Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar. This week, the Finance Dad With a Hot New Fiancée: Male, 43, Upper East Side, engaged.
10:01 p.m.: I moved yesterday, and my fiancée and I continue unpacking my new, smaller apartment. My son is staying at his mother’s tonight. I don’t want to be unpacking any more now. Give fiancée fifteen-minute warning.
11:30 p.m.: Stop unpacking and try Redtube.com. It keeps asking for a credit card. WTF?
11:40 p.m.: Land on PublicDisgrace.com. Fiancée makes selection. She’s feeling too sensitive for me to touch, so she distracts me by going down on me while we watch.
11:50 p.m.: She’s making a lot of progress, so she decides to ride me by sitting on my lap (spoon orientation). The rollers on my chair make an interesting rocker.
11:57 p.m.: She orgasms; we switch to a hard-backed chair with no arms so she can sit on me face-to-face and keep watching the porn. She narrates what is happening in the video.
12:05 a.m.: When she’s ready to reach into her bag of tricks, there’s nothing I can do to prolong things — I orgasm. She’s not done yet, so I start fingering her.
12:14 a.m.: She finishes in a big way. We stumble ourselves off to bed.
9:30 a.m.: Heading to the airport, discussing last night’s video, which made use of various pieces of furniture in a bar. We’re moving a sofa from the old apartment to our new home in her city, where we’ll split our time. The sofa includes an ottoman we bought specifically because we thought it would be useful for sex.
10:30 a.m.: We are also transporting a large glass dildo we bought in Amsterdam a few years ago. It’s in my backpack, in its protective pouch. The female TSA agent pulls out the pouch and asks “What is this?” I hem and haw a bit. Her supervisor says, “I know what that is. It’s okay.” This reminds me of when I went on vacation, accidentally arrived at the airport late, and didn’t have time to check my bag full of toys and ropes, so I had to go through screening. They had a good sense of humor about it.
4:25 p.m.: Discussing the burgeoning sexuality of my teenage son, who is in a half-year relationship. I’ve tried to advise him, but he’s not sharing with me. Normal.
8 p.m.: In fiancée’s office, watching her work. Give her a hard deadline of 11 p.m. to wrap it up.
11:15 p.m.: We unwind with some TV.
12:15 a.m.: Surprisingly, she lets me finger her to orgasm.
12:25 a.m.: Consider continuing in front of the TV, but decide to adjourn to bed. She rides me and tells me exactly what she wants.
1:30 a.m.: Pass out in each other’s arms.
10 a.m.: Woken by fiancée’s mother on the phone. Chances for morning sneak attack ruined. Fiancée does not have the slightest interest in sex right now.
11 a.m.: Wasting our time sorting through old children’s games and toys. This means less time will be available later for sex. I try and derail this train, to no effect.
1 p.m.: In fiancée’s office. She’s working on a big project, and has let her deadline approach unreasonably. The summer will not be all it could be.
1 a.m.: We head to bed. I make advances. Fiancée asks whether I want her to go through the motions or wait until she’s into it. In my mid-forties, I finally know how to answer this one.
9 a.m.: It’s Monday. Having been working from home for two hours, I go to wake her twenty minutes earlier than she asked, hoping for a quickie. She’s still exhausted. I predict she’ll be hungry for sex tonight.
9:30 a.m.: Catch up on what is new in porn. Consider masturbating, but decide to save my energy for later.
2 p.m.: This week’s Sex Diary is published! Diarist is slammed for being clingy. These always hit me hard, because I have to work to avoid my own clinginess and dependence.
10 p.m.: In fiancée’s office again; give her one-hour warning. They’ve been working better than usual.
11:25 p.m.: Offer to unwind with TV. Fiancée says she’d rather fuck (I was right!). So would I.
11:30 p.m.: Read fiancée today’s Sex Diary. She agrees diarist got a bad rap. I share discussion of BJ techniques from the comments, and fiancée begins fellatio.
11:40 p.m.: I move fiancée into a 69. She requests the glass dildo. Glass dildos are really great.
12:45 p.m.: Have we really been at 69 this long? She’s done and I’m not. We move to missionary. I always find her increased sensitivity at this point a huge turn-on and finish quickly.
7:30 a.m.: See e-mail that my flight to New York tomorrow is at 5:40 a.m. What was I thinking? I won’t see her for more than a week. I’m dreading this.
9 a.m.: Conference call prevents me from waking fiancée by cuddling with her. Usually one of the highlights of my day. Oh well.
5:30 p.m.: Make agenda for the evening, because I don’t want bedtime to slip too late. Agenda includes sex, so it’s all good. I always get a bit obsessive before leaving my fiancée for a week, because I hate to be apart from her, and also I know her body craves sex after three days.
11:30 p.m.: Hide love note in fiancée’s luggage.
11:45 p.m.: Bedtime! Fiancée continues to practice her BJ technique, and she’s doing well, but then she gets too turned on and we digress to some really yummy, but vanilla, sex.
12:45 p.m.: Three hours of sleep coming up. I’ve tried to improve this, but so far, nothing works.
4 a.m.: Leave another love note on fiancée’s pillow.
9:30 a.m.: Fiancée texts that she’s awake. She’s packing for her trip. She’s actually already hungry for more sex, but there’s absolutely nothing I can do about that for the next eight days. Fortunately, I trust her completely. Still, though, I wish I had used the magic wand on her last night — that usually satiates her for a few days.
10:30 p.m.: My fiancée is traveling, and my son has declined to stay in my new apartment because of the lack of air conditioning. Looking for solace on Facebook.
10:45 p.m.: Hanging out on FB is problematic. First of all, most of the interesting people are half my age, or less. Second, there was no way to keep the real people (family, son, son’s friends, son’s girlfriend, son’s girlfriend’s parents) separate from the interesting people. And I’ve learned from experience that I’m just better off not ever flirting with anyone, and anyway I want to put all my romantic energy into my fiancée.
11 p.m.: Redeem my presence on FB by giving some advice to a male friend on surviving a long-distance relationship.
Midnight: Go to bed, too tired to masturbate.
10 a.m.: Assisting a summer analyst who is having some difficulty with basic financial concepts. She’s wearing a very nice, lacy bra, which I can tell because her shirt is unbuttoned way too low. There’s nothing I can possibly say about this, so I have to pretend I’m not noticing. It says something about where my head is at that I was more interested in the bra than in the girl. This makes me happy.
5:30 p.m.: Say good-night to fiancée. I’m on my own for the rest of the night. I feel isolated.
7 p.m.: Son still thinks apartment is inhabitably hot. Feel even more isolated.
8 p.m.: Internet is broken. The icing on the cake.