Date Boners: Tonight I Had a Teenage Dork Moment

Once in a while I’ll have a flash back: not a flashback of a memory, more like my body will forget I’m no longer a teenager.  Which is strange – there’s been plenty of time for this fact to sink in.

You might be wondering, “what’s so bad about that? Who wouldn’t want to feel like a young teen again – for a moment at least? Answer, someone who never knows when such a flash back will happen – and when it always seems to happen at the most inconvenient time.

For example, on a first date with someone – like I was tonight. Have you ever gotten turned on by something so minor that you felt like a total dork? or, horny dog? or, creepy god forbid?

Tonight was so ridiculous. Safe to say I’ve seen enough girls in panties – plenty without for that matter – there’s no excuse for tonight’s reaction. I’m avoiding the details, it’s embarrassing – but here you go…

We were at this bar/restaurant playing pool and talking – very comfortable and innocent situation. The “incident” came up so fast and randomly.

She mentioned she worked  just a couple blocks away from where we were. I told her she should have told me – I could have met earlier so she wouldn’t have had to go home and back. (her home is a ways – over five miles, maybe ten. )

She said, “No, it’s fine, I had to go home and date prep anyway.”

I ask her what she meant by date prep. She rattled of some things.. wash up, have a glass of wine, feed dog, etc. etc… “and put on some pretty underwear of course.”

I was just wanting to verify I heard the last part correctly, and asked, “you put on some pretty underwear?”

“Yea, see,” she said. And she pulls her pants down her hip a bit – flashing me the strap of her panties.

I ask her to show me again – because I wanted to seem more it was too fast to see. The bar was empty (Wednesday) and we were off in the corner – nobody else was in a position to see. Then it happened. She pulled the front of her pants out and down, giving me quick full frontal view of her in her panties: yes, they were “pretty underwear.”

They looked like this:

panties2

It was innocent enough; perhaps you had to be there, but in context it wasn’t sleazy – not as inappropriate as it probably sounds.

What was inappropriate, is that my body had one of these flash backs, and ridiculously, i got a boner.

I know, right? What grown man gets a boner over a two second panty flash? Answer, you’re looking at him. Or, you would be if you were here.

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Well we have it: 100% unanimous reader vote as to which book to finish up next.

I believe this is the first unanimous reader poll (which received more than a few responses) that I’ve ever conducted.  Was it the ass licking part? LOL, hey, that would be reason enough to get my vote!

I’d planned on needing to give the Which shall I finish up first? poll more time time than this, but given that literally, exactly, completely 100% of the respondents voted in favor of  The Roommates, the directive is clear. 

(BTW, damn good choice, the story is arguably the hottest and most interesting I have to tell)

Thank you all for helping me me find direction with this.

Next up for publication:

The roommates: Renting a room in a condo, Living with Judy and Jayme

This true story started when I moved back to LA for a job and needed a place to live in a hurry. I found a place through Craig’s list. It was a 3 bedroom, two story, two bath condo that two girls were living in. One of the girls, Judy, owned the condo, her parents helped her buy it the year before, and she needed to rent out the third room in order to afford the payments.

The other tenant, Jayme, was the daughter of friends of Judy’s parents. (so, sort of a friend). She was spending a lot of nights with her boyfriend, and Judy was looking for another tenant, in case Jayme moved out to live with her boyfriend.

My time living with these two lasted just over eleven months, but was unforgettable.  Things started getting interesting when the owner Jenny met a guy and started having him over, unbeknownst to her boyfriend. I could hear her on the other side of my wall.  Eventually, the three of us got entangled, and the story becomes complicated and super hot.

Highlights:

  • Hearing my straight laced landlord, Judy, having sex – and orgasms – with a guy she started having over and cheating with.

  • Seeing Jayme lick Judy’s ass – first time I ever saw a woman lick another in such a way.

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.