Anat met up with us for dinner, already in costume. That would be Princess Anat, complete with tiara, cape, and fishnet stockings. I'm not sure what she was princess of. We planned to go out to eat, come back, change, and then go to the hat party. Sara and I weren't quite as comfortable going out in costume. We even got a block away from the house. Then we turned back, costumed up, and headed out again. It had been decided that adding the extra trip back to the house to change would shave off too much party time before Sara had to go to work.

So, Deb was a gardener with straw hat and overalls. Sara was in her Catholic schoolgirl uniform with the addition of a halo. Jake was packing (yes, that is what I mean by "packing") and had on a t-shirt that said Butchwear and a hat that said FAG. And I was in my full-on Masta Chief ensemble with the SWAT boots, black BDU pants, black web belt, black t-shirt, and black BDU hat.

When we got to the party it was shoulder-to-shoulder people, half or more queer (Anat was impressed and happy she moved to the 'hood), lots of costumes, lots of booze. First thing, I see this fairly handsome black man in a Star Fleet uniform and a sombrero (the Sisko Kid�no, I didn't get it until he explained it). He looked sort of familiar, but I couldn't place him. He looked right at me and gestured for me to come over. I thought, "Oh great, I really am supposed to know who he is."

But no. He motioned me over so that he could snatch the BDU hat off my head and show me how to wear it right. Seems his dad was a Marine Drill Instructor for 30 years. I took to this guy right away. Unfortunately, wearing it properly meant I couldn't see anything above my 5-foot eye level without tilting my head way up. But hey, I'd been looking for someone who could tell me how to dress the hat right anyway. It always looked a little off to me. Now I know what was wrong.

The girls had followed me in, so they were standing nearby and had started conversations with other folks around us, one of them being a really cute fag in a white cowboy hat. We'll call him Mac. He had a shaved head and a well groomed goatee and a kickass country boy grin, and he was wearing a tight club shirt with jeans and cowboy boots. I turn around and Deb's trying to explain to him the relationships between the five us us. Mac is bewildered and incredulous. But appreciative. "So you're her wife and her girlfriend, and that's her wife, and she's girlfriends with your wife. Now how does she come in?" He had a hard time understanding what cog Anat played and why, with all that cleavage, she wasn't passed around more.

He was just fascinated with us and started calling me his new husband. I took a shine to him. The inuendos and conversation got more graphic. Jake and I were both telling him that we know what to do with a boy like him. He was saying he could be our bitch if we had a strap-on. I forget his exact wording because I don't know much about cars, but he was saying, "Honey, you could park a Cadillac up there." And then he paused and said, "Well, a coupe maybe, but not a sedan [or a towncar or something�that's the part I forget]." I told him I had one that would fit. I was sitting up on a cinderblock wall and I tugged him over between my legs with his ass facing me and bent him over just a bit. He had a nice ass.

I also started running my hands across his chest while he was parked there between my legs. Very nice. Hard, pebbly little nipples.

He kept getting distracted by Anat's cleavage, though. It is hard to ignore.

Because the girls were there with me, and my confidence was way up, I made sure he knew I wasn't just playing with him and that I really would like to, well, not putting it delicately, plow his ass. I didn't say those exact words to him. He was sober enough to talk with me a little more seriously about it and tell me he thought that would be fun. He hasn't done anything with a girl in about as long as it's been since I did anything with a boy.

I kept telling him to go find a pen and some paper so he could give me his number, but his friend Allen, who was fawning over Deb because she's something of a local celebrity in some circles (and because she is fabulous and special) kept getting in the way. Finally I asked one of the girls if they would go inside and find a pen for me. Anat had one in her purse. I'd forgotten she had a purse and I knew that there wasn't room for anything as bulky as a pen in her dress or I would've asked her sooner.

So we swapped numbers. I'm going to call him this afternoon (at a decent, day after party hour) and see if he's still up for it, so to speak. He really is cute. And I've always wanted to have my way with a willing boy who won't expect to be fucking me back.

In fact, it's one of my all-time standard masturbation fantasies. If there's anybody out there who skips the date reports because they're too much sexual information, you should probably skip this next part, too.

In my fantasy I'm cruising down a desert highway at night on a shiny, wide, powerful hog. It's thrumming between my legs and I'm getting hornier by the minute. I pull into an old gas station in the middle of nowhere. The pumps are the older kind with one nozzle on the side and a lever that you throw into the horizontal position to start the pump. In my head, inserting the nozzle into the tank is incredibly suggestive and starts to get me hard. The pump dings off the gallons.

As I fill the tank, a young man wearing overalls and no shirt comes out of the station and walks over to me. I finish up with the gas, screw the tank cap back on, insert the nozzle back in its cradle�again punching my penetration buttons�and turn to the boy.

He looks sullen, bored, hot. He's wearing work boots with the laces untied and his hair falls into his face. I pull out my wallet and pay him enough to cover the gas, and then I flip four more twenties into his outstretched hand, one by one. He gets my meaning right away and he slowly walks back behind the station. I follow.

Behind the station I push him face toward the wall and he braces himself against it with his arms placed wide. He doesn't even look back at me. I reach around and unfasten the straps of his overalls, one at a time, and let the bib drop in front and bring the straps back to drape down his ass and legs. Then I unbutton the waist on each side until the overalls just drop around his ankles. He's not wearing underwear.

I tell him to step out of his boots and overalls, and he does. Then I kick his feet further apart so that his legs are spread wide. Sometimes I reach around and play with his nipples or his dick. Sometimes I just go right for what I want.

I'm wearing jeans and chaps. I undo the buckle of the chaps and unbotton my jeans, reach in and haul out my half-hard dick. Then I start talking to the boy. Asking him if he thinks he can take it. He never answers. I keep talking to him as I stroke myself hard, grind up against him, wrap my hand around his cock. Then when I'm good and ready I roll a condom on and set the head of my cock to work at his asshole.

In my fantasy I don't wait until he's ready. I want it tight, and I want it now, and if that hurts, too fucking bad. And it does hurt. He winces when I punch through. But oh my god it feels good. He tells me it's too big. Tells me to pull out. I tell him he took the money and it's too late now. He squirms all around my cock while I hold his hips in place and start to rock into him. I start out slow and then put more into it, putting my ass muscles behind it, really trying to fuck a new hole into him.

He's into it now and pushing his ass back onto me. My head and my nuts are about to explode from the pleasure, and it doesn't take long for me to come. When I'm done with him I just put myself back together, walk away, get back on the bike and drive on down the road.

Ahem. So anyway, that's one of my jack-off fantasies. I could just about act it out with this boy. Heh.

Looks like Deb's going to have to step in today. Sara has my insidious throat tickle something awful and she's having trouble getting to sleep. I did get to have her yesterday, though, and that was great.

The date was going to be at their house, and I had to hit a certain window of time when Jake was going to be out of the house. Timing was everything. Jake was going out to do some laundry and pick up Tyler from the groomers, then she was going to come back to drop off the laundry and the dog and then she'd go back out and there would be enough time for a date. Diligently I watched for her arrival back home and subsequent second departure.

I came in as the Masta Chief because I knew that Sara would be pretty well out of it and might need some inspiration to wake up enough to have a date. MC did the trick pretty well. I had her coherent and her arms bound to her body in no time.

And then we heard Jake came in. We ignored her for a few minutes, and I had just rolled a condom on when we decided it would be prudent for me to go out and make sure she knew I was there and that there was a date in progress. She was very happy that I did because she needed to come into the bedroom to get a different shirt to change into.

Sure. No problem. Sara was tied up and tucked in. Just her head, shoulders, and breasts are above the covers. She's like, "Hi, sweetie. I'd wave, but I can't." Jake picked out a shirt and was gone with a couple air smooches. I climbed back on top of Sara and she said, "Can I just step out of character for a second here to say how amazingly good our lives are?"

I seconded that when we were in the hot tub after the party last night.

I got her warmed up again, did a little knife play, put on a new condom with fresh lube, and fucked her as she lay on her back. Then I brought out the bed pads and towels and fucked her with my hand. She hadn't come like that for me in a while (several days), and it was great. She said she wasn't going to push back to make herself splash, she was going to let me pull it out of her. Ungh.

I borrowed their vibrator to get off and then napped with Sara for two hours afterward.

Casualties: 2 condoms (one not used), two towels, one bed pad.

October casualty total*:
Condoms: 16
Latex gloves: 1
Towels: 18
Bed pads: 12
Pairs of panties: 1
Undershirts: 1
T-shirts: 3
Comforter: 1
*Items of clothing and linen listed as casualties needed to be laundered as a result of the particular date in question. The number refers to the number of times said item(s) had to be laundered. So, for example, when you read "T-shirt: 3," you could translate that to mean, "We have trashed the t-shirt I was wearing during sex three times." The exception is panties, which, if listed as a casualty, were shredded by a knife.