Missing George

Mostly, I have my shit together. Mostly, I can function with my life just the way it is. Mostly, I can leave behind past lovers, bidding them a fond farewell and hoping for the best for them.

Sometimes, the wanting hits me just a little too hard. Sometimes, I’ll see something or hear a voice or read a blog. Sometimes I miss George.

Once in a while I’ll see a guy with his sexy hipster glasses and same color of hair. Once in a while I’ll smell his cologne on someone else. Once in a while I’ll lay eyes on broad shoulders beneath a tight t shirt.

I always feel his hands on my skin. I always feel his lips on my neck. I always feel his breath on my cheek. I always feel his stomach pressed to mine. I always feel his back grazed by my fingernails. I always feel his nose nuzzled into my breasts, breathing in my fragrance. I always hear his voice, his laugh, his sighs.

And then, once in a while, sometimes, I think…I never should have let him go.

Photo credit @lepetiteboudoir

Photo credit @lepetiteboudoir

My one nighter

My only one night stand was 24 hours long.

I’d just hung up on the Man-who’d-shattered-my-heart-into-a-million-tiny pieces, as he would become known among my circle of friends. It was New Years Eve, I’d recently returned home from vacation, and, having a confusing yet hopeful conversation with email-breakup-guy (same dude), I thought we were ready to give it another go.

I was so wrong.

"Hey, I know my timing isn’t great, but I just wanted to let you know that I’m seeing someone else."….or something like that. I could hear it in his voice as soon as he uttered the first word, and my chest clenched. Everything after that was a blur. This was only the second time in my life I’d become so angry that I couldn’t hear. My ears were full of rage and love and tears that were dangerously close to changing course and rushing out of my eyes like river rapids. I started to well up. The pain began its choke hold. How could I let this happen again? Didn’t I love myself enough to stop this madness? And then I stopped. I sat on the floor of my apartment and said aloud to no one but myself,

"No. No more tears for him."

"Do you want me to come over?" A text from James.

I’d never actually met James. In the midst of my tumultuous situation with email-breakup guy, I’d set up profiles on and Plenty of Fish. Match was awash with degenerates who just wanted me to suck them off, to my surprise. I thought it would be a little more high brow. At least with Plenty of Fish, I knew what I was getting myself into, and that’s where I met James. We’d been sexting for a couple of months, and it was a fantastic distraction from my drama. He was gorgeous, tall, and everything I needed in every way imaginable. And if pictures were the truth, he was endowed to pornographic proportions. Inviting him into my home was a recipe for disaster, and I welcomed it.

James 6’4 frame filled my doorway, and I wished I’d taken the time to shave my legs. We made a little small talk, but I couldn’t keep myself from kissing him. His hands explored my tits, the small of my back, my ass. Endorphins that had been bottled up for far too long washed over me, and he led me to my bed. He tugged at my shirt and leggings and I murmured lame apologies for not having showered before he arrived. Before I knew it I was naked, and he was standing there before me.

James is biracial. Half black and half Italian. And he got the best of both worlds. My mouth watered and my clit swelled. I was awed and a bit nervous. He must have sensed my apprehension because he took me in his arms and gently slid inside me. My fingers wandered over his smooth skin and traced the outlines of his tattoos. He fucked me slowly at first, and I gasped with each thrust. I’d never had anyone his size inside me. It hurt and felt delicious at the same time. I reached down and touched him as he was moving in and out of me. Feeling his enormous cock in me and seeing his beautiful body over me was more than I could take, and I came hard and fast. This only signaled a position change to James.

We fucked for hours. James massaged my back and kissed every inch of me multiple times. I sucked his cock for a little while, just to see if I could, and marveled at his perfect proportions.

It being New Years Eve, we both had parties to attend. James left too soon, and I got ready to go out. I met with girlfriends but could only talk about James. They were, of course, horrified that I would fuck a complete stranger but happy that I was getting over email-breakup guy.

On my way home I called James, and he was waiting for me when I got to my apartment. I’d never previously been multi-orgasmic, but I was that night. Four times. I came four times. His hands. His mouth. His 9.25 inches. And then he stayed the night.

The next morning he joked that this would be just a 24 hour thing, and I would never see him again. Turns out his joke was prophetic, but that’s OK. He was there when I needed him most, and I moved on from there.


I really love vintage cheesecake pics of girls with glasses. :)

Reblog @00syd


I really love vintage cheesecake pics of girls with glasses. :)

Reblog @00syd

(Source: olgas-house-of-shame, via 00syd)

"The moon is keeping me awake with its brightness."

Imperfect Timing

Bradley and I were meant to be. From the moment I laid eyes on him when we were 13 and awkward, I knew it. I was chubby and quiet, having just moved to a new town from New Orleans. He’d grown up with everyone, was shorter than I but cute and spunky.

By the time we got to high school we were inseparable, and I was in love. Still spunky, he was now tall and lanky. His smile, brown eyes, and enveloping hugs melted me every single day. He knew I loved him. I made no secret of it. Even our mothers knew it. But, he didn’t return the feeling for quite some time. Still, there were snuggles, late nights spent in each other’s company, and one stolen kiss outside his house after I’d made him angry for ditching him one night for another guy.

We attended the same university. I was heavily involved in the arts on campus, and he got an internship at the university radio station. Sometimes he would call me while he was there, and we’d chat, pausing occasionally so he could announce the next song. 

By this time, my relationship with Bradley had morphed into something complex. No longer the lovelorn teenage girl I used to be, we’d settled into a happy friends with benefits situation. To clarify, I was not having sex with him. I’d not had sex with anyone yet. But, we pushed my strict boundaries just a little. He’d seen me in my bra. I’d seen his dick push through a hole in his shorts. We’d kissed, cuddled, gone on a few dates, laid in my bed with my parents in the next room. And then this…

Bradley called me from the radio station one night, and I was getting in the bath. We talked for a long time, and then he asked me if I was still in the tub.


"Touch yourself.."

I giggled uncomfortably and then agreed, massaging my clit with my fingers. I knew how to get myself off, but I’d never done it on the phone with anyone, let alone a good friend. When he asked me if it felt good, I blushed, even though he couldn’t see me.

"I’m touching myself too…" he said. This aroused me even more. He briefly set the phone down, and I could hear him announcing the next song. I suddenly had a sense of urgency, that I needed to come quickly. I wanted to come for him so badly, and I didn’t want to risk anyone walking in on him at the station with his pants down. I AM a good friend, after all.

I came hard in the tub. It was cathartic to have an orgasm with someone I’d wanted for so long, even if things had changed. He came shortly thereafter, his breath ragged and in short bursts.

"Well, that was fun."

Being the little prude I was, I giggled.


Thank you appreciating my work! Reblogging to add photography credit to The Dirty Gentleman. If you my work visit my site:

Photograph by The Dirty Gentleman


Thank you appreciating my work! Reblogging to add photography credit to The Dirty Gentleman. If you my work visit my site:

Photograph by The Dirty Gentleman



In public

Photograph by The Dirty Gentleman for Quickie New York, with Ms. LaRossa and her handsome fella, in Ms. Darlene’s decidedly eerie freight elevator. Naughty things happen there late, late at night. (Reblogging to add back credits. If you enjoy my work, do take a gander at my subscription service.)

Photograph by The Dirty Gentleman for Quickie New York.



In public

Photograph by The Dirty Gentleman for Quickie New York, with Ms. LaRossa and her handsome fella, in Ms. Darlene’s decidedly eerie freight elevator. Naughty things happen there late, late at night.

(Reblogging to add back credits. If you enjoy my work, do take a gander at my subscription service.)

Photograph by The Dirty Gentleman for Quickie New York.

(Source: quickienewyork)

Beautiful body.

Beautiful body.

(via hashtagpussy)

My Virtue…or That One Time I Saw Cade’s Dick

I saw my first penis when I was eighteen. Of course, it wasn’t my FIRST first penis. I grew up in a quasi-naked home with a shameless mother and brother. The only time my brother covered up was for about three weeks during puberty. After that, he went back to ‘normal’.

In spite of this, I was as pure as the driven snow..mostly. I’d never gazed upon, touched, sucked, or otherwise fondled a penis of any kind. Sure, I would watch Cinemax through the scramble on my parents’ TV when they were out of town, but it’s hard to see things in detail that way. That didn’t count. One might say I was a little bit behind at that point in my life, but I was proud of my virtuousness. Flaunted it, even.

I was on a school trip to Chicago when it happened. We were all having a wonderful time playing around the city with a largely unaware teacher. The only thing that was enforced at all was curfew. After dinner, we went back to our hotel. Multiple people congregated in a few rooms, talking, laughing, telling jokes. High school stuff. My girlfriend Beck and I realized that we hadn’t seen Izzy and Cade for a while, so we decided to go looking for them. Beck and Izzy were roomies for the trip, so we went to their room, Beck’s key card in hand. We could hear hushed voices inside, but instead of barging in on who-knows-what, we tapped on the door.

"Just a second!" Izzy pulled the door open.

"Hey! Y’all have been in here a while. What’s going on?" Beck asked, smiling wide and still clutching her key card. They HAD to be up to something.

"We’re just talking." Izzy rolled her eyes at us. "Why don’t you come in?"

Now, you might consider it unfair that we would assume the ‘worst’ of our friends, but you have to understand something. Izzy had slept with at least two guys since our junior year, and Cade had had a steady girlfriend since 8th grade. A girl who talked about all the sex they had. A LOT. But, when we walked in, they were both fully clothed, and there wasn’t any way Izzy would have had time to put her clothes on before opening the door.

The room was dark, and Beck was giggling. I wasn’t sure what to say or do. I just followed suit, nervous but hoping that maybe something memorable would happen while I was in the room. The four of us settled on to the bed and began making semi-sexual jokes. I sounded like a moron, being the only completely inexperienced person in the room. Then Izzy decided to liven things up a bit.

"I have an idea."

We knew we were in trouble.

"Let’s blindfold you, Cade."

Before Cade could protest, Izzy went to work, pulling Cade’s shirt over his head and tying it around his eyes. It was as if she’d done this before. I might have been a little jealous. Just a little. Beck was laughing uncontrollably. She clearly couldn’t handle the sexual tension and excused herself from the room to take a shower.

Following Izzy’s lead, I started kissing Cade. First his arms, then his chest, nipples, and neck. Izzy kissed all along the waistband of his jeans, teasing him with her tongue and teeth. Cade’s breathing became shallow, and I could see by growing bulge in his pants that he was enjoying himself. This wasn’t lost on Izzy, and she began rubbing her hand all along the fly of his jeans. Cade involuntarily lifted his hips to meet her palm, and I stopped what I was doing to watch.

Izzy quickly unzipped Cade’s jeans to reveal white boxers. Slipping a slender hand under the waistband, she gently pulled his penis free.

"You’ve got a big dick." she said in a husky voice. I was relieved to hear this because, even in my inexperience, I could tell that it MUST have been a penis of considerable size. I smiled, more to myself than to the situation.

Izzy played with Cade’s member, rolling it between her hands as if it were playdough. Cade’s breath was ragged, catching in the throat every time he exhaled. Then she did something that I never thought any person would ever do with another person watching. Izzy bent down, opened her expert mouth, and began sucking. I tried not to stare. Staring is rude. I feebly kissed Cade’s chest again, but I was drawn to what was happening south of his navel.

Briefly, Izzy stopped what she was doing and looked at me. She raised her eyebrows and parted her lips, wordlessly offering me a taste of Cade’s boyish manhood. I squirmed on the bed, wet from my arousal. I put up a hand and smiled, indicating that she seemed to have everything covered.

Beck came out of the bathroom after her shower, and it was as if someone had abruptly unplugged a record player. Cade pulled up his pants and turned to his side while Izzy wiped off her mouth and I adjusted my clothes. Beck giggled and dressed, keeping her towel positioned around her so Cade couldn’t see. She had no idea.

When the teacher came around to check the rooms for curfew a few minutes later, Cade and I hid in the bathroom. I’ve never experienced such an awkward silence in my life. We carried on with the trip as if nothing had happened, but Izzy and I had bonded on a new level. She told me she was surprised that I went that far, and I told her that maybe I’d do it again. We swore each other to secrecy. I would find out, a few years later, that someone had let the cat out of the bag. Upset at first, I quickly got over it. Even though I was still considered the ‘pure’ one in the situation, I decided it’s OK to let go of a little virtue every once in a while.