Monday, November 12, 2007
Saturday night special
It happened, and my feelings are so mixed. I went on a bad-girl hunt to look over the edge. I can’t say I won’t do it again. But for now I have to step back for a little while and collect myself.
It was Saturday night, balmy-cool, with the breeze spinning the leaves in the streets. Friday night I had taken a breather, much to Mike’s frustration. I went out with my girlfriends, Jennifer and Kathleen. I talked about my situation in an elliptical way. More about that later.
On Saturday night, I met Mike for drinks at a bar halfway between my condo and his apartment. I had on a knit top, short jacket, short skirt, boots. I looked great. As I was leaving my building, this guy coming in with his wife couldn’t take his eyes off me. Bet that complicated his life that night. I drank a couple of martinis while Mike stroked my thigh and seemed to catalog all the men watching me. Outside the bedroom, he can be witty, wise, able to converse about so much. He can be an old soul for a young man. This night we were both nervous. Then he took me back to his apartment. I was already damp in anticipation, while the sensible me, the one who has built a career, was thinking this was insane.
The apartment was empty, and I wondered how it would go down. Mike was so horny from my outfit that he just bent me over a sofa back, ripped off my panties – yes, ripped – and worked his cock into me. I looked out the window at the city lights and started moaning. I could feel him rotating his hips, fucking me from this angle and that. It felt great. Every man who had seen me that night had wanted to do that. We both knew this and it was such a turn on. He stopped as I really started to shake and whimper.
A blindfold. He took me in his bedroom and put a blindfold on me. He sat me on the edge of the bed and gently undressed me. He caressed my face and I felt the tip of his big cock head on my lips. I licked and teased it, then took his full length, expecting any moment the violent face-fucking he had given me before. The room was silent. But he pulled out and caressed my thighs and breasts and face. I felt the cock at my lips again and opened my mouth, reached up and caressed it.
It was different. Shorter, but nice, thick, with a pronounced helmet of a head and tight, large balls. A nice package. Josh. I heard Mike’s voice stage-managing, telling me how I wasn’t better than them, just a dirty slut who wanted them. I moaned in agreement as I worked over Josh’s cock. He came very quickly and I swallowed every drop. This may not have been the plan. Mike berated poor Josh’s staying power. Then I was pushed back on the bed, flipped over, my ass raised up and my head pushed down. I knew what was coming, and I was a good rag doll. As he moved from my cunt, as he calls it, to my anus, I just tried to relax. He pushes, I tense, he thrusts deeper, I try to get past my pain and fear. Then I was in that zone again, where that deep orgasm was just ripped out of me.
Again, he left me alone on the bed, moaning and teary. I had forgotten all about Josh, but he climbed in beside me and held me and stroked me. He got hard again…the benefit of youth…and I opened my legs and guided him inside me. He looks so so young. It’s flattering to have him attracted to me, and also odd-feeling. He acquitted himself better, gave me a good fucking, and I ended up riding him and coming again, then feeling him explode inside me. I had semen coming out of every orifice, and it was probably only an hour into our night.
Sorry…no DP action. And I couldn’t get anything going between the boys. Mike seems particularly homophobic. We did many combinations, tho…me doggy sucking one and being fucked by the other…sitting on Josh’s face while I sucked Mike dry. I think I finally wore them both out and by morning, their orgasms were producing little baby spurts of semen.
Oh, I felt sexy and used and worshipped and taken. I came and was pleasured. So amazing to feel the differences between the two men, and the sameness. Skin on skin, hands all over me, wrapping my legs and I get pumped… It was also strange and risky, both beneath me in the workplace and who knows where it will lead. Maybe a little anti-climactic after my wild week before? I don’t know. This has no future. I’m not sorry I did it. But it also feels strange. Is that the residue of my good-girl, overachieving upbringing?