Mattias

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I would like to begin by saying here and now, “all women/people are beautiful and that everyone brings something special to this thing we call life.” Now with that said, I fully und

Glamour photos are not helpful

Since some men have chosen to voice there concerns which ultimately may make the site  experience better for all to find love, I will add my feeling. I've been on this site since Au

Be truthful about your meeting intentions.

You decline my request for your contact information...then you want to know why I'm not contacting you???

It began, of course, as these things so often do…

The eternal search

In the quaint town of Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania, nestled amidst the rolling hills and snow-covered landscapes, there lived me, a mischievous young boy. Let's call me Billy. I grew up

The Great Sled Race of Jim Thorpe

Magnolias

Let’s take a drive to to a campsite not too far.

First date fantasies

I wrote this at a time when I was still struggling after being betrayed by my ex. My poetry has helped me to heal. It reveals elements of my soul, and I hope resonates with you:

Soup for the soul

We met online during Covid, and like many others knew we would probably not meet for some time due to travel restrictions.

We finally meet

The hallways of Jefferson High School were my daily melancholic pilgrimage. Each day, my stolen glances would find solace in Jill, a classmate whose presence painted my world with m

The Ghosted Chance

I would like to begin by saying here and now, “all women/people are beautiful and that everyone brings something special to this thing we call life.”&nbsp; Now with that said, I fully understand the value of glamour photos and making yourself to be this beautiful mythical beauty and to make yourself feel more attractive. &nbsp;But with social media and the introduction of selfies, glamour photos are quickly becoming not as important to many men. &nbsp; Men on these sites look to see the real you, a naturally beautiful girl/lady/woman and the value you bring to the relationship is an emotional and physical connection. &nbsp;Physical not as in sex, but physical as in we finally feel connected in this world and feel we truly belong. &nbsp; I understand the need to use generic letters that you send to thousands of potential suitors in the hopes you catch someone’s attention, but if you want to really catch someone’s attention, be real…send a selfie, or a snap with a special note on it that shows you genuinely want to connect.&nbsp; I have read thousands of letters and seen thousands of photos, anywhere from selfies to very intimate nudes on these sites, but the ones I truly connect to are ones that are genuine selfies, showing your true self and it provides more about your character and well-being than a glamour photo ever would or could do. &nbsp; Also in this day in age, there is no reason why you cannot cam chat especially over mobile, why must it only be from a laptop or desktop cam…again being real and here and now…but this is something for a different story to write. &nbsp;

Since some men have chosen to voice there concerns which ultimately may make the site&nbsp; experience better for all to find love, I will add my feeling. I've been on this site since August of 2022. I try to read every letter I receive. The reason is some ladies put time and thought into their letters to me. Some use my name which at least lets me know you've seen my profile picture. Others use terms of endearment.&nbsp;

1. But there seems to be this incessant game of "bait and switch" to get a man to write to them. Woman will ask about setting a date to meet in the future. When you respond to their letter discussing the meeting, they change the subject and say, we should get to know each other better. I find the the girls from America will do this the most. But, European like to try this trick. THIS IS A SURE WAY NOT TO HAVE A MAN COMMUNICATE WITH YOU AGAIN. I will always go silent on you if you done this to me. It is like an empty promise. It also shows you are dishonest from start. It may seem like it's a small thing, but it's not the appropriate way to get a man's attention.

2. Ladies if a man responds to your letter, read it. Let him know you read his letter by commenting on what he wrote. He'll feel like you are listening to him and trying to make a connection. Its frustrating when I take the time to write about myself and the woman doesn't even comment on one thing. Message deleted!!

3. Bragging about how rich you is not a positive trait. I realize woman do it to show a man how purposeful and successful they are. If you're rich, the man will find out later on. You could lose your wealth while you're together, and that may be the only reason the man pursued you.&nbsp;

4. Talking about sexual acts in an introduction letter or shortly thereafter can be a turn-off to some men. Believe it or not most men aren't 24 hour sexual addicts.

5. If a man requests your personal contact information and you deny it, tell him why you did. Don't try to continue writing him like it never happened. If he knows why you did it, he may not stop communicating like I've already done to two ladies. It will help him understand better why you did it and if a future is possible for the two of you. I think I can speak for most men that we aren't here for pen-pals or a virtual relationship.

I hope my suggestions will help ladies how to approach a gentleman. Of course there those that will scoff at my suggestions and that's fine.

Having been on the site for a few weeks now, I've became close to a couple of women. I've sent emails and responded to them, even spoke on camera and when the required number of meetings has been met, I requested their contact details.&nbsp;

Now one of the women, has not responded to my request, despite it being 1 week. She still sends me mails and tells me she wants to meet next month...but still no details.

The other, who I was speaking with previously, well she is in England...even before I requested her details, she told me she wanted to travel to my city as she didn't want to wait. While we talked often, having met the number of required communication, I asked if I should request her details...and she seemed delighted that I was serious.

So 4 days later, when told she had declined to share these details...you can imagine I was a little puzzled. Only to be more stunned, when 2 weeks later, she sends me a mail asking why I no longer contact her???

Now ladies, is it just me...or does something seem very strange here? I appreciate that no woman has to send her details...but when she is planning to meet you before this, delighted to hear this...and then declines, does something seem a little wrong. The other, who is delighted to know I will be travelling to Poland, she has spent 1 week, getting this data together??? Seriously, if someone wanted my contact details, it would take about 1 minute )))

Sadly I feel that neither of these women are serious and sincere. Despite best efforts from all parties, let's be honest...they are only in this for the money.

To all those who are genuine here...this is why men have so much negativity and trepidation when using these sites. Thanks to women like this, this whole process is considered fake by many, when those who persevere, know that there are some genuine women.

Anyway...good luck to you all...and for the women who are not here for the right reasons, I hope your reward is worth it.

I sat, alone. I had just eaten, alone. The only sounds in my flat were those of the rumble of traffic and the incessant ticking of the clock.&nbsp; The fish swam blissfully ignorant in the tank, as I sat and waited.

Time passes so slowly sometimes. It’s much easier when my little boy is here, but then his mother takes him home and I sit alone for days and nights on end.&nbsp; So I choose to act. I choose to try and seek out happiness, to correct the course that this desolate path takes. After all, are we not meant to be able to be masters of our own destinies.

So I wait. I wait for the one that I know I will be able to honestly call my other half. The one who will be the missing piece from the jigsaw that is my life. I wait, this time in hope.

In the quaint town of Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania, nestled amidst the rolling hills and snow-covered landscapes, there lived me, a mischievous young boy. Let's call me Billy. I grew up in the 1970s, and I had a taste for adventure and an unruly imagination that often led me into hilarious escapades.

It was a cold winter's morning, and the first snow of the season had blanketed the town in a thick layer of white. My eyes widened with excitement as I gazed out the window, envisioning the perfect opportunity for an epic sled race. I rushed downstairs to gather my closest friends, Eddie and Tommy, to share my brilliant idea.

"Guys, we're going to have the greatest sled race this town has ever seen!" I declared, my enthusiasm contagious.

Here me with my friends. Somewhere during the 1970s.

Eddie and Tommy were immediately on board, and we set out to spread the word to every kid in Jim Thorpe. Soon enough, the whole town was excited as children of all ages prepared for the big event. My grandpa, an expert woodworker, crafted the most magnificent sled any of them had ever seen, complete with intricate carvings of mythical creatures and a shiny, sleek finish.

On the race day, the whole town gathered at the top of the steepest hill, which had been transformed into a thrilling race track. The air was filled with laughter and anticipation as we lined up with our sleds, each determined to claim the title of the fastest sledder in Jim Thorpe.

As Mr. Jenkins gave the signal, we pushed off and zoomed down the hill, our sleds gliding effortlessly over the snow. Me, Eddie, and Tommy were leading the pack, our competitive spirits in full swing. But I, in my boundless enthusiasm, forgot to put the brakes on my shiny new sled. I flew past my friends and zoomed down the hill faster than anyone else.

"Look out, Billy! You're going too fast!" Eddie shouted, but it was too late.

My sled shot off the track with a whoosh and veered wildly into a snowbank. As I somersaulted through the air, I let out a wild yelp and landed with a soft thud. My sled, now looking a little less magnificent, tumbled after me.

The whole town erupted in laughter, including me. I emerged from the snow, covered head to toe, resembling a snowman more than a boy. But my infectious laugh soon had everyone chuckling.

"Are you okay, Billy?" Tommy asked, trying to stifle my laughter.

I got up, brushing off the snow, and grinned from ear to ear. "That was amazing! I've never flown like that before!"

As the day went on, the kids continued to race down the hill, some tumbling and rolling, others spinning in circles on their sleds. But no matter how many tumbles or spills they took, the day's joy never waned.

And these are we somewhere in the 80s, I'm not sure.

After the race, we gathered around a bonfire, roasting marshmallows and sharing stories of our daring sled runs. Everyone agreed that it was the most fun we had ever had, thanks to my adventurous spirit and my unbreakable optimism.

Years later, as adults, we still fondly recall the Great Sled Race of our childhood. We remained best friends, and we often laughed about my snowman impression on that unforgettable day.

In the end, it wasn't about who won the race but the memories we had together. And in the heart of Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania, the spirit of that winter day lived on, reminding everyone that laughter and friendship were the true treasures of my childhood.

Warmth slowly penetrates that frozen earth below.&nbsp;Like the&nbsp;Magnolia, within me there is hope,

Let’s take a drive to to a campsite not too far.&nbsp;

Here’s how it played out in my head.&nbsp;

You wear a cute short black skirt, with soft red panties, and a cute t-shirt. We pull up to a secluded site that stays pretty private. I park the car. When we get out we kiss for a second. I pick you up and put you up on the hood of the car. As we kiss I slide my hand between your legs and pull your panties to the side. Your back started to arch and your breathing starts getting deeper, and starts to quicken, I reach up to feel your pussy and find it’s already soaking wet. You sit back and relax. I lower my head and start to lick the inside of your thighs. My fingers start going in deeper and faster. I love when you moan. My mouth reaches your pussy, and it’s aroma is absolutely perfect. I start by licking the very edges of your clit. It tastes so incredible. I try to slow down, but my tongue just keeps pushing in deeper. By now you’re pushing your hips back and forth and you have beads of sweat gathering on your forehead. Your body starts to tense up, and legs start closing tightly because you just can’t take it any more. You pull me up and passionately kiss me. Then you playfully jump off the car. I tell you to undo my pants, and drop to your knees. Not willing to fight anymore you instantly do as your told. You press your hands against my obvious hard dick. Slowly rubbing up and down my shaft through my jeans. You push my shirt slightly up so you can easily find my button which pulls open at your slightest touch as if it’s begging you to release him. You pull my boxers down to expose the head&nbsp;&nbsp;already glistening of precum which you eagerly lick off with your tongue. You forgot how much you love that taste and realize this is the most excitement you have had in a while. You push the head in you mouth and slide your tongue around as it’s going in a little more at a time. Now I’m moaning and getting hotter by the second. It feels so amazing.

After you soak my cock from your mouth and tongue, you stand up an pull your panties off kicking them to the side. I force you to turn around and bend you over the hood of the car. You have the biggest smile from the anticipation and you’ve wanted this for so long. I rub the head up against your swollen pussy pushing into you ever so slowly. I reach my hand and grab your throat with just enough force to make you understand I’m in control, but not hard enough to restrict your heavy breathing. I push in deeper at every thrust. At this point your moaning gets louder and I move my hand from your neck to the side of your face and slide my middle finger in your mouth, and use it as a muzzle to keep you from getting too loud. You fixate on it and worship it with the same intensity and attention you gave my throbbing dick earlier. I feel the tension running through your whole body. Faster and faster I fuck you. You can’t take it anymore.&nbsp;

hope that just like the ingredients in this pan

Can be reflected in my own ability to understand.

Nourishes, warms, provides, and bit by bit

I start to feel whole again. Life. A short thing

That, given it passes quickly. I want to be

Happy, I wish to be healed, I long to be free.

Like soup, I wished only to bring you the complete

Comfort that it brings, to make you feel replete

With my warmth, my kindness, my love.&nbsp;

All else, I wished only for you to want me again.

Yes, I did write this poem. It was inspired by the spring. I tend to write in order to help with anxiety, or depression.&nbsp; Words are powerful, and help us to understand the world.

To answer your question…

I now, two and a half years later am waiting at the airport for Lilian to arrive, we have been speaking daily since we met, many video calls, numerous phone calls, letters and texts, I think we know each other as well as we do our own families. We know each other's likes and dislikes, we have exchanged hundreds of photos, but no naked ones, so do not know what lies ahead in that department.

We have talked about our first meeting so many times and have decided that rather than going to my home, (a 5 hour drive) we will take in some sightseeing on the way and take 2 or 3 days to get to my house. I have reserved a room 2 hours drive from the Airport.

I watch for Lilian to appear through the arrival door, I see many other Chinese coming now so our meeting is closer, I had spoken to her on the phone when she was waiting to board the plane, I had suggested she change into something cool before she left, because today it's forecast to get to 38 C in Sydney, she informed me she had a lightweight yellow dress she planned to wear, so I was looking for a yellow dress to appear through the doorway.

My thoughts wander, many people have exited into the arrival hall, and I have not seen her, is she held up in customs? I told her not to bring any food, it is not allowed into Australia.&nbsp;

Then I see her, a bright yellow dress, pulling a large suitcase behind her, her long black shiny hair, she is more beautiful than all her pictures, i walk quickly towards her, she sees me, she smiles broadly, as she rushes towards me.

We are in an embrace, our lips meet, tongues meet as we kiss for the first time. I can feel her nipples against my chest, they are hard, she is not wearing a bra, breathless our lips part, we are still holding each other close. I give her the roses I bought earlier for her; this results in more passionate kissing.

We slowly walk to my car, arms around each others waists, stopping at times to kiss again, we get to my car, I open the door for Lilian, as she gets in I notice how short her dress is, barely covering her crouch, her slim legs, I load her luggage then we drive away, pay for carparking at the boom gate, then into the traffic and head towards the Harbour Bridge. As we drive over the bridge, I point out the opera house on our right. As we drive north, we deviate from the freeway, and drive on the old highway, slower but more scenic, we are talking, laughing, I thought we knew all about each other, but we still had lots to talk about.&nbsp;

I arrive at Motel I had pre booked, collect the key to our room from reception, then park car in front of our room. I take our luggage and we enter the room.&nbsp;

Both of us have had a long day, so I suggest we shower to freshen up, you kick of your shoes, take of your dress and panties, and I see you for the first time naked, your soft but firm breasts, hard nipples, nice sparsely haired flower and perfect body make my dragon fill with blood to stand erect, and you say, so that's my lollipop is it, take hold of it and lead me to the shower, we have a cool shower, wash each other, you wear a complimentary shower cap, so your hair does not get wet, get out of shower and dry ourselves and then lie on the bed, naturally we are kissing and or hands explore each others bodies.&nbsp;

Many times during the last 2 years we have talked about when this situation would happen, you are still a virgin, yes, a 35 year old virgin, and I have told you I do not want to rush you when we make love the first time. I want this to be special for you. I can feel your hard nipples pushing into my chest, my fingers explore your wet pussy, your pulsating clitoris. I kiss your breasts and nipples, then lowering myself to your navel, my tongue pushing into it then I lower myself to your now dripping flower, my thumbs spread your pussy lips and my tongue licks you deeply, i kiss your clitoris. then I roll back the hood of your clitoris, it is bright pink and looks just like a bean seed and hard, my tongue licks it and I feel you shudder and you moan. you then say darling can I pleasure you hard cock now, and before I know it we are in 69 position, your wet pussy in front of my face, your tongue circling the head of my cock, you then take it deep into your mouth, sucking hard. We continue pleasing each other, me drinking your juices, your moans make me more excited, pushing my cock into your mouth, your hips thrusting, helping me give you more pleasure. My face is covered with your juices, your breasts in my hands, your nipples erect and hard. After 20 minutes or so, you sit up and say, honey, please fuck my pussy now, I need it so much, i want to feel you deep inside my pussy.

I roll on my back, invite you to sit on my erect pole, giving you more control of your first fuck. You get on top of me, lean forward and we kiss your open flower sitting against my hard cock, you rock backwards and forward, rubbing your clit, you rise, I use my hand to raise my love pole then you slwly lower yourself onto it, I use my hand to let the head of my cock yo rub your clit, you are so wet, my cock enters you, you stop, I am now just inside your wide open flower, then drive my cock deep inside your love hole, you let out a short grown as you do this, my hands caress your soft but firm breasts, you are rocking on my cock, you are moaning, grinding on me,&nbsp; my fingers pulling your nipples, I am groaning, I want to fill you with my cream, your moans grow louder, i feel you clamping on my cock, you scream out and I inject you full of my sperm. You collapse onto me, breathing heavily, we roll onto our side, breathing heavily, we briefly kiss, then just lie there still connected at the hip

The hallways of Jefferson High School were my daily melancholic pilgrimage. Each day, my stolen glances would find solace in Jill, a classmate whose presence painted my world with muted hues of longing. She possessed an innate allure, an effortless charm that rendered me helpless in her orbit. Despite countless hours shared in classrooms and corridors, my voice remained imprisoned by the fear of rejection, a captive of my teenage insecurities.

With graduation came the end of a chapter, and a new one began as I fled the confines of our small Missouri town for the distant allure of Pasadena's college life. Amidst the city's vibrant chaos, I sought to shed my old skin to escape the specter of untold regrets. My academic pursuits became a feverish chase for success, my dreams an attempt to overwrite the inkblot of missed opportunities. Still, Jill's memory endured— a bittersweet tattoo on the canvas of my heart, a testament to roads not traversed.

Years of tenacious determination culminated in a degree, a passport back to my hometown, where nostalgia and unease intermingled. Time had sculpted changes upon the landscape of familiar faces, but the ache I carried remained unaltered. Fate conspired, unveiling a scene that could only exist in the realm of serendipity. There she stood, Jill, at a local café, a cascade of memories and emotions crashing over me. Her smile, once a beacon, now ignited the torch of nostalgia.

This encounter would not succumb to fear's embrace. Summoning dormant courage, I approached Jill, words tumbling forth like confessions held for far too long. The invitation was extended, a fragile bridge constructed from years of longing, and she accepted. Our first date was a twilight dance between past and present, a symphony of memories accompanied by the possibility of a new chapter. Hope bloomed within me, suggesting that perhaps time had decided to gift us another chance.

The months aged into years, and Jill and I bloomed in each other's company. Laughter punctuated our evenings, dreams were intertwined, and secrets whispered like promises. Love painted murals on the canvas of our lives, one that had once existed only in whispered reveries. Yet, as seasons turned their pages, so did the chapters of our story.

In the embrace of a tranquil park, a cruel epiphany took root. Love's veil was lifted, revealing an unsteady foundation— an entanglement woven from youthful infatuation, not the deep roots of true love. A bitter realization punctured my heart like a thorn, sowing the seeds of regret. The love I believed to have nurtured for Jill was a mere illusion that crumbled under the weight of my unspoken desires.

Summoning courage once again, I bared my soul to Jill. Each syllable was a confession of deception, a weight lifted off my chest only to land upon hers. Tears mirrored my own pain, our parting the requiem of a love that never stood a chance. The bittersweet end was as inevitable as it was agonizing, a severing of ties that held the tattered fragments of a future we would never share.

Missouri's embrace released me anew, setting me on a pilgrimage to self-discovery. Decades unfurled like the pages of an old book, their stories punctuated by the haunting memory of Jill— a reminder of a love that was as real as it was fragile. Her journey led her to family, to the echoes of children's laughter that I would never hear.

Three decades later, I stand at the crossroads of time, haunted by the specter of my own folly. The weight of my choice rests heavily upon my shoulders— a choice born of immaturity that carved a canyon of lost opportunities. In the recesses of solitude, I gaze upon a photograph of Jill, a relic of a time when possibilities bloomed, and love was tender, and I offer a silent lament to a love that was never indeed mine, to a woman I held in my heart but never truly embraced.

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