Ask of this heart to love and it shall

I am yours

I knew the second you came over that anything of me that you wanted was yours.

Yes, awkward though those first moments were, the avoiding of eye contact, the careful positioning when close to one another, treading softly through stuttered conversation and the awful silence of jokes that would otherwise be funny if it wasn't so strange to be near you again, awkward though this is something about seeing you again really is truly wonderful.

But it's not being around you that's causing so much trouble. I find I'm having a hard time stopping my heart from smiling through every pore in my body. I can hardly contain myself, and I feel giddy from the very effort of it. The sheer realisation that I could just give myself over is exciting and sudden, and I'm not quite sure what to do now so I just look at you and laugh at my own private joke.

All the love that I can muster is yours to do with as you please, and I care not whether you take it or how you dispose of me but I am filled rather with the wonderment that so small a person can carry so boundless an emotion, nor not feel the burden of sacrifice. Indeed, I am freed by it.

And then the question of how to approach the task at hand.

I am troubled by my obliviousness to all those who seek me out. Many are the time it required a sharp blow to the head before I realised that I was being seduced, and so I now decree that the lesson has been learned, and the student has become the master. Too many opportunities have I let go un-seized, and thus it is in the future I seek to amend them.

Staring into my half-empty cocktail glass, I resolved within myself that I will have you by the end of the night; and so it was that when you found me alone, I pulled you in and kissed you as passionately as I would allow myself, from the bursting of a dam inside me to an outpouring of love that followed soon after.

I give myself willingly and wholehearted to you. Whatsoever of me that you desire is yours to do with as you will, whether you will have me as friend or lover I do not care so long as I can give more of this love to someone who provokes so much of it in me.

Webcam chicks

officially last tuesday

I'll make this quick because I'm tired and I want to go to sleep, and let's face it, any readers I ever get are simply not as important as my sleep.

I went to kontraband and watched some of their "sexy webcam girls dancing semi-nude!" and was somewhat suprised when I had the reaction of disgust and the need to look at something else.

For some reason, I'm really turned off by women who are trying to look sexy and get men to stare at them. It is such a turn off it's not even funny. You're not sexy, you're not something to be worshipped, you're just an attention whore who has nothing better to offer the world.

Hmm, now that I think about it, maybe it isn't so strange. I guess I feel like it's degrading for men to stare at these women and get semi's. I suppose it's also because if they did decide to go with one of the men who are staring at them, it will only be the biggest most arrogant cock among them.

Also, I am sick to death of seeing the same hairstyle around my campus these days. You fake blondes have had your day, damnit. You all look the same and it's quite irritating for us guys to meet the same girl over and over in a different body.

Having said that however, I am pleased to note that I do get turned on by some webcam videos, mostly the ones from girlfriends to their boyfriends. Obviously it's because they're not complete attention-seeking sluts.

I'm fucking picky sometimes, aren't I?

Pickup-lines

cream of the crop

"Excuse me, does this smell like chloroform to you?"

"Well it's not going to suck itself."

"Sorry love, 0784 what?"

"Go and get your coat, I've got a knife."

Secretary

Oh my god, I have been waiting so long for this. So long.

Oh yes. Yes.

Oh God, that is so fucking wonderful, keep doing that.

It has been far too long for this. We should have done this a long, long time ago. I just wish she'd stop mentioning our old Geology teacher.

Vice, what would Mick say for gods sake? Hahahaha...

Yeah no kidding. Jesus.

She did it again! Christ. Do. Not. Mention. Anything. To. Do. With. Other. Men. When. We're. Having. Sex.

MMmmmmm....

Oh, she likes that, huh? Well Maybe I'll just do it some more...

MMMmmmmmmmmm... MMMMM

Good thing my room's sonically insulated. Oh God, I want her so bad. Wait, what? What is she doing?

Lie back.
Mmmm. What? Ok.
I want to play with you...

I want to play with you? Oh my god, I am going to come right now. She is so gorgeous. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

She's going slowly now, taking me all in.

MmMMMmmMMmmmMMMMM...

Oh...yes...

I can't believe this. My secretary. Me.

Who are you?

Your... Secretary...

Mmmm... Again. Who are you?

Your Secretary...

Oh God, oh God.

My secretary...



names have been changed to protect the perverted

Reflections and Revelations

upon attraction

A woman's body serves only to interest me.

A woman's mind is what attracts me.

And should a woman think so little of herself as to only display her body, then she will quickly see my interest drop. And should a woman possess only a functioning mind I would not be interested.

However, should she possess a reasonable amount of both, Ah! To interest me she has only to display a small spark of wit, some notion of something beyond the horizon of 'ordinary' and I shall persue her until I tire.

To admire the female form will only go so far, but oh, to embrace the sweet pursuit of the essence of that someone, to wonder at the inner workings and list the quirks and habits that makes them them. That, is a lifelong work, and a worthwhile study.

A Tale of Two Nymphs

looks like a clean slate to me

And thus, as I make preparations to move back to Uni, I am bereft of women with which to fornicate.

The blonde nymph, having found her decidedly mentally unstable, is no longer a suitable candidate for my desire. The problem is, our agreement was supposed to confine our sex life to something akin to a loose agreement to play poker every friday night. As some kind of hobby, say. Thus, should one of us ever feel the need to stop playing poker with the other, or, decide to start playing poker with someone else, it wouldn't have a great impact on the other. Nay, the other party should practically encourage them to fulfill their needs.

Unfortunately, somewhere along the line she got really attached, and the second I start to move away she becomes desperately upset. To be honest, I should have noticed when she got jealous of me looking at other women, but alas I lack that kind of foresight. However, I really should have started running when she began to play mind games with me, holding back on my requests from my varied sexual palatte in an attempt to keep me hungry, keep me wanting more of her.

It had the adverse effect, it triggered the flight response normally seen in spooked animals and caused me to run rather abruptly from her house in the country back to where I live, with the strongest notion that never again would I submit myself to her or someone like her. Try to play mind games with me, and I will shun you like a plague victim.

Well now I know. Exit left, the blonde nymph.

And I move on to the brunette nymph.

Sex with her has, unfortunately, been the equivalent of a large but shallow pool, if I may make a metaphor. At first, it seemed bountiless and plentiful, and I did take large drinks from it. But as time wore on, I realised that the depth was not as I had predicted, and it dried up far sooner than predicted.

The quality of sex was not something to be desired either. My thirst should have been quenched, but instead I was found wanting. This probably arose from the fact that she comes from the school of the ragdoll strategy, in which the man is basically allowed to do what he will to her and she consents by simply letting him, the only obvious enthusiasm being the moans from her mouth. I've had this before, and it will just simply not do.

No ladies, I must request that you bite back. I must request that as you ride on top of me you grab the scruff of my neck to pull me up to kiss me. Also, I have the bizarre and disturbing fetish of, every now and again, the woman pulling me from whatever we're doing and off to bed, rather than me being the one to start it every time.

And so, she will off back to University on the friday, and I will keep my own counsel for the coming weeks. And as I've mentioned in a post or two previous, I am currently at my lowest libido I can remember for years past.

I'm rather enjoying it, to be honest. And thus exit left, Brunette Nymph.

God, does Porn bore the shit out of me

a suprising and slightly worrying discovery

I'm a red blooded male. I'm of average height, perhaps slightly over-average build and generally normal by any other standards.

And yet today, I woke up and realized that I hadn't had a good ol' jerk in a week.

A week! when I was 14 I don't think I went more than half a day without getting myself off. What the hell kindof business do I have not having a jerk for 7 days!?!?!?!

So I think to myself, "Well shit Vice, maybe it's about time you took your love pump and greased the axels a little". Maybe indeed. I go down to the downstairs and turn on my laptop. I navigate to my secret porn stash and enter the necessary passwords, fingerprint scans and retina examinations.

I start watching porn, and switch it off, bored. I turn on another video, start jerking and again, become quickly bored. I resort to my really kinky stuff, and again, I am bored.

Then, with a sigh, I mentally go to the back of my head and push the orgasm button early, just so I can get on to bigger and better things in my day. I spurt, and it's a bucketload as I expected, from not having jerked off for so long.

I wonder, is this because I've reached sex saturation point? With these two nymphs chasing me have I finally reached the point whereby I couldn't care about having any more sex?

Hmm.

Toys

oh santa, hear my plea

How I would love to venture into this delightful little store on the internet.

Oh my, yes I would.

A Polite Decline

Houseparty. Wine. Tequila. Vodka. Dance Music. Cigarette Smoke.

She walks into the room, wearing a denim miniskirt and cardigan. Ripped stockings and far too much eyeshadow. Skinny and bags under her eyes. Long brown hair that is neglected. She is a rose with browning petals.

She is 19, and a mother of one.

She has taken any gifts that God has bestowed upon her and thrown them carelessly away, preferring instead to drink away her youth, smoke away any potential she ever had and submit herself instead to a life of poverty and indulgence.

Burn it all away.

How I envy her. How I wish I could kill my conscience, drown the inner voices in alcohol until I stop hearing them tell me to keep studying, working towards a better future, and forego indulging myself for the greater good. Unleash myself from self-servitude and be free to pursue my own selfish ends, and then gleefully laugh at my own expense.

She walks into the room I'm in, a bitch in heat, and performs the human equivalent of lifting her tail to the side and spraying pheromones. Her body language invites me to fuck her, and her eyes confirm this. I am flattered to be the first one she makes this offer to, aware as I am that it hardly has anything to do with my wit or charm. In fact, I realise, it is probably solely due to my possession of a penis. Regardless, reckless abandonment of moral fibre beckons to me, and I decline due to the polite company in which I reside, and due an obligation to my brunette.

I want her.

I want her because I am not allowed to want her. I want her because I shouldn't want her. I want her because of the social confines dictating what I am and am not allowed to do dictating me to be turned off by such an offer.

Due to the consequences of submitting to such thoughts, I answer her reply. She understands the signal I send her, a polite decline to her and her body, and moves on, unperturbed and undaunted, to the next suitor.

What a difference a quick jerk made

never make decisions until you've rubbed one out

How strange that the little blonde nymph could actually make me confused about whether I wanted her or not.

After she found out about the little brunette nymph, I knew nothing could ever happen between us again, and I gave her last week to cool off after she declared her undying love for me. Definately thought the better of seeing her again. At the same time, the brunette decides to go on holiday, and thus your host Vice is left without women for a while.

Hell, maybe I needed to cool off. Since I've come back from holiday I've felt so oversaturated with sex that I've barely remembered what it was like for a whole month this summer not to get any action. Hey, it's all good, women are hard to come by in the middle of the ocean, and I've been warned against mermaids.

I never trust a pussy that smells like fish.

Anyway, back to today, when I talked to the blonde for the first time in a week. Lo and behold, she seems to jump at the chance to mention that she's planning on sleeping with another guy when he gets to her house. Unexpectedly, I actually felt... what? Jealously? Confusion? Conflicting emotions? I'm not entirely sure what. I think a part of me was reluctant to give up what I saw as a consistantly viable source of action, and another part was sad to see her go. I mean, it's been a while since I've had someone care about me as much as she did, and I guess a part of me was getting used to that.

Then, after a week of absent-minded abstinence, I pull it out and whack one off.

My God, my head feels like the clouds have left. My thoughts, so clear! All of a sudden it all became so clear again. She's a psycho; a very nice psycho who I like hanging out with but not someone I should be seeing by any stretch of the imagination. The brunette is right down the street from me and is far more intellectually sound; thereby a much more viable option for action.

I feel so at peace with myself. Thank you, masturbation god, for accepting my sacrifice of 120,000 innocent sperm on your altar of penisdom.

Make him wait

ladies...

Let me impart some knowledge to you, before I forget again.

If you're ever planning on getting serious with a guy, if you think he's more special than the other dudes and you want to get busy with him, make him wait.

What I mean is, go as far as you like, just don't sleep with him on the first goddamned date, for crying out loud. The man will go as far as you let him go, he will test his boundaries because he wants to see what kind of a girl you are, not because he's trying to play you.

And by all means, sleep with him. Just don't do it on the first damned date. If you give it up early, he will lose all respect for you, and you will officially move into the 'fun' zone forever.

It's kind of like when a guy moves into the 'friend' zone; there just aint no getting out of there.

Of course, if he's just a fling for you, then by all means go for it, but I just wanted to offer a simple suggestion in case you were unaware.

*sigh*

hurt someone yet again

God, I hate it when this happens.

I wish there was some kind of form you had to fill out whenever you give your heart to someone. That would certainly help alot of people like me, who are totally clueless as to when someone falls in love with them.

If there was some form to fill out, then this kind of crap wouldn't happen. You wouldn't suddenly wake up and find yourself in charge of someone's emotions like this, and then have to dissapoint them by telling them you feel differently.

And there's not a damned thing you can do about it.

Goddamnit, I don't want to be in a relationship at the moment. I taste my freedom and I need it like I need oxygen. Not having to take care of anyone except myself is working very well for me at the moment and that's the way I like it.

I'd been seeing the little blonde nymph for a while now, since around March, and to be honest there's always been this feeling at the back of my head telling me that she was getting in way too deep for my tastes.

And now, today, I broke the news to her of the little brunette nymph, and she didn't take it very well.

Christ I hate doing this to people.

The little brunette nymph kindof blindsided me, to be honest. Came out of nowhere about a week ago and said that she was going to stop seeing the other guy in her life. I had to make a choice between her and the little blonde nymph.

I chose the brunette, for many reasons, but primarily because I knew seeing the blonde was bad for both of us in the end. The blonde always had a strange way of approaching me. Conversations seemed to have the distinct flavour of a Go game, and I realised after a while that she wasn't trying to be with me, she was trying to conquer me, find some hidden depth that I wont let other people get to.

I think that was probably the biggest nail in the coffin, that I felt like some conquest instead of just someone who was more intimate than a friend.

The brunette is different to many of the usual girls I see in many ways. She has tattoos, a tongue piercing. She's a liberal, too. Very strange for me.

This should be interesting.

Lessons in Love

wherein I learned to kiss

16 is such an awkward age.

Kids at this point are only really interested in one thing; getting your dick wet. Problem is, for the most part I had about zero experience.

Luckily for me, I went to Stephen Ascot's party one fateful evening in June. The only reason he invited me was because he liked one of the girls in my group, otherwise I was pretty much excluded at the 'popular' crowd's parties.

I've mentioned before that I can sometimes tell within the first two seconds of looking into a girl's eyes whether or not something will happen. It was when I looked into the beautiful blue eyes of a dark haired rocker girl sitting in his room that I knew I was being called to.

She was beautiful, dark hair with a pale complexion and pert red lips to match. Her hands and arms were adorned with tribal jewellery, complimenting the piercings in her ears. Looking down she had large breasts, and a fully formed lower half.

Obviously, this was a girl who is fed by a mother.

I looked back at the TV, and tried to think of a way to engage her, but none came to mind. I could feel her attention on me for the entire evening, and when I could stand it no more I reached out and squeezed her hand, discreetly, so that no-one would see.

She squeezed it back with all her might. I needed no other signals.

Making an announcement that I was off to get drinks, I left the room and with my ears observed behind me. I went down the stairs and heard the door behind me open and close, with small, pensive footsteps follow me into the kitchen. I watched her come through the narrow hallway, and realised that conversation at this point was negligible. We instantly fell into each other's arms and locked in embrace.

Except, an embrace from me at that age consisted of my furiously thrusting and swirling my tongue around inside a girl's mouth, presumably with the aim of playing drums on her tonsils. Almost instantly she pulled away with a confused look on her face, before slowly moving back in for another round of my infamous tongue fencing.

Suddenly, she put her hand on my cheek, stopping me in my tracks and causing my eyes to open in suprise.

I Looked at her and she pulled my head towards her slowly, and embraced me with a slow, sensual, passionate kiss that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. I felt her lips go slowly, so tantalizingly slowly, over my mouth and gently bite the top of my upper lip. My arms went around the back of her waist and my heart began to race. Instantly I slowed down to match her rhythm and I felt I would burst into flame if she kept kissing me this way.

Almost too soon, it was over, as Stephen threw me off her and stormed out of the kitchen. It turns out that he had invited her there for the sole purpose of making his moves on her, and had even gone to the trouble of telling everyone.

Except for me. Guess school rejects weren't perceived as threats by him.

The girl (whose name I have forgotten) stood confused, looked around, blushed, and promptly faded into a crowd of people. Stunned, I walked backwards outside and pretended nothing had happened, my lips still numb from touching such fiery passion.

I walked around after that, but never saw her again. But since that night, I've never forgotten how to properly kiss a girl; by holding their head in my hands, grasping their long hair and slowly but passionately pressing my lips to theirs.

Oh, and sometimes biting their top lip.

'Spring'

sculpture by Victor Issa





My god, she's beautiful. And how on Earth did he make it look so convincingly like she's wearing a negligee? The form, and the face, she's so alive. And what a figure! So sexy, vibrant and embracing.

Truly, this man is a master.

Missing Person

to whom it may concern

If you are a young 19-21 year old girl and were at Egham station on Thursday the 13th of July 2006 at around 6.30pm, please get in touch with me.

You were wearing a beguiling ensemble of a grey overalls that were cut to be shorts instead of full-length legs, and a black and white bikini top. Normally, I would have thought this would look ridiculous, and to describe it in words and not pictures I'm sure is not doing you justice.

Your hair was also interesting, being a dark rooted and platinum blonde, tightened to one side of your head with a scrunchee 80's stylee. Usually, this wouldn't be attractive, but for some reason on you it was utterly blinding.

And all of this is aside from the fact that you were utterly and profoundly gorgeous. Bright eyes sat behind dark eyeshadow and shot through me whenever you looked over.

In case you're reading this and wondering who I am, I was the guy sitting on the other side of the platform who grinned at you sheepishly as your train pulled away, taking you with it.

Chemistry

chain reactions

Many times I’ve read in magazines about men’s favoured pick-up lines, techniques, and general ideas based on attracting and eloping with the opposite sex. I’ve seen it many times before, whereby the guy I know will start talking to the girl about something random or generally inconsequential, and gradually, subtly, he will make the first physical contact. This is usually seen in an innocent brush of the cheek, or even a playful tickle. From there, he will register the response and seek further enticement from the second party until they are both in private or drunk enough to disavow all responsibility.

I contemplated my own approach to the situation, and realised with some surprise that I had none.

Something happens in the moment a girl looks at you, something in her eyes twinkles, and an alarm sounds at the back of your head, and I know I’m in there before I even approach her. The rest of the seduction routine is barely even a formality, a mere Go game, a playful hunt between a fox and a hare that wants to be caught.

This was most strongly demonstrated to me at a party I was at in my late teens, in which I casually glanced over and locked eyes with a most attractive young woman sitting barely 10 metres away. In the millisecond that we shared, I became profoundly aware that I was going to be with her before the night was through. I stole a quick glance back and saw her smiling to herself, blushing from the sudden loss of her guard.

I stood up and walked over to the watering hole, making the necessary moves to attract her attention, and she came over to talk to me. I did the typical routine whereby I strike up casual conversation, get her to laugh , and go in for the first touch. However, in going in to touch her arm, I was somehow overcome by lust and began fondling her breast instead.

Luckily, it was obvious enough to the both of us that we were attracted to one another that she somehow didn't just slap me right there and then, and as she looked up at me, half suprise and half desire, I just grinned and locked lips with her.

God, did that girl give good head.

The plot thickens

holy bondage rope batman...

How intriguing, that this should co-incide with the birth of this blog.

My current mistress (fuckbuddy, is so vulgar a term) has been absent from my side for a while now. I've been seeing her for a few months, and very quickly found out that she is not only something of a nymph but also that she is, how shall I say, on the same wavelength as myself.

She is the one being talked about a post or two before this.

A recent IM conversation with her was most interesting. Firstly, that she does not appear to give herself to other men as she does to me. This suprised me, as I expected her libido to need quenching, but apparently, she's as picky as I am. I have no doubts she could have bedded a few men in the time since I've been gone.

However, I was also interested in a comment she made. The last night we spent together was quite hot and steamy, I went farther than my usual boundaries allow me and apparently it made an impression. A good one.

"up til now ive been such a sweet, innocent girl. just been testing ur mettle. now i know what ur made of"

I've always kept my fetishes and innermost desires a carefully guarded secret from the women that I see, although I have always been aware that they exist. I have to let them wade in slowly lest they founder in the deeper, darker waters of my sexual appetite. It appears now that there is one who wants to submit herself to my will.

I've never had a submissive before. Looks like I need to start reading some bdsm blogs.

This...

...is real seduction.



Compare this with just about any rap video and you'll see what I mean when I complain about cheap women vs. women with real passion.

Conversation

seriously man, this chick is freaky, I mean like extra hot sauce, don't be shy with the spice

really? damn, like, what does she do?

she's got a couple of collars in her underwear drawer that I make her wear every now and again. we've played around with her dildo too

dude. when you said freaky I didn't realise you mean wonton sex kitten.

I know, she's a total nymph. there's some stuff I won't tell you about but I'll tell you one thing, this girl does stuff I've never even seen in porn movies.

dude. just... dude.

Daydream

mentioned in passing

Today I caught myself daydreaming.

Brushing her hair aside with my nose as my hands reach up the small of her back, I inhaled deeply all of the hormones and perfume that intoxicate so deeply it raises the hair on my entire body. My eyes open suddenly and burn a dull blue in the dark of the room.

My flaming aura spikes inward towards her, and she feels my fingers begin to dig into the small of her back.

Her hands press the upper part of my chest and I feel the heat of her body mingle with mine as I press her in.

I reach up to her hair and pull her head back and kiss her deeply.

The moment burns intensely, and she willingly gives herself unto me.

Dark Side of the Goban

prologue

I already have a blog, but now a different side of me has decided it needs to express itself via the same means. I feel that it deserves it's own blog. This is for all my expressions relating to my persuit, experiences, and thoughts of the opposite sex.

I'm a 21-year old University student living somewhere around London. I am a healthy redblooded so-hetero-it-hurts homo-sapien. I love sex, but I hate cheap sex. I love women, but I hate cheap personalities. I like depth to a person, but I hate not knowing the whole story.

I am convinced the ancient board-game of Go can express almost any situation in modern life. I have often used strategy learned in the board game in situations throughout life, and alot of the time I seduce women I feel as though I'm playing Go. That, and it gives me lots of cool japanese words to play with.

A 'goban' is the board that you play Go on.

A 'suji' is termed as a specific line of play, hence 'Anti-suji' is a counter-play. Think of it as a counter-attack.