Randy Dreamers Carnal Chronicles

Dear Reader,

Welcome to my Carnal Chronicles. You'll naturally find out more about me as The Chronicles progress, but you'll note the word 'carnal' in the title, which gives you a clue as to their main focus. I can't promise they'll be in the exact order of conquest, but I'll do my best to connect the dots. I mean, let's face it, the order of things isn't why you're here anyway, I'll bet.

It wouldn't be possible to share the details of every single lay I've had. That would take up far too much time and paper. Instead, what you'll find here is a selection of what I consider to be my most memorable carnal moments and the stories surrounding them, curated for their significance and of course, covering the smorgasbord of raunchy pleasures I've been lucky enough to experience.

You see, if there's anything I'm an expert in, it's sexual activity. Well, sure, the inner workings of the legal system, too, but I'd rather stab myself in the eye with a pen than spend my spare time writing about that.

So no, I'm not a sexologist, and yes, I'm a lawyer. But more than anything, I do love to fuck. I've always loved to fuck, and I believe we're all born to fuck.

In fact, I think fucking is the meaning of life.

When we strip it all back, we're here to procreate. It's our purpose. Just like our distant ancestor, the first single cell, divided itself however many hundreds of millions of years ago; we too, the fully formed organisms that are human beings, mammals, and at the end of the day, animals, are wired to ensure the survival of our species through spreading our very own DNA.

That's what the tingling in our loins is all about, and indeed, it directs us to our sole purpose.

Eating, drinking, sleeping, earning money, forming complex societies, worshipping supernatural beings, marriage, and dare I say it, falling in love, are all just processes geared towards keeping us alive and in the right social constructs for fucking 'appropriately.' But you see, intelligent animals that we are for inventing various forms of birth control, we can harness the divine enjoyment of that act without procreating, and just enjoy the wild ecstasy that comes from letting go and submitting to the burning primal yearnings of the flesh.

So yes, it's true, I've had many a fuck. Too many I've been told, by some judgemental others. But hey, screw them.

Well, some I would, some I wouldn't, some I have.

I may indeed be a sex addict, as has often been suggested, but I don't feel the need for a formal diagnosis. If I am a fuckaholic, I'm happy to live with it, despite the trouble it's caused me at times.

My preoccupation with sex isn't just about the orgasm or the load release, either, by the way. That's just a wonderful cherry on top. It's about the excitement, the rush, the chase, the emotion, the drama that comes along with it. The whole process from beginning to end is like a drug, with all the exhilarating come ups, intense peaks and shattering come downs involved.

So, why am I sharing the history of my key sexual experiences with you anyway?

Well, for a start, I like to write. Love it, in fact. Along with my law degree, I doubled in Arts at university and majored in English Literature and Creative Writing, just for fun. Writing is a cathartic release for me, almost as good as sex. And for me, words paint a picture sexier than any camera can. Men may be labelled as 'visual creatures,' but we have imaginations as well.

I particularly enjoy the art of the memoir, too. We can all learn a lot from the lives of others. Now, many people would label me successful when they refer to my career, but I'm not famous, so it's not like I have that helping me onto the New York Times bestseller list. Who wants to read about law, anyway?

Boring.

But I do think every person has a unique life story with interesting tales to tell. And as far as I'm concerned, my most interesting tales relate to sex.

Finally, the idea that others - that you - might get off on the details of my carnal exploits, well, that gets me off too. It's like one big literary orgy. And I'm a fan of any type of orgy.

I should mention in advance that I've burned a few people in my time, but I never meant to hurt anyone. I've been burned plenty myself, too. You'll read all about these things here. I'm a flawed human being, just like everyone else is, but I do hope you conclude that I'm not a bad guy. I respect all people, indeed all life.

And the older I've become, the more I see value to life outside the thick fog of my sexual desires. Perhaps that's why I'm writing this, too. To gain some clarity.

If love is a construct, as I suggest above, then it's one that I've always fallen for and still indeed crave. One that I've stuffed up plenty. Sex and love are often, though definitely not always, you'll find, very difficult to separate in my mind. So, although sex -- fucking - may be the core theme in these chronicles, as fundamental as it is to life, I imagine other aspects of the human condition will be reflected in my writings too. Not least, the nature of love.

Being a retrospective journal of sorts, I write this in the first person, as a man. I thus can't give you the exact thoughts and feelings of the other people involved in this story (their names changed, of course), as I can't get inside their heads. As much as I've learned about women physically, they can still very much be a mystery to me emotionally.

But that really is half the fun. Although this story is told from one standpoint of male sexuality, I absolutely aim to bring to life the female sexuality too, through the ways I've experienced it in all its raw splendour.

I won't tell you how old I am right now; you can try to figure that out for yourself. But yes, I'm still as randy as hell. I'm not going to begin this story with my very first sexual encounters; maybe they'll come later. But I've chosen this particular part of my story to begin with because of its significance.

Because of her significance, and the things she taught me about love and life and sex, for better and for worse.

She represents the moment in my life that I transitioned from awkward teenage boy to awakened young man. She may have been my second true love, and damn, my memories of her are etched into my brain and still make me cum buckets to this very day.

So please join me for Part One of these chronicles, the chapters of which mostly relate to my university years, when I was just a young buck. These were the years my innocence not only disappeared, but was swallowed up completely by the hedonistic deviant that I am today.

Well, so I've been called. But you know what? I just think I'm human, doing what I was born to do, in all its carnal glory.

Chapter 1

I couldn't wait to fly the nest and escape Meadow Beach, the small, coastal country town I'd grown up in. I mean, it's home, and the place is beautiful and will always hold a piece of my heart, wherever I am. But given its distance from Sydney, in which Lakeside University is situated, I took residence in the student lodgings there for the duration of my studies.

I'll never forget the sensory overload as I arrived on campus for my first year. Here in Australia, the university calendar begins in the height of summer. Do you know what that means? You guessed it. It means a feast for the eyes.

Skimpy tops, short skirts, short shorts; boobs, bellies, thighs and bums, barely contained, burgeoning into view everywhere. Young, nubile women, embracing the newfound freedom of adulthood. A feast of scantily clad female flesh, ripe for consumption, for those lads who learn how to crack the code, anyway.

It means roving male eyes. It means hidden erections, squashed up against bellies in undies or down along thighs, desperate for release amidst the musky, tangy scent that permeates an Aussie summertime university campus.

Now, coming from a small coastal farming town, in which the residents frequented the beach, I was no stranger to the sight of female flesh. But the sheer number of girls, the variety of shapes, sizes and colours here on campus, was overwhelming.

Jason and I were sitting next to each other in the lecture theatre on our first day of classes, me in a seat next to the aisle. It was our first lecture for Literature Foundations.

Jason wasn't a big reader, to be honest, unlike myself, but he'd decided to enrol in the same electives as me. He'd been my best mate since kindergarten and all throughout our schooling in Meadow Beach. We were more like brothers.

We were stoked to find out that we'd both made it into the same Law/Arts course at Lakeside, and had rented the same dorm room to inhabit. It made the move to the big city without our families seem far less daunting, and we were brimming with excitement for the adventures we'd share together in the world beyond Meadow Beach.

The lecture had already begun when she hurried past me down the aisle, panting anxiously. It was the sweet yet distinctive smell of vanilla and spice that hit me first, followed by a flash of blonde hair, styled in a messy bun, a white singlet top, a short, pleat, navy-blue skirt, and heeled white sandals, strapped around a pair of delightfully delicate ankles that led up to her sculpted porcelain calves.

She took her seat, two rows in front of me, on the opposite edge of the aisle. It was far enough forward that I wasn't in her line of vision, but she was smack-bang in mine.

As she sat down and crossed her legs, the skirt's hem slipped back around her waist, revealing the most incredible set of smooth, golden legs I'd ever seen. In fact, they were so bare that I could see where the back of her thigh curved to become her rounded buttock, which was scarcely covered by the elastic edge of her white, bikini cut knickers. I had to pull my tongue back in when I noticed the dimples that had formed in the exposed side of her plush butt cheek, as it squashed into its seat.

My cock swelled immediately, and my balls began to tingle. It was such a fucking tease.

Jason obviously shared the view, too, as he elbowed me in the ribs and sniggered. "Oiy, check that out," he whispered loudly, pointing noticeably.

I slapped his hand away and hissed, "Shut up dude!"

The girl turned around and met my gaze, half frowning. I went beetroot red and smiled faintly, as her eyes met mine.

"You fucking idiot," I murmured at Jason.

But suddenly, distracted from the inherent inappropriateness of the situation, the girl smiled at me and raised her hand in a slight wave.

It was then that I recognised her. She was the chick who'd spilt her drink on me two nights earlier at the University Orientation Week Ball, as she'd spun around in a drunken stupor at the bar.

She'd apologised profusely, if somewhat incoherently, fruitlessly attempting to wipe away the liquid soaked into my shirt as our eyes met. In that moment, she'd flashed me a coy smile, and her big, beautiful green eyes had me spellbound. My mouth had flopped open and shut in an awkward acceptance of her apology, before she before squeezed my arm and turned to stumble away.

Her blonde hair had been straightened that night, just past her shoulders. She was wearing a tight black minidress with spaghetti straps over her shoulders. Her pert handfuls pushed up into a supple cleavage, above which sat a small silver cross on a thin black string necklace. The dress accentuated her widened but slender hips and only just covered her round, perky little heart-shaped behind, allowing full display of her killer legs. She was a total snack.

But to my dismay, I watched as she returned to Ricky on the dance floor.

Ricky Slater was one of the handful of students on campus that also heralded from Meadow Beach High School. I wasn't enemies with the guy, but we weren't exactly friends either. There weren't many social circles in Meadow Beach, so we knew each other, but we tended to float in different ones. On the surface at least, there was an indifferent respect between us.

Ricky was two years our senior, but graduated high school at the same time as Jason and me. The dumb fuck had to repeat his senior year, twice, before he attained his completion certificate. Whereas I gained entry to uni based on my academic smarts, and Jason got in by copying me wherever possible and following my tutelage, Ricky had finally landed a rugby scholarship.

And to be fair, Ricky was a born athlete. He was built like a brick shithouse. At 6'5" and carved of solid muscle from both genetics and many hours lifting weights in the gym, he was an imposing figure.

Sadly, he was ruggedly handsome too, despite his crooked nose which had been broken several times during rugby matches. He had a thick head of jet-black hair, styled into a stupid mullet that I had to admit suited him well. He was decorated in tattoos from neck to toe and across all four limbs, which only heightened the sexy, testosterone-fuelled, bad-boy persona that had caused so many panties to drop in Meadow Beach. Despite his arrogant stupidity, the guy had swagger, the women were drawn to it, and he knew it.

He'd somehow been accepted into an engineering course at Lakeside, and I shuddered at the thought of stepping on, let alone driving across any bridge that he designed.

So anyway, of course this gorgeous girl was already his, before the semester had even started. I allowed the familiar realisation that girls like her went for guys like Ricky to sink in, and moved on with my evening.

Although, I certainly did enjoy rubbing one out to this mysterious girl before falling asleep that night.

"Ah heh hem!" Professor Evelyn O'Connell's thick Irish accent snapped me back into the moment. "Is there something you'd like to add, young lad?" Her eyes were fixed on me, irritated and expectant.

"Errr... no thanks, sorry Miss."

"That's Professor to you, thank you. Then keep it quiet while I'm speaking, please. And you, young lass," she continued, as her gaze turned to Ricky's girl, "Don't be thinking you can saunter in late to my lectures. I want to see you on time in future."

"Yes Professor, my apologies," replied the girl. With an amused smirk in my direction, she turned to face the front, and the lecture continued.

"She seems nice," whispered Jason, quieter this time. "I'd fuck her."

"Who wouldn't, Bro," I replied. "She's Ricky Slater's girlfriend, though."

Jason rolled his eyes, coming to the same conclusion I had two evenings earlier. Girls like her were off limits, reserved for alpha males like Ricky.

Of course, I didn't take much in for the remainder of that lecture, as I couldn't keep my eyes from darting to those heavenly legs, and that tasty, dimpled cheek as it pressed rudely into its seat.

Needless to say, I held my satchel in front of me when we left the lecture theatre, and I couldn't help but tribute another quick wank to her in the Tavern toilets before Jason and I sat down to lunch.

As quiet as I tried to be, I'm sure Jason knew what I was doing a few cubicles over, and I was quite sure from the muffled heavy breathing that he was doing the same.

Chapter 2

I decided to forget about Ricky's girl, as much as I could, and focussed on a healthy balance of studying and life. I'd decided to join the uni swim team, qualifying quite easily, as did Jason. We'd both been members of the surf life-saving club in Meadow Beach since we were youngsters. We were to begin training in the second week of the semester, 5AM-6AM, Monday to Thursday.

Besides studying and swimming trials, Jason and I found ourselves in the midst of a bustling social life that first week, as we made friends with our classmates and teammates. Most nights were spent at the university's tavern, listening to live music and drinking ourselves silly with our newfound friends.

Now, I was lucky enough that my father covered the cost of my accommodation and gave me a small allowance for necessities out of the earnings from our family farm, but I also took a part-time job in the university's Lakeview Tavern itself, a few nights a week. It was busy schedule, but it was also a tonne of fun, and it funded my drinking habit. And the biggest benefit, of course, was that I got to meet girls.

It was my second shift, on the Thursday night of our first week. I was having fun that night, serving many people who were by now my friends, as when I wasn't working, I was a patron there myself and one of the usual crowd.

My heart sank a little when Ricky and his girlfriend came up to the bar. She smiled at me. "Hello again."

Her green eyes sent ripples through my chest once more. "G'day, how are you? Oh, and hi Ricky."

Ricky nodded his chin up. "Hey Dude. Grab me a beer will you, Cass?"

What a gentleman as always, I thought.

"Well then, one beer for Ricky and a gin and tonic for me please, ah... Randy. What an interesting name," she mused as her eyes found my name badge. "It sounds kind of American."

"Yeah, my mum's from the U.S.," I informed her. "It was my Grandad's name."

"And how is your mum?" Ricky interjected, almost with a sneer. I didn't like the way he said it.

"Fine, thanks." Ricky knew my family history, as everybody in our small town did. I wasn't prepared to go into it at that point, so I fixed their drinks and took payment from Cass. "Cheers guys, enjoy."

Cass gave me another faint smile, a quick one, but the way her eyes met mine intrigued me. It was curiosity, I was pretty sure.

"Later, Dude," said Ricky. They took their drinks as he scooped his arm around her waist, shepherding her back to their place at one of the large booths amongst a group of other rugby jocks with the same stupid mullet haircuts, and several other hot girls that seemed to go wild for them.

"Who was that?" asked Jess, slapping my bum as she stepped beside me. She was my boss, the tavern's manager.

Now, a bit of background on Jess is warranted here, too, so integral to my first year at uni that she ended up being. She was around a decade older than me, near 30, I think, and was close to finishing her PhD at the University. She was a little pocket rocket at 5'2", always go, go, go, with an infectious sense of humour, mixed with a fiery temper that flared when she had to deal with disrespectful patrons. No one messed with her.

She was extremely easy on the eyes, too, often coming to work wearing a small singlet top and tight yoga pants, which clung between her cheeks to outline the shape of her glorious ass and thick, muscled but feminine legs, kept in form by her second job as a morning yoga instructor at the uni's gym.

Jess seemed to take an instant liking to me: as soon as she could see on that first shift that I could work hard, keep up the pace, and show initiative, that is. Slack or incompetent bar staff didn't last long with her. She didn't mind if we didn't know all the drinks menu up front, but she wouldn't stand for a poor work ethic.

She had a dominant personality, but it was great to be on her good side. I enjoyed being around her, our banter and taking the mickey out of each other. She gave me a kind of safe feeling, and within that first week, our friendship already felt a lot like an older sister and younger brother one, except for the harmless flirting that I cheerfully returned.

Jess flirted harmlessly with everyone, but she wasn't easy. As the tavern's manager, she was somewhat of a celebrity on campus, and beneath her tough exterior she was a bit of a mother hen to many of the younger students, always happy to lend an ear and provide advice on how to survive and get the most out of university life.

"Err... well I think I just found out her name's Cass."

"Yeah, it's Cassie," replied Jess. "But I was talking about the dude she's with. And what was he saying about your mum?"

"Oh, that's Ricky. Ricky Slater. I went to school with him." I paused. "I... ahh.. I dunno. Let's not talk about my mum."