in & out
"Hi honey, sorry I missed your phone call... I've been in and out all day."
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"Hi honey, sorry I missed your phone call... I've been in and out all day."
This date in Hot Action history: October 30, 1999.
It was a perfect autumn Saturday. The air was crisp and golden through-and-through. I was visiting Halifax for the weekend, mostly to get away from Shelburne, and I'd been wandering around town because I had nowhere to go.
I'd been in touch with her over email--I'll call her Catwoman--and we had made arrangements to meet in the Commons.
I was lying on the ground in a pile of leaves in my green hoodie, over near the playground and the skatebowl. I probably hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, crashed out on the couch at my old apartment. It felt good to be lying on my back in a sea of yellow and orange.
When you haven't seen someone in a while, there's always an element of wondering what it will be like to run into her again. But Catwoman came right up to me and jumped on top of me. She always gave the warmest welcomes. We just rolled around and around in a ball until we came to rest in some kind of weird twisted-up position. And rested that way for a while because it was so silly and oddly comfortable.
We went walking, downtown and all through the South End. Catwoman was animated and so good to talk to (at this point in my life, I was living on an abandoned army base, 20km from the nearest female). We wound up strolling into Point Pleasant Park.
Before thousands of trees were chopped down to thwart the mythical Spruce beetle, before Hurricane Juan flattened tens of thousands more, Point Pleasant Park was Halifax's lush forest paradise. It was one of the reasons I moved to this city. The secret trails and natural settings seemed to give the place an erotic charge.
Catwoman and I must have been feeling it that particular Fall day, because before long we were down on the ground making out on a carpet of moss and soft pine needles.
I wound up taking her from behind as dusk fell around us in the park. I loved the feeling of running my hands over her sexy ass in the dim light of the woods.
She was a petite woman with large, beautiful breasts. I reached up under her sweater to squeeze them, hard nipples against the palms of my hands. We weren't too far off the main trail and were trying to be quiet, but I was totally turned on by her words of encouragement as I slid my cock deep into her pussy.
By the time we were finished, it was so dark as to make it a bit of a challenge to find our way out of Point Pleasant. The park is huge, and the trails are confusing enough in the daytime. It was a bit scary and exciting. I think we wandered for fifteen or twenty minutes before emerging into the streetlights of Young Avenue, slightly flushed and sweaty from our experience.
At the time, October 30 was the latest in the year I'd had outdoor sex; a record that stood until November of last year.
~ Last night I made out with a woman outside in the rain at 4am. But then I decided I wanted to go home to bed, alone. I got on my bicycle and rode through the North End to my house.
Halifax has enough trees left after Hurricane Juan, there are still enough trees to coat the streets in yellow leaves.
Catwoman has a boyfriend now. I'm still hot for her.
And now for something completely different: a naked woman doing jumping jacks.
We were both horny as hell. She couldn't find any condoms. I couldn't find any condoms.
Normally, I don't even bother to leave the house these days unless I'm packing at least three rubbers and a tube of lube. But last night on my way out the door, I'd thrown on some old jacket that I hadn't worn in months.
Not thinking of where the evening might lead; which is unlike me.
The evening led to a morning. I lowered my head and drank deep from her miraculous pitcher. Sixty-nineish. Cock pressed against her breast. Two fingers, slow.
After a while I climbed up and we collapsed into each others arms. Our hips moved together. We yearned.
"I guess it's probably time to get up." I heard her in the bathroom. Running water and so on.
I was alone in the bedroom. Figured I might as well get dressed. [But there's something I wanted to check first...]
Hidden in an inside pocket of this old jacket I hadn't worn in months, I am happy to relate: a Trojan condom. Expiry date, SEP 2005.
In a past life, I must have anticipated this moment. I wish I could go back in time so I could buy myself a drink.
I took the bold step of walking in on a lady who was using the bathroom. She was washing her face or something. I took her away from the sink and gently pressed her back against the bathroom wall.
Bra and black panties.
We made out for a while, then she tried to move away. I held her hips and pushed her against the wall again. We kissed some more. Once more she tried to step away. I held her in front of me.
"Isn't there somewhere you have to be?" she asked.
I smiled and ran the knuckles of my right hand over the front of her panties.
Then I opened my hand and showed her what I was holding.
"Where'd that come from?"
"Magic."
A lock of hair fell down over one of her eyes, and she looked so beautiful that I couldn't stand it.
I took off my glasses and put them on the back of the flush. Then I lowered the toilet seat cover and raised her leg and put her foot up on the seat cover.
And that's how I started out my day.
"For example," I was saying, "that woman over there in the skirt. Obviously very horny."
"That one?" she said. "How can you tell?"
"Male intuition."
"Oh, come on," she said. "You can't just make a statement like that and not back it up."
"Angle of the thighs, for one thing," I said. "Notice carefully. See how she has one leg extended out in front, and she's doing this slow back-and-forth thing with her hips?"
"I stand like that all the time."
"Exactamundo."
"Ha ha," she said. "So is that all you can point out? Just some leg-pose?"
"Naw, there's more," I said. I scratched my chin and watched. "It would be easier to talk about if she were facing towards us."
"Hmm."
"I could go ask her," I said. "Maybe I'll just walk right up to her and say, 'Pardon me, but are you really horny?'"
"Good luck with that."
About half-an-hour later I was standing near the horny girl. I made eye contact with her and she smiled, and I looked at her again and she said hello. So I sat down and started chatting with her.
I found her to be a very sweet woman. She was smiling a pretty smile that hadn't been part of my initial observations.
She was friendly and relaxed, which made it easy to talk to her. It never occurred to me to start asking blunt questions about her state of sexual excitement.
Ten minutes into our conversation, I was pleasantly surprised when she said, "So I read your website. It's pretty hot."
I never intended to bail out on Hot Action for so long. On two occasions in the past couple weeks, I've written longish entries and then decided at the last minute not to post them. Both times, I thought it over and concluded it would be injudicious, considering the people involved.
1) The first one started out with the words "How many men in this room think I want to fuck them?" I'm only bringing it up now for the sake of the young lady's reputation; a lot of people saw us leave together.
For the record, I walked her back to her estranged boyfriend's house. I don't take advantage of drunk chicks.
2) The second post was a transcription of two arguments I had with a friend's girlfriend. She was giving me a little too much grief about my chosen way of life, and I was trying to keep my sense of humour and to refrain from pointing out that her life seemed to be a bit of a fucking mess.
It got pretty annoying, and I was glad to type it all out and blow off some steam. But there are situations in which I might want to be nice to this person, so I decided to grit my teeth and let it slide.
I wish I could remember the source for the following quotation: "I am a man. I make no apologies for my desires, and I laugh at the hypocrisy of this world."
I think I lost a little bit of my "game" in writing all that stuff and then not posting it. --Anyway, it's been a good couple of weeks in general, and I have more than enough random scribbles in my little notebook to make for a decent catch-up post. Sounds like a good project for a Sunday afternoon...
State of emergency. Tens of thousands of homes, whole neighbourhoods, remain without power. I imagine the city from overhead as a checkerboard of alternating light and dark.
Late at night, I drive around town on my bicycle and take stock of the damage. Instinct draws me down the darkest streets.
Pitch black. I take out my mini-maglite--technician's best friend--and clutch it between my teeth as I pedal. This small headlight is the only thing that keeps me from crashing into downed trees.
I come across a crew of teenagers merrily dismantling a stop sign. They blink at my light as I sail past into the darkness.
At one point I get lost in the West End. I've never felt so alone in the city. I turn up and down streets, oblivious to direction.
Up ahead, a glimmer of streetlights.
Emerging into a lit neighbourhood allows me to assess some of the destruction. Huge trees lie uprooted on the roads. Telephone poles lean against houses.
A side street hints at mystery. I turn to steer my bike back into the blackout. Thinking, there is a definite sexual metaphor here, I plunge into another dark tunnel.
Suddenly I emerge on Quinpool Road, which is still powerless but amply lit by car headlights. I turn and head back to the 'hood.
Loneliness is potential.
Parties in dark places. I'm walking up to girls and grabbing them and kissing them. The appropriate word here is "emboldened." Everywhere is either darkness or candlelight.
I become aware that I am being watched, from a doorway, from across the room. I like to be watched...
When a new woman arrives at the party, I advance slowly towards her. I lean in to brush my lips against hers, teasing her. I share a few breaths with this woman, the whole time thinking, is she still watching?
She is.
We walk up a driveway. As soon as we're in off the street I throw her up against a house. In the darkness, I misjudge the distance and slam her against the siding a little more roughly than I meant to. She does not object.
I press her against the wall as she sucks and bites my neck. My hand slides up underneath her skirt and she's undoing my belt. I give her breast a hard squeeze, she moans and a shudder moves through her body.
They say hurricane season is when the ocean is at its warmest. I wonder if there's a correlation? Her pussy feels like it's boiling.
I've been hearing people describe the blackout as a magical time. Yes, there seems to be magic everywhere.
With the skill of a magician I pluck a condom out of the clear dark air.