Since Sunday my tastes in women have changed towards younger, shorter, slimmer, less busty women.

Also C said that I’ve become more of an arse recently but put it down to my job, which it might be but I think that it’s more about not fapping. I’m glad that someone has noticed a change in me though.



I don’t seem to care about rejection. Over the past few weeks I’ve been busy talking to women like mad and I’ve got a fair few knockbacks, as is to be expected, but recently I find that I’m waiting for a negative reaction in myself, some feeling of embarrassment or disappointment or pain and there’s none.

I’ve gone from seeing Dakota as the centre of the universe with a few other women as alternatives to seeing a universe stocked with limitless women and if one says no then I shrug my shoulders and move on to the next one. Nothing phases me anymore. If I’m talking to a woman on tinder and she isn’t making the right noises I just unmatch her. If she’s not what I want then why would I talk to her?

I’m actually starting to wonder if this isn’t a long hypomanic episode except that I don’t feel hypomanic, I feel settled and centred. I’m sleeping better too.


In an ideal world, as a man, you’d be able to say, “I just want your attention and your affection and in return you’ll have my attention and affection” and it would be given.

The last couple of weeks have been really interesting for introspective/self-absorbed little me. I feel this strength and confidence and dominance building. My sexual fantasies have changed, the way I interact with women is changing. Internally I can see big changes in the way I think.

It’s bizarre. I’ll be chatting with V, who I’ve been chatting to for months as I get coffee, and half my brain is looking at her as a person with thoughts and feelings and admiring her personality and just enjoying the interaction but then, simultaneously,  half of my brain just sees a piece of meat to impregnate and this is new. It’s not that I haven’t thought about sex with her before, she has nice boobs and is that kind of chubby that somehow is quite sexy, and she’s just generally cute, but the desire to dominate her wasn’t there. It was a sort of, “Sex with her would be really good” rather than “I’m going to fuck her” type feeling.

Thinking about it now I wonder if this isn’t my whole problem: I just haven’t been aggressive enough with women. My newfound aggressiveness has already paid off, in fact. Let’s call her GB and I’m sort of grinning from ear to ear about her: She’s German, lives not far away, appreciates directness and honesty, and is gorgeous: the kind of woman that men stop and stare at. So we’ve met online, she’s verified so I know that she’s a real person, plus I’m a good enough of a linguist to know female language when I see it.

I sent her a message which was both long and ballsy. Literally ballsy by the looks of it and her response was literally, “Wow” and she’s sent a couple of quite warm and enthusiastic messages so I’m feeling quite proud and smug at the moment. Suffice to say that when you move from “it would be nice” to “I’m going to” then things start happening. So I’m asking out V tomorrow and I’m going to fuck her over the weekend.


So let’s not say that I’ve stopped masturbating, but I don’t let myself cum. I don’t know how long I’m going to keep this up, I can’t say that it feels like a challenge to keep this up. The effects are interesting though, my breast fantasies are totally gone and I feel myself becoming more confident, more dominant, my thoughts have switched from Dakota to BM.

I was laying in bed earlier thinking about her and the fantasy I was having shocked me as I was having it. We’re in the bar where she works and we see each other. She shoots me that scornful glance as she walks by and this triggers me and I wait for her to come back.

As she does I grab her by her hair and I pull her in close to me. “What the fuck do you want?” she says. There’s not a hint of fear in her, she’s aggressive, she looks at me in an almost hateful way. “I’m here for you, I’m making you mine”. “Fuck off”. I kiss her. It’s wild and passionate and I feel her body relax a little but the grip on my hand is still firm.

I push her towards the door, but I sort of feel that I’m being led. Once through we’re alone in the kitchen. I try to kiss her again but she pulls back and spits in my face. “I know how to handle bitches like you” I growl at her and she flashes her teeth “Oh, you think you can handle me, now”. I thrust my hand between her legs and up her skirt, her thighs are wet. She’s still looking at me scornfully as she tries to pull away, but I pull her in and force her to kiss me. She bites my lip and holds it, we’re both panting now, I’m rubbing her pussy, our eyes locked, her nails digging into my arm for a moment I feel her relax and submit.

Running her hands over her body, she begins to hitch her dress up, I sense her body wiggle as she takes her panties off, the tension drops off, she lets go of my lip and her kisses soften. I lift her onto the counter and spread her legs and her intoxicating scent fills the room but she still has that look in her eye, spiteful, scornful, aggressive.

She slaps me and pushes me away. “You think I’m just going to give it to you?” I move in again and again she slaps me and pushes me away, “Take it. You want it. Take it. I’m not just going to give it to you”. Provocatively she spreads her legs wide, and smiles at me, the first smile she’s given me as she theatrically starts to play with her pussy, reveling in my reaction, she knows that I’m on the edge as it is and I could lose control at any moment.

She tries to slap me again but I grab her wrist. She struggles  against me, spits at me, growls at me, “Come and take it!” as I pin her to the wall and slap her and she tries to bite me. She relents a little as I get my cock out and for a moment we gaze into each other’s eyes, both panting heavily, her huge chest heaving and I can’t hold out anymore, I thrust right into her grabbing hold of her tightly. Her legs wrap around me, I feel her pulling me in as her arms also wrap around me. All I’m conscious of is her, the scorching heat and wetness of her pussy, her panting in my ear, her breasts pressed against me.

I struggle so hard not to cum and I’m totally on the edge as she grinds hard against me. “I need you” I blurt out. “I’m here, I’m here” she softly pants. “I’m going to cum” I moan as I try to pull out. I feel her nails in my back, digging in, her thighs tensing against my body. “Cum in me. Cum in me or I’ll never be yours. Make me yours, cum in me. It’s what you want. Show me that you know how to handle a bitch like me” she growls aggressively. This sends me over the edge and I lose all control. I can feel my cum rushing through my cock and shooting into her and just at that moment I feel her whole body tense and she buries her head in my shoulder to muffle her moans so that none of the other staff hear.

She relaxes, I look into her eyes, they’re almost pleading. I stroke her face softly, I kiss her forehead, we exchange a few soft kisses. Everything is so tender now. She’s stroking my back and for the first time I start to gently play with her massive breasts. “You’re always looking at them” she smiles so softly. I bury my face in her cleavage, she kisses my forehead as she takes one out and instinctively I begin to suckle and she moans a little. “You’re mine now” she sighs.


It’s interesting walking through town and seeing all these guys in suits. It really makes me grimace. Like half of them look like rejected fashion models/slightly too camp to project an air of competence and most of the rest look like they think that they’re eighteen and going to a prom or they’re some kind of dodgy used car salesmen. It’s a quarter to a half inch of cuff, not half your fucking sleeve!

A man should never attempt to look flash, because it never works out. At best you look like the young buck who’s trying to make an impression, which immediately signals that you’re the young buck who hasn’t got anywhere in life yet. Also I think that generally, as a man, avoiding fashion and sticking with style, especially classic style, is probably the best course.


On a Thursday and Friday I go to Starbucks for lunch and there is a certain young lady who works there on a Friday. This certain young lady who we shall call V also drinks in the pub I do regularly enough that we keep bumping into each other and this has become a talking point. I suppose it could be described as a flirting point but it’s more subtle than I would usually say is flirting.

So today I went in as per usual and V was apparently not working, or was on lunch, she was buying stuff rather than trying to flog me tea bags at an extortionate price. Needless to say we got chatting as per usual and she said that she had noted my presence in the pub and then she asked if I was going to the pub tomorrow. Generally I don’t go to that particular pub on a Saturday but I said that I hadn’t thought about it and that I might and she said that she was going. Normally she goes on a Friday, I know this because we bump into each other in the pub regularly on a Friday.

I think I shall in fact go to the pub tomorrow. I’m giving a presentation on Wednesday morning which means that the usual Tuesday night drinking is out, I need to be fresh and compos mentis  and Jboy is on holiday and therefore flexible. So I’ll suggest that we swap Tuesday night drinking for tomorrow.