Birthday pressies and such.

It was Izzy's birthday today, and my present for her was a brand new Samsung Galaxy S4-- her iPhone had been faulty for a while, and she had been thinking of getting a new phone. 

We were out at the yacht club where we had breakfast, and thereafter we boarded the yacht I'd chartered for the day. It wasn't like I'd intended it to be anything romantic or such; more of a means to have some privacy of our own for obvious reasons.

It'd been a cruise to the Southern Islands, and she'd spent most of the time dressed in the new bikini she bought. The crew guys were checking her out, and I don't blame them: Izzy's a beautiful young woman, and in a sense, the inner egomaniac in me was smirking in the knowledge that while the other guys on board found her attractive, I was the only one who'd get to fuck her.

And we did have sex quite a lot today. I suppose the presence of a crew meant we had to keep things down to plain vanilla sex with not much of the usual little kinky games, but it was still good, really.

**

It was after lunch, and after I'd presented the phone when she'd come and leaned up against me, her head resting on my shoulders as I kissed her softly on her neck when I heard her, in between her soft sighs, saying she'd decided to break up with the banker boyfriend.

She'd found him too "young" for her liking: he was the same age as she was, but of late, she'd realised she preferred older guys-- guys my age.

I didn't know if that was her way of telling me she was wishing there was something more between us, but this being her birthday, I didn't want to spoil her day and instead let her make-believe that this afternoon's time spent on the yacht was what could have been if we were indeed taking things seriously.

In any case, to me, it was one thing to have a no-strings attached FWB thing going on with a much younger woman like Izzy; serious relationships, on the other hand, would be something else altogether, and I do wonder if I would be able to keep up with the stuff the Millenial generation are in to. 

Anyway, it was a relatively nice afternoon out. I was supposed to meet Bru for dinner, but got a little tired and postponed the date.

I'd probably take the day off tomorrow.  

Be my sub.

Since Fifty Shades hit the scene, I’m pretty sure every guy out there wants to be a Christian Grey, and I guess women out there are looking for their own Grey-some adventures.

That, I deduced from what Izzy shared with me, and it appears some dude at the uni tried to coax her into becoming his own Anastasia Steele.

Except he doesn’t know of course she already has her own secret lover. Yet somehow, there was something fascinating and strangely erotic hearing her talk about how the other guy tried to charm her into becoming his latest conquest—especially if the revelation came as part of the tete-a-tete following our own tryst in bed.

Admittedly, she’d locked lips with him, and the dude had his hands up her skirt and rubbing at her most intimate parts. She’d gotten wet, and he’d probably had his way with her if not for the very anti-climatic moment of her phone going off, and banker-boyfriend was on the phone to ask if she’d been a good girl studying for her exams.

I found it all intriguing, yet such a huge turn-on at the same time: she was making out with another guy behind her boyfriend’s back, and afterward, being aroused but having pushed the guy away, she came to yours truly, and we had raw sex for both our pleasure.

There’s a little sense of jealousy I admit because she’s such a beautiful thing to have and to fuck, but nothing too serious, because we have our own little arrangements without her getting too sticky to me. I guess I’m just the easiest part of the whole picture, really, and I do enjoy the benefits that come along with it, even if just for a brief moment.

Meanwhile, I have in turn recently re-learnt just how nice it is to be a sub in my relationship with cougar-babe Bru. It’s all become a vicious cycle of kinky gratuitous sex, role-play, discreet affairs and marshmallow saccharine cuddling with the women I’m with all rolled into one, yet strangely there’s nothing complicated at all to the whole thing. I can’t explain it, really, but all I know is that there’s probably still room for some more, knowing me.

There are after all many more hours in a week than just fifty shades of one colour. *grins*