Sex with a relative? Tell me everything!

I thought I knew a lot about sex, as these blog entries attest. But apparently not.

Check out the poll at right: One of the leading categories of "illicit fucks" is sex with a relative (!). My brother-in-law's advance notwithstanding, I've never known anyone who has admitted to sleeping with a relation.

So now it's your turn to turn me on. Leave a comment or send me an email (no names will be used, of course -- I hear from readers from all over the world, and all are safe with Susie). Tell me about your sex with a relative. Brother, sister, mom, dad, uncle, aunt, cousin? What was it like? did you like it? Did it affect your future sexual behavior.

Tell me...

This contest is a mouthful!

Check out the first Fellatio Friday over at my friend, the Fellatrix.

Linda's faithful tales of adultery, part I

The brother-in-law saga generated plenty of comments. Some of you think I am quite a slut, capable of anything...

I am capable of a lot. You know I am a junkie for the new, the thrilling, the sexual. I am also brutally honest with you, dear reader, because we don't have to see each other every day.

Some readers admitted to a fetish about adultery. It's with all of us, whether the poleax in the middle when we discover a lover has been unfaithful, the illicit thrill of getting away with it, or the secret arousal that comes from imagining the act that left us devastated.

I've felt all three.

Believe it or not, I married a man I thought was the love of my life. But the sex trickled off once we were married and then stopped altogether. Then I found that he was fucking his young assistant. I had a hole in my middle. I fell apart. But I was also wildly aroused, especially when I followed him and saw that the love interest was an 21-year-old physical copy of me. We fought and separated.

My husband's best friend Ted, a Republican family values type, was quick to get a radar lock on my emotional state. Talks led to hugs led to...a revenge fuck. I was wild with anger, fear, grief, but I knew exactly what I was doing. At one point, I arranged for Ted to be fucking me in our marriage bed when my husband made one of his unannounced visits home "to pick up his clothes."

My husband was hysterical when he found us, Ted on top, my legs wrapped around him. He could hear me screaming in pleasure as he snuck up the stairs. Ted never even lost his erection. He just fucked me a couple more strokes, dismounted, dressed and left. I pulled up the sheets, laughed, screamed, cried. It was a bad scene, but I made a vow.

I vowed I would never be without sex.

I need it at the core of my soul -- and I realize that sets me apart from many other people. I've fucked a few other married men. I have no regrets. It's not my problem if their wives can't keep them satisfied, or lose interest in sex. Monogamy is overrated and perhaps impossible for highly sexual people. The only question is what polite lies we use to cover our tracks. I know of several upright soccer moms who have played around, but in conversations are oh-so-judgmental about adultery.

As for Justin, I'm not interested in him in real life. He and Amber made their choices. I made mine.

My brother-in-law wants to fuck me.

Justin sent me a note of apology for being out of line on Christmas. He said he was drunk. "No hard feelings, Susie," he writes. I am still thinking about his very hard, very LARGE cock hanging out of his corduroy pants, the shaft thick with veins, the head nearly purple with arousal, the idea that he wanted to fuck me while his wife, my sister was downstairs fussing over children and ham. No hard feelings, huh. Was that eight inches or nine? He signs off: "I hope we can have a drink sometime and talk about this."

Does a blowjob 'count'?

Not all my sexual encounters led to intercourse. So when a new lover asks me how many men I've had, what to tell him? And not all of them were men. In praise of blowjob-only sex, at The Fellatrix.

The brother-in-law shows me his holiday cheer

It was quite a day at the old homestead. My bother-in-law Justin came onto me like never before. He's married to my uptight sister Amber, and I know he is both attracted to me and frustrated at the lack of sex in their marriage.

It doesn't surprise me he's frustrated. Amber has all my mom's hangups about sex and isn't shy about letting me know she thinks I am a shameless harlot. But, hey, he married her (she definitely got the big boobs in the family; maybe that's it).

So before dinner, I go upstairs to use the bathroom, and once I am at the door, Justin is behind me, hugging me, kissing my neck, reaching around to pinch my nipples. I can smell the alcohol on his breath. Maybe I let it go on a little too long. When I turn around, I see he's unzipped and his erect cock is poking out.

I must say, he's got quite a unit!

I shooed him away and peed in peace. But it was the perfect reminder that adultery and its possibilities are always around us. I'm not going to fuck my sister's husband (hee-hee, what do you think about your slut sister, now, Amber?). But I will write about adultery later this week. I have given and taken and been screwed by it...

T'was the night before Christmas and all through my pussy...

It was Christmas eve, 1992. I was in grad school and between boyfriends. Every now and then I would encounter this nice young man in the library. It started with smiles, then small talk. I could tell he was shy, and he was very cute. He cut such a nice figure in his jeans and leather jacket. He had one of those strong chins that you can't buy from the plastic surgeon.

So I didn't go home that year, and I was kind of feeling sorry for myself. I stopped by a bookstore and was browsing through the poetry section...and there was my young man. The store was emptying out but we lingered, talking. I could tell he was attracted to me, too. But he wouldn't make a move.

I just kept edging closer as we talked, and soon we were right against each other. I raised my head to his and he kissed me. It was tentative. I grabbed his collar and pulled him to me for a longer kiss...tongues wrestled...he had the sweetest breath. He opened my parka and caressed my breasts, ran his hands inside my denim-encased thighs. Pushing my pelvis against him I could feel his erection. We continued making out until the owner, an old hippie, told us to "get a room."

Back at my apartment, we left the proverbial trail of clothes to my bed. He was indeed an Adonis, but still so shy. I just laid him down, grabbed that cock sticking up like a thick fuck-me flagpole and slid him inside. I was already so wet. We kept kissing madly. I rode him only a few times before he gave a loud moan and bucked hard against me.

He started apologizing but I just kissed him, brushed back his hair and still riding. I could feel his semen tricking out with each stroke. My clit found the hard spot on his pelvis and I just kept going, his softening cock still in me, until my orgasms overtook him. I think my screaming scared him at first.

Yes, he was a virgin. Later I made us dinner, we shared a bottle of wine and our life stories, and we fucked all night long in every position. It wasn't long before he was fucking me doggy for what seemed like an hour, jus like an experienced stud. In the morning, a fresh blanket of snow had fallen.

Don't take my blowjob out of context...

...I sucked him off in a parking garage, and I didn't care if people were "coming" and going right beside us...and other adventures. Read my latest blowjob post at The Fellatrix.

A safe-harbor fuck for the holidays

Seattle is at its most beautiful during the holidays. Downtown shimmers with lights and happy crowds move along the sidewalks. The temperature is just cool enough to dress for the season. Light showers leave the streets with a magical sheen. It's the best time of year to get laid.

My old friend Jon is an author and was in town for a weekend book signing. He's not to be confused with my ex-husband of the same name. Hey, I knew a man who collected Lindas. I was one of about a dozen that man had bedded: Linda Sues, Linda Annes, Linda Maries, Linda Kays and a Linda Christine!

This Jon knows me so well, knows my body and appetites. We had a drink at his hotel and walked around the city for awhile, but we soon ended up in his room. He covered me with lingering kisses as he removed my top and bra, my skirt and stockings, my panties. I wanted to get down and worship his penis, but he was having none of that yet. "I need to taste that glorious pussy," he said, laying me out on the bed.

Jon is the best cunnilinguist I have ever encountered, women included. He's also very into my legs. So he began with my toes and worked his way up each leg, kissing, licking, sucking, gentle nibbles. His beard and mouth just brushed against my clit, and he lingered taking in my scent like a fine wine, before he dropped down to start on the other leg. I was already moaning and quivering, on the edge of orgasm.

I felt his tongue ever so lightly on my full labia, running around my lips, then gently tongue-fucking me, then licking my perineum. He knew how close I was, so he only gradually and very lightly started moving his tongue in circles around my clit. He played me on and on, but I soon had a violent orgasm.

By this time I had to have his cock inside me, so I pulled his shoulders and he knew what to do. I felt him slip inside me, gasped, and raised my knees, wrapping my legs around him just the way he loves it. He has this amazing way of riding me missionary style, so soon I was coming again, using my legs to pull him deeper inside me. I oscillated my pelvis, fucking him back, feeling his hot breath on my neck, his balls pounding against my cheeks. Then I heard him cry out and come inside me.

We held each other a long time in the darkened room, looking out at the city, shared a smoke and soon started again. It was the best Christmas present.

Somebody is rising to "head" of the class, er, bar

Check out my guest posting over at The Fellatrix

Some love big dicks; many tell white lies

I vividly remember my first big penis. I was 19, and had only recently lost my virginity. I had enjoyed only two lovers, boys with what I now know were average cocks, and quite nice. The situation in which I found my first big one deserves its own post, but let's return to penises.

I saw it and was enthralled: it looked huge -- he said it was nine inches, so even deducting for braggodocio, it was giant, and thick. It was uncircumsized -- I had never seen such a thing, and it looked both odd and exotic. I was drunk and horny, already feeling out of control, but the sight of it was also scary. That monster was going to try to get into my recently virginal vagina?? Truth be told, it was uncomfortable at first. He was young and not very sensitive about the equipment he was carrying. I was sure I was going be torn open and bleeding!

Pretty soon, though, my pussy accommodated it and it was an amazing feeling. I had never felt so filled up, and every thrust just seemed to take the breath out of me. This was raw fucking with no teenage romance, and I was on the receiving end. I pulled up my knees and wrapped my legs around him as he pounded into me. My moans got louded and percussive. Thrust...Oh! My orgasm was very powerful and my contractions had never felt so good, my pussy walls enveloping that great cock. The experience began my appreciation of large penises.

Which brings me to this month's poll question. Note that the majority of respondents say they wouldn't tell their lover that his penis didn't measure up, presumably to past experience, or even to expectations. Some men might have been voting their anxieties or humiliation fantasies. But I have heard from enough women to know the grrls are weighing in, too.

One wrote me to say her current lover was too small, and didn't give her the feeling of her previous big men. Should she tell him? Of course not. If he's loving and can make you come, that's a treasure.

The penis debate will never be settled. Believe me, gentlemen, some women don't like big cocks -- they can be painful, especially when banging against the cervix. And, some girls love them. One writer told me that of her first two lovers, one was more than seven inches and the other was eight. Yow, girl!

Most women are not cock-obsessed the way some men can be about breasts. I have known men who would fuck a dead cow if a pair of 40-DDs were attached to it. Give me leg men who appreciate modest but pert breasts.

Have I ever told a white lie to a man who asked about his size? You bet.

Here's the deal, though: a man with a big tool can't just show up. He can hurt me or, worse, bore me. And some men are so big, they have a hard time finding women who can handle it. Porn star or freakish doesn't do it for me. Seven inches to about nine, and nicely thick, does. But, my best lover was average and thick, with a nice big helmet of a cock head. So, life is unfair and some men are well-endowed. But the best lovers must be skillful and giving. That can make up for average, or even below average.

Caught in the act, on her knees

Ah, youth. My abstemious week wasn’t helped today by walking in on some canoodling by two of my younger co-workers. I made a short cut through a conference room and found James seated lordly in a chair, with Megan on her knees enthusiastically sucking his cock.

All I saw at first was motion: her head with a helmet of golden blond hair rising and falling on his crotch; his eyes falling back in his head, I was just a few feet away and they didn’t even notice. I admit I watched for a moment, getting very aroused. Then I, “a-hem-ed” and they hastily tried to put themselves back together.

“Have fun, kids, but don’t get caught,” I laughed as I walked away. Not everybody in my very respectable institution would have been as forgiving. Which is not to say I don’t know where many hypocritical bodies are buried. But I loved it. It’s always good to see there’s passion in the world.

Watching Megan service young James reminded me of the first time I sucked a cock on my knees. It certainly wasn’t the last. I was an undergraduate and meeting with one of my professors, whom I had an insane crush on. He was incredibly worldly, poetic, intellectual and appealing, especially to me at 20.

While I had flirted with him, and knew friends who had slept with their professors, I never had any sense he wanted me. Until the day I was in his office going over a paper I had turned in. We ended up sitting close as he went through some long forgotten nuance of something-or-other, and suddenly he leaned over, took my face in his hands, and kissed me passionately. It was the most romantic and adult thing that had yet happened to me.

I vividly remember spontaneously falling to my knees in front of him as I caressed his legs and crotch, and then freed his cock from inside his zipper. The head was nearly purple it was so engorged, and I happily took it in my mouth. I stayed down there as I gave him a major working over, licking the shaft, lightly running my tongue over the head, then taking it all inside my mouth and moving up and down as I sucked with increasing fervor. He was probably 50, but in my hands and mouth he was as hard as a 20-year-old.

I imagine I looked much like young Megan, only with red hair. Well, the prof was in heaven, moaning and stroking my hair, urging me on. I felt very plugged into the moves that turned him on.

Everything I had learned so far in my elite liberal arts education said that this was an outrageous example of the oppressive patriarchy: a woman on her knees before the phallus of male dominance. But everything in my quivering young bod said, fuck it -- I want that cock in my mouth, feeling every pulse and throb. While I licked and sucked, I could feel my panties drench. My denim miniskirt was riding up above my butt. Anyone who would have walked in would have gotten quite a view!

I lost track of time, but soon he was bucking against my face and gasping. Then he grabbed me head and hair as he shot into my young mouth. I eagerly swallowed every bit of it. His come tasted bitter compared to what I had sampled from my college boyfriends, and it wasn’t in the same copious, thick quantities. But I felt like a real woman.

We met a couple of more times and did some serious screwing. It never turned into much more. But I remembered how aroused I was dropping to me knees and taking him in my mouth. I added it to my sexual repertoire, realizing that it made men feel really studly. But it turned me on, as well.

Since then, I’ve been on my knees in public a couple of times, nearly getting caught at a library once. And one lover nearly fell over when he was standing as I brought him off in a violent orgasm. What could be better? When a man lays me down on the edge of the bed and gets on his knees to give me a long, slow, expert licking.

Oh, I got an “A” in that class.

Feeling horny in the abstinence zone

I have entered the "no fuck" zone for awhile. I am wearing slacks and longer skirts, avoiding bars and parties, keeping my intimidating game face on at work.

I am horny as hell.

But I need a breather, after a wild affair with Mike that I didn't expect or (I tell myself) intend, and then with Josh, which I really didn't intend. But I've loved every man I ever slept with, after my fashion, and I'd be lying if I didn't admit to feeling kicked to the curb. Even my friend Kathleen isn't treating me the same, now that she's getting that magnificent Mike dick every night. Well, good for her. I did enjoy that one night of giving her a first dose of little girl love.

I think about Josh with his frosty blond fiance Lindsey and say, good luck getting her to suck your cock the way I did. And to swallow every drop. Good luck having her ready for the next round when you want more. Hell, he'll probably marry her. Who knows better at that age?

Two cheers for younger men. I will miss Mike's washboard abs, ready erection and strong stream of semen. Older men have their own charms, but those usually aren't among them. Josh wasn't as big, but he was also an Energizer Bunny in bed, and I loved feeling that powerful spurt in my mouth. And unlike Josh, Mike really had stamina. He could FUCK, Dear Diary, and not every man can. He knew how to vary his strokes and thrusts and make you beg for more. And then he could just bend me over and take me in the most selfish way, and yet it was still a turn-on.

And yet, they were both immature in their ways, and even after the Glory Fuck of My Life I still want a man who can engage my mind. Mike's hood-ish side would have come to repel me, or worse, to bore me.

Am I a latent submissive? That's what a friend asked upon hearing about this adventure. Honestly, I don't know. I did enjoy being "taken" by Mike, but maybe that's because he knew just how to play it. He fucked me hard, refused to do things my way, anally "raped" me...but he never went too far. And maybe I was ready for a change after my steady, once-a-week-missionary-style boyfriend of late.

The truth is, I am a junkie for the new, for stimulus, for constant change, for breaking taboos and for danger. And my young men with their eager young cocks provided that. And they gave me my first threesomes.

Soon, I'll be ready for more trouble. It will probably find me.