Along with a caramel macchiato at Starbucks this morning came an opportunity to espy that cute Asian barista. Her tight little ass beckoned as I waited for my drink.
Returning home, I attempted to pray the Daily Office. Yet my mind was transfixed by the sight of that barista. Thoughts of a lascivious nature deflected my attention from prayer.
Remember not the sins of my youth and my transgressions (Ps 25:6).
I felt, in Auden’s words, “an intolerable neural itch.”
And an itch needs to be scratched.
I set aside my prayer book. Wanting something on short notice, I called Joyce and set up a noontime appointment with Sara.
Sara is an athletic petite All-American blonde. Experience this mature seductress for a mutually rewarding experience.
I was buzzed into the upscale apartment building. She met me at the door to the loft with a sweet smile, and I was let in. She was wearing a lacy black top, a short black skirt, black thigh-high stockings, and heels. Very slutty. I set the envelope containing the “donation” on the night stand. She offered me a glass of water and said she had taken the train into the city. Knowing that Sara isn’t much of a conversationalist, after a few generic pleasantries, I slid her skirt up and caressed her firm yet soft derrière. She responded by rubbing her hands over my crotch and fondling my engorged cock through my pants.
With Sara, I seek a sexual release. Nothing more. Sara’s in her forties now, but her body’s toned and tight. She climbed in my lap, slowly grinding on my through my pants. I thrust my tongue deep into her mouth. Then I pulled out her right tit and started to suck on her nipple. Her nipple got hard. Some more French kissing ensued, then she suggested we move to the bed. After a brief blowjob, I asked her to position herself on her hands and knees. After the condom went on, I positioned myself behind her, savored the shapeliness of her ass, and slowly penetrated her.
What followed was, in D.H. Lawrence’s words, “cold-hearted fucking.” No emotions. No strings. It was brutally mechanical and impersonal. There was nothing loving or redemptive about it. Sheer carnality. The will to pleasure. Denuded of meaning, sex was just sex.
When I finished, I quietly dressed. We perfunctorily said our goodbyes. Then I left.
Lutheran Guilt 