out over the town, quietly. I used the time to figure out what to do – what was happening.

I talked with Terry for a bit while Perlah used my bathroom. She’d just celebrated her 40th birthday, was divorced and had one son starting his first year at UNLV. She talked about what it’s been like living by herself for the first time. Terry was candid – talked about how ironic that she’s been getting hit on for twenty years, and now that she got the house to herself and can have sex anytime she wants, there’s nobody around to fuck. She had recently added a couple toys to her “collection.”

Perlah returned before I’d heard Terry’s complete life story and all her secrets.

“Terry’s finally got her house to herself and evidently she can’t find someone to, um, help her appreciate her new privacy,” I said.

(What? She shared all this personal stuff, why can’t I discuss it?)

Judging by her response, Perlah had already been briefed on Terry’s situation.

I wasn’t feeling too sorry for Terry –  she was quintessential “MILF” – she was already appearing in fantasies and bucket lists all over the world. And, I’m sure many guys would fuck her just to see her breasts. Yes, by “many guys,” I mean, me.

It was around 1:30 when Perlah reminded us that she was expected to be getting off work at 2.

“I should probably leave by 2:30, or 2:45 the very latest.”

I thought it was A fairly generous allowance given her situation.

“Unless…” I schemed, “Maybe they are having you work a second shift to cover for the other dealer who got sick?”‘

“He knows that wouldn’t happen.”

“Speaking of leaving,” Terry said, “I think I’ll be going. Do you want me to walk with you to get an Uber Perlah, or are you good?”

I almost asked Terry to show me her tits –  but thankfully I caught the idea before it left my mouth.

(Yes, I too think it’s a bit shallow for a grown man to fixate upon a woman’s knockers.. in fact, I have often wrestled with this question: is it shallow or immoral to want a woman’s body, and if so, how much reason, other than her boobs, do I need in order to  want someone’s tits without being shallow? None at all according to author Alain de Botton  – who talks about sexual attraction on this youtube video..

Alain thinks we shouldn’t discount physical attraction nor feel shallow or ashamed for appreciating someone’s exterior; because we’re essentially reading their “inside” – identifying and appreciating deeper aspects of a person; furthermore, Alain argues that appreciating, or wanting someone’s body, is how our minds unconsciously read a a person’s genetic history and can predict the healthiness probability of their future offspring.

To explain attraction, Alain suggests that we are all looking for whatever our subconscious feels it lacks from childhood, and we feel attraction when we sense that someone might have it; we desire people who can fulfill our emotional dependencies – basically looking for “a fix,” to to cope with the unconscious trauma of our earliest years. Ultimately, what we’re all just looking for on a deep, subconscious level –  including me by wanting to see Terry’s huge tits, is equilibrium. According to Alain anyway.)

“Sure you don’t want another drink?” I asked.

“Tempting, but I should probably get going….”

Perlah walked out my door with Terry and for a moment I thought she might leave with her. They were talking for a few minutes, I could here but not make out what was being said. I was preparing myself for the worst.
Finally, Perlah came back in.

to be continued – see next post for part five

 

Las Vegas Story – Part Three – Hotel Room

The dealer Perlah was drinking a water when I found her. After meeting her co-worker, I offered to buy them both a drink. The co-worker, (I think her name was “Terry,” but it could have been Jerry – some girl name that sounded like a guy’s) ordered a corona.

I was amused by Perlah’s choice – Patron silver on ice with a lemon wedge – and she wasn’t scared of it, downed it before I tasted the second half of my martini. I offered her another, she ordered another Patron, this time reassuring me that she takes Uber to work.

I wanted to know what went right this time – why were we there?.

“Thanks for inviting me to join you, I thought perhaps it was against the rules – as a dealer or whatever? Do you usually come here after work?”

I was actually wanting to know if she met up with customers like this often, and make sure her motives were romantic – or, at least, not professional. You never know.

“Often on Saturdays I’ll stay for a drink because my kids stay at my moms on the weekends, and I get off early. My other days I don’t get off until 3:00am. My husband doesn’t know that I work less hours on Saturday, so I get a little bit of time to unwind.”

Okay, I know what some of you are thinking. No, I did not know she was married. She was old enough and good looking enough to likely be married – but being a dancing dealer didn’t seem like a wife type of job. I assumed she was single but wasn’t particularly disappointed to find out she was married.

I still had to know if I was a special case or just this Saturday’s diversion.

“You are the first dealer I’ve ever had a drink with, do you invite many players to join you… I mean, thank you – to what do I owe the honor?”

“No, god no! You are cute and.. I’m not really sure, was sort of a spontaneous decision, should I not have?”

“Definitely not, but I’m glad you did.”

“Glad I did eh, why is that?”

“Glad because .. um, having fun so far… but really because you’re gorgeous, if I have to be honest about it.”

“Okay, good answer, I guess I’ll stay for another drink.”

We had three more drinks if I’m remembering correctly. I found out she invited a guy one other time a few months ago. She said he wasn’t a very good kisser so it didn’t go very far. I’m not sure whether or not she meant to convey all the information I received from the story, but it was almost everything I needed to know.

Knowing that the only thing that stopped the last guy was bad kissing, I dropped my guard and huddled in closer. We started kissing – and it seemed I would not be suffering the same fate as the last guy.

Perlah asked where I was staying and I invited the two up for a drink in my room – my hotel was about a block away. I’d splurged a little and got a pretty good room with a great view. I expected the other girl Terry to excuse herself but instead she quickly accepted the invitation, so all three of left The Golden Nugget and headed towards my room.

I locked arms with Perlah and extended a friendly hand to Jessy, and the three of us walked the whole way, arm in arm, with me between them… I had a few horny thoughts along the way. I was more attracted to Perlah, but Jessy’s enormous breasts knocking against my chest kept my mind open to other possibilities.

By the time we got to my room, I’d decided I needed to see Jessy’s breasts if possible. I know, give me an inch and I’ll wonder about the mile.

This is true – to the letter, so it better be hot: last week in Vegas continued…

One thing that is different now, I do less gambling but bet much more. When I was younger, I’d play more games, gamble much later- start much earlier, and usually play until there wasn’t enough left to gamble with.

Now, I don’t waste time on games I don’t want to play – and don’t gamble just to waste time. And, I don’t join a table because hot women are there. I still don’t enjoy gambling sober, but now I’ll pay for a martini or two, and won’t gamble ahead of a buzz. And when I do, I throw it down. It is a losing bet, an unfair deal… and then there’s luck. Why should we project undo requirements of prudence upon behavior that is so favored against us that we must be getting drunk to engage in.

I say fuck it, if I’m going to do something stupid, volunteer for odds against me, make a it a statement; luck doesn’t need time to think things over, I play roulette mainly, and am not a high roller; still, I’ve got over $100 out there on any given role.

I wasn’t winning the first night, but not losing enough to go to bed. Eventually the Irish coffees or tequila shots, put to rest thoughts about going to bed. I think the rest of the family had gone to sleep – the high rollers and my Aunt may have been up gambling somewhere.

I was playing downtown where the casinos are a bit more casual – the minimum stakes more affordable. At this place, the dealers actually take rotations dancing on tables in the pit when they’re not dealing. 100%, look it up. So, many of the dealers had good bodies, – some were clearly not hired for their counting skills: not a problem, I can count.

I cannot recall how many times I’ve tried to score with dealers – too many times. I can recall how many times I succeeded. Zero. Even a few times when I was sure it was a lock – that we were practically soulmates, zero. Unless there is a conspiracy against me, dealers cannot and do not fuck the gamblers; ever. So, I’ve long since stopped bothering.

The dealers were friendly – one of them was particularly fun. I focused on my numbers, yet couldn’t ignore her huge tits and how they came out of her bikini-like top almost to where her nipples had to be but never farther. They were natural, not “Vegas brand” boobs – (yes, relax, it’s trivial but I’m a guy – and for some, these details are interesting)

I’d never heard the name before, “Perlah.” Perlah was in her early thirties and had a very large chest – unlike May, the only other Filipina I’d ever been with, (read my first book Dare for full details on that)
I was sitting in the one seat at every roulette table that’s on the inside of the table, right next to the dealer. This dealer, Perlah, was being flirtatious with the table. I was drinking and concentrating.

A few of the guys at the table were flirting back, one was being obnoxious – he kept trying to grab the dealer’s hand as she waved “no more bets.” Also, he kept trying to “brommunicate” to me how great her tits were. Then my upper arm ran into her tit while I was reaching across to put chips on the number eight – was an innocent accident on both our parts, but the collision was right on the money.

I apologized, of course; she must have noticed I was the more embarrassed about the mishap so she teased me.

“Hey, no hitting on the dealer,” she said.

“No, sorry, not doing that.  I bet it gets really old – I’m sure you have drunk guys hitting on you non-stop – working here.”

“And girls,” she said.

Hmm, that was a fun answer. “Girls?”

“Sometimes.”

“Anyway, when I’m ready to hit on you, I’ll try to choose a tactic other than ramming my elbow into you. I’m kidding, won’t hit on you, you’ve got enough of that to deal with… not that I… you know what I mean.

“See, the handsome guys don’t, unfortunately.”

Polite – patronizing – or, what was she saying, doing exactly? Perhaps my tequila shots were hearing things? But, it’s in my nature to seek clarity:

“Who, I’m handsome?”

“Duh.. no more bets.” She said.

“Careful, I might have another accidental collision with your boob if you keep talking like that.”

“Promise?”

What the fuck, she’s hitting on me now, right? Crazy. I was careful not to ram her boob again, but we kept talking. I told her about the other Filipina I knew, May. I didn’t tell her what happened at the “Dare” party of course, but I did tell her about May’s strict parents, and how shy May was until she’d get a few drinks in her, then not so-shy.  Perlah said it sounded like her, what I was describing about May.

“What, you go from serious casino dealer to nympho after a few drinks?”

“I don’t know, ‘ you’d have to buy me a few drinks to find that one out I guess.”

No she didn’t… what? She’s fucking with me… or, maybe not?

“Okay, now you’re teasing.. and flirting for tips; but, no doubt I’d like to make that experiment happen.

“How rude, I don’t flirt for tips, I flirt for free,” she said.

I was confused, and horny, and … mainly confused, so I let it go.

Perlah rotated to another table and I played for another hour before she returned. While she was gone, I looked around the room to see where she was – a few times; and, one of the times, she noticed and looked back right at me. The look she gave me left me spinning in thought – fantasizing, interpreting…. I didn’t regain full vigilance until Perlah returned to my table.

This time around, we both knew something was happening – subliminally, hyper-hormonal,  she was dealing her table as I was playing, but we were both somewhere else, alone, negotiating.

Still, I wasn’t going to move on this – dealers don’t play – wasn’t going to fall for it.

She told me she was off after the next rotation. Then waited two more rolls before elaborating. “A few of us might go have a drink at the Golden Nugget after we get done if you want to join us. I’m done here in a few minutes and should be over there in about twenty – not sure how long I’ll be there though, have to get home.

I had several questions – didn’t dare ask any.

“Okay,” I said, and found her at the Golden Nugget half hour later. She stood up and gave me a hug – it is farther than I’d ever gotten with any dealer, or pit boss (don’t judge – I’ve seen a few hot pit bosses). She had changed out of her sexy dealer/dancer outfit, into a pants & t-shirt, civilian looking one.

There was one co-worker there with her, who gave me a big, tit-squishing, hug when Perlah introduced me.

“This is the handsome man causing me distraction all night.”

“This is the gorgeous dealer making me not care that I was losing money all night.”

 

Continued – see next post

 

My Family Vegas Trip As an Old Fuck – Don’t Knock it Until You Read This

Money – Politics – Sex – Death – Tragedy – Gossip – Did I Say Anal? – Infidelity – Something Crazy – Something New – Stupid Hot Stuff – Just stupid stuff – Sex – Naughty sex – Humanity

For those of us who grew up in the US, we’ve probably done Vegas as a young adult; if you have, you know the story: we think we know what we’re doing gambling, and lose our shirt learning we don’t know shit. We could have recognized that those who do know what they’re doing, often lose their shirts. But, with me anyway, I learn by doing. (and by doing I mean losing).

The upside, when we’re young in Vegas, we go to clubs, look good, are energized all night long, and most likely hookup. That’s Vegas for a young adult, and it doesn’t suck.

So, I’m way past twenty, and just returned from Vegas, to report this week’s version of an older person’s “Vegas.”

I’ve been in Vegas since Saturday, left yesterday and returned home atoday. I was in Vegas to meet up with my parents, a few sisters, a few cousins, an Aunt, and few high rollers from the UK – gambling friends of the aunt’s. Not exactly a bachelor party is sort of what I’m saying. Not to say my family can’t be fun.

I’ll save discussion of family dynamics for my “health, fitness and prayer for the modern family” blog; on here, we’ll get right to the more human aspects.

Having spent enough time in Vegas in my late teens and twenties, I can compare and contrast on a few things; then,, I suppose, I’ll just tell you the stuff that happened; perhaps not as crazy as some times when I was 22, but this account might give you pause if you were thinking Vegas doesn’t get crazy for those of us over thirty.

I’m still trying to figure out if my readers appreciate reading the raw stories about my life – like this – or prefer the more philosophical, or better articulated at least, postings. For those in the latter, you might appreciate my next post after these – and may find this discussion too crass or degenerate for your taste. But, for any interested, this is the raw honest scoop/dirt on my middle-aged, family vacation to Vegas.


My family Vegas Trip As an Old Fucker

anyone interested in hearing this? Anyway, let me know while I write it.