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

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

These are lovely breasts and the nipples are interesting.  It looks like the far nipple is somewhat more inverted than the near one, but think I could have some fun with both of 'em.  This is the size of tit I like; they're fun to play with.

I confused by the color of her right fingers.  Or maybe they're not her fingers.  Nonetheless, it looks odd because it hasn't been explained, at least not in this photo.

I swear.  True story.

©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.

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.

I’ve had fantasies similar to this.  I’ve fantasized that I’m a counter and everyone’s using me as a counter but they otherwise ignore me and the fact that I’m naked.  This looks like it could be fun.

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

[Continued from "That's a lot of Dick (1)."]

The conversation petered out after I assured him that I was not thin.  No big loss considering I’d never met the guy and chances were slim there’s be chemistry between me and a group of huge-cocked guys.

My friend Viola and I were hanging out at Chez Shazam-Viking one night when I told her about my various online and real life adventures.  Though I do write a lot here, there are things I leave out; my friends get to hear the whole truth.

I told her about the guy I had that date with.  After I posted the story he responded.  What he had to say wasn’t worth posting here, but that and his photo were shared with Viola.  She, of course, agreed with me and thought I was completely in the right.

I told her about a guy who wanted to meet me, but decided not to when I couldn’t promise him sex.  Yes, I did give him my usual line, “I don’t guarantee sex unless you guarantee cash.”  I’ll be sure to write about him soon.

I told her about a great date I’d had.  Well, I wasn’t sure he thought it was a date.  He paid for everything and the subject of my breasts came up so I thought it was, but when I said we should see each other again, closer to his place, he thought I was interested in seeing the neighborhood.  I was more interested in seeing his cock, which I suspected might be substantial.

I showed Viola Mr. 10″‘s picture on OkCupid as I got ready to tell her about our “encounter.”  She recognized him immediately.  I was used to San Francisco being a small town – where everyone knew everyone – but Chicago is a big city.  At least that’s what I thought.  I didn’t think one of the many, many guys I’d seen on OkCupid would have also been known by a friend I had in person.

Viola not only knew about Mr. 10″, she had seen him – via Skype.  I doubted he really had a 10″ penis; she assured me that he did.  She said they had a lengthy conversation about what he wanted to do with his big cock and huge – 6’6″ – fit body.  Viola is a tall girl, which is why it’s hilarious that the Viking calls her my “little friend,” so finding a guy who can truly tower over her is rare.  While his dick was big and his stature was tall, he still couldn’t handle truly being in charge, which I suppose comes with being only 25.

Viola and I talked about Mr. 10″ quite a bit.  All of his stories together didn’t ring very true.  If he was a medical resident how was he able to spend a significant amount of time online chatting with random women, since if he chatted with Viola and I – who knew each other – with whom how many other women who didn’t know each other must he have chatted?  How could he afford to buy a house in Lincoln Park, a ritzy Chicago neighborhood?  When did he have time to go to England or Italy to visit his family, which he claimed to do a couple times a year?

Alas, Viola hadn’t chatted with him in months and I hadn’t heard from him since our original chat.  Both Viola and I had suggested to Mr. 10″ that we meet and he had either begged off – claiming he didn’t think he’d be able to handle a lady as tall as Viola – or simply faded away – apparently not able to handle all that is me.  Either way, the guy had proved himself to be a wimp who couldn’t handle women who knew what they had to offer or what they wanted.

Neither Viola nor I had heard from Mr. 10″ for quite some time and neither of us ever expected to do so.  Even if a guy has a giant cock he’s still likely to be an insecure idiot.  That may be a lot of cock but neither of us are likely to find out.

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

Cucumbers make great dildos, but she’s not doing it right.  What you need to do is peel the cucumber, leaving enough on one end to act as a handle.  Cucumbers are very wet when peeled, which makes for some nice lube. (I’d use an organic one just to be safe.)  However, like any lube, you get it on your hands and everything’s harder to grip.  So leave enough peel on one end to grab on to that cucumber so you can fuck yourself or your partner.

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

I last went bra shopping two years ago.  At the time I bought three bras.  One didn’t fit so I exchanged it for another that didn’t fit, but in a different way, too large in the cups – it would be a great bra for smuggling contraband.  I still have it but I prefer not to wear it.

I prefer not to wear a bra at all, but if I want to leave the house I need to.  I know that the girls shouldn’t go out off-leash.

One bra I bought was “sexy,” meaning it wasn’t meant to wear under anything even slightly clingy since it was lacy and would show as lumpy.  Also not too comfortable.

The last one was very practical.  It has turned out to be the ugliest bra I have ever owned.  Its shape doesn’t allow me to wear it under anything clingy; it’s not lined and it makes my tits look pointy.  Also, it has some weird panels on the outside of each cup.  Said weird panels have bunched up after washings (on delicate cycle, air drying) so that it looks like I have lumpy side boob.

I had been needing to go bra shopping for a while, since those three plus one much older bra were the only bras I owned.  The Viking knew I needed to buy more bras because I complained often about being uncomfortable, not having a bra for a certain outfit, or having lumps and bumps show through my shirt.

I kept putting it off for various reasons.  Any reason would do because bra shopping is so fucking unpleasant.  The Viking didn’t understand, but I’m sure you ladies can.

When I retweeted a message to the effect of bra shopping being a circle of hell the Viking reminded me, again, that I needed to go bra shopping.  I had retweeted a tweet of someone I had actually met in person.  We had met in person over  manicure-related issue – she helped me when I needed to get my no-chip manicure off my nails.

While she helped me with my nails we seemed to get along well enough.  The Viking remembered that and tweeted her that we should go bra shopping together.  I texted her that the Viking wanted us go bra shopping together.

Realizing almost immediately that both he and I sending her such messages seemed pervy, I assured her that the Viking, while very interested in large breasts, would most definitely not go along on said bra shopping trip.

The Viking had suggested we have a couple of drinks before shopping, which was a brilliant idea.  We coordinated to meet for a boozy lunch near the big Chicago Macy’s.  It’s the Macy’s that used to be Marshall Field, which I know from my time at Macy’s in San Francisco.

We met for lunch and commiserated over the fact that it was difficult to find well-fitting bras in our sizes, which were of the relatively-small-rib-larger-cup variety.  It wasn’t until I talked to a friend who was of the relatively-large-rib-smaller-cup variety that I realized it’s only the women who are in the 34C range that don’t have a horrible time shopping for bras.

After lunch we went to the huge, fancy Macy’s.  We took the ancient elevator up to the floor that held not only the lingerie but also the maternity and juniors sections.  We walked around amongst the many bras.  Many, many bras.  We lamented that the department was divided by brand rather than size.

Nonetheless, we were able to find some bras in our sizes.  She was able to find many more bras of her size.  Bras are funky.  A size of one brand will fit while the same size of another brand will be too big, or too small; it’s very frustrating.

She had many to try on.  I had a few to try on.  After walking around the bra section, pulling bras off the racks, and trying some on in the dressing room we still had not been approached by a single salesperson.  Not one.  We had seen a couple, but they didn’t seem to give a shit that we were there, clearly ready to spend money.

We should have left, but we had already psyched ourselves up to buy some fucking bras.  I settled on three; she on one.  She was definitely more discriminating than I considering she had tried on many more.  The three I decided upon actually held up my boobs without anything spilling out – not the highest of standards.

The service was so shitty that we couldn’t even purchase our bras in the lingerie department; there was only one person at the checkout and she was clearly going to take a long time with the one customer she had apparently decided to help.

The nice thing about having to go to the juniors department to purchase our bras – my three for well over $200 – was that we didn’t have to hear the lingerie department’s shitty jazz.  Instead, we got to hear shitty pop.

We didn’t have to hear the shitty pop for long; we made our way to the street where I caught the Brown Line and where she hopped on a bus.

I’ve worn the three bras I purchased, and understandably each of them is uncomfortable in a different way.  They just confirm that I prefer not to wear a bra at all.

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

Isn’t she cute?  And young?  Yes, she is.  Yum.  Very cute face including a little button nose.  Hip asymmetrical haircut.  Love the perky boobs.  Love the heather gray panties.  The tattoo is well done.  But the thing that takes this photo from being ok to fucking sexy is those Chuck Taylors.

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

[Continued from "I'm Not Complaining (2)."]

I’m not complaining.  I’m not, because they were nice enough.

She was very happy when I said I had a FetLife profile.  She smiled and said she could tell.  She confirmed with her boyfriend that he, too, could tell that I was the kinky sort.  Apparently I had forgotten to wear my bangs over the indelible “K” on my forehead.

She said that they were active in “the lifestyle.”  Ug.  That just sounded boring to me.  “The lifestyle” seems to be overly concerned with labels – top, bottom, master, slave, daddy, girl, etc.  But she was very excited.

I said I had been to one munch and was bored; it seemed like a bunch of dorks.  She said that the munches that they’ve attended had been pretty cool.  I still wasn’t sure what I thought of either his or her judgment but I hopefully diplomatically expressed interest in going to a munch in Chicago.

Politics came up, at least in reference to Sarah Palin and Michelle Bachmann, and I had no problem saying that they were both pretty and both fucking stupid.  She teased him, saying he would fuck them; he said he couldn’t fuck stupid.  Then he admitted that though he cared about politics he had never voted.  He said it was his secret shame.

Silly, I know, but I care about that sort of thing.  I vote, even locally, and feel it’s my duty to vote.  Because the Viking can’t vote here, I vote on his behalf, albeit without his input; voting is private.

The food was good.  The drinks were good.  I decided I wanted to return with the Viking some time.

We talked about their experiences with a couple of ladies they’d met via FetLife.  One of the things she – though it was him communicating with me – said they didn’t like was “total whores.”  I had asked for some clarification when we were communicating via OkCupid, and I asked for further clarification in person.

One lady they met at a munch after some Fetlife communication.  She was kind of cold to them at the munch.  Nonetheless, they hooked up with her.  Sounded like the sex was fun.  What they didn’t like was that this little hottie, whom Big Titties especially liked because she had a Russian accent and a hot body, later hooked up with others via FetLife.  They found out when they saw pictures on FetLife of her fucking others.

I was still confused as to their sexual logic but I pretended I wasn’t.  He said that the hottie’s “problem” was that she was into it “for the sex,” that she “just liked fucking.”  This didn’t make any damn sense to me.  They wanted someone who was willing to fuck them, but faulted her for fucking anyone but them.  As far as I could tell, this attitude of theirs arose after hooking up with her only once.

Another woman they met and fucked they didn’t like for another reason. Seems she was also very much Big Titties’ type – Eastern European and very sexually open.  After this second story I figured out I wasn’t thin enough for Big Titties.  I’m not complaining about this, because I wasn’t all that enamored with the couple anyway.

So the second woman and Big Titties had become friends and did things socially apart from having sex.  She told Big Titties about a guy she was fucking – and why this was ok while the other woman’s fucking wasn’t I don’t know – and how generous he was.  Then she asked Big Titties if she wanted to fuck the guy with her – for money.  The answer was an emphatic no – of course, Big Titties was in law school – and they could no longer be friends.

Basically, they were looking for someone who was slutty enough to fuck the two of them but who wasn’t too slutty, whatever that meant.  Also, she had to be thin.

It was obvious they didn’t want to fuck me, and that was fine, especially considering what I found out later ….

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.