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One of the more mysterious aspects of irregular sex with women is the dot. And by irregular I mean not on a regular basis with the same woman. Occasional sex, once every few weeks. The inherent difficulty in these matters is the monthly arrival of the dot. The period. Aunt Flow. The rag. Menstrual cycle hit a snag. You get the imagery.

I'm not scared of commitment as I just prefer to have a friend rather than a possible angry and ugly break up. And for one reason or another, in fact most likely because of that reason, I have had a lot of really nice short-term arrangements with many girls and a lot of sex. I go out of my way to lay the guidelines for a working friendship. When discussing the situation with others it was usually, "oh, she is a friend who happens to be a girl who I occasionally sleep with". Usually I was just a good friend to them and I was non-threatening. Maybe it's just because I was courteous in both social situations and intimate. Open doors, insist on paying and making sure she came well before I did and as often as possible.

Saturday I got an email from Connie, "why don't you come over and fuck me?" I didn't answer one way or the other but by 2:30 I wasn't tired. I jumped in the shower. I was waxing philosophical about an email exchange with a girl I've known for almost 12 years. Cathie. A few years ago I used to parlay my isolation in graveyard shift at a Customer Support Center into fucking her on my boss' desk. Or the conference room. Or the hallway just for the sake of possibly being caught. The sex lacked any real gravitas. There was always an awkward arrangement of clothing when having sex at work. We didn't have to try and squeeze everything into a short period of time. But if she wore a dress it helped and my pants were usually on the entire time in case someone walked in or I had to answer the phone. The job was technical support for a hospital - can't keep the nurse on hold because I just found someone's G-spot. It was just the act and maybe light conversation and banter. Sometimes during sex.

Years, just before I moved to Wilkes-Barre I made the mistake of having sex with her a few too many times.

I won't say that I am good in bed because I think we all have our moments. Some just have them more frequently than others. In this time in my life it was a perfect storm; my physical fitness during my training for football, the one-two punch of Paxil and Lithium, pent up feelings of frustration over a failed relationship and a general concept that I was leaving. Best to leave on a high note and give them something to remember me by. My stamina has always been 'good'. At that time it escalated to bordering on death-defying. In some cases hours and sometimes I would not have an orgasm. Oh, I was "almost there" for about 20-30 minutes after having started having sex 20-30 minutes prior to that declaration. It usually took a second session that day for the full release to come. Yes. It was great and horrible and fantastic.

In one instance Shelly passed out from the exertion. And she was also in good shape. This was nice because it gave me a break but Shelly was on top and it took some quick maneuvering to keep my cock attached. When I did have an orgasm I received one of the better compliments after sex. Looking down at the mess I had made on her chest while perched on top of the bathroom sink, Carolyn looked up muttering, "Jesus, I think you bruised my sternum". Jennifer's reaction was one of astonishment because she really didn't understand what was going on. Her previous two boyfriends were early starters and finishers. She never got to enjoy sex and that was a heartbreaker for me. Cathie was different in that she was well experienced and often just wanted me to pound her from behind. She liked to be bossed around, hair-pulled and told what to do. Hard, fast, efficient, yet lasting.

Cathie and I had built a tolerate-hate situation. She was a former roommate of my sister's and we both tangled in a larger circle of friends together. We never made a point of communicating with each other at parties or gatherings. It was a weird game of one-on-one where we never appeared in the same room at the same time if we could help it. I became adept over the years at making sly exits and appearances. Really we didn't want a lot of rumors or gossip. I was intensely infatuated with Victoria, also a friend of my sister. Cathie knew that. She was also after a guy in the group. It was all a friendship of convenience that somehow required a tremendous amount of effort.

The night I left for Wilkes-Barre there was a party thrown for me and I slipped away without saying goodbye to some. That made Cathie very bitter as she had apparently worked her friend Kathy to join us in bed later that night. My intention was selfish in that I didn't want to become emotional. I was driving to Wilkes-Barre and the last thing I wanted was a reason to turn the car around or think about driving off I-80 somewhere in the Rockies.




Saturday I was getting dressed and slipping on a pair of boxers and I realized it was time to do laundry. I was delving into the older underwear that was a few waist sizes ago. It does make a difference as you are walking along and around your waist there's a dancing combo of elastic and fabric while your pants jostle to stay focused. I realized these were the same pair of boxers I wore on a night Cathie came to see me at work. When I had returned to Sacramento it took a bit for the bitterness to subside for Cathie. We'd go at it for a few months in bed. Then go at it by ignoring each other's existence. Our schedules and both of our circumstances didn't really allow for a social life. So neither of us dated and I imagine were just partners in convenience.

We were starting to kiss when she asked, "what do you want - what about anal". I've never been a fan. Hygiene is one reason. She agreed on the hygiene part particularly taking note of the fact we were having unprotected sex and the office wasn't exactly a great place to clean up afterward.

Softly thrashing on the conference room table to the tune of her second orgasm Cathie pulled her left leg in closer to her. It was over my right shoulder and it caught me off balance and I pulled out trying to gather myself. Things were not right as it was way too wet. The lights were off in the room but looking down on the blue patterned boxers the red, red vino was covering my crotch. Cathie was embarrassed and apologized. She didn't think it was ere or it was due She apologized again as she realized I didn't have a chance to come. She offered to get me off under the desk while I took a call but that really didn't sound tasteful, in the slightest. Really, if I'm having fairly regular sex with a woman the dot is a good thing. I have been incredibly lucky bypassing STDs and one of those pregnancy things moronically going without protection most of my sex life. The dot was a welcome arrival. But in this case it was not. And the whole anal discussion didn't seep back into my mind until well after she had left.

But in this case I said something stupid that was the truth. Damn me. At the time I was becoming interested in a girl. It wasn't serious, but it was the first time that I had even considered dating someone or seeing or whatever it is that precedes an actual relationship (temporary insanity). I had stopped her in mid-sentence while she was arranging a time for me to meet her at her townhouse. I let her know I was feeling guilty about it. And to give me a few hours to figure out what I wanted to do. I dropped the anvil as gently as I could. Even if the lady likes it rough she is still a lady. And she has feelings, too. I had inadvertently hurt hers, again.


When I got to Connie's house Saturday night I let myself in and found her in her bedroom. This was a logical place as she was in bed and the bed is in her bedroom. I don't know. I just couldn't think of a good transition there. Connie had alcohol on her breath and that bothered me. It bothered me that I was a few glasses of wine "booty email". It wasn't so much that aspect but Connie was becoming another Cathie episode. Similar styles in bed, too. Connie has orgasms fairly easily and usually four or five are enough to make her want to stop. But that night she was quicker than normal and suddenly begged me to "punish her ass". This didn't mean IN THE ASS, so I obliged and fucked her from behind - because I'm a considerate and courteous lover. You would think it was cool to have someone to talk to you like that in bed. The begging part. But it just wasn't cool. It just seemed sad.

I was lucky enough that I had an orgasm just before Connie dropped from her knees flat onto the bed. I got up to discard the condom and as we all do before flushing looked down. The red, red vino. I asked Connie if she was due or was currently having her period and she claims she wasn't. She tried to chalk it up to my efforts during sex. I didn't buy it. I mean, it's possible. But I don't consider myself "big" enough in length or girth to do that kind of damage. Again. The whole situation just became morose. I clocked twenty minutes trying to avoid post-sex conversation and then got up to leave as she was falling asleep. Connie walked me to the door against my instance.

It's hard not to knee-jerk the thought that my life is an irregular series of the same events. But in reality the matter lies within the moment. Each instance is different. Each encounter a new exchange of emotion and feelings. Even if it is just lazy, bored, placating sex on a semi-random occasion. You're still communing with someone that you hopefully like or at least tolerate. It makes you appreciate the moments you might have with someone where you really feel something for them and they feel the same for you. Passion. You have to endure things like the intrigue of the suddenly appearing and raining on the parade to really appreciate passion.