Crtd 14-09-25 Lastedit 20-12-13

The Suzanny Project
A Sex Blog!
  

Friends "reading" my blogs tend to only watch the pictures. I am used to it and full of understanding. The refined literary qualities and subtle irony of my writing regularly is even too much for myself. But since I will now report some amazing experience in the field of sex, I feel this time is going to be different.

It needs an introduction: for 20 years now I use, with total success, Venlafaxine against my tendency to sink in severe depressions^[more]. Total success, yes, no doubt, but when the years went by, the dose had to gradually increase until it started drastically to cool down my sexual urges. No disaster: I had for long become a happy single. I told myself that in the past, nature had not under-stuffed me with sex partners, that I'd done just about all I was ambitious to do with women in the realm of sex.

The commercial part of my experiences had neither been more rewarding nor more disappointing than the others. I can report having gone physical with the firm, resilient young blonde Kim (that was still in my Tilburg time). She had rented with her boyfriend a house with girls and cubicles with sex movie machines downstairs. The plan was that she would manage the place (already remarkeable given het tender age). She complained about how emotional and childish her boyfriend had reacted when she told him that she was going to boost her income a little further by going upstairs with clients herself (which, by the way, secretly had started to seem exciting to her after a while). She was amazing, but I do not know why. She just was a natural. Half a year later I heard that she had passed her driver's license. So of that age (now she must be 50). As a result I know only one "loverboy" (that boyfriend of hers) not exactly living up to the image (I don't know how old he was).

Another remarkeable commercial encounter was with Anouk, in a brothel. Anouk worked there with her friend Britt. Anouk and Britt had been best friends for the past two years and did everything together, Anouk likes sex with girls too but Britt doesn't. At the end of the year before, when they both just got eighteen, they were, just after Christmas, totally broke. No more money at all for the change of the year parties. Doom and gloom. Ignorant of the sex industry, they had googled "sex for money", concluded that if embarking on those escort things you were on your own with those men in those hotel rooms not knowing what to do with them. So they had opted for what the Dutch call a "private house". Pictures were immediately taken for the club's website and the next day, their first, they both had six or seven customers and were on the doorstep with 400 euros each. They couldn't believe their eyes. And immediately the next day a threesome, Anouk, she told, saw Britt have sex for the first time, that was quite an event. We were now in mid-March, and even though she was good at coming herself, she left the "boy" (I was 40) to find his own way, but what difference does that make with such a sweet beautiful blonde thing. She and Britt now wanted to get away from it all, but she thought that Britt would also like to visit me (for a reasonable fee of course). She wanted my phone number. She said - without being asked - that she had enjoyed it. When I got home I wanted to embellish this story with a link to her photos, but in those 45 minutes that I drove home, Britt and Anouk took themselves off all websites. So I was Anouk's last customer.

The medicine-induced decline of my sex life set in in my early 50's. A very instructive episode, since different apects of women took my attention and my contacts with them changed in an often interesting an agreeable way.

When I write this I am 63, and a few weeks ago an amazing thing happened: my sexual urges broke out of their biochemical cage. After ... 10 years or so. I was not so pleased with it. I was decidedly happy in my lifestyle of a happy no-sex single. Now what?

Masturbation, I concluded. There's enough exciting experiences to remember. Somehow those that almost happened but in the end did not, the "near misses" I call them, are curiously most prominent in phantasy.

The smooth bodied girls I remember are now in their sixties. I panic when I even think of encountering one.

My attacks of erotic urge also led me to update myself on internet porn. On that subject I also knew little because for more then 10 years I lived in Africa where internet speed is well below the level to enable browsing porn.

I was amazed seeing what is now freely available. Huge databases of free porn professionally categorized into groups forcing me to getting acquainted with brand new vocabulary: Big Dick, Mature, MILF, Anal, Cream Pie, Rough Sex, Interracial, Fisting, Toys, etc. each of them, on the biggest sites, listing thousands of clips. Total professionalization of the trade, even including a category for amateur clips, indeed one that has its special charms, for the tenderness of the age at which nowadays we start to upload some of our own work is astonishing, "let's not tell our mams". Just watching this category, containing thousands of clips at everybody's fingertips is in the Netherlands now probably good for a jail sentence of the level of a serial murderer, so of course my reputation of political correctness made me refrain from watching them. I erased my browsing history immediately, but not without concluding they're just as easy to get as the rest so the legal prohibition ritual is, as usual, sterile political propaganda.

And the porn fashion had changed fundamentally: as for girls, nowadays we sink pricks deep down in our gullets until we are out of breath and spit the abundant saliva this produces over the jolly tool. To make it more horny your boy occasionally closes your nose to increase your oxygen shortage. When we let him finally enter elsewhere, not rarely skipping all that I would consider an intermediate ritual at least, we lead him up our butt at once. Our three blocks down hearable screaming may be just on request of the clip's director to embellish the audio, but whatever, we enjoy, no doubt. If the pretty young ladies want more they forge a cushiony table to fit under a horse, and after diligently having comforted and erected the animal, we squeeze its penis five inch deep up our butt, to our intense gratification - and that of the horse's, for it voluntarily delivers a unbelievable load (that would fill, in my estimate, a beer glass at least) of come right up there. And we're all at least 40 years younger than me (surely the horse).

My God! The new generation!

I was especially intrigued by the shemale category. This was not new to me but the enormous size of that market has now left no room at the top for others than totally adorable girls with monster pricks. Suzanny, a beautiful blonde, was my favourite and when to my astonishment I found a Dutch mobile phone number of her on an international escort site, I decided to fall in love.

... Suzanny ...

But then the nerves came. What if my freshly won excitement would vanish at the supreme moment? Of course, I reassured myself, she has her own business to complete to which my erection is irrelevant. Might this be the entire reason of my fresh attraction to shemales? To no longer be the sole bearer of the performance responsibilities? Be this as it may, this obviously was the moment to get acquainted with Viagra. I went on internet. One pill is anywhere between 50 eurocents and 17 euro, the fake ones require no prescription, and have, everyone acquainted with medical test methodology knows, quite a good chance to work. Prescription requirements turn out to be another sterile piece of political propaganda: many pharmacy sites have their own doctor producing the prescription on the basis of the internet form you complete "Have you ever had ...??". No. No. No.

The Viagra test was amazing. It would work within an hour, but with me it was twenty minutes. I got my old friend way harder then ever in the last fifteen years, tried how long that jolly shape could be maintained, which turned out more than three hours, I do not know exactly how much longer since I gave up. It turned out possible to abort the test for we tend to strike when we turn our thoughts to drier subjects.

Still, I had not called Suzanny's Dutch phone number, for, how accidental! for some weeks there were always other priorities. When I finally took it up, the Dutch number had just been erased from the web site. I still had it, the Google catch still had it, it worked, but the web site now gave me a choice between a Paris and a Helsinki mobile. She was reported to be in Helsinki but ready to be flown in. A shemale celebrity. Probably only affordable for those bankers that fucked up the world economy lately. Curiosity drove me to leave a voicemail on her probably abandoned Dutch mobile asking her on business tone to call back to discuss a possible engagement. I heard myself talking like the master of ceremonies of a prominent Saudi sheikh.

...  Yes ... Suzanny, insn't she gorgeous?  ...

Nothing happened of course. ^{[more: search engine Suzanny Petrovyck]}

Some more clicks revealed that the market of commercial shemales had been professionalized as well. They register on internet sites with cell phone nr. and a good load of photo's to show what's on offer. The registering shemale ticks, in an impressive list of treatments, those which in her particular case are included or negotiable. Of most of the items listed I had no clue, but on the top menu of the site you can click to a neat glossary of technical terms that turn out to have been developed in this section of the erotic industry. And the affordable tariffs, typically 150 euros per hour.

I did a search for a more general glossary of modern sexual intercourse and found there that I am an agnosexual.

But most importantly, what I thought would be B-options after the foundering of my Suzanny project were not so B at all, as I am sure you will agree with me:

... Jenni ... 

I called Jenni, reportedly Arnhem, fearing, let me confess, to hear a low voice, hoarse of a life of relentless partying. But no, she sounded decidedly like a girl. Her Dutch made me switch to English right away, which I could understand due to my experience with heavy Spanish accents. Instead of Arnhem, I got directed to a suburb of flats, gloomily covered with fog and thick dark winter clouds, of Zwolle. My next fear of course was that those internet photos would be fifteen years old and I would now encounter some wrinkled old horse in a stinking baggy dress. After passing first floor ("van der Meer", "Takens"), and second floor ("de Bruin", "Bakker" - don't worry, the real names were different), on the top floor I failed to spot the name, since in the door stood a lady on high heels sticking a pair of gorgeous tall legs out under a tight transparent black mini-dress that immediately sent a firm hormone shot through my Viagra stimulated blood stream.

Jenni had, she said, after having, by way of greeting, gently made a tactile inquiry into what I was wearing between my legs, a shemale girl friend-guest, which I might be willing to invite to join. After some not unfriendly negotiations I thought I could accept the offer, and she went to report our common offer to Isabella

... Isabella ...

Isabella was gorgeous as well, as you may judge above. Both beauties should be in their early thirties, their internet pictures might not be from exactly this year, but they surely presented in vivo what they had on internet display.

So there I was, naked, between four firm boobs. Another tricky moment: smell can turn me on, and disastrously down as well, but fortunately my nose was thrilled by the soft and tanned Latino skins, especially that of Isabella.

Now you, reader, if you are still with me, urgently need a detailed update about my penis. In its erected size it used to be not unlike those of my two present companions, though slightly bending to the left. Some long time ago however, I felt a slight tickling and since then some of my top side swelling tissue stopped expanding fully. As a result its erected size reduced a few cm, and from leftward bending, my penis became upward bending. This happened years ago, but - I told you of my prolonged sexless life - today was the social première of my thus newly fashioned party tool. To my relief, its reception by my beauties was outspoken favourable. Jenny attacked straight away (after wrapping it hygienically) while Isabella painfully squeezed my nipples.

This, you will no doubt have expected, would gradually lead to my opportunity to try this "deep throat" that nowadays is the norm in all porn clips. But to my amazement Isabella considered this an unwanted intimacy and withdrew her tool from my gullet to firmly chastise me!

Between some boobs, I do not remember whose, I saw Isabella grabbing a condom for herself and gearing up for action. Let me use this thrilling moment to add that in the run up weeks to this event I visited a sex shop to buy something for a home test, something, to take no chances, matching what my study of Suzanny's impressive organ led me to expect. Of course, if only to arouse Isabella further, I did not mention this and loudly proclaimed I was now going to be deflowered. This caused a lull in the events since it was not understood and we needed some more Dutch, Spanish and English, but once the message got clear to the ladies it was enthusiastically received.

Isabella bend over me, firmly pushed my legs back on my breast to allow for a full VIP entry which she then made without further ado, and started to bang me firmly. She did not need a lot of time if I correctly remember, wrapped her condom in cleaning tissue, threw it away, then, in what I readily trust was impeccable Spanish, the two negotiated who would now take my dick, and agreed on Jenni. As some respectable and admired ladies on my mailing list will vividly remember, albeit from the last century, this was not my first time. But the thrill was not as in the old pre-HIV days of corporeal romantics, where all you needed was decent lubrication, since nowadays butt action safety requires not exactly the thinnest of condoms available on the market, so any muddy rabbit hole in the dike of my dear esteemed Linge river would, I must presume, trigger better feelings. From my side, that is. On this dark late November day in this uneventful provincial suburb it was, however, a substantial consolation to content myself with the ensuing excitement in the gorgeous landscape under me.

Of course I did not come.

This prompted Jenni, while wanking me severely, to tell me I now had to come since she had to drive Isabella to another customer in another town. I teased her a bit by confronting her with our agreements on time and money, but she so happily entered into the details of my misunderstanding, in her view, of our negotiations that I joked: "I do not find this a very erotic conversation". This caused Isabella to burst out in laughing and say: I want you to come on my tits.

I pulled off the condom to take things in my own hands, Isabella waiting full of expectation. Without any exertion I came so quickly that I failed to reach her boobs in time and wetted her belly.

We dressed. While Jenni packed Isabella's suitcase, grumpy, I hope, Isabella tenderly kissed me, squeezed my prick one more time and then kicked me out in the staircase.

Bakker, de Bruin, Takens, van der Meer. I will never read these names in reversed order again, but it sure was a peak once in a life time encounter. Henceforth I will maintain to whomever it may concern that the Dutch liberation of Spanish rule was a bad, fortunately short lived mistake.

The renaissance of my sex drive turned out short lived. In the best of worlds you would have a switch to turn on at special occasions. I guess it will be, sooner or later, on the market. I can't say I suffer without it.