La Isla Bonita

I'm back. And what a welcome I get: torrential rain, grey skies and the need for my winter jacket. Welcome back to London. It really hit home last night when I got soaked in the West End and found myself sheltering amongst the drunk rowdy out-of-towners whilst side stepping the vomit and urine on the streets of Soho. Lovely. Certainly a reality check far from the sun-soaked Mediterranean beach I came from. Ah well, had to return some time I guess...

Speaking of my hols, I did have a lovely time; caught up with some much needed sleep, sun, and swimming. Just what the doctor ordered. There is a certain peace and tranquility surrounding me now, a drastic change from the stressed out, knackered and hungover person that I was prior to getting away. So all is good.

I did meet someone whilst I was away, and for a while it looked like sex was on the cards. P was like a smaller, more tanned (and Spanish), version of myself. Very cute, deep brown eyes, olive skin and the most fantastic breasts I have ever laid eyes on. They were smaller than mine (probably just a B/C cup), but they absolutely defied gravity. P would wear these semi-see-thru tops and her nipples would be poking through almost skyward in their pertness: they were amazing I tell you, I was transfixed. She was so flirtatious and extremely tactile, always talking about sex (I discovered later she is a fiend just like me).

So when P suggested ripping our bikinis off and swimming naked together, I jumped at the chance. There we both were, breasts bobbing in the clear turquoise water, each of us peeking at the others 'brazilian' bikini lines, giggling like two school girls. And we were talking about sex. All the time. Blow jobs, hand jobs, anal, group sex - no item was too explicit. We discussed seducing a guy together, laughed about it - but it was serious - and I thought: great. Lets find a guy and fuck him together. We had both seen this guy (lets call him Ginger) around the hotel and thought he was cute and when I suggested we get him drunk and fuck him, P seemed up for it.

Before P and I met up later that night, I found Ginger, chatted him up and built a good rapport with him. He was looking me up and down in my short denim skirt and I knew he was up for it. I invited him to join me and P for a drink - which of course he agreed to. We met P and began drinking and I thought it would all go to plan...

But. Ain't there always a but? In a nutshell P got cold feet: she hadn't been with a woman before and didn't want to do it that night. Even though I tried to convince her that we didn't necessarily need to fuck or touch each other in order to fuck him together (well a slight lie: I was planning to play with her breasts whilst she was sitting on his cock), but P wasn't having any of it. She freaked out and I thought fuck it. I told her she could have Ginger and I got a cab home and left her to fuck him alone. [As it turned out, he had Brewers Droop anyway, so it might have been a lost cause if I had been involved]. I felt a bit gutted that I didn't get laid, but he wasn't all that and it wasn't a major disappointment: I went back to the hotel and had a fucking mind-blowing wank thinking about what could have been...

Yep, had many of those whilst I was away. My appetite hasn't diminished one little iota I am pleased to report. It's possibly got more ravenous (if that's possible)...

On the men front it hasn't been all sunny and happy. T is an asshole. After asking me to take his number and call him (which I did), he said he would call me back and I've heard nothing from him since (even though he was suggesting meeting up for a date). When I called him again he said he had "forgotten" to call me back. Oh please. I think I must have 'Asshole Magnet' stamped across my forehead or something - the men I attract - something must be wrong with me...

Which of course I know: I am a masochist. Which currently seems to mean I am a sucker for pain. And not physical. I called SP again, made another arrangement to fuck him this week. I just want one more shag from him 'for the road' and then I am going to call it quits. Seriously. I mean it. He is an asshole who has treated me very badly, doesn't care about me and I deserve better. But he fucks better than any lover I've ever had (and I've had a few - ahem) and I want one last hardcore fuck with him to remember. And with that, I'll be done...