Decision, Indecision

After last week’s news, I’ve not had the time to think about how to play things with Cleo, work’s just been too busy.

I’ve had three days in Europe; Prague and Budapest this time and have generally been feeling a little listless about what to do going forward.

Cleo is off to the north on Wednesday this coming week, I really can’t see how we could keep an arrangement going with her 200 miles away.

So, to add to my slightly downbeat mood, Mrs LSD breezily announced that my sister was going to visit this weekend. She and I get on well, though I think her husband, Ben, is a total arse.

Ben is one of those complete dreamers who’s always months away from his latest project making a mint, sadly, he’s been through about 6 since he married my sister only five years ago and we’re all still waiting. He was really not the company I wanted when my mind was continually drifting back to Cleo.

Sunday dragged past, whilst I had to entertain Ben’s latest crackpot wheeze, something involving classic cars. He even had the neck to ask me if I fancied investing…I politely declined.

I managed to have a good catch-up with sis, so the day wasn’t a complete write-off.

Eventually they headed off and after putting the children to bed, I collapsed on the sofa.

Finally my mind engaged into meaningful thought and I came to the sad conclusion, I had to let Cleo go.


A Ritual of Modern Sex? – Getting the Menu in Advance…

OK, here I am trying to get some work done in my, thankfully, air-conditioned office, as London gently steams, when my Sugarphone pings.

It’s Cleo.

Now, you will recall from earlier posts, that Cleo is my current Sugarbabe and we’re on for Thursday this week, when I say ‘On’, I mean bed ‘On’.

After my gallant behaviour on our first date, Cleo has made me aware, with no ambiguity, that she is expecting us to fuck.

Which, of course, suits me very fine, thank you very much.

So I read down the text and it’s fairly hot. A list of likes and dislikes, all on the edgy side of vanilla, veering into the wonderful world of kink.

Then, at the end, ‘I really want us to fuck as naturally as possible, so are you happy if we swap STI certificates?’

Errrr….you bet!

My last one is 6 months old, so I’m going to trot along to my favourite, discrete private health clinic in the City and 24 hrs later an email comes, telling you you’re in the clear (hopefully!).

Made me think though, I’m going to bed with Cleo, already having a clear idea of what she likes and what she doesn’t, not only that, but the awful condom fumbly moment will not raise its ugly head – this ordering your sex in advance could well catch on…