My wife and I were talking the other day and somehow got on the subject of our doctors, i.e., out general practitioners, internists, or whatever they call them these days, and I was lamenting the fact that my doctor's office is so far away (he's near where we used to live).

Wife: Maybe you should try my doctor. She's just down the road from here. I think you'd like her.

Me: What makes you say that?

Wife: Well...she wears cute outfits.

Me: Oh yeah? Like what?

Wife: I don't know...just...she always looks so pretty. Fashionable. I'm jealous of her clothes. I'll bet they're expensive. She has this one little sleeveless dress...she looks so good in it.

Me: Really? How old is she?

Wife: About my age.

Me: So...is she a hottie?

Wife: [exasperated sigh] Alright...you know...I don't think I want you to see her after all if that's the way you're gonna think.

I was just asking... So I guess I'm stuck with my current doctor. It's probably for the best, though, because, I'm thinking, if she is a hottie and she wears cute outfits I could totally see myself getting a "happy" while she's examining me.

Although...come to think of it...would that be such a bad thing?

This pic was taken from my back yard as I headed off to work for the day. Although it was a bright sunny day, apparently my camera decided it needed a flash here in the woods, thus lighting up all my reflectors. At least I now know they work. With the temperature becoming more reasonable, the next few months should be perfect for riding my bike to work. Plus, the ride will be gorgeous a month from now with all the leaves in their fall colors. 

I stopped on the way home from work to get some boardwalk fries at the only place I know this far from the ocean that actually sells them. And as I stood there at the counter waiting for my number to be called, a woman about my age caught my eye. She was sitting at a table with someone I'm guessing was her husband. She got up and walked up to the counter to get some napkins and I smiled and said hi to her and she smiled and said hi back and we stood there looking at each other, smiling for a second or two until she turned around walked back to her seat. My eyes followed her ass as she walked away--during which time I was vaguely aware of the girl behind the counter calling out a number. I averted my gaze from the woman's ass as she sat down and then turned to look at the girl who, about three feet away from me, continued to yell out somebody's number. Number 12. Number 12. NUMBER 12! I looked at the girl, wondering where number 12 was and why he wasn't coming to pick up his fries, all the while thinking about the woman's smile and her ass. It was at least another 20 seconds and several more "NUMBER 12!!!" yells right into my ear before I finally got my mind off of the woman's ass long enough to look at my ticket which, of course, said "12" on it. So I sheepishly handed it to the girl and she looked at it and looked at me and we both burst out laughing as she handed me my fries. And as I left with my bag of fries I glanced back at the woman and noticed that she too was stifling a giggle in my direction. What can I say? It's been a long day.

Hey, I have a fashion question for all of you. In general I tend to like bright colors, stripes, funky patterns, etc., so I showed these two men's shirts to my wife (they're for sale on EddieBauer.com), but she said that only a gay guy would wear such a thing and that paisleys are strictly for women. What do you think? I need your advice. Is it OK for a man to wear paisleys these days? Would it turn you on or freak you out if you saw me wearing one of these shirts? Does my wife have a good point or is she just being too conservative? Give me your honest opinion, and if you don't want to leave a comment, feel free to send me an email. Thanks!

My wife and I took and infant and child CPR course last night, and I am happy to say that I am now certified for two years. But if you asked me to tell you what I remember most about the class, the answer would be the amazing nipples of the hottie MILF who was sitting across the table from me. I will say that it was damn cold in the room for the entire duration of the course. But even so, that girl had some serious, relentless, nipple action going on. They were huge, very erect, and threatening to poke their way through her tight little Nike t-shirt for the entire three hour class. I tried to be discrete, but really, what's a guy to do when those things are pointing right at you across the table like torpedoes for three straight hours? Plus, the tattoo on her upper arm, her killer legs, and her short shorts weren't exactly helping me keep my eyes off of her. She and I made a bunch of eye contact, but I couldn't seem to get more than the faintest sliver of a smile out of her. Perhaps because she felt uncomfortable doing so given that my wife was sitting right next to me. Or perhaps because my nipple-gazing wasn't as subtle as I thought it was and she was weirded out by me. I don't know. Somehow my wife, who was also wearing a tight little t-shirt, managed to avoid the nipple problem, much to my disappointment. Probably because she was wearing a padded bra. I've gotta try and get rid of those damn padded bras of hers.

Although I am not officially participating in HNT, I figure I can still post a pic, no? This board was the first thing I purchased when we got to the beach. Here you see me and the board after the initial test run. The waves were good, and they only got better with each day. 

I was driving to work this morning and happened to glance to my left and found myself looking eye to eye with a desperately-pretty teenage girl sitting in the passenger seat of a large pickup truck. Slightly shocked at her beauty and the fact that she was looking at me, I froze for a second or so, locked in a gaze with her, but then I snapped out of it and turned back to keep an eye on the road. But as I turned away I could have sworn that I saw her smile at me out of the corner of my eye. Now...why do these girls do this to me? Do they know they are torturing me? But if you know me, you know that I'm the world's biggest sucker for (and fan of) a warm, friendly, smile. So you know I just had to find out whether that was indeed what had just happened. By this time, though, I had moved ahead a bit in traffic, and the pickup truck had been kept back by a slow-moving semi-truck. So I took my foot off the gas and just coasted for a while, letting my car slow down and letting the pickup truck catch up. And when we were finally running next to each other again, I turned and looked one more time. And yes, she was still looking at me. And yes, this time she smiled a big smile, and I couldn't help but smile back. But then I looked across the seat and noticed the girl's mother looking directly at me. Uh-oh, I thought, expecting a scowl from mom at any second. Perhaps it's time to stop flirting with this woman's daughter. But then, in a totally unexpected move, her mom smiled at me too. And I gotta say...mom was just as much of a hottie as her young daughter. But, whoa! Why was her mom smiling at me when it was obvious that I was checking out her daughter? Kinda freaked me out, really. Making eyes with a girl who is way too young for me is innocent enough, I suppose... And certainly I would have smiled at mom too, had she been by herself. But throw both of them in the mix at the same time and I guess you've got a combination that I'm just not quite ready for yet.

A reader IM'd me yesterday in response to my hooker post and was wondering if perhaps I was romanticising the whole idea of paying for sex. Somehow I think I sidestepped the question (not intentionally), but I got to thinking about it again later in the evening, and I realized that there WAS a certain romanticism going through my mind that night when I saw the girl on the street. But it wasn't about sex. In fact, I don't think sex even crossed my mind, if you can believe that.

You see...I'm constantly wondering if there is some girl out there who is truly the "right" one. A girl I can talk to openly and honestly. A girl who likes hanging out with me. A girl who really wants me in the way that Kayten mentioned at the end of this post. A girl who, more than likely, doesn't really exist in the fanciful way that I imagine her.

But even so, every time I see a girl with a pretty face or a friendly smile or a thoughtful gesture aimed at me, my mind seems to consider, if only for a fleeting moment, whether she might be that girl. And so that's what happened on the street Saturday night when I saw the hooker and she smiled and waved at me. For a split second the romantic part of my mind shoved it's way in with some crazy notion that I could pay to spend some time with her and during that time we'd realize that we were made for each other.

Thankfully, the practical part of my mind wasn't far behind, and, realizing the absurdity of my initial reaction, I pulled back into traffic and headed home.

It was kinda late. About midnight. I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for bed, and when I came out the bedroom was pitch dark. All the lights were off. WTF? I felt my way over to my side of the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. I was naked. Or at least I would be as soon as I removed my slippers. One slipper off. The other slipper off.

And then, all of a sudden...BAM. She pounced on me from out of nowhere! I didn't even see her coming. She was wearing something skimpy, sexy, but in the dark I couldn't quite tell what it was. I must have yelled or laughed or something. But then her typical shyness about all things sexual set in and she backed off and sat down next to me on the edge of the bed. But she had already given me all the hint I needed, and I wasn't gonna let her get away.

So I quickly scooped her up and tossed her onto the middle of the bed so that she landed on her back. She screamed and then giggled.

"Wow, you're strong!" she exclaimed.

"Or maybe you're just light as a feather," I offered.

As she continued to giggle, I pounced on her, held her down and kissed her firmly on the lips.

You can fill in your own ideas of what happened next. But I'll skip ahead to the point where I rolled over on my back and she leaned in against me with her arm draped over my chest and my arm around her back. And we lay there for a while, naked and cuddling.

I figured we would soon fall asleep, but, surprisingly, her hand slowly made it's way down to my crotch and she began to play with my balls. With my one arm around her back I could just feel the top of the crease of her ass. My other hand was on her tummy, and I slid it down a bit until I could just feel the top of her slit with my finger. And, pressing both hands against her, one hand on her ass, the other on her pussy, I held her and began to feel my cock stiffening again.

If she never did anything else, the one thing she knows how to do right is a good hand job, and as she began to work her magic I started to imagine we were back on the beach again like we had been a couple weeks ago.

On one day in particular we had an especially blissful time on the beach for a few hours in the middle of the day while her sister watched the kids back at the house. For a while we ended up spooning on our beach blanket, and she seemed to have no problem with my arm around her and my hand firmly planted on her breast as I kneaded it gently through the material of her bathing suit. But I digress...

So I imagined that we were still at the beach, but this time my hands had slipped down into her bikini bottoms. One hand pressed against the top of her pussy, and one hand pressed against the top of the crease of her ass.

I pressed my hands tighter against her as she worked on my cock, and as her hand moved I was aware less of the external touch of her hand, and more of the pleasure that was building inside me. Holding her tightly in her intimate places I imagined the sun beating down upon us, and the feeling inside me grew more and more intense. And when I came it was different. Unusual. I was caught up in something I can't say I've ever really felt before. The physical act of her hand on my cock was way off in the distance somewhere, and in it's place was something that seemed to be taking place deep inside me--fueled more by her presence and her interest in me than by the stroking of her hand. And I was only slightly aware of my cum shooting out all over her hands and all over me.

And when it was all done and I lay there still holding her, it occurred to me that I still have a lot to learn about sex.

I had been planning on watching a movie from Netflix last night, but it never showed up in the mail. So I was bored, it was Saturday night, all my friends were busy, no one was online to chat with, and since my wife was occupied doing her own thing, I decided to go downtown and find something to do. But sometimes that's easier said than done. I had a few drinks at my favorite bar: a cozy, run-down place with a lot of character. But drinking alone really isn't my thing, so I soon left and wandered down the street. I stopped at a new club that had a good band lineup for the evening, but in spite of the good music, the place had no atmosphere and even fewer girls to flirt with. So before long I was back out on the street again. I stopped for a hot dog and fries at my favorite all-night food joint and talked for a little while with my buddy David who works behind the counter. But eventually that got old too, so I stopped at one more club to buy some tix for an upcoming concert in October and then walked back to my car and decided to call it a night and head home.

Driving down 14th Street, a pretty girl caught my eye. She was blonde, dressed attractively--seductively, even--but not exactly slutty, and was just walking by herself down the sidewalk. I smiled to myself and kept driving. But a couple blocks later it hit me. DC. 14th Street. Cute young girl. By herself. Late at night.

Hooker.

Hmmm, I thought. Curiosity got the better of me, and I made a u-turn and doubled back, keeping an eye out for her. I didn't see her where I thought she had been, so I turned around again, and this time on the way back I spotted her. A taxi cab in front of me pulled up to the curb right next to her and she stopped and glanced into the cab but then turned and kept walking. Right about then I pulled up behind the cab. And with the windows down I could hear the lopey idle of my car's old engine echoing off the darkened storefronts. She heard it too, and turn around, looking back at me. But I was still a little too far away, so I pulled back into traffic, around the cab. And as I pulled level with her and slowed to a crawl, our eyes met and she smiled and waved.

Yep. Confirmed. Hooker. Curiosity satisfied. Time to head home.

And yet...I hesitated, not wanting to break eye contact. She really was pretty. Not your typical late-night streetwalker type. If she had been in the bar earlier I might have flirted with her.

I found myself wondering how much cash I had in my wallet.

But then I came to my senses, smiled, waved back at her, and pulled away.

Silly, huh?

I'm thinking I should have stayed home and read a good book.

I had to get away from my old site. It had grown too large, too much history, too many readers, too many expectations. I was putting too much thought into my posts, and then not posting them. Hopefully things will be different here. At least for a while.