Friday, February 29, 2008

More college tales: Fun in the dorm

Another college memory for you...

Mike (No. 1) and I thought we had his dorm room to ourselves one night. After we made love, we fell asleep in each other's arms in the little bed. Sometime after midnight, Mike's roommate came back, stripped and turned down the other bed. This wasn't supposed to happen! They had an agreement as to who got the room on certain nights. But there he was...

Mike was sleeping the sleep of the well-fucked, but I'm a light sleeper and my eyes came open. The roommate was blond, very tall and I couldn't help noticing he had a very large cock poking out of dusty blond pubic hair. It was semi-erect. He was much bigger than my (at that point only) boyfriend.

It was pretty dim in the room and he couldn't tell I was awake and watching. It was a warm spring night and I barely had the sheet on me, so he got a nice view of me. I was younger, still somewhat fucked up about sex...but I was afraid to even move to cover up...and I was fascinated. The roommate kind of wobbled over, obviously drunk, and checked me out. His cock was right by my face and it started to get hard, not only longer but thicker. I could have raised my head and taken it in my mouth. My pussy was drenching. Then he went over to his bed and got in.

Eventually I fell asleep, but then I felt myself being caressed and kissed and a body easing its way between my legs. I was sleepy and my eyes were closed. I kept them that way, remembering the arousing sight of the roommate. A penis slid inside me and I gasped, then tried to keep quiet as I was fucked. It felt so damned good. I pulled my knees up, then wrapped my legs around his torso. It was Mike of course.

I opened my eyes and smiled at him. His eyes were closed as he got into it, so I glanced over at the other bed. The roommate was on his back, seeming to be asleep. Except there was this big tent in the sheet, and I could see movement. He was masturbating to the sounds of our fucking. Then he looked over and saw me and smiled. He pulled the sheet away just in time for two big gobs of semen to shoot out of that big cock. By that time I could barely stifle the orgasm that shook me down into my bones. Mike came sweetly and quietly and fell asleep on top of me.

I never consummated anything else with the roommate. But it might have qualified as my first threesome. If I had been a little less fucked up, I would have invited him to join us.

Thursday, February 28, 2008

My college fucking yearbook


You seem to like it when I tell the stories of my cocktease/cock-pleaser years in college. It got me thinking about my lovers then. Let's go in chronological order.
--Mike was my first and I was his first. It didn't hurt a bit and there was no blood. We would fuck for hours, in all kinds of positions. Great fun. But things quickly accelerated to pressure from my family to bring him home and put him on the husband track.
--Seth. My first and only frat party. I got wasted. He was flirtatious and cute -- I can still see his butt in my fantasies. I let him take me downstairs. He fucked me missionary and with my legs over his shoulders. I knew I was being "unfaithful" to Mike and, God help me, it was a turn-on. He came in me and pulled out. I was lying there feeling high and warm and...
--Glenn came along. He was my first black lover and my first big cock. I didn't even realize he was there until I felt the mattress sag and this guy was over me, and then this cock was forcing its way into my recently virginal pussy. It hurt at first and was uncomfortable for awhile. He didn't give a shit, and his whole being masterful and strong and athletic as hell were a guilty turn-on. Then it felt really good and I came hard and loud. I got out in time to avoid a gangbang.
--Pam was my first girl. It was sweet and soft and she made me love having my pussy licked. I gave as good as I got. We fooled around for a long time, even as we were seeing other guys.
--My infidelities finally broke up my relationship with Mike. Two days later I was sucking Jon's cock in the library. He was an intellectual and even at that age I found brains a huge turn-on. We remain fuck-buddies to this day.
--Steve was Boston blue-collar Irish, like the guys in "Mystic River." I met him on some do-gooder outreach we were required to undertake. He was very attractive and I started dressing more provocatively. The day I wore a short skirt without panties he took me outside in the cool night and fucked me against a wall. Yes, it was slumming, but he was good in the sack. A very well-hung man, and knew it. Unlike some, he also knew how to use that big cock. He loved to fuck me from behind, and I grew to love it. He wanted to fuck me in the ass but I wouldn't let him. Things fell apart one night when his wife found us fucking and started throwing things.
--David was the professor I seduced. He liked my legs and, he said, my mind. My first older man.
--I had a more stable relationship with Dave. He was a history major and I could tell he was a rising star. We stayed together through my junior year, and although I sucked off a couple of guys and slept with Pam occasionally, I was pretty faithful.
--Luc was my Paris fling the semester I studied overseas. He smoked a lot and even I ended up smoking Gauloises. One time he brought me off on a train going something like 170 miles per hour. We had a blanket over us and he fingered me to orgasm. He loved it that I tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to avoid being loud. Being fucked in Paris is everything you dream.
--Things got crazier when I was juggling Frank, Mike 2 and Craig. Some days I might be carrying around the semen from all three inside my pussy and my stomach. I had gotten better at keeping lovers at enough distance to keep from getting stuck and bored. Frank was rich from the LBO boom and had a sailboat in the harbor and an estranged wife (named Linda) down in New York. He also had the smallest cock I ever fucked, about 4 inches erect -- but it still had its charms. He liked having me on his arm, and taught me many worldly, sophisticated things. The gifts were quite lavish, so some might say this was my equivalent of my pal Mary Beth's coed hooker. But being young, sexy and female has benefits; life is unfair. When Frank found out I was "cheating" on him, he got mad and told Mike 2, a lawyer and buddy. Big drama. They all came back, though. Men ;-) And then it was time to go to graduate school.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Have a seat, Linda Sue

I love to sit on a man's face. The feeling is so different, and the orgasms are mind-shattering. But only if he knows how to really play me. Read about it in my new post at The Fellatrix.

Monday, February 25, 2008

Why Linda Sue loves doggy

What is it about men and doggie-style? My new lover is no different. He loves to take me from behind, especially to finish our love-making that way. Often he does it after he's brought me off in another position -- but then he wants me on my knees, my ass high, my head down low.

I've never known a man who wasn't wildly attracted to the position. It started with my very first lover. Some of my long-lasting athletes -- the ones who can even withstand my killer pelvis oscillation that makes lesser men lose it -- these guys come quickly once they're fucking me from behind. I've asked men about it. They love seeing a woman's ass, they say. They love seeing her head down, the length of her back, her ass so inviting. I also think there's something about the savage vulnerability and anonymity about the position.

For me, that cuts two ways. I can get into those two things, too, in the right mood. Sometimes, while my real lover pounds into me, I fantasize that a beautiful man I saw on the street is fucking me, or I am being taken by a man who I've been attracted to. Sometimes I have other fantasies. But it can get scary. And it's less intimate. I love to fuck face-to-face and hold each other for dear life.

I do appreciate a man who knows how to fuck doggie. Yes, there's a time to drive right in and rut like animals. Oh, but I love a man who takes his time...caresses my ass and the backs of my thighs. He eases his cock into me, especially if it's thick. He slowly enters me and lets me adjust to him. But he knows when to surprise me too...after those teasing short strokes, he drives it in with such force that my head is forced forward into the mattress.

He fucks me with variety and creativity. I've had lovers who had this magical move of swiveling their hips so their cock enters from slightly different angles, feels like it's hitting parts of my pussy that aren't really stimulated when it's just thrusting straight in and out. I'm a sheet-grabber and a screamer for the right lover. He knows how long to go...to long and it can get uncomfortable. He keeps varying the rhythm and the pace, the depth. I feel his large, warm strong hands on my ass, my back, my legs. I can tell how into me he is. He talks dirty and so do I, urging him on. My pussy contracts joyfully.

He comes violently. This position, done right, never lets a man be the strong, silent (boring) type. I love to make men scream. I feel his come spurt heavily inside me. He falls forward and I do, too, and we lie there.

Of course, a cock in that position always wants to go an inch higher. But that's a story for another day.

Friday, February 22, 2008

Let's play fuck the cheerleader...

I've been accused of being a clothes horse, but no one complains when I like to play dress-up in the bedroom (of the bar restroom, or on the train, or...). I learned early on that the right outfit can be an aphrodisiac. Getting fucked in my little black dress after a night on the town is one benefit of dress-up. But why stop there?

Some men don't get it. I feel sorry for them, the hung-up and unimaginative. But the men who do...they're richly rewarded. I had an affair with an older man last year, very smart and soulful, in a sexually dead marriage. He loved dress-up. Of course there was my fondness for stockings -- thigh highs and attached to garters. I am particular to sheer black, but sheer white has its virgin-slut uses. I love to show off my legs, and stockings just add to the appeal. Also in my arsenal: a black corset. And a black push-up bra.

He loved it when we went deeper. I can still get in my high-school cheerleader uniform. It's nothing like the bare-midriff dance-squad stuff you see now. A comfy sweater with the school logo in the center and "Linda" monogrammed on the left. A delightfully short skirt. Tennis shoes and short socks. Scarlet and navy blue. It made men melt when I was 17, and it still pleases lovers who can appreciate it. My older man and I loved to role-play with me as cheerleader. It was especially sexy to end the romp by being fucked doggy, the short skirt over my ass, my breasts hanging out of the ravished sweater. Men like with playing cheerleader Linda. When they can be good actors and not get too distracted, the arousal just builds and builds.

My older man also loved Schoolgirl Susie. I bought a little plaid parochial schoolgirl skirt. Paired with the right blouse and a randy attitude it made for wonderful fun. The first time I showed it off to him he just had to fuck me. I was already wet and he took me before I could even get my shoes off. My new boyfriend was introduced to Schoolgirl Susie last night, and to my pleasure he liked it -- a lot. He came almost immediately after I paraded around, showed I had on no panties, and dropped to my knees to suck his cock.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

The way she walked...

I've been out in the field this week, wearing jeans. Today I saw a beautiful woman walking downtown, wearing a tight short skirt, sheer black stockings and black boots.

I was appreciative -- she was very sexy and knew it. She walked with a sensual confidence. I could tell from the way she moved she would be good in bed. She would give a good blowjob, unlike some I mention in today's post on the Fellatrix.

And I was envious. I saw the men looking at her, saw the desire shining in their eyes. Me, I was in jeans, ballcap and leather jacket; no makeup. They just ignored me, looked right through me, which is the idea...but.

Maybe next week I can dress up again.

Monday, February 18, 2008

Cocks I have known and loved on


If I were to make a "spread" sheet on the penises in my life, it might go something like this.

Average is nice. I'm not just saying that. Most women like average, but every penis is different. My favorite cocks have been average and thick, with big heads. I can accommodate them without discomfort or pain, fucking whenever we wish, even in those times when I'm not quite lubricated enough at the start. The thickness fills me up...it's an amazing feeling, difficult to describe. It's as if every nerve ending is being made love to. And the head, oh!, the head. When it's a nice, thick helmet of skin attached to that cock, the initial entrance is always an epiphany.

A few have been thick and curved upward. I'm a woman who can have a vaginal orgasm, and these curved cocks really get me going, whether you believe in the G-spot or not. In some positions, though, they can be uncomfortable, such as riding him backwards, but maybe that's just me. Bill Clinton was said to be curved...that famous "distinguishing characteristic, we read about...but I have no personal knowledge.

I've had less experience with uncircumsized. My first was with a very well-hung guy who took me during a wild episode at a frat party. It shocked and scared me to see it, this thick, dark cylinder of flesh hanging over me. Then, when he pulled out, it had a cockhead, all covered with come and pussy juice. By the next two, I wasn't so naive, and there's something exotic and exciting about them, because they're unusual for me. The head and glans are very sensitive. The foreskin kind of fun to play with.

Size...well. Every woman is different. I have accused of being a size queen, just because a big cock can be very arousing aesthetically. But I will also confess my experience is limited. I don't think I've ever had bigger than 8 inches, which I can handle all the way, barely. I had one guy with a thin long dick -- a skinny guy, though I tend to like big men -- and it was uncomfortable. I could feel him against my cervix and it was not fun. I sucked off one very thick, long man, and couldn't imagine getting it inside me. But every woman is different.

A new lover's pants are like the best Christmas present you ever got. You unwrap it wondering, what will this surprise be? And it's always wonderful, for me at least. And of course the cock ultimately doesn't matter unless it's attached to a lover worth having. For me, that means skill, brains, chemistry, edge and -- except in my submissive episode (read about it here, here and here) -- kindness.

I did have a girlfriend who hooked up with a man who was three inches fully erect. She broke up with him. "I thought it wasn't the size of the ship but the motion of the ocean?" I said. "Yeah," she agreed, "but nobody goes to sea in a rowboat." Ouch!

Thursday, February 14, 2008

The alarm cock woke me this morning

I woke up with my lover spooning me. What woke me was his hard cock pressing against my butt. He gently caressed my arm and shoulder, the length of my leg, my belly. I sighed happily as he buried his face in my hair and nibbled and licked my neck.

He spent a lot of time with my breasts and nipples. Cupping by breasts and lightly touching, then pinching my nipples. After awhile, his hand made its way down from my belly button to the top of my pubic hair, a light touch on my warm skin. When he slid a finger between my legs I was already wet. But for a long time, ohmygod a long time, he just spooned me and fingered my pussy.

Only when I was whimpering did he lay me flat on my back and hover over me, his hard cock visible between my legs but tantalizingly out of the reach of my grasping hands. "You've got to fuck me!" I commanded, now fully awake. As always, the big head of his cock made me gasp as it pressed its way through my vulva and inside me.

He fucked me slowly, savoring every inch in an out. I wrapped my legs around him and kissed him passionately. Gradually he ramped up the rhythm, lifting himself up on his arms and really putting power behind his thrusts. By then, I was giving the neighbors something to talk about...again.

It was no grand tour of positions, no hours of fucking or salacious orgy. It was just that rarest and most precious of moments, a morning fuck from two people still crazy about skin-on-skin with each other.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Blowjobs for the rich and famous

It wasn't quite like sucking the "first penis," but I had a brush with fame and the stain of power. Read more at the Fellatrix.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

What's that running down my legs?


I've always loved the elemental things about sex: smells, tastes, bodily fluids. I'm reminded of this again now that I am getting sex regularly. I went to work today with my lover's semen dripping into my panties. A few minutes ago I felt a big glob fall out of my pussy and almost shuddered from the arousal.

It's a way of carrying around the experience and reliving it.

Things got interesting back in college when, on summer days, I would go without panties if I was feeling especially horny. More than once I noticed semen running down the inside of my leg. So did others. I smiled like the demure girl I am. Yes, I've put my finger "down there" to come back with a taste of our mingled juices.

I had a lover who took great pleasure in smelling me on his mustache hours after he had given me a good tongue-lashing. In the shower, he would tell me how he hated to wash me off of him. He would make an extravagant show of sniffing my panties after he stripped them off me. He loved to lick my asshole. Loved it.

I've carried around thick sticky cummy tastes in my mouth and that special feeling of sperm in my stomach, even sperm of more than one man. Every man smells and tastes special, and leaves a special "finish" in my mouth.

Ah, coming back home to an unmade bed and falling into it, smelling the sex in the sheets long after my lover has left. I have commandeered one of his dress shirts. I put it over my naked body and lie in those storied sheets, moaning at the ceiling, waiting for next time.

Monday, February 11, 2008

How could you let him put his thing in your mouth??

A part of me still believes that blowjobs are naughty, just like I was taught by mom. And that's a turn-on. Read my latest post at The Fellatrix.

Friday, February 8, 2008

That cute supermom was a coed hooker

I've written about my friend Mary Beth. She loves sex and has had some experiences that make me seem like a virgin by comparison. Now she's married, has two kids and has built two very successful businesses. As I've gotten to know her, she has opened up to me. Now she will allow me to tell some of her stories on the Web site. In fact, she's hot about it.

Let me set the scene: Mary Beth is a little younger than me, a stunning petite brunette with the most perfect lustrous straight hair and one of those faces that just makes men melt. I think she's gorgeous now, but she says, "I used to have a body to die for." I can only imagine, if she's less perfect now.

So here's my favorite Mary Beth story, as told to Linda Sue:

Before I ever got my MBA, I built my first business. It started in a college bar, full of music and kids my age, and one man in a suit in the back, alone at a table, nursing a scotch. He was as old as my dad and seemed so forlorn that I walked over to say hi. I was always that kind of a pleaser then, couldn't stand to see someone so sad while everyone else was having fun. I was also pretty far gone after three drinks.

He was a nice man who had come to town for a conference at the university. He was a lawyer in some obscure but apparently highly paid field. I'm a good listener, and over the next hour I heard about the work rival he hated and feared, the wife who didn't love him anymore, at least physically, the grown children who never called. Then he said, "Shall we go back to my hotel room?"

I was already a high-functioning slut (kind of like you, Linda -- smile), so I thought, what the hell. I was always happy to see where something might lead. He was handsome, well-dressed and, frankly, I was in between boyfriends, horny and bored. I had always been attracted to accomplished older men.

It happened pretty quickly. He undressed me gently but confidently, kissing my neck and breasts...he spent a lot of time on sucking my nipples...then he was sucking my nipples while he was fingering me. I was good and wet. Then he pulled me on top of him and I slid his cock inside. It was a nice, slow fuck, me riding him until it was clear he had come. I lay next to him. He really wanted to cuddle more than fuck again, and that was okay.

When I woke up he was gone. I had a nasty headache from the night's drinking and an early class, so I quickly gathered up my clothes, dressed, brushed my hair and left. In the elevator I stuck my hand in my jeans pocket and found the five one-hundred-dollar bills neatly folded, and inside them, his business card.

I walked back to campus in a fury, an equal mix of anger and humiliation. The man thought I was a whore! But as the next several days went on, I kept looking at those folded bills. I was a scholarship student from a family of very modest means, and I had just made $500 from a night of fun. I thought: he couldn't have considered me a streetwalker, not for that money.

Then my entrepreneurial brain started working. The upshot? I started my first business. I had always heard the stories about college girls who worked on the side as strippers and/or prostitutes -- ones you wouldn't even suspect. But I had never known one. I knew I didn't want to be an escort, much less run by a pimp. I wanted to keep control and keep out of jail. But I was also very aroused by this intersection of money and sex.

Sophomore year I made more than $50,000 tax free, and the earnings only grew from there. My first john became a regular, and since he had assumed I was a working girl, I sweetly asked him to refer me to one or two of his friends. That started my network. I realized that a pretty young college girl was very bankable.

I never got hurt or aroused the attention of the cops, and I know I was very lucky. I stayed away from drugs. I learned how to be very careful and discreet. I picked my men and preferred the regulars. My alias was Jennifer, and I kept a strict line between my vanilla normal student life and my professional world. You'd be surprised how many wanted a pretty girl to talk to. Of course, they loved a good blowjob and I had to learn to love anal sex.

Nothing too kinky, although one wanted me to dress up in a parochial school outfit and call him daddy. The Type A men with money -- I learned how to please and manipulate them, skills I would later use in business. I had a couple of edgy, borderline scary experiences that I'll tell you about.

I had the good sense to walk away from the casino. As my senior year ended, I stopped taking new referrals and had sweet partings with my regulars. Some of the tips were quite nice. I used my earnings to build a very nice nestegg in the bull market. And I never had to be alone and horny. Would I want my daughter to do this? Never. Do I get a smile about it now, remembering it from my conservative, safe life? Oh, yeah.

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

I know what you want...

you men, especially. You want the edge that comes with my sex life when I'm being wild. You could care less about the predictable fucking I'm getting right now. Never fear...I'll be back with more edge soon.

The great blowjob challenge

Would you go a week without masturbating so I could get a full load of your come in my mouth? Find out what happened at my latest post on The Fellatrix.

Monday, February 4, 2008

A new lover with all the right moves

It's been years since I picked up a guy in a bar to take home and fuck. It's risky and, to tell the honest truth, I hate the feel of a condom. So I tend to vet my lovers over time, looking for men with an upper-middle class background, limited number of lovers, well-educated, smart and funny -- and they like women. Unlike most women, I can also perform extensive background checks on them. Hey, all's fair...

So it's been with Chris, a man I met at a dinner party hosted by my pal Mary Beth. I wasn't looking for a new relationship, after my fling with Mike blew up my last one. I was looking for a new lover. Chris and I went for drinks, then we went to a gallery opening. I was instantly attracted, and that only grew. He is handsome in a broad-shouldered, 1940s male moviestar way, rather than in the emaciated, androgenous post-modern pattern.

We went to see a bad movie on Friday night, and both of us knew this would be "the night." So when he invited me back to his place, I went willingly. It was a highrise condo with a spectacular view of the city. He played Coleman Hawkins on the stereo. The lights were low, and the wine subtle and knowing. He took his time on the sofa, kissing me lightly, then pulling me into his arms for fuller, deeper tongue-wrestling. My God, it felt good to be held.

In his bedroom, we went through all the courses for the first round of orgasms. He gently undressed me while I unbottoned his shirt and ran my hands across his broad chest. Then he laid me back and gave me a sublime tongue-lashing, just the way I like to get it, slow, attentive to every part of my pussy, licking my perineum, probing deep inside me with his tongue, circles on my clit growing more urgent and powerful. I had one orgasm quickly, followed my a very powerful second one.

I was already wrung out, my legs just limply draped over his shoulders. He stood and finished undressing. Against the ambient light of the city coming in the large windows, I could see his cock hovering over me. I reached down and stroked it, felt the soft skin and rock hardness. The big head made me gasp as he entered me. He eased slowly into me, then started giving me a proper fucking in the missionary style. My feet started burning. I raised my legs and took him deeper, moaning and screaming for more.

He had an angelic smile as he fucked me. My kind of man. Some men fuck you with expressions like they're lifting large heaps of junk out of their pickup trucks, or with blank macho masks. Not Chris. I could tell he liked me.

I rolled him over and got on top, sliding down his body, lightly rubbing my nipples against his chest. He pulled me up and licked and sucked them, getting me explosively hot all over again. Then I moved down and felt that exquisite cockhead push inside me again. Now it was my show, as I rode him with increasing abandon. When I came this time I had my arms around his neck and was afraid I would wrench his head off, it was that powerful. He moaned loudly and I felt his dick pulse inside me....it went on an on. Then we lay still, the enchanted metropolitan light flowing across us.

We fucked three times that night and five over the next two days. It was a good weekend.