Wednesday, October 22, 2008!

I just discovered Dirty Debbie's "CWB" section. Let's just say it's a must-see for horny women, especially if you're not getting any right now.

Monday, October 20, 2008

Ode to a little black dress

My luckiest piece of clothing was my little black dress.
It clung in all the right places, my silhouette,
Flowed out to show off my legs.
Men always loved them, especially in this dress.
I was twenty-eight when I bought it.
I've owned others. But this was the
I've had other lucky clothing. My khaki miniskirt
In college, my power suits with skirts just above
The knee, my muscle T-shirt, worn braless
On Saturday mornings to get a mocha at Uptown Espresso.
But I loved this little black dress above all.

When I was twenty-eight and powerful, such a powerful
Age for a woman, my body still taut and youthful
But my mind wiser.
This little black dress got me lovers
And got me into trouble.
It ended up on the floor at the foot of his bed.
It bunched up against a wall as he fucked me

I was reminded of this the other night,
As I walked in the misty black air along the Seine.
I was alone, wearing garters and black stockings
Under a longer dress. But no fun for Linda.
I have duties, responsibilities, minders, a firearm.
Your national security. My sexual insecurity.
I wanted to feel sexy as I walked, then I heard her.

A cascade of moans and cries and oaths
In a French soprano voice. She never stopped.
I saw them under the ancient bridge. He had her,
Up against the wall. She in a little black dress,
His pants were down, his hip muscles tensed
As he fucked her with madness.
I had been there, mon cheri. Louder than you.
I could see her pale face, red hair,
black dress. Him, his skin was coal black,
Glistening as he took his fair maiden.

She looked at me and we exchanged souls
For a moment. She looked twenty-eight. I told
Her of the lifetime of fucking she had ahead.
Each one wonderfully different, each heartbreak
Worth it.
My black dress would get scuffed and sperm-stained
With all my adventures, with my running from
One lover at eight to another at midnight.
They didn't know they were sharing my
Ah, but my little black dress knew.

They just wanted my legs wrapped around them,
My red hair thrown back and my screams
Validating their manliness. And they did.
They wanted the cute redhead in
The little black dress.
I killed at parties. Made wives went crazy.
Their husbands in a trance, Linda's
So many lovers came magnetized to that dress,
And a girl-woman, twenty-eight.
We all got what we were after, right?

I stood there on the storied riverbank,
Paused, a little tingle behind my knees,
As I watched him fuck her.
So much of life flowing by.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

I try to resist that last leaving-town temptation

I've loved your kinky stories -- they've given me some hot masturbation material as I have endured celibacy with work taking me from Paris to Berlin, Brussels and, well, I'd better not say.

So you want to know about Justin? Oh, yes, sleeping with my "hood" brother-in-law, after his years of hitting on me. It was one of the most irresponsible things I've ever done, so of course I couldn't eventually resist it. I can be completely straight and narrow on everything but sex.

I spent the days after my going-away party letting my little pussy readjust, and my mind wander back to fond memories. (Read about them here, here here and here). I am packing and thinking, it's good to be getting out of town. Good to be getting away from the inevitable tryst that will blow up my life -- and the playtime with Justin is a very good candidate. C-4 explosive.

So I am slowly saying goodbye to my Seattle condo (where so much good sex has happened), hoping Justin doesn't "drop by" and partly hoping he does. That is Bad Linda talking. As usual, Bad Linda prevails.

I'm already asleep when there's a banging as the door. Justin looms through the fisheye. All I have on is a T-shirt, but I open the door. He comes in with an angry stride -- he and Amber have had a fight. He's at his most macho, masculine, strangely attractive this way -- at least in small doses. So I let him grab me up and start kissing me, while rubbing my bush and pussy that are exposed by the raised T-Shirt. I feel his big cock expanding down the left leg of his jeans.

Back in the bedroom, he just wants to fuck me, but I lay him down and undress him as he complains about my sister. He's not complaining by the time I have him naked and start stroking his cock. It stands up straight and grandly in the ambient light, like some monument to the gods of fucking. But as I start to kiss and lick, I can smell pussy. Not mine.

"Did you fuck her tonight?"


So here it is -- my sister's pussy scent and dried pussy juice on my lover's penis. In the abstract, it's strange and compelling. In the flesh before me, it's primal. I am a bad, sick girl, my good-girl voice says. But I am fascinated and turned on. I imagine Amber: the brunette to my red hair, the sister with big boobs, but not my fine legs. Her scent is strong like mine, but somehow different, too. I inhale and run my nose and tongue around his crotch. I make him tell me how he fucks her and I slowly suck his cock. He is blue-collar and inarticulate, but I stop sucking if he stops talking. Amber is a pure missionary girl -- won't even ride him. If she comes, he can't tell. He always has to initiate sex. I stop and make him give me the primal stuff. How it feels. Does she wrap her legs or keep them wide? "She says I'm too big for her..." I go back to worshipping this cock. Soon I let him just enjoy it and am madly sucking and jerking the shaft when he comes. He shoots strongly into the back of my mouth. No wonder they have four kids -- after fucking her, he still has enough semen left to nearly choke me.

We spent the next hour fucking -- he has a wonderful recovery time. And it is surprisingly tender. I let him fuck me in all sorts of positions -- my pussy is very ready to be fucked again. I let him fuck me in the ass, finally. He can get about half the way in. I have a strong orgasm myself. And then I steer him toward the door. He can't stay here tonight. He needs to get back to being a husband. And I am leaving myself. And this big, tall, macho guy cries as I hold him. Then he's gone and the locking of the door sounds unusually loud in the cool night.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

Ball gags? Public sex? Got the wife to take it in the ass?

Some of the sexiest and best-read posts come when readers share your experiences. The answers to the poll already have me wet. So give it up. Tell your story in the comments section of this post. Your email address is secure -- even I can't see it. You don't have to be a "good writer." Just get us all hard or damp with your own...very personal...confessions. Lurkers: That means you, too.