cellini's Diaryland Diary

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Depraved sex

Trish and I had outrageously depraved sex after coming home from a party last night. We did filthy, wrong things that would make Dan Savage cream in his pants. Almost every type of anal sex imaginable took place. Devices were involved. My only regret is failing to come all over her face.

Then I had the most wonderful dream about seducing and fucking her mother. I was late for work because I didn't want to get out of bed. I kept trying to drift back into this dream about undressing my mother-in-law and and slipping my cock into her. It was surprisingly exciting and pleasant.

After the depraved fucking, Trish gave me explicit permission to have sex with other people while in Munich, which was very kind of her. I doubt I have any prospects of getting laid there, but it's nice to know that one has a free hand even if one doesn't actually take advantage of it. Technically, I already had permission anyway on account of a conversation about 6 months ago. But I think that such permission has an inherantly limited lifespan. Just because your spouse once said that she was ok with you having sex with someone else does not mean that the approval stands several years later. People's minds change about this sort of thing and its best to re-confirm what is and is not allowed every few months in order to avoid disaster. For at least the rest of the summer, we have each given the other the green light to fuck whomever we please so long as it is done safely and without making the other look bad.

Trish met some chick at the party whom she wants to find again and seduce. We didn't get her name so now I have to track it down for her. I thought she was ok. Attractive enough but not really my type. But if Trish wants to fuck her then I'm game. She says that shy glances were repeatedly exchanged throughout the night and she is almost certain that this chick is bisexual. Meanwhile, Kendra spent the whole night staring at me. Which is sometimes annoying. Trish's presence helped to keep her more in check than usual.

Have I mentioned Kendra? She is a city councilor whom I helped to recruit as a candidate some years ago. She's half black, probably in her early to mid 40's, a bit overweight but not unattractive. Just not particularly my type. I started running into her again at these parties that my friend K. throws. And she is shamelessly all over me. Looks for any excuse to touch me. She gives me hello and goodbye hugs, but doesn't do the same with anyone else and we have no reason to be on a hugging basis. Every time I look up, I catch her staring at me. Last night I'm pretty sure that she and an older woman (redhead, nice body, late 40's, I'd definitely jump into bed with her) were tittering about me for half the night. They kept withdrawing to the corner and they were both looking at me and every time I would look up and catch their glances they would giggle like a couple of 7th graders.

Kendra likes to try to bait me into talking about hunting or fishing and such topics, because she and others there find my practice of those things to be unusual to the point of hilarity. I think this is among the reasons why I get invited to so many of these parties. I am a useful piece of decoration. Their very own savage in the dining room. Note that this is an extremely liberal, well-educated university town where my rifle dorking and deer hunting are very much out of place.

The guy who was doing most of the cooking, Steve, made some kind of dramatic comment about the little knife I have on the belt. It was while everyone in the room was listening and this was apparently a very big thing to him. The knife is just a little 3 inch pocket knife, but it happens to be a fixed blade sheath knife with the 'Buck' logo on the sheath. I've found that folding knives aren't so hot for the kind of regular use and abuse that I give to a knife, on account of clips that break and dirt that gets into the mechanism of the handle and is hard to clean out. So I switched to carrying this knife a few months ago. It is actually one of Trish's, and I have used it several times to gut, skin, quarter and butcher a deer without hardly using any other tools. It is also good for spreading peanut butter, cutting twine, etc.

Anyway, what a bizarre moment that was. As far as I'm concerned, this is a perfectly ordinary little tool to carry around. But the people in this room looked at it as if I was about to spray someone with a can of mace. I was dressed in a pretty unremarkable way. White oxford, jeans, hiking boots. I don't see what was supposed to be so threatening about me.

As a teenager I used to really belong to that crowd. I went to art galleries and saw plays, did theater in high school, wrote shitty poetry, played guitar and wrote songs. I haunted bookstore and used record shops, snapping up old jazz LPs and imported UK Bauhaus albums. But now they refuse to accept me as actually one of them any more. I have become too much of a savage for the urban intellectual crowd. And yet I am too much of an intellectual to really fit in among rednecks. Also I hate most of their music. At will, I can pass as either for a short time. But when either type finds out enough about me, I am labelled as 'other.' Not asked to leave or anything. But still considered an outsider.

Well I don't really know what in the hell I am supposed to be anymore.

2:47 p.m. - 2009-07-20

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