Tuesday, June 21, 2016
But, based on conversations with men friends and readers, not all women are this way. Indeed, some won't allow their lovers to go down on them. In a few cases, she will give good head — but doesn't want to receive.
Over the years, I've had many conversations with girlfriends about this topic. It's led me to offer these reasons why these women are reacting the way they do.
Some are very sexually repressed. They were taught by their mothers that "you pee down there," and their private parts are somehow dirty and off-limits. Certainly to a man's (or woman's) mouth.
Another reason is control. Nothing is more intense than an orgasm from oral sex. Some of these women have told me they don't want to let go that much. They're content with less-intense vaginal orgasms (although mine are explosive, a rarity) or no orgasm at all. These women aren't very highly sexed to begin with, to paint with a broad brush.
A good many had bad experiences with men who went down on them. The men were inept or selfish lovers. When I have an orgasm from a man's tongue-worshipping, I want him to know how to sense how much is too much, or too little — and this changes over the course of the oral love-making.
Finally, some women simply aren't very responsive. For a variety of reasons, they either can't have orgasms or never learned how. The background here can range from the psychological to physical causes.
If your girlfriend fits into these categories, my advice would be to run away. It won't get better, especially if you like the full menu of sex. If she's resistant to receiving oral sex, there will likely be other no-go zones and the sex will die off once she has your commitment.
If she's the love of your life, be prepared to be patient. Try to get her to talk about why she doesn't want oral sex. Can you live with it if she doesn't? I couldn't. But everyone's different.
Monday, April 4, 2016
When I turned 30, my main boyfriend at the time was a theater guy: tall, wavy dark hair, athletic in the sack, horny all the time, very well read and an expert flirt. When he came over to my apartment that night, he said he had my 30th birthday present. I expected him to hand me a wrapped gift. He had something much more memorable in mind.
After we finished martinis, he asked me to put on my high-school cheerleader outfit. I happily complied. It still fit perfectly. By today's standards, it was demure — pleated skirt, sweater. But I have to admit, I still looked sexy as hell in it. "My god, you're beautiful," he said. He brushed back my hair, cupped my face in his hands, and began passionately kissing me. I was already starting to heat up as he ran his hand up my knee to the inside of my thigh, and then I felt his finger pry aside my damp panties and lightly stroke my clit. I shivered and moaned, grinding against him — all the time he was kissing me — until I came.
"That's one," he said, somewhat cryptically.
"Fuck me," I pleaded. "I want you inside me.
He picked me up and carried me into the bedroom, gently depositing me onto the bed. I watched as he stripped off his shirt, slacks, and underwear. His hard cock dangled in the shadows. I opened my legs, my skirt spreading on the bedclothes, as he climbed on top and I guided him inside, feeling him fill me up. He was in no hurry, slowly sliding inside. I raised my knees and wrapped my legs around him as he fucked me, first slow, then going faster, deeper. My feet were starting to burn. My moans led into sharp screams as two orgasms overwhelmed me. He raised my legs over his shoulders and was instantly deeper inside. Another orgasm. He was smiling as he pumped into me, slow rhythm, then suddenly fast, deep strokes, then shallow, then deep again. His arms went down to pin my legs against his elbows, and he fucked me like a maniac.
"Let yourself go, babe," he said, a wide smile on his face. As if I hadn't already.
"Fuck me!" My voice was somewhere between a cry and a moan. I tried to fuck him back but he had me totally pinned down as his hard cock went in and out, again and again. My hands ran through his hair, gripped his shoulders. I came again and again, colors streaking the edges of my vision. The usual sounds of traffic outside my windows were lost to me. Then he let out his own cry and pushed into me. I felt his semen filling me. After a few minutes, his cock slipped out and he untangled my legs. I thought he would collapse beside me. Instead, he undressed me, tossing each garment to the floor after examining it, stopping to sniff my panties.
The room smelled of sex. He gently ran his tongue over one nipple, then moved it in circles, and finally started sucking. The sucking became very hard but I loved it. He moved to the other breast and did the same thing, while holding its twin in one hand. Next parted my legs and started sucking my toes. It felt fantastic. I was like a tuning fork, vibrating all over, whimpering almost uncontrollably. I felt his mouth kissing up one leg, pausing at the knee, then moving inside my thigh. I was about to come again when me merely brushed his face against my pussy and started all over again with the other leg.
He was driving me crazy, teasing me. Then I felt his tongue lightly tracing the lips of my pussy.
"No grinding," he said, pulling back. I tried to relax my hips and his tongue returned. I reached out and he met me with his hands. Our fingers intertwined. My entire pelvis caught fire and I heard myself scream again, sharp, sudden. I don't remember every moment after that, only snatches (pun intended): he would tongue-fuck me, going deep inside; his finger stroked my perineum while he licked my pussy — this pushed me over the edge again and again; him playing me, pulling back to lick my vulva and then suddenly hitting my clit again (another explosion); the way he used the facets of his tongue against my pussy, the tip and edges and full on; his ability to know exactly when to be gentle and when to push me over the edge again... My legs were noodles, draped over his shoulders.
After a very long, amazing time, he climbed back on top and started fucking me again. As he French kissed me, I tasted our mingled juices. I was pretty useless, just pulling my legs up naturally and letting him do the work. It was sweet and unhurried and soon I felt the burn coming yet again as I let out a hoarse scream. After he came, he took me in his arms and held me for a long time."That was one to grow on," he said. Yes, he had given me 31 orgasms that night.
I have girlfriends who come one and they're done, and a sad few who can't come at all. I always knew I was unusual in being a multi-orgasm girl — and a screamer, naturally, not any theatrics; I can't help myself. When I've told that story, they can't believe it. But it really happened. And I slept the best that night of my whole life.
Friday, February 12, 2016
In praise of big cocks. I've had a few. Some guys think all they have to do is show up; some well endowed men can be duds, while a responsive, caring man of average size is just fine.
Still, my big boys love it when I get them really aroused, unspool all that cock and then start madly sucking the head and glans with my mouth, while running my hand in a corkscrew motion up and down the shaft. As I increase the urgency of my moves, even the most taciturn guy will start moaning. He knows I want his come.
A well-endowed boyfriend would tease me by calling me a size queen, and it's true that I love a big package. He was a thick eight inches (an honest eight, not just a come-on line). It was a joy just to see and appreciate. I could tease the shaft, glans and head with my tongue, just like any cock, but there was more of it to work with. One girlfriend told me she had a boyfriend who measured 12 inches, and she could only suck the head while giving him a hand-job!
But I'm not a one-note Linda. Every penis has its appeal (although a girlfriend once complained to me that her fiancee's unit was less than three inches; the engagement eventually busted up). Give me thick and average and I can be in heaven. I can get him all the way in my mouth. After the requisite licking, kissing and teasing of his cock, I can start sliding it in and out as I suck, going all the way down, in a way I can't with a larger dick.
It's true that I was once taken and face-fucked by a big dick. He rammed it into the back of the throat, while keeping a tight hold on my head and hair. I had no choice but to take that dick all the way. The surprise and the emergence of my latent submissive side were exciting. But I also thought I was going to keep gagging and just pass out. In general, this is bad manners, to say the least.
Big dicks don't always produce the most semen...and you know I am a girl who not only loves to swallow, but loves big loads. My first high-school blowjobs were guys with average dicks...one with a big helmet of a head (ahhhhh...) and the other with a thick shaft and the head a little smaller (yes, I remember them vividly!). But how they came! I really felt as if I was sucking their taut young balls dry. Yes, youth has its benefits.
So size isn't everything in fellatio, but it doesn't hurt. Most of all, give me an appreciative man, who knows he's getting this wonderful gift from me.
Monday, May 4, 2015
I posted this originally on the old Fellatrices blog. Hope you enjoy
I'm getting aroused in advance of Fellatio Friday and the thought came to me, everything oral has its own context.For example, I reunited with my sometime lover, Jon, last weekend. I hadn't been in bed with him for nearly two years, but it was like we hadn't been apart. I woke him in the middle of the night by taking his cock in my mouth. He always loved that. I felt it get steel hard and fill me as he moaned contentedly. I thought, this is the I Know You Well blowjob, and the memory made me think of other contextual sucks.
* The Getting to Know You Blowjob. I've had new boyfriends where all I wanted for starters was to suck their cocks, and maybe nothing more that the first time. They never complained. So I could marvel at how very unique each man's equipment is, how it felt against my tongue and inside my mouth. Would he have a strong spurt or kind of dribble? Would his semen be pungent or mild, stringy and thick or watery? Mmmmmm. The joy of discovery. Some men have never really had a proper blowjob before me, and it's amazing to see their ephiphany!
* The Wait-for-Me Blowjob. I loved this. A long-distance relationship. Hot phone calls every night. I told him he had to wait to come before he saw me in two weeks -- no masturbating. It drove him nuts, and when we got naked he just had to plunge his cock into me. I let him fuck me awhile, but then wiggled away. "Don't come," I purred. Then I went down on him, slowly... I've never gotten such a mouthful. He was a good boy and did exactly what I asked.
* The Spontaneous Blowjob. When I was married, my husband got back from a business trip, and we were all over each other in the airport. I couldn't wait. So once we were in the car, in the parking garage, I unzipped him and sucked his cock. I could hear people coming and going nearby, car doors opening, voices. I didn't care. I just wanted that delicious cock in my mouth.
* The Blowjob Surprise. A new lover whose ex-wife refused to go down on him, much less swallow...he loves me. One who is delightfully long and/or uncircumsized. An old lover who surprises me...he wants to kneel over me on the bed while he fucks my mouth like a pussy. Sharing his semen with him in a long French kiss. He comes in my mouth but stays hard and immediately fucks me.
And many more. I'm sure everybody has her own tale...
Friday, March 13, 2015
No, I didn't get drunk and drive a car into the crime scene by the White House, so stop asking. What a bunch of idiots.
Something has disturbed the sex time-space continuum. I have lately received emails from a number of men and women who are considering bringing a new lover into their relationship. For example, men who are intrigued by the idea of watching a stranger fuck their wives. Or women with the same idea, but more often, "My husband wants me to do this, what do you think?"
My advice: Proceed with great caution. This is real life, not a story on the Kristen Archives.
When I suspected my then husband was having an affair with his assistant, Heather, I took action. After all, I know a thing or two about surveillance. So I rigged up two cameras with sound in our bedroom, along with an actuator to turn them on if more than one person came in the room.
Work took me out of town so he had the place to himself for a couple of days. When I got back, I poured myself a glass of wine and watched the video.
Sure enough, I got to watch my husband be unfaithful. They came in the room taking each others' clothes off and passionately kissing. Pretty soon, he had her bent over the bed and was taking her from behind as they both stood. He was rough with her in a way he had never been with me. Then he gave her a long missionary fucking and she rode him to orgasm. They lay there, legs entwined, him softly calling her name, just as he did with me. Later, she took him in her mouth and brought him off a second time.
By this time, I had stopped the video long enough to pour a second glass of wine and then bring in the entire bottle. I wished I had a martini.
I was angry and jealous. This girl was canoodling with my husband in our marriage bed. She was younger and me and pretty. Blond. Unlike me, she had large breasts, which my husband eagerly sucked as she rode him. She was a moaner (I'm a screamer), so I took a little comfort in that. Less so in that they obviously were having a great time. That I loved him and he had betrayed me. I so wanted to be wrong about my suspicions
But I was also very aroused and territorial. As I watched it a second time, I fingered myself to an explosive orgasm. But nobody was there to hold me afterwards. My feelings were scrambled and strewn all over the room.
I wondered how I would have felt if he had asked my permission. If we had agreed that I could hide in the closet and watch. Maybe join them. It might have been different. I would have had a vote in the matter. But I would have had all the conflicted feelings.
Before I confronted him and took my revenge, we continued to have sex — the ghost of Heather in the marriage bed, of course. I asked him if he wanted to spice things up, if he was bored with me. How would he feel if I took a lover while he watched. Or maybe he wanted to bring in a woman? Or even experiment by being with me and a strange man, taking the man's cock in his mouth? He was turned on by the conversation — the talk ended with him fucking me, my legs up over his shoulders, a hard, frantic fuck where we were both very loud and I came about five times (at least he remembered to call "Linda" instead of "Heather).
Later, he was less enthusiastic. "What if you fall in love with him," he asked. "What if he's better hung and a better lover? It might break up our marriage." Yes, said with no irony.
But he was onto something. I had a girlfriend whose husband was turned on by the idea of being cuckolded. She was initially not interested. They had a good marriage and she had been raised strait-laced. In fact, he was her only lover. But he kept bringing it up, and indeed she had a co-worker who had been hitting on her for some time, a man to whom she was attracted. She warned her husband that if it happened, it might hurt their marriage. But he persisted.
So they had the man over for dinner, a handsome, charming single dude. After enough liquor had been consumed, they brought up the idea. He didn't need any convincing and soon all three were in the bedroom, the husband only watching. To make a long story short, she loved it. The newcomer fucked her like she had never been fucked. He was very skilled, including in cunnilingus where her husband was bumbling at best, and he had, as she said, "a monster dick on him."
For weeks afterward, the husband sulked and was overtaken by bursts of anger. She saw the other man on the side, and eventually moved in with him.
I've heard other stories where things worked out better. I've been to lifestyle clubs with experienced swingers. But these people knew themselves, knew the true state of their relationships, and knew their internal bottom lines.
No two couples are the same. But remember, real life is different from a fantasy.
I'd love to hear your stories, for better or worse, in the comments section.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
I know. I've been gone.
Since we last visited, I've made some changes in my life. The biggest is that I am no longer playing "cougar."
Don't get my wrong. Parts of it were fun. It was definitely good for my ego to be attractive to younger men. I liked their stamina and their ability to get hard so quickly after coming. I love that strong stream of semen that most young men have. Young, taut skin, washboard abs, muscles and stamina. I had my share of long, thick cocks that stretched me like a virgin. Sweet.
But other things were either turn-offs or got old. In some cases, I was fucking guys half my age. In other words, young enough to be my sons...I tried not to think about that part. I did try to be a good teacher, the older woman initiating the young man into the arts of love in the European way, and in many cases I found willing and grateful pupils. There are women out there thanking me now for the skills their lovers picked up from Linda Sue.
Yet the majority either pretty soon wanted to move on to women their age. I tried not to be jealous, but that green-eyed monster is real. It made me aware that I wasn't 25 any longer. Others wanted a mommy substitute, and I definitely didn't want to play that role.
The thing that started to bother me was when these young bucks complained about my pubic hair and wanted me to shave. I'm proud of my natural red hair down there and it's not as if it is a jungle. It creeped me out that a lover wanted me to look like a prepubescent girl. There were young men who would pull out and masturbate until they came on my belly. This was fun once, because he seemed turned on by it. But it left me feeling unfulfilled, pun intended. I want a man to come in me, and then to feel his penis stay inside me as it became soft, and have him hold me. Their love-making was artless despite my best efforts. I realized that so many young men are porn addicts that they "learn" about sex from videos that show these acts.
No offense to readers who get off on this. But it's not my thing.
Then there was, in most cases, a big cultural and generational divide. I have a job with heavy-duty adult responsibilities, life and death. I like adult things and keep learning and growing. So many of my young lovers acted (and dressed) like adolescents frozen in their teens. They don't read books.
Lately, I've chosen men my age or older. I'm still juggling, but fewer. Two men — one my age, and another one who is ten years older. Both are great lovers (and for those counting, their penises are average length but lovely). And one lover is a woman my age. Jenn is also a natural redhead and my height. To be honest, I have been to a lifestyle club again, so I haven't lost my edge or curiosity. I still love short skirts, garters and stockings. Yes, I'm still a multi-orgasm screamer.
Jenn slowly opened up and told me how she had been brutally raped while working late when some hoods gained entrance to her office. There was nothing sexy about it. No enjoyment and unexpected orgasm. Just cruelty and brutality. It made me question my submissive side and rape fantasies — and I had one scary episode myself that I may tell you about. Anyway, I've tried to set those things aside.
I'm back in country for at least a while. I've grown my hair long, over my shoulders. I think you'd like it. Thanks for all your emails while the blog has been dark. I can't promise to be diligent about posting. Blogging is hard work and I have a fulltime job. And three lovers to keep happy...and to keep me satisfied. Life is good.
P.S., I am looking for some new blogs to link. Ideally, they are real stories like mine, not fantasies. But send me your nominations.
Friday, August 23, 2013
"Jennifer" was a beautiful girl, 5'5, 100 pounds, killer body, strawberry blond hair, the younger sister of a friend. She came from a comfortably affluent family. Deadly normal. This caused her to flee when she was on the verge of beginning her freshman year at the University of Washington.
She drove to Los Angeles, a city she had visited many times before. At first, she crashed with friends and said she was determined to become an actress. After all, she had excelled in theater in high school and everyone told her how good she looked, how she was a natural. The real world was much tougher. Everyone in LA, at least in "the industry," was more beautiful, more connected, richer, thinner. When she finally found an agent, she knew it was too good to be true. And it was. She went to a second-floor walk-up office in a dingy building on Van Nuys Boulevard. There was a job for her, all right, but it was in adult films.
"I should have run away right then," she told me later, "but I didn't."
Why not? Why do any of us do stupid things when we're young? An internal dare. Rebellion. Facing our fears. Convincing ourselves it will lead to something better. "I just wanted to," was all she offered.
Her "audition" was perfunctory. She was told to get on her knees and suck the cock of the "agent," a sweaty fat man with a small penis. And she did, bringing him off quickly. Jennifer had been hooking up since early in high school and was quite proficient. He seemed impressed, and not. "You're gonna have to learn," he said.
Two days later, the man picked up Jen and drove her an address in the Valley, an ordinary suburban house, a little down on its heels. Inside, however, it was a studio for filming adult videos. A dozen people were inside, some dressed (the crew), some not. "This is your new fluffer," the man said to another man she learned was the director. She had never heard the term. It would be her job for the next year. Although "fluffer" is often associated with gay porn, it's also a job in straight adult film. Usually teenage girls, fluffers are there to help the male porn stars get hard for their scenes with the women. Jennifer was 18 but looked younger. She wondered if she would be asked to disrobe. She was comfortable with her body, even an exhibitionist. She was not, at least not at first. As the job was explained to her, she also felt a little let down. Although adult videos were not "Hollywood," she at least assumed she might be featured as an actress. Hell, it couldn't hurt. Other adult stars had crossed over. She might meet important people. But, no. She was just part of the crew. A very special part.
She was lectured by the director and his assistant, a woman: Your job is just to get the guys hard when they can't do it on their own. Never bring him off. It became obvious that the men, even though they were quite handsome, were "props." The women were the stars, and most of them had little patience for male co-stars who couldn't get it up. That's where a fluffer came in. There were three studs that day, each one with a bigger penis than she had ever seen before. She dutifully stimulated two of them during the multiple takes. The third seemed rock hard all the time ("if you have an erection lasting more than four hours..."). That first day, it was "phat" to be there, sucking the cocks of strange men. They were all clean and had great bodies. As far as she could tell, the "plot" was a husband who tries to defend his wife from a gangbang and fails. The female stars ignored her.
In good months, she might work every day, making enough money to get her own place and buy clothes without asking for help from her parents. As far as they knew, she was getting work doing commercials for local television (that way they couldn't look for her). On big shoots, there might be two or even three fluffers. But Jen was the most attractive and skillful. Only once did she get so involved with a stud — and he with her — that she brought him off in her mouth. That led to a hard slap from the director and a black eye that lasted two weeks. She was a beautiful girl, and a few of the studs came after her when shooting was done. She enjoyed being fucked by such skilled lovers, once she learned how to handle their size in her pussy — there was a difference. Somehow she thought the adult industry required regular checks for STDs. Later she learned this was not necessarily true. The money and productions got better as she got a reputation as one of the most skilled fluffers in the business. Her agent took a percentage, of course. Eventually, she was cast in a few videos, always as a teenage cheerleader, babysitter or, in the creepier plots, a daughter who got fucked by "daddy" and his buddies. Truth was, she liked the sex. She liked the scene as some of the women actors warmed to her. When she came on camera, it was usually real.
But this is a sad story. The fluffer did not become even an adult video star. She was not a young woman in charge of her wild side like my friend, Mary Beth. A second-tier actor became her boyfriend and introduced her to cocaine. Unfortunately, she loved it. By the time I found her, she was wandering Hollywood Boulevard (true story) at one a.m., high as a 747, dressed like a cheap prostitute. In fact, that was what she had become. There was an echo of her beauty left, but the life was gone from her eyes and her 22-year-old face looked 40. Her sister had asked for my help. As I was half dragging, half carrying her to my car, a big dude came up. Her pimp. He made a couple of threats before I kicked him in the balls and, as he bent toward me, drove the heel of my hand into his nose. I could have arrested him, but who needed the paperwork and the suspicion of the local cops? I took her back to Seattle. She's been in and out of rehab ever since. That's my fluffer story, gentlemen. Wish it could have been a turn-on without consequences.
Friday, August 2, 2013
One afternoon, I brought home an old boyfriend, assuring him that my husband was on a business trip, and took him to our bedroom. I'll call him Tom. Unbeknownst to Tom, my husband was sitting in our walk-in closet, in the dark with the door cracked open. It had a great view of the bed as Tom and I got it on. My husband had an average size penis, but quite nice and really knew how to use it. Tom, on the other hand, was very well-endowed. He carried a log: Almost nine inches, thick and uncircumcised. Once we were naked, I put on quite a show, pulling my long red hair over one shoulder and licking his big dick like a lollypop and then gently lowering the foreskin and taking his sensitive head in my mouth. This went on a long time. I was so wet from the knowledge that my hubby was watching all this.
We fucked in all sorts of positions: Missionary, me on top, him taking me from behind and then him on top again with my legs pulled over his shoulders and then pulled tightly toward me in the crooks of his elbows. I had not forgotten what a good lover Tom was — how sweet that log felt inside — and I must have come four times, each orgasm more intense than the previous one. We fucked for about 45 minutes. When he finally came in me, my mind was floating somewhere up on the ceiling, the walls echoing from my screams. I completely forgot that my husband was in the closet.
Afterwards, Tom had to go. He was like that. Not one to stay and hold me. I had never liked that part. When I came back to the bedroom, my husband was still invisible. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," I said. He appeared and sat on the bed, an expression on his face I had never seen before. The room carried a very strong smell of pussy and semen, a stranger's semen.
After a long time, I asked, "Do you want to talk?"
No, he wanted sex. I was only wearing an old Harvard T-shirt, my nipples pressed against it, my red bush flaming in the ambient light, and he kept that on as he pushed me down and licked my pussy. I came almost instantly, but he just held on and kept the tongue work going. He tongue-fucked me, tasting Tom's come. My pussy was throbbing with arousal and electricity. Then he fucked me on top, very hard, and turned me over and raised up my ass, fucking me even harder from behind. I didn't expect it when he slid his cock into my ass, which was only lubricated by my juices, thrust a few times and came with his own guttural scream.
He reached into the bedside table, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit up. He hardly ever smoked, but when he did he chose expensive Dunhills, a reminder of a trip we had made to London. He offered me a drag and I took it. We sat in silence. I was very sore. Come was seeping out of my pussy and ass.
I was trying to stay awake.
"Are you still happy we did this?" I said.
"You looked and sounded like you were really having fun."
I hesitated and then told the truth. "I was."
After more silence, he told me how he felt. He was and is a very articulate man. I'll paraphrase because of course I don't remember it exactly. He felt all sorts of things: Jealousy, arousal, humiliation, anger, arousal. He needed to fuck me "to take back my woman." I told him he had never lost me, and gently reminded him that this had not just been his idea, but something he had been pushing me to do. "I know." His tone was unreadable. He was very curious about how it felt, especially how Tom's large penis felt inside me. I did my best to describe it. He wanted details. And how was it different from when we fucked? And was I turned on by knowing he was watching? We talked a long time. I told him he was my best lover, which was true, but I knew he didn't believe me.
Our marriage settled back into its normal patterns and we didn't do this again. I felt bad for him, because as much as the experience satisfied his appetite for kink, he had watched himself be cuckolded, watched his wife not just like it but lose herself to it. And, as with any man, the big dick really stuck with him. I'll never know how much this played into his later infidelity. I think he felt he had to prove something. And I am in no position to judge.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Even over martinis, he seemed very different. More mellow, actually interested in me, talked lovingly about his wife. Still, he accepted my invitation to come back to my hotel room, we took off our weapons, and eventually got into a mad makout session on the couch. I kept feeling his big, hard cock through his slacks, feeling my pussy getting very wet. Memories of our affair were bombarding me. I had his shirt unbottoned and loved the feeling of those washboard abs. He was breathing heavily. At any minute, I expected him to throw me to the floor, hike up my skirt and fuck me from behind. But he didn't.
"Come over to the bed."
"Linda...no...I should go..."
"I'm not the morality police, Mike. I can feel your cock. I know what you want." I sure as hell knew what I wanted.
I took his hand and pulled him toward the bed.
He grabbed my shoulders and looked at me a long time. I could see him wrestling with himself. Then he gently sat me on the bed and pushed me down. Getting on his knees, he stoked my legs and took off my shoes. Then he pulled off my panty hose without creating a single run. I was shivering with arousal as he sucked my toes, licked the tops of my feet and ankles, then started kissing and licking up each leg. Just when I thought I would feel his tongue on my pussy, he just brushed it with his face.
"I love your scent," he said. "I never forget that."
"I want you inside me," I commanded, but it probably came out more as a begging whimper.Instead, he just kept teasing for the longest time. Then I felt his tongue lightly tracing along my vulva. I almost came right then. He could sense it and pulled back, nibbling on the inside of my thighs. When I was cooled down a little, he would lick me again. I had the beginnings of a massive orgasm, my feet burning and seeing colors through my closed eyes. And he backed off.
His tongue came back again, so lightly. I was clawing the sheets, reaching for his hands, but he kept them on my ass, holding my firmly in place. His entire face was hidden by my skirt.
Suddenly, it felt like my whole body exploded. I could hear some woman screaming. It was me. Pulses of orgasm radiated out as he just kept it going and going. When I was completely spent, he tongue-fucked me into another orgasm. Then he licked me gently for a few more minutes as I lay whimpering.
"I can't, Linda." He didn't even call me "Sue," as he used to do to irritate me.
"Let me suck your cock.
I reached for his zipper, but he just took my hand and kissed it. Then I heard the door closed. For about an hour, I just dozed, completely satisfied. Well, not completely. But it was pretty damned sweet. His wife is lucky.
Monday, January 14, 2013
So I've been trying to get my young man hooked up with women his age. We've been to bookstores, art galleries and even bars (which I don't think work that well). I've coached him. Before we go out, I give him a great cock-sucking, but I won't let him come. I want him to be motivated. So far, not much. He's not bad looking. He's smart and emotionally intelligent. We were at one gallery when he started talking to a woman, an attractive brunette, while I hovered in the distance. Pretty soon she's got her hand on his arm. As I paid more attention, I realized she was my age. So I went over and broke it up. He was mad at me, but for God's sake he doesn't need to go from one fortysomething to another. He's got his whole life ahead of him.
It made me call my ex-husband for advice. He reminded me that he never had luck with women his age when he was in his twenties. It was only in his thirties that he learned how to talk to women (get them talking about themselves, be a great listener, dress well) and flirt ("Linda? That's my favorite name"). He said if he could go back to his twenties with the knowledge he learned later he would have "cut a swath through the young womanhood of the East Coast). Instead, he was initiated into the arts of love by older women. "Don't let him fall in love with you," he cautioned.Back to the problem at hand. I've made him talk about the girls in his classes that he lusts after. I've made him start to go to parties at school. He hates small talk. I'm trying to fix that. Young women don't want to talk about government dysfunction or the demise of the Whig Party. I keep coaching — and fucking him. I probably shouldn't do the latter, but he's safe and fun.
It is still hard for men. I've been hit on since I was thirteen. When I was in college, especially, I was so overwhelmed by the offers, come-ons and my own horniness that it just seemed like a blur of cocks inside me and my legs in the air. But unless a guy has a certain look and way of carrying himself when he's that age, say the cool bad dude persona, he likely won't get easy access to young women. Would I have been attracted to my young man when I was his age? Probably not. I was stupid.