I can’t imagine when I picked this because I don’t feel like women should be put on display like that.  Or so obviously objectified.  Maybe I liked that the standing woman had bush.

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

Having just moved into a new home.  Renting.  It’s rustic and falling apart in some places.  I’m sharing a room that’s big enough to have two queen bed and an anti room.

People come to visit.  A lot of people.  It gets chaotic.  Add to that each bed had to be professionally vacuumed.  A few dogs including Isis and a very sweet pit bull.

Tons of people running about.  Lots of stuff everywhere so anything specific is hard to find.

A woman has some sort of issue where she’s scratching at her vulva incessantly.  I never see her face.  She’s fat and scratching.  I see that then close my eyes and yell, “Dear god, it’s burned into my retinas.  Make it go away!”

[Step-Sister] is there.  She has a rash or welts and shows me.  I see her back – she’s only wearing underwear.  I don’t want her skin to touch me for fear I’d catch something from her.

I don’t know who most of the people are or why they’re causing such chaos.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

2:21 A.M.

Henry came over Monday night.  He brought me a flower – a white rose with baby’s breath and all that.  We got high and then for a little bit we just layed [sic] and cuddled.  And then he touched me.  His hands all over me pressing and massaging.  And when he finally got to my breasts.  It felt so good.  So good to have his hands on me exploring my body.  Then we slowed down and rested for a while.  Then he wanted me to take a shower with him but I just couldn’t.  He seemed very irritated as well he should have – I know I would’ve been.  I’m just really shy about my own body and especially about looking at his.  I know I’ll only get over this fear by confronting it but I’m not ready yet.  I’m not even ready to admit my real reason to someone else.  I told him that showering with someone was a really intimate and personal thing and that even though I should be because we had already shared quite a bit, I wasn’t ready.  Which, actually  sort of is true.

So he told me to take off my clothes.  I complied and layed [sic] down on the bed.  I could hear him removing his garments and got excited.  He slid under the covers next to me and pressed his warm, naked body to mind.  His hands explored my body from behind until I turned onto my back so he could have more of me, so I could feel what he had to give me.  His hand found its way between my thighs and dipped into my wetness.  It was a relief to finally have something inside me.

[I haven't given myself over to him completely yet.  I'm afraid to become to dependent on him and he'll grow to resent me.  What's sad is I can see it happening – me suffocating him into running.  But I don't want to, I just get so scared that I'll be alone.  I haven't come with him yet because I think that would mean he's gotten inside me – to my soul – and will know how to hurt me.]

He pushed his fingers deep into my cunt and twisted and turned his and so I could feel his power.  While his fingers were inside me, I reached down to my clit.  Everything was so wet and hot.  He licked at me and then pushed his cock into me.  Oh my god.  I told him to talk to me.  He said he felt so good inside me, that he wanted to get deeper.  I could barely talk but to swear to god I had never felt that way.  And I hadn’t.  Maybe it was the pot but I don’t really care because it felt so damn good.  The whole time I kept thinking about how huge he felt inside me, so big filled me up.  I could have died at that moment a very satisfied woman.  I got the usual pangs to tell him I love him but held out once again.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

No, I don’t have a foot thing.  This photo is neat though.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

“Nice shot.  Nice boobs.  Cute photo.”  A rave review from the Viking, who asked to use this shot for his site, Dave’s Babe of the Day.  If you like looking at dirty pictures then take a look.

I’m not sure why he’s surprised that the photos I feature in my “Photo Lotto” series are good.  He’s seen them all and they’re all good, dammit.  Go ahead, search here under “photo lotto” and see all the sexy, sexy photos I’ve featured.

This photo is good for a number of reasons.  Of course there’s the symmetry.  Or near symmetry.  I can’t figure out if they look any more alike than two young, white, long-legged, waxed pudenda’d women with pulled-back, long, light brown hair and relatively-large-for-their-body-size breasts with relatively-small-for-their-size ariolæ normally would.

I’m not very good at noticing family resemblances, which goes along with not really looking at people’s faces because I’m too shy to make eye contact.  When I talk to people I tend to look at their mouths, and these two ladies’ mouths are quite similar.  I thought I wasn’t good at recognizing people until I met the Viking.  He literally thinks everyone of a particular race looks alike.  It’s not racist, it’s oblivious.

This photo is pretty fucking amazing.  I love the tub and would have many, many baths in a tub like that.  I wouldn’t like cleaning it, but the clean tub feeling every time I did.

I prefer the less tanned lady myself.  I just think harsh tan lines look creepy and unnatural, and then I think of the damage.

The Viking didn’t like the photographer’s feet in the photo, but I think that allows one’s imagination to have some fun.  The feet are obviously a man’s so I like to think of things the three of them were doing both before and after this photo was taken.  The possibility of incestuous relations makes it even hotter.  I don’t want to fuck two sisters but I think I could have some fun watching a hot guy fuck two women who look like they could be sisters; it’d be nice and dirty.

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

For years I read erotica and such and thought any descriptions of “dripping wet” pussies were written by 12-year-olds who had never had actual sex with actual women.  I still think there is some exaggeration – really, your panties were “soaked”? – but I also know that some women actually do get really fucking wet.

I’m not one of them.  Lube is my friend.  I believe I have what is in the range of “normal” sexual response, but I don’t produce an excess of lube.

Over the course of my sex life I have learned to deal with this handicap (that I in no way think is a handicap).  Sometimes I just tell my partner, “I don’t get really wet,” in a very matter-of-fact fashion.  Other times I tell the person where the lube is and hope he or she will get the hint.

I’ve also come to enjoy the feeling a “dry” pussy allows me.  I love the way it feels like whatever it is – cock, fingers, dildo – has to force its way into me.

This woman doesn’t seem to have that issue.  Or it could be that all that dripping, wet-looking stuff is lube.  Or it could be ejaculate.

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

Doesn’t this look like fun?

It does to me, too, but sadly I’m too practical and I think this wouldn’t be sustainable for fucking.  Yes, I see they’re fucking, but I don’t know how many thrusts until one or both of them got too tired or just gave up.  A hammock simply does not provide the leverage necessary for a good fucking.

Nonetheless, this photo is sexy as hell.  When I watch porn I like seeing the in-out-in-out of a cock in a pussy as well as the in-out-in-out of a cock in an ass, and sometimes I can’t tell the difference depending on the angle.  Here, there’s no doubt that the cock is pushing those pussy lips aside so it can get into that pussy.

Of course it’s the angle and focus that totally do it for me with this photo.  The fact that it must have been warm out in order to necessitate a hammock but to also allow outdoor nudity and fucking makes me nostalgic for warmer weather.

At the same time, the fall in Chicago has been really quite nice.  It’s mid-November and it’s snowed once, but only for a few minutes; I wouldn’t have noticed if I didn’t happen to be looking out a window.  There have been some downright gorgeous days that included beautiful multicolored leaves both on the trees and on the ground.

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

This looks nice, doesn’t it?  The satin sheet is tacky but I otherwise don’t have any complaints on this one.  I like that they don’t even look like people, just parts; as if the photo is less about people having sex than the coldness of the room, its furniture, and its walls.

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

I like to think I’m not a boob man, but I clearly am, even if I’m not a man (gender).  These lovey breasts would be a whole lot – A WHOLE FUCKING LOT – of fun for play.

Her tits, as well as the rest of her look like a fun.  One would hope that her body not only looks like fun but also that she has a great personality and all that.

But it’s mostly those tits.  Ok, maybe it’s been “too long” since I’ve been able to handle any but my own, but I promise I could have a whole lot of fun ….

Nipples in my mouth.  Face buried between breasts.  Skin smelling warm and clean.

I don’t even want to get into the possibility of what’s inside those pink panties ….

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

[Continued from "Let's Not Bother (3)."]

I informed him that Chicago isn’t very hip or cool.  He responded, of course.

I think it’s a bi thing. I’ve know a few out and out lesbians, even played with one, and they are super nice, but it’s the ones that hate the fact that they love cock that are miserable. Or is it that indecisiveness drives them batty?In the big scheme of things it doesn’t matter at all. Chicago, suburbs, who gives a shit. It just rubbed me the wrong way last night and I guess I’m one of those speak your mind kind of guys. I’m also the kind of guy that would tell you to get on your fucking knees. Isn’t life grand!

If a bisexual woman hated the fact that she loved cock, wouldn’t she just say she’s a lesbian and seek to only attract women?  He thinks this imagined bisexual woman – because it certainly isn’t me – hates men, but loves cock so much that she’s compelled to put herself out on the Internet to attract men.  What.  The.  Fuck.

Bisexual people are no more or less indecisive than heteros or homos.  Everyone can’t fuck absolutely everyone they want to fuck; everyone is indecisive about whom they settle to fuck.  If bisexuals are batty with indecisiveness then so, too, is everyone else.

The rest of the message is … confusing.  I responded that I liked both pussy and cock and was very happy about it.

He responded, “So I wonder if Paul Schaffer picks the musical acts for Letterman?”  Uh, where the fuck did that come from?  Even if he had a place in Chicago I’m still glad we never bothered to meet.

Nor do I think I’ll bother to meet Mr. Positive.  I know it’s not bad to be positive, but an overly sunny disposition can give me the creeps.  Also, the kind of person who pronounces, before we’ve met in person, that we’re going to be good friends.  How the fuck do you know that?!

I was scheduled to meet one half of a couple.  He and I found each other on OkCupid and then instant messaged a bit.  We agreed to meet somewhere where our dogs could meet and play – or ignore each other since Isis tends to be aloof with other dogs.

I had a late start, but I had said we’d meet “after 2pm.”  At 2:16pm he texted me and I let him know where I was, very close to my place and not at all close to the point roughly halfway between our places where we were to meet.

Isis and I walked through Lincoln Park and to the beach since we were to meet the guy and the dog along the beach.  I texted my location at intervals to let him know that we were on our way.  I received no return texts.

It was an unusually hot day.  Fall weather had begun, but that day forgot it was fall.  The sun was hot and strong and walking along the beach there was no shady refuge.  I was hot.  Isis was hot.  Isis got her feet wet in the lake and even drank some lake water but she’s still an old lady with black fur so her tongue was lolling out the side of her mouth.

When I hadn’t received any texts from the guy since the initial one he sent, I decided that Isis and I were on our own.  We made our way from the beach back into Lincoln Park, but not before Isis found a spot barely shaded by a tiny sapling and refused to budge.  I let her cool down a bit and then took her to where there was some real shade and relief from the sun.

Once we were closer to home than to the beach, I finally got a message from the guy telling me it was too hot for his dog so they went home.

I haven’t heard from him since.  I guess he wasn’t all that excited to meet me.

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.