The Confessions of a Philanderer

The Confessions Of A Philanderer

I make no excuses or apologies for what I am. I'm a philanderer, short and simple. I know, because I once looked it up in a dictionary, and was informed, 'Philanderer, a man who seeks out casual sexual liaisons with women.' When I read that, I thought, 'Yeah! That's me OK. That's exactly what I do,' and forgive me if I sound big headed, but I'm damned good at it too. I've always liked women, and fortunately they seem to like me too. Not that I'm wonderfully good looking or anything. I'm just your average type man, 6'2" tall, with a decent physique, dark hair, brown eyes, and reasonably intelligent.

Don't get me wrong. I've been down the commitment road, married in my mid-twenties and divorced three years later when we discovered she loved the bottle more than she loved me. I can categorically promise that in all the time we were together, I was never unfaithful, not even once. Yes, I looked at other women, but that's all it was, looking, nothing more, and that's no crime.

So, to my current lifestyle, where I'm sure a whole posse of psychiatrists, or psychologists, whatever the difference is, would love to get their hands on me to see what makes me tick. It's quite simple really; I don't give a fuck what they think, my lifestyle suits me and that's all that matters as far as I'm concerned. I'm having fun, enjoying my life, and I don't pretend to be anything other than what I am. I deceive nobody.

Now, you'd think if women knew all about me, they'd run a mile, but no, it seems they like the danger, or the challenge of changing a, 'bad boy,' and that makes me almost irresistible as far as some of them are concerned. I've long since given up the futile idea of trying to figure women out. I'll leave that to the aforementioned psychologists and psychiatrists and wish them good luck in the process.

Of course, the fact that I've written a book on the subject helps to draw women in and line them up for me, and being a writer gives me the time and opportunity to indulge myself. Nothing compares to the author's book signing tour for meeting willing new conquests. My publisher, in conjunction with the bookstores, arrange for me to visit different cities and towns to promote my books, where I meet and greet my readers, and sign copies of my books.

Surprisingly, most of my fans are women, and it's a rare book signing appearance where I'm not passed four or five telephone numbers from my, 'fans.' Depending on the duration of my stay, I sometimes manage to meet and seduce at least one, if not more of my admirers. Let's face it, what man in his right mind would turn down the opportunity of making love to attractive, intelligent women if presented in such a generous and selfless way?

Not all of the women who pass me telephone numbers are eager fans though. Sometimes the occasional journalist, or features writer for a magazine will talk to me, hoping for an interview, but I always ask when given phone numbers if they are a journalist looking for an interview or if they're just being, 'friendly.'

I rarely turn down requests for interviews, working on the old premise that there's no such thing as bad publicity. I've met a few who've obviously set out with the intent of doing an, 'assassination,' feature on me, but I'm happy to say I usually manage to win them over. One woman did a particularly vitriolic piece on me, so I sent flowers to thank her for the huge increase in my success rate with women in the weeks that followed her article.

More often I manage by a combination of openness, and humour to get them onside. Take last week for instance; I had a pre-arranged interview with a highly respected features writer from one of the main women's magazines. She's been on TV a number of times, usually on late night book review type programs, and literary features, so she's not an idiot, highly articulate, and forthright in her views, with strongly held feminist beliefs.

An extremely intelligent woman, but also very, very attractive, with shoulder length ash blonde hair, slim, but womanly figure, with great legs, shown off by her short, but very stylish skirt. Her face was heart shaped, with beautiful skin, a small straight nose with just a hint of freckles, and a full, generous mouth. Her bright, clear, eyes radiated intelligence and I knew it would be tough as she went straight for the jugular.

'It's been said on a number of occasions that you are quite immoral. How do you answer those criticisms?' she started.

'I presume we're talking about me, rather than my books?' I began. 'I suppose it depends on what you see as immoral. You see I don't subscribe to the old-fashioned idea of morals. Those emerged from a different time and place when religion had a bigger part to play in the daily lives of men and women.

As I see it, they were mostly invented through fear; fear by men of their women being seduced by other men, and fear by women of being abandoned by their partners. Men worried that they might not, "measure up," if their women had experience of other men, and women worried about being left for a younger model when they grew older, or whatever. Those ideas of morality simply don't hold water these days; it's a whole new world out there, and most people realise you don't have to be religious to be moral.'

'Don't you feel that in these days of ever more virulent sexually transmitted diseases that it's irresponsible of you to promote the sort of lifestyle that you seem to enjoy?' she continued.

'No. For a start, I don't promote it, it's you, the magazines and newspapers that report it, that 'promote,' it, and we all have something called free will. I always, and I repeat, always, practice safe sex. I would no more think of indulging in sexual relations with a woman without using a condom than stick my head under a moving bus wheel.' She smiled at that image.

'Have you no thought or care for the women you use for your own pleasures? After all, women are people with feelings too. What do you think of them, are women just objects to be used for your own gratification?'

'Don't insult me please. If I felt like that about women, I'd be just as well masturbating. I care for them all, I like them all. It may surprise you to know that I like women as people, not just as sexual partners. I'm not a, 'wham bang, thank you ma'am,' lover. I'm caring and considerate. I don't

use

women, I give as much as I take, and I'd like to think I don't disappoint any of them. I hope that doesn't sound as if I'm bragging, it's not intended to be like that,' I added.

'No, indeed, I take your point, but when it comes right down to it, you

are

using them aren't you?' she persisted.

'Again, I have to say no, because you're not giving

them

credit for being intelligent, independent women who are making their own choices. It's not all about me and what I want, they choose to become involved with me and nobody is forced or coerced to do anything they don't want to do. It's a meeting of two equals.'

'Okay, it's been said, and in fact you have often admitted it, that if you find a woman attractive, sooner or later you will make a pass at her. Is that still true?'

'Oh yes, I don't see any point in denying that. I've told you already, I like women; I like being in their company, I like talking to them, and I love being in intimate situations with them. Just kissing a woman for the first time is incredibly thrilling, and I see nothing wrong with that, do you?'

'No, I suppose not. Are you always successful with women when you make a pass at them?' I laughed at that

'Oh no, far from it, some of them turn me down, but then on the other hand, if I didn't try, then I wouldn't know, would I, and something potentially wonderful would be lost, perhaps for ever?'

'Is it easy to find women now that you're so well known for being a, "bad boy," or does your notoriety make it more difficult?' she asked.

'Nah! It seems to help. Women are naturally curious, and for most women, there's a certain attraction to the dark side. They like to feel secure, but they also like flirting with danger on occasion, and that's where I come in. They wonder if I'm as good in bed as my, 'newspaper,' reputation may suggest, and some want to find out for themselves. That's where the curiosity I spoke about comes into play.'

'And are you - good in bed, I mean?' She said with a little smile on her face.

'Whoa, that's a leading question, and a bit personal if I may say so. Look, I think you already know that I'm actually quite a modest sort of person. I'd come across as a real dick-head to your readers, if I went around saying I was good in bed with women. That's not my style - you'd have to ask somebody else, get a second opinion. I can't possibly answer that, but I do know that I always try my very best to make a woman happy if that counts for anything.'

'Do you have a specific type of woman you like or are you indiscriminate in your tastes?' she continued. I knew she was baiting me but smiled and answered as honestly as I could.

'I can't really say that I have a, "type," that I go for, although some men are like that; I mean Rod Stewart for instance always goes for that tall, leggy, blonde, model girl look, but that doesn't hold with me. I like all kinds of women and all races, I'm not prejudiced, but to use your own word, I'm never, "indiscriminate," in my choices. That would make me sound as if I make love to any woman that crosses my path, and that's not the case. I'm actually very fastidious about who I choose to be with.'

'Very well,' she continued, 'if not a particular, "type," of women is there anything that links the women you end up in bed with?'

'Again, not particularly that I can think of. I've met women who are doctors, lawyers, nurses, business women, shop assistants, office workers, teachers, and the list goes on. I suppose the one common thread is intelligence and spirit; I like women to have something between their ears as well as, to put it crudely, between her legs.' She nodded briefly, as if satisfied with that answer.

'Do you think you'll ever be satisfied with one woman? After all, none of us are getting younger - don't you worry that one day the supply of eager women will dry up and you'll be left on your own?'

'Maybe you won't believe this, but I'm a bit of a romantic at heart. I'm sure there is indeed one special woman out there for me, just like for everyone else, but I haven't found her yet. I know she's there somewhere and I look forward to finding her, and when I do there will be nobody else. As for worrying about being alone, yes, like everyone else, I have my moments of doubt, my insecurities. However, until I find her, that one special woman, I'm having a great time, enjoying my life as it is, and taking each moment as it comes.

'Well, on that note I think it's time to conclude this interview. Thank you very much for your time and your honesty' and with that, she shut off her recorder. I thanked her in return but didn't move. I was waiting for the follow up question she was dying to ask, but I waited and watched as she put on her coat and slung her bag over her shoulder. I stood up politely as she seemed about to leave, but I could sense the reluctance, the hesitation in her manner.

'One last question you forgot to ask?' I suggested. She blushed, obviously struggling with herself, knowing I knew.

'Okay, I have to know. You haven't made a pass at me, so

I'm

not attractive, is that what you're telling me?'

'Oh no, in fact, quite the reverse is true. I think you're absolutely beautiful, clever, and intelligent, in short everything I look for in a woman, but then, I didn't have to make a pass at you. In a way your own curiosity has already seduced you,' her mouth opened in surprise.

'You're a right arrogant bastard, aren't you?' she said, but there was a hint of a smile as she said it.

'Actually no, I'm not the slightest bit arrogant, but I am honest, and I like women to be honest too. I like a woman to meet me on level terms, with her wanting me as much as I want her and no lies, or false modesty. I want you, I've knows that since the very first moment I saw you, and talking to you has made me want you even more, but can you admit, even if it's only to yourself, that you are intrigued, curious, perhaps even tempted to find out for yourself?' She looked as if she were thinking for a moment, slowly shaking her head.

'Remember, I said - no pressure? I'll go up to my hotel room now, I'm in room 224. If you don't come up in the next half hour, I'll take it that you're not interested, and I'll look forward to reading your article when it's published. I'll say goodbye now, but I'm hoping it's not really goodbye and I'll see you very soon.' I turned and walked out of the room where I had been interviewed and walked to the elevator. I really hoped she would come to my room, but the ball was in her court.

'I thought you weren't going to come,' I said, with relief obvious in my voice. She smiled as I opened the door wider and invited her in. I hung the, 'Do Not Disturb,' sign on the outside door handle, and locked the door.

'Fuck, I must be crazy,' she said, as I took her in my arms, giving her a reassuring hug. She looked up at me smiling, and I unbuttoned her coat, slipped it off her shoulders and hung it over the back of a chair. Taking her in my arms again, her eyes looked just a little anxious, frightened even. I tilted her chin up a little with my forefinger studying her beautiful face close-up for the first time, and slowly, gently kissed her mouth, affectionately nuzzling her face, kissing her closed eyes before returning to her mouth.

This time, when I kissed her, she opened her mouth and our tongues intertwined as I caressed her body; shoulders, back, and then bottom, pulling her against my hardness. She responded eagerly pushing herself against me as I began to feel her generous breasts through the flimsy material of her blouse. She moaned out loud, 'Oh god this is crazy, what the fuck am I doing here, behaving like a cheap slut?' she gasped out, but I took it to be a rhetorical question as I slipped my hand under the hem of her short skirt and rubbed between her legs, feeling her wetness through the tiny panties.

She pulled at my shirt, opening the buttons and sliding her beautifully manicured hands over my chest, before going for the belt on my trousers, opening it, pulling down my zip, before sliding my trousers down over my hips. My cock sprung up and out, hard and proud, and she grabbed it at once, feeling its length and hardness slowly and deliberately. 'Oh my,' was all she groaned breathlessly, as my fingers found their way inside her panties and slipped into her wetness.

She stood there, legs open and trembling, breathless with excitement, moaning helplessly as I stroked and caressed her velvet soft pussy. After a moment or two she began to pump her pelvis back and forth on my fingers, getting more frantic by the second, her mouth sucking and kissing mine.

She was making a low groaning, throaty sound as I rubbed her clitoris, becoming more and more excited, the groaning getting higher until it was a high-pitched moaning and suddenly, I knew she was coming, right there, on my fingers. I encouraged her, telling her she was a wonderful, sexy woman, my beautiful lover, which seemed to spur her on. She eventually slowed, and then finally stopped thrusting against my fingers, and stepping back a little she kissed me, whispering, 'thank you, thank you so much, that felt wonderful.'

'Let's get the rest of your clothes off,' I said quietly, and she meekly stood there as I undressed her, until at last she was naked in front of me, and within seconds I was naked too. It's such a joy to feel the naked body of a woman press against my skin; her wonderfully smooth skin rubbing and sliding over mine. I led her over to the bed and we both lay down. I kissed her again and looking down I could see her legs were drawn up and wide open.

'Touch me there again,' she pleaded, almost a whisper 'it was so good.' I smiled at her and slid further down the bed, she tried to pull me back, but I knew where I wanted to go, and it was to see her and taste her and besides, I was already between her legs, kissing the inside of her thighs as I worked my way up her outspread legs until I could go no higher, and then I kissed and licked around this object of my desires until she begged me not to tease her anymore.

I was fully intent on sucking her pussy anyway, so I went straight for it since she had asked me so nicely. With my mouth on her sex she arched up off the bed, whimpering with pleasure, pushing herself against my face as I licked and sucked at her pussy. I felt her hands on the back of my head as if frightened I might stop, but there was no way that was going to happen. I was there for the duration and had no intention of stopping until she had at least one more orgasm, and it wasn't long in coming. She came quickly shuddering and moaning under my mouth and tongue, leaking her love juice over my chin, whimpering and moaning as if possessed.

Still between her legs, I studied her wonderful pussy. The labia were large and generous, open and wet, glistening pinkly, juice leaking from her and flowing slowly into the crack of her bottom. Looking up the length of her magnificent body, her chest heaved as her breathing began to get back to normal, her superb breasts wobbling slightly, nipples hard and erect, and a small trickle of sweat, began the journey from between her breasts heading for the wonder that was her belly button.

Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, still in that post orgasmic haze, as I shifted myself up the bed and slammed my cock deep into her soaking pussy. She let out a loud yelp of surprise mixed with a moan of welcome as I began to move within her. Her legs circled my back, pulling me deeper and she thrust her pelvis harder against me. She wanted it as much as me I knew, and after a few really hard thrusts to let her know her cunt was mine, I settled down to a more leisurely pace.

Listening to her responses, but enjoying her velvet wetness sucking at me, I varied the pace, reaming out her pussy, varying the angles and reaching into every inner recess I could reach. She encouraged me all the while, 'Oh yes... that's it, that's what I like!' It's nice to be appreciated. At one point, I almost pulled out, the tip of my knob just inside her lips, teasing her, her eyes flashed open, and she virtually snarled at me, 'Fuck me you bastard, don't stop, do it, do it.' But I just smiled down at her knowing I was in complete control.

She dug her nails into my back, she was a right wildcat. I rammed it into her, and she screamed with relief, but I did the same again, withdrawing, leaving her on the brink. Changing tack, she looked at me through half shut eyes, 'Please, please don't tease me, I need it, please,' and since she asked so nicely again, I rammed into her as hard as I could. She went crazy, her body writhing and bucking as her orgasm ripped through her, moaning loudly, calling out my name, telling me I was a bastard and worse, but she was loving it all the same.

Gradually, her orgasm spent its force, and she began to come back down, but I wasn't finished with her just yet. Rolling her over on her stomach, I got her on her knees and rubbing up against her bottom, my cock slipped into her pussy again. She compliantly adjusted her position, spreading her legs a little wider as I began to stroke in and out again. She shuddered and moaned, 'I don't know if I can come again, I'm exhausted,' she protested.

'Oh yes you can. Maybe

you

can't, but your pussy can, and

she

wants more. That lovely little wet hole of yours is fucking me like there's no tomorrow,' and sure enough, she was thrusting back, pushing harder against me, sucking at my prick as I slid deeper into her. Again, I reamed all the corners until there was not a part of her hole untouched by my cock.