Thursday, December 7, 2017

My first time, part one

We never forget our first time. So I'll try to remember some of mine.

My first blowjob: I incompetently sucked the cocks of several boys in high school. But the prize went to Christopher, in his new BMW, parked in a car overlooking Puget Sound. It was senior year in high school and I was still a virgin. We were making out like mad, I was very wet, and he started taking off my clothes — but I wouldn't let him. I was still screwed up by my fundamentalist mother's sex admonitions. But I unzipped him and his nice, circumcised dick popped up. I started working on it with a frenzy, and really sucking. It couldn't have been more than three minutes until he moaned and his come hit the back of my throat. I was surprised, but didn't want to appear as inexperienced as I was — so I made myself keep sucking and swallowing. It was thick and salty. I felt wonderfully dirty and came home with semen in my stomach.

My first intercourse: It's almost a cliche, but this was with my steady boyfriend from high-school, when I was on summer break from freshman year in college. Unlike my friends, I didn't hook up in high school. His parents were away, so we used their kingsized bed, he undressed me, climbed on top and gently pushed. I felt him inside me, no pain at all (I had done years of dressage, so maybe that got my hymen). It felt better and better as he fucked me. We made pledges of eternal love, but in reality we were going in different directions. But it was a fun summer of discovery.

My first girl: This was my suite-mate Pam, who had a baby-boomer name like me. She was blond and compact; I was red-haired and long legged. One night we were alone and killing off a bottle of wine when, as the song went, I felt her hand above my knee. Pam was much more experienced. And unlike the muscled boys I'd had, she was patient and loving. She gave me my first real orgasm(s), made me realize I was a screamer and capable of multiples. Although we both had plenty of boyfriends, we kept up our intimacy for two years and have remained friends. She went on to be a soccer mom.

Thursday, July 28, 2016

Tell me your naughtiest true story

You've been reading my true adventures for years. Now it's your turn. In the comments section, tell me your kinkiest, most shameful, forbidden, secret sex adventure. The only rule is that is has to be true.

I'll kick it off with this letter from a reader:

It was in the winter of 1981.  I know this because I recall it was about a month and a half after John Lennon was shot in NYC.  As project manager I was finishing the construction of a large industrial furnace in the Mobile, Alabama, area.  The job was complete except for the trial shakedown phase and turning over to the customer.  It had been a long job and my crew had returned to Houston with the exception of one technician, a young man named Tim (I don't remember his last name) who was about 15 years younger than I was.  At that time I was 38 years old.  Tim was a diminutive young dude about 5'4" or so and weighed maybe 130 pounds.  For that reason he had the nickname "Munchkin".  We had both been away from without a break for at least two weeks and it was Friday night and we were scheduled to drive the company truck back to Houston the next day.  (It could have been Saturday evening/night but it was one of those two days.)  I was also separated from my wife at the time.  Tim had a girlfriend (young with a nice body).  I knew Munchkin mostly from work and had never done any partying with him, but I knew him well enough to be comfortable around him.

Mobile is often warm or at least temperate in February and this was one of those nights, somewhere in the mid-50 degree range.  Of course the sun went down early, so the nights were long.  Downtown Mobile had some interesting bars and at least one brothel in '81.  The brothel was called the "55 Club" because you went into the bar on the ground floor and talked to the girls.  If things were "right" between you and the lady, the bartender was handed $55 cash and that got you the basic service upstairs above the bar.  The standard fare was a blowjob or straight vaginal sex.  Anything "special" would cost more and was negotiated directly with the lady.  Tips were expected and regular customers were known to be either good tippers or cheapskates.  I had visited the place two times (I think, might have been three, but I didn't have a lot of cash) just to keep my seminal vessels drained.

In any case, after Munchkin and I got some dinner, he, mostly, wanted to go downtown and get a blow job.  He was emphatic that he needed some relief.  So I drove to the 55 Club.  Just as we pulled into the parking lot, a station wagon with three girls pulled in and as we got out of the company truck (the truck had a magnetic sign on the side which we had removed and put behind the seat) and shouted at us in so many words that they were hooking and could give us a better deal than the 55 Club.  All we had to do was to follow them to the Quality Inn (might have been the Best Western) on the Airport Road.  So we took off following them for a ride of about 5 miles.

When we got to the motel parking lot, the girls climbed out of the wagon.  We were all wearing light jackets except for one of the girls who was wearing a long lightweight overcoat.  She opened her coat to reveal a plump round preggo belly and she said with a laugh:  "I got caught."  One of the girls was tall about 5' 10 and the other two about "standard" height, say 5'5 or 5'6.  I am about 5' 8 which makes me on the short side and I really like tall girls, so I kind of wanted the tall one.

As it turned out, the tall girl, who let's say since my memory is not absolute on this, called herself "Joy" and the other non-pregnant girl called herself "Pam."  I'm sure that those were not their names, but who cares.  The preggo girl never said her name, or I don't remember.  When we got to their room it became immediately obvious that the tall girl, Joy, wanted the Munchkin.  She was about the same age as the Munchkin and was almost gushing over him.  Later she purred that "He's so cute, I just want to take him home."  The senior girl and the one that made it clear that she was obviously in charge and the leader of the group was Pam.  Pam informed us that they had some VIP customers coming by at ten and that we would be on a schedule so as to be gone by then.  This was her way of making clear that we were not going to have anything but a one-pop date.  The preggo girl said:  "I'm tired of watching people fuck, I'm going to the bar" and she left the room.  Drinking while pregnant was not quite so onerous in that day.  
Pam it turned out was about two years my senior and so Tim and I placed our $50 each in Pam's hand and we all got undressed.  The room had two standard sized beds with a nightstand in between.  There was a table and a sofa at the far end of the room next to the window so it would have been described in the day as a "business suite"  Pam and I had a brief talk (we were more than a decade older than the Munchkin and Pam and therefore a little more compatible.) and mostly I remember that she professed a liking for heroin.  I had some experience with drugs, cocaine, weed, ludes, speed, and some knowledge of acid, but I had never seen any heroin.  She surprised me, but she seemingly was not holding and that was the extent of the conversation.  Much later I wondered if the 10 o'clock appointment was her connection, but then again maybe they didn't even have one, although Pam's actions seemed to indicate that it was a fact.

As we got undressed, I noticed how really attractive Joy was.  Joy at about 5' 10 had beautiful legs and she was very pretty.  Nice petite breasts, trim with a great complexion.  Pam was average in most every way but she was soft, warm and I was happy enough.  (I have often thought how things would have turned out if I had chosen the preggo girl; it crossed my mind at the time but only in passing.) Pam and I got onto the bed closest to the bath and I went down on her.  Pubic hair was in vogue then and hers was neatly trimmed with a sweet tummy.  As I best recall she had a nice pleasant taste and and after a while she sighed with a little quiver and said "I've had enough of that" and gently lifted my head and invited me to mount her.  On the way up I noticed that Joy was giving the Munchkin a blow job and I figured (so wrongly) that he would pop his load any moment.  So I climbed up slipped inside my lady and in what seemed too short (always) I busted my nut.  I remember saying, "I'm coming y'all, I'm coming."  Condoms were not generally used in that day and I don't remember Pam being exceptionally wet on entering her but my cum certainly slicked her up.

Pam lead me to the bathroom and washed my dick in the sink.  This was noticeably old school even for 1981 and I was pleasantly surprised by this.  I was wondering if she was just keeping me in the bathroom so nature could run its course on the other bed.  She handed me a towel and picked up one of two douche bags, this one was white, that were laying across the tub and proceeded to fill it with water from the tub faucet.  It split down the middle on one of the side seams.  She cursed just a little and informed me that it was two years old and had served her well but could I go ask Joy if she could use Joy's red bag.  (I just now wondered what the preggo girl had if anything, there were only two bags in sight.)

I stepped back into the room and Joy and the Munchkin were going at it missionary style.  All this time I never saw Munchkin's dick, just an average looking pair of balls bouncing in his nut sack.  Pam came right behind me from the bath and I don't remember exactly how but she got the pair to get into doggy with Pam sitting Indian style on her knees behind Munchkin.  I was standing between the beds close to Joy's head which she had placed on top of her forearms so her ass was sticking up.  Munchkin, too, was on his knees, going in and out.  I noticed Pam began to play with his nuts from behind.  I saw her reach between her legs with her right hand and get some slick stuff from her pussy.  At the time I didn't think about my cum still residing in her snatch.  Her hand reached towards the Munchkin's ass.  Suddenly he got a "deer in the headlights" look on his face and went almost catatonic.  I didn't think much at the moment about Pam slipping into his ass and rubbing his prostate.  I just was too busy being still and watching him have a killer orgasm.  He didn't move hardly at all, he didn't groan, or even seem to breath hard, he just was frozen while his auto reflex involuntarily took over.  Even as exciting as this seemed, a wonderful, rich aroma wafted up from Joy and Tim's crotch area.  It was an amazing scent of sexual fluids being blended which I had smelled before but never so intense or so overwhelming.  Even though my gear had been drained, this odor reached my lizard brain and set my primal libido into an almost aroused again mode.  Wow, that was cool.  I noticed Pam had remained motionless during the moment and was very still just sitting behind.  I glanced down at Joy's face and a sly smile came across her and she said, "That's a BIG load!"

Pam guided the Munchkin off the bed and lead him into the bath.  He looked completely spent, somewhat shaky, and like a little sleepy puppy that mommy dog was pulling back into the den.  He was compliant in every way.  Pam asked Joy if she could use her douche bag and Joy said yes and slipped off the side of the bed.  She started around the foot of the bed towards the sofa area and said: "Damn, it's running down my leg, get me something."  Her voice was not imperious, more of distress.  I looked and down her beautiful right thigh, a silver white ribbon of jizz about 4 or 5 inches long was drooling on her skin.  It stunned me for just a second as I contemplated how totally erotic it was.  I then hastily went back to the bath and got a wash cloth.  Pam was washing the Munchkin's pecker just like she did for me.  I was just a little jealous that I hadn't filled my lady to the overflowing point like Tim.  Ah, youthful production!  I took the washcloth to Joy and she shoved it into her crotch.

Tim and I got dressed and as we left, of course, we had to pass by the bathroom door.  Both girls were sitting side by side on a towel on the edge of the tub with their legs inside the tun.  Joy's red douche bag was hanging from the shower curtain and the hose disappeared between her legs.  We exchanged pleasantries and departed.  It was sort of sentimental to see the girls enjoying their feminine moment with the shared douche bag and the silver streak.  It capped off a great adventure.  We badass males got our vesicles tapped and again the pussys were prepared for the next draining.

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

Women who don't like to be licked

To me, a "cunning linguist" is the foundation of a good lover. If he doesn't want to give oral sex, and good oral sex, we don't just not have a future — we don't have a present.

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

My 30th birthday present

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

Size queens and fellatio

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 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

Every blowjob has its place

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

Taking a new lover

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

The fluffer

"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

The voyeur

Here's a story I've never told you. When I was married, my husband and I did **everything**. He was the man who got my anal sex cherry. But he was always pushing the envelope, and over time he kept wanting to see me fuck another man. I had my worries and warned him that he might not really like it if it happened. We talked about this extensively — he knew all my sluttish past — but he kept after me. So I agreed.

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.