Holding up the Wall

Sometimes I can be social. Sometimes. Sometimes not.

Sometimes I can entertain and small talk and smooze with the best of them. I can turn on the charm and be engaging with men and wome alike. Sometimes.

Sometimes I'm a neurotic mess, anxious about the whole evening. Where will I sit? How much will I drink? When can I leave, and will anyone notice I'm gone?

Unfortunately, at this particular soiree it was the second case. Not fun. I made the obligatory appearance. I struggled through dinner and minimized the small talk.

You can picture me there, holding up the wall and pointlessly lusting after other men's wives.

Mostly, mostly, I missed my wife.

So, I bailed early. Pulled the plug. Headed back for my solitary fun.

I made it safely back to my room.




I climbed into another anonymous hotel bed.




I indulged in some erotica.....




....obtained in an earlier trip to the mega-bookstore where I ogled a sullen but goregeous blonde working her way through the self-help section. (Was she as lonely as I? Would she have dinner with me? Would she let me eat her pussy until she screamed that sadness away? Would she respond to a firm tug on that ponytail from behind her? What would those long legs feel like wrapped around me? Did she sense the coiled sexual energy in the man walking silently by her book table?)

And finally, I stripped down for action.




And yes....you can view the stroking sloppy finish.....at the usual location:

www.picturetrail.com/sceblog3
album = Penthouse
Password = scm

Then, sleep. Freeing sleep......