Avarice Does Not Come A-Knocking
If there is one thing I am addicted to, its experience. Its not sex, its not money, it could be people, but thats inevitably a very necessary ingredient in order for experiences to formulate themselves. I went to watch the Aviator today with an old friend who has a huge ass business plan hes trying to work out and hoping to make a lot of money from, and the girlfriends. The former and I couldnt help but nudge each other through out the whole show and whisper. man, if I were THAT rich
Left right after for drinks with Chris. I started feeling really frisky after a couple of glasses of wine, and a little tired too, and suggested going back to his place. He said he was really horny, even more then yesterday Ive some weird effect on him- but (and he was quite blunt with this, which I found amusing- he couldnt afford the price I was asking two days in a row. I rolled my eyes, looked at him and told him to just forget about paying me.
Im not a prostitute, Ive already told you that like so many times. I dont need the money and have no idea what I shall do with it aside from sticking it in the bank. The truth, come to think of it, is that what youre willing to give me kinda makes me feel good about myself. Like, Im really worth it, and youve really proven that to me. And its not especially in how much youre willing to give for my time, but more so in the fact that youve made arrangements specially to come down to Singapore for me. Regardless of the sex or whatnot. And to hell with it, youre good in bed, so why not. Lets go back. I feel uncomfortable here,
So we did go back, I took of all my clothes and slipped into a bathrobe, and we sat on the couch eating chocolate cake and talking about legitimized corruption. He started playing with my pussy, I got really horny and demanded that he fucked me. Yeah, perhaps I am somewhat of a nymphomaniac, I believed I would have left him for Martines bed, if the latter didnt have a bunch scotch guzzling academics at his place reading god knows what, Kafka perhaps, and knocking down glasses upon glasses of single malt.
But then now, thinking about it, it is perhaps better that he was not free and Id spent the time with Chris instead. I feel really good about it actually. I dont quite think I like having sex for money, it actually disturbs me. The truth is, I was more relaxed with him today then I was yesterday, the sex was better, the cuddling, foreplay, everything, it was just better. I felt less need to please and was more concerned with myself, which made it more natural, and therefore much better.
I think hes pretty good looking, has a lot to offer me in terms of other things (I wont say what, but they are things I desire pretty badly) and is not just saying it to get into my pants. And unlike Dr. Seuss, who is quite mediocre in bed, the sex is good, so it makes things a lot easier for me. Namely, Im not expected to pretend so damn much, which is really the most tiring thing about sleeping with the latter. And I dont quite know how to put it, but S is work. Hes fun to go to cocktail parties with, to have brunch with, maybe the occasional cigar (allright, he smokes, I dont), and really pleasant to talk to. One of the most sexiest voices to have whisper into your ear. But to make love to? Id say Id rather stick with the bondage. That way Im tied up and dont have to do anything.
He sent me off in a cab thereafter, telling me that hes made arrangements to come back into the country to see me before I leave the country with Ethan. And he stuck a bunch of bills into my hand, telling me to see myself safely home.
The way I see things, Ive nothing to complain about, and what really soothes me is that Chris isnt going about screwing a lot of women, he is surely clean- as far as all the nasty STDs are concerned- is surely not lying when he says hes slept with less then 60 women (a lot less, according to him). Basically, hes pleasant to be in bed with, good in bed, not dirty, treats me very well, and lavishes me quite a bit. And of course, as with all the people I even bother to spend more then an hour a day talking to, he is good conversation.
*shrugs*
It was allright. I am quite pleased with things.
xoxox
If there is one thing I am addicted to, its experience. Its not sex, its not money, it could be people, but thats inevitably a very necessary ingredient in order for experiences to formulate themselves. I went to watch the Aviator today with an old friend who has a huge ass business plan hes trying to work out and hoping to make a lot of money from, and the girlfriends. The former and I couldnt help but nudge each other through out the whole show and whisper. man, if I were THAT rich
Left right after for drinks with Chris. I started feeling really frisky after a couple of glasses of wine, and a little tired too, and suggested going back to his place. He said he was really horny, even more then yesterday Ive some weird effect on him- but (and he was quite blunt with this, which I found amusing- he couldnt afford the price I was asking two days in a row. I rolled my eyes, looked at him and told him to just forget about paying me.
Im not a prostitute, Ive already told you that like so many times. I dont need the money and have no idea what I shall do with it aside from sticking it in the bank. The truth, come to think of it, is that what youre willing to give me kinda makes me feel good about myself. Like, Im really worth it, and youve really proven that to me. And its not especially in how much youre willing to give for my time, but more so in the fact that youve made arrangements specially to come down to Singapore for me. Regardless of the sex or whatnot. And to hell with it, youre good in bed, so why not. Lets go back. I feel uncomfortable here,
So we did go back, I took of all my clothes and slipped into a bathrobe, and we sat on the couch eating chocolate cake and talking about legitimized corruption. He started playing with my pussy, I got really horny and demanded that he fucked me. Yeah, perhaps I am somewhat of a nymphomaniac, I believed I would have left him for Martines bed, if the latter didnt have a bunch scotch guzzling academics at his place reading god knows what, Kafka perhaps, and knocking down glasses upon glasses of single malt.
But then now, thinking about it, it is perhaps better that he was not free and Id spent the time with Chris instead. I feel really good about it actually. I dont quite think I like having sex for money, it actually disturbs me. The truth is, I was more relaxed with him today then I was yesterday, the sex was better, the cuddling, foreplay, everything, it was just better. I felt less need to please and was more concerned with myself, which made it more natural, and therefore much better.
I think hes pretty good looking, has a lot to offer me in terms of other things (I wont say what, but they are things I desire pretty badly) and is not just saying it to get into my pants. And unlike Dr. Seuss, who is quite mediocre in bed, the sex is good, so it makes things a lot easier for me. Namely, Im not expected to pretend so damn much, which is really the most tiring thing about sleeping with the latter. And I dont quite know how to put it, but S is work. Hes fun to go to cocktail parties with, to have brunch with, maybe the occasional cigar (allright, he smokes, I dont), and really pleasant to talk to. One of the most sexiest voices to have whisper into your ear. But to make love to? Id say Id rather stick with the bondage. That way Im tied up and dont have to do anything.
He sent me off in a cab thereafter, telling me that hes made arrangements to come back into the country to see me before I leave the country with Ethan. And he stuck a bunch of bills into my hand, telling me to see myself safely home.
The way I see things, Ive nothing to complain about, and what really soothes me is that Chris isnt going about screwing a lot of women, he is surely clean- as far as all the nasty STDs are concerned- is surely not lying when he says hes slept with less then 60 women (a lot less, according to him). Basically, hes pleasant to be in bed with, good in bed, not dirty, treats me very well, and lavishes me quite a bit. And of course, as with all the people I even bother to spend more then an hour a day talking to, he is good conversation.
*shrugs*
It was allright. I am quite pleased with things.
xoxox
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I love reading your journal, by the way. But I never know what to say to it so I've never left a comment. But I think you're very intriguing, and of course, very beautiful.