Nandita To Nandini
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Economics And Decisions free porn video
The economics of sex are interesting. Sometimes we marry for sex. That can cost millions. We take ladies to dinner. We buy drinks. We pay for prostitites (although I never have). And we invite women to join us on exotic trips. Even if we don't spend a lot of money, sometimes we spend hours of our time on the phone. Occasionally we find 'em, fuck 'em and forget 'em without spending a dime. That has its place, but it's not as good as the other stuff!!!
This is an analysis story. I don't have a conclusion in mind. Fact is, I'm looking forward to finding out the results of my own study!
I'm not Brad Pitt. I don't like to dance, don't drink, don't like parties...and on top of that, I'm an atheist in a culture where most of the women I am attracted to are Christians. It's a wonder I ever get laid.
The imperatives of evolution are alive and well in my DNA. I love women and want to fuck 'em. The curse of my upbringing is that, like most guys (also a function of evolution), I'm most attracted to beautiful women. I should also mention that my height is 5'7". That puts some of the taller one out of my zone. In summary, women don't usually fight to get in my pants.
And yet, I do have charm. I have intelligence, a good wit, nice eyes, general good health and money. I haven't always had money. I've been rich and poor and rich again and poor again. There's no doubt about it, money helps a man get laid.
A friend of mine once told me about a drop dead georgeous women he had met in Salt Lake City. We had one of our typically macho conversations and, in the end, he bet me $100 that I couldn't get her in bed. I took the bet because he gave me 10:1 odds...plus I had an upcoming trip to SLC. I figured I'd lose but what the hell?
I called her immediately and introduced myself. It wasn't an ice cold call because she knew my friend. I chose a tactic that involved honesty, which suits my character. "Tim and I made a bet," I told her, "but before I tell you about the bet I want you to tell me what you thought of Tim." Her answer was kind of nondescript. Their encounter had involved computers and she mainly remembered him as being very smart.
"He offered to send you on a trip to the Bahamas," I said. That got her attention, but she thought I was kidding. "Tim and I make off the wall bets," I continued, "and we also talk about women, like guys do. He said you were gorgeous and he would contribute $1,000 if I could get you to go to the Bahamas with me. Trouble is, if you say no I will lose and that's the point of this call."
"I don't even know you," she said, "and Tim doesn't know me. I'm getting married in June." I asked if she were a Mormon and she said yes. "That means you are a virgin, am I right?"
I have a certain talent at conversation, and my approach was beginning to work. I told her I would send photos of myself and that she would still be a virgin when she returned from the Bahamas, but she would have to stay in my room for me to win the bet. "Have you ever been to Paradise Island?"
I told her about the beautiful water and warm, sandy beaches and delicious conch chowder and exciting night life at the casino. All I want you to do is think about this for a few days while my pictures are en route. I want you to see that I'm a clean cut guy, in good shape, nice smile, etc. Meanwhile, I want you to think of a cover story you can tell your boyfriend so you can leave on a Friday and come home on a Monday.
That turned out to be easy. Her boyfriend was in another country on a Mormon mission.
Fast forward to Paradise Island. We had an absolutely wonderful weekend. It was one of the most exciting dates of my life. We slept together and spent hours kissing and groping. I came a dozen times in three days by rubbing my cock against her mound and stomach. Not an iota of penetration with anything but my tongue. This happened twenty years ago and I can still picture the sexy freckle on her inside thigh. She had light red hair and those were the days when girls didn't shave their beavers. Yum, yum, yum...I can still taste her.
She had a great time, I had a great time, Tim didn't mind paying his share of my trip because he was making money hand over foot at the time.
My share of the expenses was a couple thousand and, technically, I didn't get laid. But our kissing and non-penetration love making were well worth every dime. Truth is, I don't even remember her first name all these years later. But I can remember taking many women to dinner, spending $50 to $100--sometimes more than once--and not getting nearly as much bang for the buck.
I'm wondering if some bitchy woman will read this story and think badly of me for my callousness toward women. Well, fuck you! I've had friendly, intellectual, and long term relationships with women, too. I'm not Mr. Shallow. I'm a real guy who's had a variety of adventures, some of which involved the "travel for sex" swap that both men and women participate in.
I was once on the poor end of a "travel for sex" relationship. I had suffered a massive business reversal and was in no condition to take a woman out to dinner, much less on an exotic trip. A budding phone sex relationship developed between myself and a married lady named Beck. She flew to my city and fucked my brains out for two days. It was the first time we had met. I passed her stud test so she asked where I wanted to go three weeks hence. We picked Tahoe and agreed to meet in San Francisco and drive from there. It was shortly after the earthquake had damaged the Bay Bridge so we had to cross the Golden Gate Bridge and then swing east to get to our destination. I started rubbing her pussy on the freeway and within two minutes she was bucking and cumming wildly. She kept cumming until I finally had to pull my hand away as we approached the Golden Gate. I suppose it was 15 minutes of continuous orgasm. That was just the beginning. Beck probably spend $20K taking me on trips over a period of 12 months and I'd say she got her money's worth.
One day I was giving a talk in Portland. In the front row, a tall, leggy redhead caught my eye immediately. She had the finest legs I had ever seen. Movie star legs, absolutely spectacular. She was a good bit taller than I am and not particularly pretty, but I got entralled by those legs and went out of my way to meet her when my talk ended. I asked if she could keep a secret. She said yes, and I asked if she had ever been to Florida.
Yep, just like that, I took my shot. I had a lot of frequent flyer points and she would stay at my house. As gambits go, it wasn't a very expensive one.
"There's just one condition," I said. "You shouldn't tell anyone. I don't think it would be good for either of us reputation wise. But I'm not kidding, I'll fly you to Florida and make sure you have one of the most wonderful weekends of your life and you don't have to promise anything in advance. Just bring your legs. They are the most beautiful legs I have ever seen."
This is a good time, she told me. "I've just broken up with my boyfriend." That cemented the deal and one week later she was here with me. We had a romantic dinner the first night and slept together with a lot of kissing but nothing more. I like kissing and groping. Sex is great but foreplay has its place, too.
The following day we drove to Silver Springs and had a great day. She towered over me but we walked hand-in-hand and looked like lovers. That evening I had the pleasure of eating her delicious red pussy and making her cum several times. Did I get my turn in the saddle? Nope. She said she wasn't ready.
The next morning she WAS ready. She said, "How can you give me so much pleasure and not insist on having sex?" I had sex, I told her, it just wasn't intercourse or a blow job. It was wonderful in my book. "Well," she said, "it's not fair...so now it's your turn." She rolled me on my back and gave me a fantastic morning blowjob. My favorite position is with the woman straddling my legs and going down from there. That's what she did. An hour later I got to fuck her and a few hours later we had another round.
About that time she got a phone call from Oregon and talked for a long time with her boyfriend. She came to me and asked if I'd be mad if she caught tomorrow mornings's first plane so she could go back and make up with her boyfriend.
Hey, it was okay with me. We had one more great night. Come to think of it, that's the last red pussy I have eaten. It sure was good. Red is my favorite flavor.
In my experience, women tend to have a lot of hang ups about sex. Many of the women on Lush don't seem to have hangups, but I've met more of the "other types" and fewer of the Lush types in my years. But a women lets go of a lot of her hangups when she is away from her home territory. Even if it's just 50 miles away in a motel, she's more likely to let go than in her own neighborhood where she has to worry about what her neighbors and friends might think.
This walk down memory lane has helped crystallize my thinking on this issue. Money permitting, it is very worthwhile to take a women to somewhere exotic for a great week or weekend of sex. But there's a down side, and I'm going to relate one of those stories.
For several years I played the dating website game. One lady from up north hit on me and would not send a photo. "I like your profile," she said. "I like yours, too," I answered, "but I deserve to see a picture."
She said she was not willing to send a photo but I wouldn't be disappointed. Her bio said she had been a cheerleader with an NFL team. I won't say which one. Now she was in her early fifties and so I assumed there was some risk, but I told her to come on down. She paid her own expenses.
I knew at the airport that I had made a bad mistake, but I had made my bed and now I was about to lie in it. I took her to dinner and brought her home to my bed. I did not want to sleep with this woman. She simply was not my physical type. But I was trapped as some young women are when they go on an exotic trip with a dirty old man.
So I let myself be had. I don't know how long it had been since anyone went down on her, maybe a quarter of a century. She screamed and loved it and did her best to reciprocate, but she was one of the worst blowjobbers I've ever known. Nor did I like her taste. Some women are like love and honey and heaven. This one was like fish and mangroves. Ugh. But I did her again on Saturday and once more on Sunday afternoon before taking her to the airport. I've never been so glad to say goodbye to anyone in my life.
I came straight home and wrote her a Dear John so it would be waiting when she got home. This could NOT go on. She came back with a very angry email. Said she had fallen for me in a big way and I was making a big mistake because she had more money than I could even imagine. So what? I couldn't eat mangrove pussy all my life for a billion dollars.
Now for a final truth. A week ago I drove into my local convenience story and saw the young redhead I'd been drooking over for the past month. "I don't want to offend you," I said, "but you have the most beautiful hair. I've always loved reds and I actually hope you will be working every time I come in here."
I expected her to say thanks and take my money.
She said she'd seen me looking at her and asked if I'd like to call her. You've got to be shitting me, I thought. I'm old enough to be her grandfather.
"I'd love to call you, but I'm older than your father," I said.
She said, "I know. I'd say you are about 55. My dad's 45."
I called her that night and I've talked to her almost every day since. I'm married and happily so, but suddenly I'm thinking of taking a business trip to Las Vegas. This has brought me to an ethical crossroads and, truth is, I wrote this story to convince myself one way or the other. I'm not even sure which way I want this to go. It's exciting as hell to talk to my young friend--especially since she's red--and imagine what would happen if we went away for a weekend. I don't know what's in it for her yet or how I would end it after one weekend. I'm trying to figure those things out from our phone calls.
This is an analysis story. I don't have a conclusion in mind. Fact is, I'm looking forward to finding out the results of my own study!
I'm not Brad Pitt. I don't like to dance, don't drink, don't like parties...and on top of that, I'm an atheist in a culture where most of the women I am attracted to are Christians. It's a wonder I ever get laid.
The imperatives of evolution are alive and well in my DNA. I love women and want to fuck 'em. The curse of my upbringing is that, like most guys (also a function of evolution), I'm most attracted to beautiful women. I should also mention that my height is 5'7". That puts some of the taller one out of my zone. In summary, women don't usually fight to get in my pants.
And yet, I do have charm. I have intelligence, a good wit, nice eyes, general good health and money. I haven't always had money. I've been rich and poor and rich again and poor again. There's no doubt about it, money helps a man get laid.
A friend of mine once told me about a drop dead georgeous women he had met in Salt Lake City. We had one of our typically macho conversations and, in the end, he bet me $100 that I couldn't get her in bed. I took the bet because he gave me 10:1 odds...plus I had an upcoming trip to SLC. I figured I'd lose but what the hell?
I called her immediately and introduced myself. It wasn't an ice cold call because she knew my friend. I chose a tactic that involved honesty, which suits my character. "Tim and I made a bet," I told her, "but before I tell you about the bet I want you to tell me what you thought of Tim." Her answer was kind of nondescript. Their encounter had involved computers and she mainly remembered him as being very smart.
"He offered to send you on a trip to the Bahamas," I said. That got her attention, but she thought I was kidding. "Tim and I make off the wall bets," I continued, "and we also talk about women, like guys do. He said you were gorgeous and he would contribute $1,000 if I could get you to go to the Bahamas with me. Trouble is, if you say no I will lose and that's the point of this call."
"I don't even know you," she said, "and Tim doesn't know me. I'm getting married in June." I asked if she were a Mormon and she said yes. "That means you are a virgin, am I right?"
I have a certain talent at conversation, and my approach was beginning to work. I told her I would send photos of myself and that she would still be a virgin when she returned from the Bahamas, but she would have to stay in my room for me to win the bet. "Have you ever been to Paradise Island?"
I told her about the beautiful water and warm, sandy beaches and delicious conch chowder and exciting night life at the casino. All I want you to do is think about this for a few days while my pictures are en route. I want you to see that I'm a clean cut guy, in good shape, nice smile, etc. Meanwhile, I want you to think of a cover story you can tell your boyfriend so you can leave on a Friday and come home on a Monday.
That turned out to be easy. Her boyfriend was in another country on a Mormon mission.
Fast forward to Paradise Island. We had an absolutely wonderful weekend. It was one of the most exciting dates of my life. We slept together and spent hours kissing and groping. I came a dozen times in three days by rubbing my cock against her mound and stomach. Not an iota of penetration with anything but my tongue. This happened twenty years ago and I can still picture the sexy freckle on her inside thigh. She had light red hair and those were the days when girls didn't shave their beavers. Yum, yum, yum...I can still taste her.
She had a great time, I had a great time, Tim didn't mind paying his share of my trip because he was making money hand over foot at the time.
My share of the expenses was a couple thousand and, technically, I didn't get laid. But our kissing and non-penetration love making were well worth every dime. Truth is, I don't even remember her first name all these years later. But I can remember taking many women to dinner, spending $50 to $100--sometimes more than once--and not getting nearly as much bang for the buck.
I'm wondering if some bitchy woman will read this story and think badly of me for my callousness toward women. Well, fuck you! I've had friendly, intellectual, and long term relationships with women, too. I'm not Mr. Shallow. I'm a real guy who's had a variety of adventures, some of which involved the "travel for sex" swap that both men and women participate in.
I was once on the poor end of a "travel for sex" relationship. I had suffered a massive business reversal and was in no condition to take a woman out to dinner, much less on an exotic trip. A budding phone sex relationship developed between myself and a married lady named Beck. She flew to my city and fucked my brains out for two days. It was the first time we had met. I passed her stud test so she asked where I wanted to go three weeks hence. We picked Tahoe and agreed to meet in San Francisco and drive from there. It was shortly after the earthquake had damaged the Bay Bridge so we had to cross the Golden Gate Bridge and then swing east to get to our destination. I started rubbing her pussy on the freeway and within two minutes she was bucking and cumming wildly. She kept cumming until I finally had to pull my hand away as we approached the Golden Gate. I suppose it was 15 minutes of continuous orgasm. That was just the beginning. Beck probably spend $20K taking me on trips over a period of 12 months and I'd say she got her money's worth.
One day I was giving a talk in Portland. In the front row, a tall, leggy redhead caught my eye immediately. She had the finest legs I had ever seen. Movie star legs, absolutely spectacular. She was a good bit taller than I am and not particularly pretty, but I got entralled by those legs and went out of my way to meet her when my talk ended. I asked if she could keep a secret. She said yes, and I asked if she had ever been to Florida.
Yep, just like that, I took my shot. I had a lot of frequent flyer points and she would stay at my house. As gambits go, it wasn't a very expensive one.
"There's just one condition," I said. "You shouldn't tell anyone. I don't think it would be good for either of us reputation wise. But I'm not kidding, I'll fly you to Florida and make sure you have one of the most wonderful weekends of your life and you don't have to promise anything in advance. Just bring your legs. They are the most beautiful legs I have ever seen."
This is a good time, she told me. "I've just broken up with my boyfriend." That cemented the deal and one week later she was here with me. We had a romantic dinner the first night and slept together with a lot of kissing but nothing more. I like kissing and groping. Sex is great but foreplay has its place, too.
The following day we drove to Silver Springs and had a great day. She towered over me but we walked hand-in-hand and looked like lovers. That evening I had the pleasure of eating her delicious red pussy and making her cum several times. Did I get my turn in the saddle? Nope. She said she wasn't ready.
The next morning she WAS ready. She said, "How can you give me so much pleasure and not insist on having sex?" I had sex, I told her, it just wasn't intercourse or a blow job. It was wonderful in my book. "Well," she said, "it's not fair...so now it's your turn." She rolled me on my back and gave me a fantastic morning blowjob. My favorite position is with the woman straddling my legs and going down from there. That's what she did. An hour later I got to fuck her and a few hours later we had another round.
About that time she got a phone call from Oregon and talked for a long time with her boyfriend. She came to me and asked if I'd be mad if she caught tomorrow mornings's first plane so she could go back and make up with her boyfriend.
Hey, it was okay with me. We had one more great night. Come to think of it, that's the last red pussy I have eaten. It sure was good. Red is my favorite flavor.
In my experience, women tend to have a lot of hang ups about sex. Many of the women on Lush don't seem to have hangups, but I've met more of the "other types" and fewer of the Lush types in my years. But a women lets go of a lot of her hangups when she is away from her home territory. Even if it's just 50 miles away in a motel, she's more likely to let go than in her own neighborhood where she has to worry about what her neighbors and friends might think.
This walk down memory lane has helped crystallize my thinking on this issue. Money permitting, it is very worthwhile to take a women to somewhere exotic for a great week or weekend of sex. But there's a down side, and I'm going to relate one of those stories.
For several years I played the dating website game. One lady from up north hit on me and would not send a photo. "I like your profile," she said. "I like yours, too," I answered, "but I deserve to see a picture."
She said she was not willing to send a photo but I wouldn't be disappointed. Her bio said she had been a cheerleader with an NFL team. I won't say which one. Now she was in her early fifties and so I assumed there was some risk, but I told her to come on down. She paid her own expenses.
I knew at the airport that I had made a bad mistake, but I had made my bed and now I was about to lie in it. I took her to dinner and brought her home to my bed. I did not want to sleep with this woman. She simply was not my physical type. But I was trapped as some young women are when they go on an exotic trip with a dirty old man.
So I let myself be had. I don't know how long it had been since anyone went down on her, maybe a quarter of a century. She screamed and loved it and did her best to reciprocate, but she was one of the worst blowjobbers I've ever known. Nor did I like her taste. Some women are like love and honey and heaven. This one was like fish and mangroves. Ugh. But I did her again on Saturday and once more on Sunday afternoon before taking her to the airport. I've never been so glad to say goodbye to anyone in my life.
I came straight home and wrote her a Dear John so it would be waiting when she got home. This could NOT go on. She came back with a very angry email. Said she had fallen for me in a big way and I was making a big mistake because she had more money than I could even imagine. So what? I couldn't eat mangrove pussy all my life for a billion dollars.
Now for a final truth. A week ago I drove into my local convenience story and saw the young redhead I'd been drooking over for the past month. "I don't want to offend you," I said, "but you have the most beautiful hair. I've always loved reds and I actually hope you will be working every time I come in here."
I expected her to say thanks and take my money.
She said she'd seen me looking at her and asked if I'd like to call her. You've got to be shitting me, I thought. I'm old enough to be her grandfather.
"I'd love to call you, but I'm older than your father," I said.
She said, "I know. I'd say you are about 55. My dad's 45."
I called her that night and I've talked to her almost every day since. I'm married and happily so, but suddenly I'm thinking of taking a business trip to Las Vegas. This has brought me to an ethical crossroads and, truth is, I wrote this story to convince myself one way or the other. I'm not even sure which way I want this to go. It's exciting as hell to talk to my young friend--especially since she's red--and imagine what would happen if we went away for a weekend. I don't know what's in it for her yet or how I would end it after one weekend. I'm trying to figure those things out from our phone calls.
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