Lolita Wolf's Predictions & Predilections

So, Madeline is coming to town and I have a date with her and Jefferson. I am breaking one of my own rules. I never make a play/sex date with someone I have never met. It’s because I do not want to commit myself to an intimate situation and then meet face to face and realize that they are repulsive to me and I have to try to extricate myself. Too awkward.

Well, what about her photos? Not good enough. I’ve seen some pix of her and she is definitely a looker with a nice body and all. But looks is not the issue. It’s smell. What does she smell like? Smell can make it or break it for me.

I should really relax about this. When I think of what I have pulled with Jefferson! The time he was blindfolded and I made him fuck Jenny and the time I brought my girlfriend over to get fucked. Turnabout is only fair.

Anyway, I sent Madeline an email tonight telling her not to wear any perfume or deodorant.

Jefferson was fucking me in one of my favorite ways, but then he stopped. What? Why did he stop? It had been so good. He reached for the lube and plunged his fingers inside me. It was good, but it was too much, but it was good. Good. And then I felt the gush. He scooped his hands and collected it and poured it over my tummy and breasts. Shiny and wet. I felt it drip down my neck. He lay on top of me and began to kiss me. I cried. A good cry. Just for the release.

And then I went out and bought a humidifier. My skin is so dry.

Uh-oh! Crisco is changing its formula to be trans-fat free. A spokeswoman for the company said even with a new formula, the shortening still performs the same in “tried and true” recipes.

Not that any of us were eating the stuff.

We walked down the street. We hadn’t seen each other for a week and we had lots to talk about. And we talked a lot. Rapidly skipping from topic to topic, catching up.

He unwrapped something as we walked. “Here, have some chocolate.”
I bit into the dark hard chocolate.
He held the rest out “I want you to take the whole thing.”
I obediently allowed him to cram the rest of the chocolate into my mouth.

I had been mid-sentence. I did not want to stop. But I found it difficult to talk with my mouth full. Plus, I have manners and I do not talk with my mouth full.
“You have succeeded in shutting me up.”
“No, I want to hear you talk through it.”

I kept talking. It was awkward, uncomfortable, crass.

And I chewed the chocolate too quickly. No chance to savor it.

My friend, Nayland, put out this challenge: Write an erotic story in fifty words.

Here’s mine…

Waiting. The conversation stalled. I want more.

Waiting. The ball is in your court. Lobbed over nice and easy.

Waiting. I am tempted to say something.

Waiting. I am good at waiting.

Waiting. I am making other plans.

Maybe next week. Nope, not next week.

Maybe the week after. Waiting.

Time: Saturday night
Place: TES party at Paddles

Kate showed up at the party wearing her Lolita outfit. A plaid flannel shirt and Wesco engineer boots. That’s what she wears when she wants to emulate me. When I see her dressed like that, it always makes me smile. Of course she did have to strip down for play. She complained a bit about the cold. The club was not warm enough for naked people. But I sniffed the sweat in her pits, “Gee, you don’t smell like you are cold.”
“Well, I’ve been running around all day and didn’t shower before coming out. I know you like a bit of an aroma.”
Kate is thoughtful.

Originally I was going to do a flogging scene with her. I had obtained a new soft deerskin flogger which I knew she would like, but on the day of the party I was more in a rope mood, which was okay with Kate. Later at the party as we started with the ropes, she told me, “I like doing all sorts of things with you, but it’s rope that makes me really hot.”

I laid the ropes on her. She told me that her nipples were still a bit sore from last weekend. I took that as an invitation to torture them a little more. Just a little. And then, after a slight equipment fright, I got her suspended with her legs apart. This was more fun than using an actual sling. But, damn, I forgot to pack lube! But I could smell her and it wasn’t just sweat. She was wet. Very wet. Lube was not a necessity right then. I slid my fingers into her and she loved it from the first touch. She swung in the air as I worked my fingers and hands every which way so that I could get different responses from her.

A date with Kate is almost always a guaranteed good time. It wasn’t always that way. I think she’s lightened up over the years and has learned to just allow herself to enjoy. Lucky me.

Back in the days of the Paris Peace Accords, before they could even sit down to talk, the North Vietnamese and the South Vietnamese argued for weeks about the shape of the table. I remember how everybody laughed and thought this was the most ridiculous thing they ever heard of. Well, now, I finally understand.

This week, I went to lunch with two of my NYC fuckbuddies. They were curious to meet. And, who knows? Maybe there would be a future threesome. Even if that wasn’t in the cards, I prefer not to compartmentalize my life and this makes things easier.

We chose a place amenable to all, Mary Ann’s in Chelsea. Amenable to me until I realized that all the tables at Mary Ann’s are rectangular. I walked in and there they were seated facing each other and I had to choose on which side to sit. There’s no hierarchy here. I did not want to choose one of them over the other. That’s like bad poly, and oy, I don’t do bad poly.

I stood there, not daring to sit down, and made a joke, “You couldn’t get a round table?” Of course, there were no round tables there. I think they both appreciated my slight discomfort. They got the point. Don Quixote gestured that I sit next to Jefferson and I sat. I enjoyed the company and my enchiladas.

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I grew up in Queens, but I was always taught that “The City” was where it’s at. “The City” being, of course, Manhattan. At an early age I was taught that Manhattan had everything, that everything was better in Manhattan. Manhattan had most of my relatives, Lincoln Center, museums, our temple and the best shopping. Mom refused to shop at Macy’s in Queens because the selection was so much better at the Macy’s in Manhattan. Dad worked in Manhattan. Manhattan was where it was at. The E and the F trains were 2 blocks from our house and Mom taught me the how to navigate the subway at an early age. And then in my teens, the subway was my ticket anywhere: ice skating at Wollman rink, Chinatown, movie houses that played obscure, foreign and old movies (the Marx Brothers being my favorite). And I lost my virginity to a nice Jewish boy on the Upper West Side.

So, now I find myself doing all this schlepping out to Brooklyn? The Annie Leibovitz and Ron Mueck shows at the Brooklyn Museum, great restaurants like Thomas Beisl and Tom’s Diner, the new Submit party, shopping at Target. There is no Target in Manhattan – despite the big ads in Times Square. And, and, as if there weren’t enough, I have a fuckbuddy in Brooklyn, too.

Maybe Thor is right when he says, “Brooklyn is the new Manhattan.”

Oy!