The life of a parent, and pervert, in New York City.
When told by my wife that our fifteen-year relationship was over, I found that everything in my life was upended. I took solace when friends and family pointed out I was no longer responsible for her personal happiness, just my own—and that of my four children.
I went into marriage as a bisexual kid, suspicious of monogamy. I was a good husband, and played by the rules. Now I'm single again, and wondering if I didn't have it right back then.
This blog picks up my new life in progress—the life of a parent, and pervert, in New York City.
Photograph by Adrian Buckmaster Photography. New York, NY. July 5, 2015.
(c) 2004-2019. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
Jefferson
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I went into marriage as a bisexual kid, suspicious of monogamy. I was a good husband, and played by the rules. Now I'm single again, and wondering if I didn't have it right back then.
This blog picks up my new life in progress—the life of a parent, and pervert, in New York City.
Photograph by Adrian Buckmaster Photography. New York, NY. July 5, 2015.
(c) 2004-2019. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
Jefferson
View My Complete Profile
Thursday, March 04, 2010
HNT
It was beautifully timed. A few hours into our threesome, a boy was to arrive. The girls were excited to add him to our mix.
But then events conspired against us. Stupid stuff, really: he was at the door, lacking the right buzzer number. He had been to the address before, so we thought it was set. This time, he didn't have the right information at hand. He tried our numbers, our texts, our emails, but we were fucking and missed it all. He went away and, by the time we reconnected, he was lost to his other plans for the evening.
It was unfortunate news, but still, we kept fucking. Eventually, the girls got tired of me. "Seriously, Jefferson," Anna complained. "I didn't come to New York to fuck just one cock."
"You're a bad host," Kay nodded. "No extra cock? That's like running out of dip."
"I feel really bad," I apologized. "Not to mention we're nearly out of bourbon. Let me see what I can do."
I made a call. An hour or so later, a boy showed up with a cock and a bottle. The girls were well pleased. "It's New York," I reassured Anna. "You can get anything delivered."
Anna, true to form, delivered me a finger.
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5 comments:
There's so much to love about this, especially the mention of the delivery of cock...makes me want to relocate to NYC permanently.
-la petite
Well, Jeff, I wish I didnt' live so far away from you - I can buy you bourbon now and would have loved to get some pussy action.
They don't deliver cock to the midwest, I've tried. So I must admit my stinging jealousy. And to once again lament my choice of locale.
No matter your locale, it's really all in who you know.
But what did she do to you with that finger next?
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