Tools (Besides the One Between Your Legs) for Fucking Around On the Side

No, I’m not out to threaten the wedded bliss of you monogamous couples out there. But if you’re like me, in a “closed” relationship (maybe even a str8 married one), dependent on the kindness of strangers – and their digs – to have some fun, (and I’m not going to get into why we stay in these relationships to begin with here ), there are certain “must-have” tools for your hunt:

  • Opportunity, first and foremost. If you have to be “discrete,” then you better have reasons why you’ll be gone a few hours: the gym, gonna out for a couple of beers, need to pick up something at Targets, etc. Hell, we’ve all chatted with guys who want you to fuck them all night – maybe you’re one of them – but guys, let’s get real; the average sexual session is a half hour to 45 minutes; shit, some guys cum 10 minutes after we start. So if you can block out two hours, with a little wiggle room for travel time – that’s why the closer the trick, the longer the potential playtime – you should be OK.

If, on the other hand, you have a highly erratic work schedule (though you may be lucky with other “I want it now” boys) or a significant other who holds the key to your chastity belt, well, fucking around on the side isn’t for you. Become a life subscriber to x-tube, pray the steam room at the gym is foggy enough so you can’t make out the face of that toothless 80 year old going down on you. Or better yet, become a priest.

  • Profiles on whatever hook-up sites work for you. I know I’ve lamented about the morphing of what were sex sites into Chatty Cathy hide-outs, but like it or not, your best chance at success when it comes to extra-curricular activities is the web. Hell, probably 50% of the guys are in the same pickle as you, though thankfully some can host when daddy’s away, and it’s the best way to dirty talk and negotiate with a hottie silently while your other half is cleaning the toilet. Sure, texting can work too, but sometimes looks too conspicuous. Sitting by your computer like a nerd with the web page of the Smithsonian all ready to come up in case he walks into the room is still the best cover.
  • Your own cellphone. Pick up a Tracfone for twenty bucks, load it up with minutes for another 20, and you have a cell number you can give out and use just for your extra-curricular activities. And if a guy tells you he can’t give out a cell phone number ‘cause he and his partner share the same phone, move on. You wanna be able to contact the fucker if you get lost or are running late – or just to pre-approve the guy him before you make the hike so he at least doesn’t sound like a flake. Know how many guys I’ve hit up or hit me up whose profile reads like they’re rough and ready tuffies wanted for assault and battery in ten states who when I call them sound like wining nerds from Central Casting??
  • A handy “goody bag” easy enough to stow in your pocket or hold in your hand with all your necessary toys, lube, condoms, tit clamps – whatever wets your whistle and the whistle of your would-be paramour.
  • Mapquest on your pc or mobile or GPS in your car or on your smartphone so you can double check that the address he gave you is for real and you don’t get lost on the way and waste precious, potential playtime. If you print out the directs in advance, rewrite them in the margins in large letter shorthand so you can give them a quick glance as you’re zooming down the highway at 80 an hour. L on Main, R on 31st, with miles included if you’re in some obtuse neighborhood or rural wonderland (L on Main, 14m, then R on 38th) where watching the mileage count can make the difference between making the correct turn and over-shooting your target.
  • And last but not least, a mental dossier of excuses if you get “detained” longer than you planned (jack-knifed tractor trailer on the highway, crowded gym, ran into out-of town buddies and lost track of the time).  The alibis should be so good even you begin to believe them. If you have a partner who plans to inspect your cock or ass for any spent semen when you walk in, make sure you clean up before you leave your tryster.

I know, I know, all this orchestration and CIA-level deceit, and the guy may still be a fake-out with your Viagra-hard cock pouting like some spoiled brat.

Such is the price of life in the fast lane.

Tomorrow: Another work-out tip From Daddy

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