Letter from hot empty nesters

Randy and Debbie tell me that now their three children are grown, they are rediscovering the joys of sex. I'll let them (mostly Randy) tell it from here:

I don't think we could ever handle the mental stress of anything physical outside of our marriage, but the images I/we get reading your blog together has put some rocket fuel in our romance with each other. It has been invigorating to me to discover that women with your mindset toward sex exist; I think Debbie regards you as somewhat strange and intriguing...

Sunday night several weeks ago, we were home finishing light chores and getting ready for Monday work week. Neither of us was particularly horny at that moment, but it was dinnertime and I wanted to eat without any hassles of preparation so we decided to go to a local favorite Italian restaurant and split a main course. On a whim, I suggested we pick out the clothes we wanted each other to wear just for fun and see where it might lead.

I had her dress in a white garter, with matching stockings and lace bra, then covered it with a nice blouse and slacks. She had me wear a black G string under nice jeans and polo shirt. Just as we left, I got the idea to grab a vibrating egg with remote on a wire and stuffed it in my pocket unbeknownst to her. We sat side by side in a booth and ordered a tasty chicken dish with wine.

As we waited and talked, I began to sneak crotch massages on her between waiter visits. She enjoyed it, but she was nervous, afraid of someone seeing my hand in her lap. However, when I pulled the egg out and began to massage her with that, it pleasantly surprised her and she relaxed more and enjoyed it. She took over the positioning of the toy and I kept my hands in my lap under the table. The egg is very quiet and much less obvious that anything is going on. "Keep it on low," she said, when I tried to increase it to the higher of four speeds. "It will keep me interested in just the right way". I complied and let it do its work while we sipped our wine and shared our food. By the time we were departing our brains had begun to release the magic chemicals, she was "bed ready" and so was I.

Now, I cannot explain my love for lingerie. I suppose it has something to do with seeing my mother wear it in the 50s and 60s and it leaving a mental imprint in my sexual development as a youngster. However, when Debbie gets down to her underwear of lacy bra and nylon hose and garter I am ready run over broken glass through a fence of barbed wire to get to her. Especially when I see that dark-haired pussy, peeking out between the garter straps. I want to lick and touch and rub her all over, most of all I want to eat and fuck her.

We shed clothes quickly once we got home. The foreplay was electric as we got down to our underwear. She was the first one to score crotch, taking my penis into and out of her mouth, sucking, swirling, squeezing, stroking, building my anticipation. I think my brain cells began to wire electrical connections to the nerve endings in my penis. The connections got stronger and faster. Information was flying back and forth between my mind and dick. I was reduced to a raging, throbbing, erection. My hands were wanting anything of hers erogenous that I could stimulate. I had to settle for her breasts for starters, knowing the grand prize will come soon.

Her bra came off and I began squeezing and rolling the nipples in my fingers finding the right amount of pressure to use, watching for signs of pain or pleasure from her. Finally, she moves and sits on my stomach. Leaning forward her torso became parallel to mine and her soft breast flesh fell within reach of my mouth. I sucked her hard, alternating between the majority of her breast and the pointed swollen nipples. Her twat was pressed into my stomach looking for contact of any kind. She continued moving up. My kisses now found her abdomen and coursed across the top of her garter, I love the silky feel of the garter fabric.

I had an urgent desire to get my mouth on her wonderful snatch. Eventually, my arms moved under her and grabbed her to raise her upright, aligning the opening of her garter above my longing lips and tongue. “You are so beautiful” I whispered to her. She was very moist and her pussy had a fresh clean smell, not too strong, and her flower pedals were already showing signs of engorgement. Debbie lowered that wonderful bush to my face, and I began to enjoy my dessert. She is wonderful to eat and soon her inner lips had swollen to the tightest I had ever remembered them to be. Her pussy was flared open and begging to be fucked.

I spun out from under her, pushed her into doggie position and began to shove my prick into her from behind. She moaned when I finally reached maximum penetration and began to thrust in and out. Debbie picked up the Hitachi magic wand, flicked it on low and pressed it to her clit as we continued fucking. I reached my right hand to her head and wove my fingers through her brown hair to the scalp and began to pull. My left hand grabbed her C cup tits hanging down and I massaged and squeezed them. The position was awkward for me, so it did not last long and I had to retreat and grab her hips. Nevertheless, the count down to lift off is now irreversible. She began to make a stifled screaming noise as her cunt clamped down on my swelling penis and I got the wonderful sensation that I could control this pleasure trip I was on with the speed of my thrusts, I raced to join her climax and soon begin pumping my semen toward the nether reaches of her pussy. My heart was pounding and oxygen seemed scarce for a few moments as my orgasm raged through me and into her. When she felt me cum it took her to a higher level and there was a fleeting moment when we both felt we had left the planet.

We both fell to our side and try to stay coupled as long as we could, savoring the preciousness of the moment. She was still quivering from aftershocks. Later before drifting off to sleep we shared a kiss and I looked into her eyes and said “Those Italians sure can cook”. We laughed together and resumed our tangle of arms and legs. Debbie and I lay touching in some fashion throughout the night sleeping fitfully and hoping we could recapture some of the same electricity in the morning. There are no words to express my feelings for her at that time. I just know I have a burning love for her that goes deep into my soul. I hate that I must pick myself out of bed the next day and go to work, but I do, and like an addict on drugs, I begin to think how I must have that experience with her again.

Debbie has become much more open sexually with me the last couple of years and it has revitalized our marriage. We have experienced things that we missed for 30 years, and now both wish we had been more open to trying and discussing new ideas in our sex life. The other day she described a masturbation session to me that she had had while I was at work. The thought of her stepping out and loving herself and then sharing it with me was a big turn on. It was an opening of her soul and was exclusive to me. Her questions like “Do you like it when I squeeze my breasts as you suck them and watch me” reveal the inhibition she has overcome in recent months. I love it of course. I love anything that heightens her pleasure and takes her to the land of orgasm. It is a curious thing to me that some men lack the motivation to make their love partner climax. They only focus on their own selfish needs.

I believe that sexually active women are generally programmed and even better psychologically equipped to make sure their partner’s needs are met, more so than men are. It amazes me when Debbie brings me to climax and then gently rebuffs my attempts to bring her to orgasm saying that she is fine and just wants to relax in the tenderness of the moment. I feel like I have stolen from her and not returned the loving favor, but she is insistent that she is quite content. I can count on one hand the number of times that I have turned the tables and climaxed her without a reciprocal orgasm.

Tell me why

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A very, very bad boy

About an hour after David left, Chad came over. He looked very troubled and earnest. We sat on the sofa and he took his hands in mine and confessed that he had been unfaithful. I still had David's come in my pussy. I wasn't going to blurt this out, of course. The way I keep my pleasure separate from my emotional health (and professional viability) is through stealth, lies and compartments. "You're like a man that way," my ex-husband said. Now Chad was looking very guilty and worried. It was incredibly sweet.

I got down on my knees and nuzzled against his crotch. I felt his penis start to grow down his right leg. "Are you mad at me?" he asked.

"That depends on how you confess," I said. If nothing else, I am very good at interviewing suspects and gaining confessions -- but not this way at work, of course. I looked up at him, then unzipped his slacks and reached into his boxers.

"You have to tell me everything. What was her name?"

He hesitated until I had his cock out in the open air and kissed its head.

"L-l-l-lauren..."

"Mmmmm." I gently rubbed his shaft with two fingers and licked very lightly.

"Did she suck your cock?"

"Yes."

By this time he was completely hard. Chad's cock is an amazing thing. It's too big and long to stick straight up, but it was elevating above the fabric, bouncing toward my mouth. I took him in as far as I could and sucked him. "Is she as good as me?"

"No," he moaned.

"Tell the the truth or I'll stop." I quit even touching him.

"NO!" I was aroused, too. Territorial aroused. I used to be jealous; now I try to channel that impulse into just being territorial, and getting the joy of the voyeur.

I went back to lightly jerking his shaft and licking it. Licking it like a lollypop on the head, up and down the shaft, gently nibbling.

"Did you shower before you came over?"

"Of course."

I punched him in the solar plexus. Not too hard. "You're a bad boy. I can't taste Lauren on your cock. I can't smell her pussy..." Any discomfort he felt went away as his cock, mind of its own, rose up in full glory. I lightly sucked him as I unbuckled his belt, undid the button of the slacks and slid them and his underwear down. He cooperated fully. He was already breathing hard and his balls were tight.

"Did you fuck Lauren?" He admitted he had. Twice the night before.

"Just twice?" Licked the shaft, nibbled at the edge of the head. My warm hand caressed his balls. "Did she like it."

"I think so." Such a modest lad for such a well-endowed one. I made him tell me more. Lauren was 22, a girl his age, but she wasn't intimidated by his size. She took almost all of him inside. She was a moaner, not a screamer. Lauren had never had such a large cock before, or so she said. I just kept the tension going, licking a little, stopping, sucking for awhile, stopping. He was getting very, very aroused relating his adventure. I kept asking for details. What did her pussy look like? Did you try to fuck her in the ass? Swallow or spit?

"Bad boy," I said. "Don't even try to come yet." I gripped the root of his shaft hard. "Does she have big tits?"

"Uhn-huh...no..."

"Oh, you like legs and ass...." It was no use. I felt his long shaft pulse so I went down on him and after the second rotation of my mouth he filled it with tasty semen, yelling in his orgasm. Yelling my name. An essential for a gentleman: Know the name of the woman to whom you are making love at that moment. He came in three strong spurts and I swallowed as fast as I could. Until the last load, which I held in my mouth and rose up to French kiss him, make him share it with me, the come I got instead of young Lauren.

It didn't take long before we were in the bed. I made him lick me until I came -- he was imbibing my pussy juice mixed with David's semen. Then we were fucking. Did I imagine he had picked up some confident new moves with Lauren? Chad fucked me in all sorts of positions, coming twice more, forgetting Lauren at least for awhile. I was happy for him, and relieved that he won't be trying to fall in love with me. I'd been fucked four times in just a few hours, had a stomach full of come. I was tired and happy.

How I spent my day (getting) off

It was a wonderfully exhausting couple of days, starting with a day off Monday.

My new married man, David, came over and fucked me on the floor just a few steps inside the door. He likes to take me and be masterful, which as you know, appeals to a certain submissive side (when I want it). Kisses and caresses and a steady but sure push on my waist down to the throw rug, where my jeans and panties came off. He was in a suit and just pulled down his pants enough as he mounted me and fucked me hard, his tie sometimes lashing against my face. My ass was hard against the rug and the floor, so I felt every thrust deep in my pussy.

I wrapped my legs against him and fucked him back, doing a little circular motion with my hips, feeling my orgasm starting with little contractions. Then he slung my ankles over his shoulders and really rammed into me, his balls slamming against my bare ass. I could tell he was so into my loud responsiveness...encouraging him with "fuck me" and "David!" and "fuck me hard" and various calling on my higher power. He came with a loud moan and fell on top of me.

For all you size junkies, he's average, nicely thick, good cock head. It allows us to do things, if you get my drift. About an hour later, he had me face down on the bed. "I want you to fuck me in the ass," I said. We were completely naked by that point (his knees were still red from fucking me on the floor!). With some KY help, he easily slipped inside. His wife Linda had never let him fuck her in the ass, and he came almost immediately. I made him stay there, half-erect, as I just felt that nice cock in my forbidden zone and all the juices slipping out of my anus and pussy. I'm also a sheet clencher when fucked from behind, which turns guys on. But it just comes...pun intended...naturally. No artifice there.

I also learned his Linda won't play dress-up. I'll remedy that next time. At least with this affair he won't risk calling out the wrong name when he's back home fucking wifey.

That night, Chad came by. The fun was just beginning.

A surprise at a party

Things had been pretty dull lately — Wendy is trying to reconcile with her husband, and only coming by occasionally for some guilt-laden orgasms. Chad is busy in school. And I've been working like hell — all the nuts out there stockpiling ammo, threatening the president and others. What a country!

On Saturday night, I went to a relatively fancy party of a girlfriend out in Maryland and of course got into trouble. It was crowded and lubricated with booze. I was wearing a killer miniskirt ensemble. Pretty soon I could see this guy had his radar lock on me. He glided over: Dark, wavy hair, broad shoulders, seasoned handsome face, well-dressed. Introduced himself as David. Oh, and the blonde next to him was his wife, Linda. (Weirdly, this is not the first time something like this has happened to me — some men are really into certain names).

As the party progresses, we keep "running into" each other — he wants to talk, and much more. I'm horny and a superb flirt. But he is, too and I'm attracted to him. Blonde Linda is giving me daggers.

About an hour into things, I went out into the garden to get some air — honestly, it was amazingly stuffy and hot with that many people crowded into the house. Outside, it was cool on my bare legs. I was in a little grotto daydreaming, when I feel hands on my shoulders. I turn around and David is giving me this tiny, knowing smile. I let him keep his hands there, and in a moment they're down on my arms, then cupping my breasts. I hear myself give an audible sigh and I can feel his cock hard against my ass. He gently rubs my nipples and nestles his face in my hair. "My God, you are beautiful," he says. Any woman who's forty wants to hear that. "I have the right name, too," I say.

The next thing I know his penis is inside me and he's fucking me and I'm fucking him back. He was very slick in his moves, very sure of what he wanted. I am bent forward, my skirt raised and panties slipped aside, my hands resting on a low wall as he takes me from behind. And there is some taking involved...he just pushed me forward, bent me over...I felt his fingers pulling my panties aside and then the head of his cock was sliding into me. It felt great, as did the forbiddenness of it. The talk and laughter from the house made it seem like we were fucking for an audience. He took me with long, hard strokes, but had a firm hold on my pelvis so I wasn't going anywhere. He didn't last that long, but neither did I. I let out a muffled moan as my orgasm shook me and he came immediately, moaning too. We just stood that way for several minutes. Then he slipped out, turned me around and kissed me passionately. Our first kiss.

I didn't see him until I was about to leave — happy and full of come. He and blonde Linda were outside arguing. I went quietly to my car.

I didn't expect to hear from David again. But I did...

I'll keep you posted.

Happy birthday, part two

I was amazed at how things were working out. I had no plan, only a hot hope...and now Chad was fucking Wendy in my bedroom.

It wasn't long before I quietly pushed open the door and slipped inside the room. Neither noticed me. I sat in the chair near the foot of my big bed and watched. My panties were thoroughly soaked as was part of my little black dress. I didn't dare move. If I broke the spell, the magical alignment where everybody had left their inhibitions at the door, the evening might end in disaster.

Chad was on top of Wendy in a classic missionary position that I find very sexy. He raised himself up on his arms to look at her, and they were locked on each other as he fucked her. And, what a fucking. In the ambient light, I could see his huge cock disappearing all the way inside her, then pulling out, then pistoning back inside. Her knees were pulled up, her ankles rested against the backs of his thighs, and she gripped his ass tightly. His tight balls slapped right up on her butt as he reached maximum depth. I didn't know how she could handle that length, but she was loving it. And I mean loving it...moaning, whimpering, giving little screams every few minutes, calling out half-words. He was into it as well...no strong, silent type this young man.

The room smelled of sex. Pussy odor and sweat. I could hear the wet puckery sounds of him entering her, pulling out, going back in. He started riding her higher up and she really went crazy. It was nothing like the way she reacted when I licked her, that slow buildup. I realized she might never have been fucked so well, considering her dead-battery husband and boorish married lover. Oh, if the crowd down at the office could see mousy Wendy now. Chad adjusted, raised her legs over his shoulders. He slid in very slowly, and she gave a deep moan. "Ohmygod!" Then his cock pulled almost all the way back out...quite the sexual athlete here...and slammed all the way in. "Ahhhhhohmygod!!" Again and again. I felt my fingers on the inside of my thigh but made myself wait. No self-gratification. I knew I'd get mine soon.

I wondered what she would think if she knew he was 18 years old. At that moment, she probably wouldn't have cared. They both came in a loud concussion of screams. And then he carefully let her legs down and gently lay on top of her, holding her close, letting his wondercock stay inside her, stroking her hair, whispering her name (I had taught him all this; what a difference from the young guys who first fucked me when I was around that age).

Neither seemed surprised when I slid naked onto the mattress next to them. Both had this glassy look of the sexually happy. The odor of semen and pussy was like fine wine. "Oh..." Wendy managed, and touched my face tenderly. We kind of naturally rearranged ourselves, with Chad climbing off and lying on his back. A long white string of semen followed his penis out of her pussy. His cock was still half hard as I licked their juices off. Then I licked, sucked and nibbled a very happy Wendy, glorying in their mixed juices. She was spent but moaned and rubbed her legs against my shoulders.

It wasn't long before Chad took control and gave me an unusually forceful doggy fucking. I was so dilated and wet that I took more of him than ever before without discomfort. I was so aroused that I had my first orgasm almost immediately. I think Wendy was sucking on my nipples from below...I kinda lost track by that point. The edges of my eyes were exploding colors and my feet and lower legs were burning with orgasm. He could feel my pussy contracting against his cock as he grabbed my ass and fucked me like a wild man. Another orgasm hit me like a bullet out of nowhere...with a happier result. I could hear this explosive scream and realized it was me and I was both floating and tightly impaled in Chad's cock. I fell forward onto Wendy, who cradled me and kissed me. And I fell asleep like some selfish twenty-year-old guy. When I woke up, they were both between my legs licking me, kissing each other...god, it felt good. Later, they brought me a piece of cake and we took turns feeding each other bites.

I was out in the field for a week before I saw Wendy again. She blushed immediately and smiled. "Hope you had a happy birthday, Linda."

Oh, I did.

Happy birthday, part one

I turned 40. The only thing that kept me from being neurotic and depressed about it was the small dinner party I had at my place. The invitee list was small: Chad and Wendy.

We enjoyed martinis and then I cooked while the two of them made conversation. Wendy gave me this knowing smile, as if she figured out I was up to something. But they seemed to get along well -- a good 'tini will help, but as I've said, Chad has social skills well beyond his age. I could hear him getting Wendy to talk passionately about a new book on the Middle East. (One challenge to a dinner like this is that there's so much Wendy and I can't talk about to outsiders).

After dinner, we retired back to my cozy living room and I made sure Chad and Wendy sat on the small sofa. I poured a fine port and sat across from them on my vintage Eames chair. We were about talked down, about to that point in the evening when one starts to thank the hostess and head for the Metro, when Chad leaned over and kissed Wendy, first lightly, then passionately. Her arms went around him and embraced him. I felt a warm, wetness between my legs (I was wearing a little black dress, just to set the mood).

Chad pulled back and Wendy was flushed a bright red.

"I...I...Linda, I should be going..."

I winked at her. "Just let it happen."

And did she. Wendy grabbed Chad's shirt collar and pulled him back again. This time the kissing was serious and pretty soon she had her hands all over him, including down his left leg, where his fine cock was stretching the fabric. I can imagine what she was thinking. I just sat there. Everybody was toasty from the booze, but I didn't want to move too fast and blow the whole thing up. I've opened up Wendy a lot, but she's still a suburban soccer mom with all that baggage. He stroked her face and hair, kissed along her neck and her ears; I had taught him well.

I walked over to the two of them and stroked both their heads. "You guys need to get a room." They looked up, and I nodded toward my bedroom. "It's okay," I continued. "I have some work to catch up on."

Chad stood quickly and led Wendy into the bedroom. Days before, I had talked to Chad and asked him if he would be open to some mischief. He was, of course -- he's a horny 18-year-old! Wendy hadn't been prompted at all, but over time I had told her about threesomes and orgies I had taken part in. Part of her was a little shocked. But most of her was very, very intrigued. I could tell most of all by how horny she was to play with me after I had told these stories.

The two of them went into the bedroom. The door closed. I sat and nursed the port for several minutes before rising and opening the door ever so slightly. Then I went back and sat on the sofa, stretching out my legs, turning off the floor lamp and sipping...and listening.

Wendy is not a major screamer. But it wasn't long before I heard the first one of the night, sharp, primal, exquisite. I tried really hard not to involuntarily squeeze my legs together and grind my pelvis. I was hoping I could join the fun, too...

Insecurities

As the poll shows, readers have their share of insecurities. I sympathize especially with the guys who have to follow a better-endowed lover. There's an itch you can't scratch. It's not the same as a small-breasted girl. I realized early on that the world is full of legs-and-ass men, who appreciate what my body has to offer. And also men who love small, pert breasts with prominent nipples, like mine -- in fact, some guys are turned off by huge tits. (For those who are total "tit men," there's my sister Amber). Still, I stand by my contention that a good lover can have an average or even small penis and lots of crappy lovers have big dicks.

As a former cheerleader who can still proudly get in her uniform -- and does, for appreciative men -- I also get the former cheerleader insecurity. As much as you want to say, "Hey, I was a national merit scholar finalist, not some cheerleader bimbo," men have a cheerleader jones. (And I was a national merit scholar finalist, too). For the guys, I added fighter pilot, but I'm sure there are others...rock musician, author, whatever.

Maybe the realest thing is "he or she won't do the things they did with the previous lover." This is a killer. I've never been that way -- although I won't let Chad try to fuck me in the ass, yet. No offense to him, I'm just too young for a colonoscopy! But I've had plenty of girlfriends who pulled this crap with new lovers, and then were shocked that he was hurt or pissed off. One, another Linda, had a drawer full of sexy lingerie -- but wouldn't wear it or buy new stuff for the very nice man she started dating. She did wear it for the bad boys.

Crying out the wrong name! This was how I discovered my ex-husband was cheating on me. My name is not Rachel. It made me crazy, but it also made me territorial horny, which is an extremely high state of arousal. Nowadays, I probably would have let him have her -- even invite her into our bed. But I was younger and more old fashioned then. I've never called another man's name...and guys really like it when you call their name while being fucked. Women, too. I love to hear my name whispered...or shouted as he comes inside me or shoots into my mouth. I had a friend, Jennifer, who made the mistake of calling out her husband's business partner while hubby was fucking her from behind. They weren't an item, but she was hot for him, facing forward away from her husband, letting her fantasy life run wild, and...woops. I'll cop to thinking about other men while getting fucked or licked, even a sexy guy I saw on the street.

Friends can be problematic. I've continued to fuck old boyfriends after we were officially seeing other people -- sometimes for years. I even fucked my ex-husband a few times after our spectacular, jealous-psycho bitch breakup. The sex was incredibly hot... Of course my new lovers didn't know.

The race and same-sex thing doesn't matter to me. Never has. Indeed, it's kind of sexy. But lots of people don't share that, even if they won't admit it. What's your insecurity or the ghost in your bedroom? The comments section awaits...

Younger men, scheming a 3-some, older women

Playing with Chad. Sometimes when he sleeps, I watch him with his lean, young body and his youthful face and I think: God, this is strange. I'm soon to turn 40 and here I am in bed with this...boy. Just a random thought. But when I wake him with a blowjob and see that magnificent cock spring to life, all those adult thoughts go away.

I've never been a deep-throater. I know some men get off on that, but my gag reflex is too sensitive. He seems very happy to have me get about a third of him in my mouth, then lick his shaft all over, then suck his head while I jerk him off with my hand, then use the other one to stroke his balls. He really likes this. If he's fucking me on top, I reach around and stroke his tight sack and in just a few moments he's shaking and moaning and then coming. Love all that come, whether it's in my pussy or my stomach. Older men have their charms, but generating lots of semen isn't one of them.

Chad is a gentle lover and I want to reinforce this with him. He could really hurt a girl. He could drive them off. In fact, he told me about a girl his age who saw his penis and called the whole thing off right there. She was too afraid to have him inside her. I keep trying different positions, but still can't get him all the way inside. Just can't. Oh, but it feels good...at least once we get going. It does hurt at first, every time. It's like I am revirginating. I tilt my pelvis and relax and take more in. I've tried different tilts as he fucks me from behind. Still can't take him all. He's not complaining. My best move is riding him, with me almost up on his belly and my legs trailing behind. That way I can be in total contact, but take as much of him as I can, riding up and back, over and over. I couldn't just sit on him.

I am scheming. What about a threesome with Wendy? Oh, my sweet friend is both fragile and growing more and more adventurous. She is getting horny now that she's really having orgasms and realizing sex can be pleasurable for her. I may broach this.

Readers ask. What's my favorite penis length. I like them all. Honestly -- and I mean this -- what's attached to the cock is what's most important. A man who is: intelligent; giving; communicative; interested in me and the world; can talk about books and ideas, and if I wish, take me out to the symphony dressed to the nines (and enjoy it). Sure, I've played with bad boys, but everybody has their deviant streak. An old lover, a college professor, sometimes bedded university (female) cops with high-school diplomas. As a lover, he must be giving -- must really be into giving me pleasure, especially orally. He must be loving, as in holding me after I come. This is possible in all shapes and sizes. All things considered, I'd take a thick eight-incher (which is well bigger than average, contrary to what you see on the Web). But it often doesn't work that way. Many guys with big cocks think all they have to do is show up. Some of my very best lovers have been average and even smaller, but highly skilled.

Readers ask. They're young men who want to bed older women. The appeal is real: Older women are often more sensual; they're past their "I'm the center of the universe" solipsism of young things; they're open to sexual pleasure. First thing: Don't break their hearts. It's a long way down at our age. Be honest about what you're after. Generally, these women will want "mature" young men -- guys who like women, who are good listeners and communicators, who are smart and read books, who clean up well and can dress better than ghetto hoods. In bed, they want someone who will give pleasure, not just take. Many have been through selfish marriages, with a guy who just humps them. Learn to love giving oral sex to a woman. She can tell if you love it. And she will reward you. Often intellectual guys have only or predominantly had older lovers until their reach their thirties -- the women their age when they are 18 or 25 just aren't interested; but the older women are. Be careful if she's still married; it may be a great match -- she's not going to want to marry you and you can be her boy toy, but make sure she can be discreet, and hubby is at a safe distance. As I say, be gentle and honest. Enjoy!

Foot-long

After twenty years of being sexually active, it was bound to happen.

I met Chad at Politics & Prose, the great independent bookstore in D.C. He's tall, broad-shouldered, with a classically handsome face. I'd seen him before, and the second time we started talking. We continued the talk over a drink. I let him ask me out.

He's 18 and a student. Me? I work for the government. "Really, what department?" The Department of Justice. "Really, do you do?" I change the subject. He's rare for that age cohort: he can talk about books and ideas, wants to know about me. It's not about sports. Anyway...I was attracted to him, but 18? That's old enough to be my son. Scary. He wants to know if I've had children (no). I let him ask me out twice more. On that second date, we went to my place and made out. I let him take off my blouse and suck my nipples...taught him to suck hard. Then I stopped it. I didn't even feel his crotch. I was still ambivalent.

After the third date, we went to my place and started kissing again. This time he really had me going with the kissing, neck kissing and nibbling and working on my breasts. He really had me going. He slipped off my jeans and my panties. Spent a long time kissing my feet, sucking my toes, kissing up the inside of each leg (nice moves for a young man...for any man). About ten seconds into him putting his tongue on my clit, I had a mammoth, screaming orgasm. We hadn't even gotten beyond my cushy living room sofa.

I was still shaking and whimpering as I led him into the bedroom and started to undress him. His slacks and boxers came down together with one firm yank.

He had the biggest cock I've ever seen.

"It's almost twelve inches," he said simply. And he wasn't exaggerating. It was very hard but hung down at an angle by its sheer size as I stroked it and gulped inside. The biggest I had ever taken all the way in was eight inches. I sat on the bed and licked it, shaft to head, cupping those young, tight, sperm-filled balls. He was breathing heavily and moaning. His head was large and prominent, the shaft average. The length...amazing. And, contrary to stereotypes, he's white.

I lay back on the bed, drenching wet inside, but unsure I could handle him. I pulled him on top and gently guided his cock into me. His cockhead made me gasp. Thank God, unlike the men I fucked in college, he didn't try to immediately ram inside me. Slowly, I let him enter me, holding my hands against his stomach. He propped himself on his arms, an angelic smile on his face. OMG, it felt good. I was very filled up, but looking down, he had a good four or five inches still on the outside. This is one of the visual things that really turns me on -- watching a cock go in and out of my pussy. He fucked me at a slow rhythm, and I was seeing this huge shaft go in and out. I tilted my pelvis and raised me legs to take more of him. But when he his my cervix, he could tell from the look on my face. Then it was great...felt it everywhere inside me, felt so filled up. Unlike anything before. He gave me a great fucking and I moaned and came again, then he moaned and pumped all that young come inside me.

Afterward, he told me he had been with only one other woman. Sharon was 40, had had three kids, and loved his size. But she also taught him some moves, including how to fuck smaller women. Go, Sharon. We fucked three more times that night, including me on top riding him from a squatting position which gave me control over how much of him I took in, and doggy. I forget how many times I came. I also can't remember the last time I had so much sperm inside me. Well...actually, I can, but that's another story.

Notes from the field

Things you do on a boring stakeout when your partner is another female agent: I'll call her April -- 29, killer body, perfect needle-straight blond hair. But she admits she doesn't really know how to suck cock. So I got a couple of bananas and showed her a few tricks. Also had some fun -- used my hand against my head to simulate some lout forcing my head down on his penis. Anyway, the next Monday April walked by and gave me a big smile. "It worked!" she chirped. Happy to be of assistance...

The Lieutenant deployed. Before he left, we spent an entire Saturday and night together. Who cares what he told his fiancee -- if he marries her, it will be a disaster, but that's just me being bitchy. Anyway, he fucked me five times (!) and I went down on him for a long, loving fellatio session and swallowed that special nasty semen for a last time. It was sweet and fun. I try not to mix love and pleasure...this worked out just fine. I will miss that finely trained body on top of me, fucking me slowly as I run my hands across his chest and abs. Sigh...

Wendy. We continue to get together from time to time. The past month has been difficult. I'll admit that I use her shame about being attracted to a girl in order to keep her from falling in love with me. It's a fling. Have fun, babe. She loves to be held, something neither her husband nor boyfriend will do. She loves being kissed, and it's true that kissing a girl is a sweet, singular thing -- not, I suspect, what M on M kissing would be. But who knows. Anyway, I've taught her to love 69; to get her to give and take and not get too distracted by me licking her pussy -- she needs to lick back. Don't know where this is going...

As for the poll. I could tell you stories. I'm too young to have experienced the freedom of people in the 1970s and earlier to join the Mile High Club -- fucking in an airline restroom, or wherever. This was before airplanes became airborne prisons. And I am fairly tall and long-legged, so it would be hard for me to fit. I did get fingered under a blanket on one flight. When I was a student studying in Europe, I had a wonderful fingering on a train by a handsome young German. It went on and on, under my skirt, my panties pushed aside, the rhythm of the rails and swaying of the car adding to the pleasure. When I came it was all I could do to avoid screaming. But the fact that people around knew what was going on, and seemed to like it, added to my pleasure. And of course, I've sucked more than a few cocks in cars. Would love to fuck in a department store window. Wish you readers would tell me more of your stories...

More cops are accidentally shooting themselves with Glocks. Talk about premature ejaculation. Glad we use longer, thicker, longer-lasting...oh, I'm getting distracted...firearms.

Let me just get down on my knees right now...

This is probably one for the ladies. But a generous (!) reader sends these along.

"Before reading Linda Sue's Blog":



"After reading Linda Sue's Blog:"




Yummy!

Don't give up on me...

Work is just a killer right now. In the meantime, lots of juicy juicy in the archives.
XO
LS

The goodbye fuck

I love juggling multiple lovers, especially when they don't know about each other. It's thrilling. The ultimate fuck you to my sexually repressed upbringing.

So I've got the Lieutenant. And I've got Wendy. Young and strong, fuck me all night. And this dear woman who is so needy for real physical loving. I had a brief fling with an older woman years ago -- it weirded me out because it was clear she was a lesbian looking for a young wife. In Wendy's case, I am the power player. My late-night fear: She might fall in love with me.

Wendy is discovering kink. The other night she came over after being fucked twice. Her married lover had snuck away for a quickie after work. And her husband -- perhaps sensing something new in the sexual time-space continuum -- had also banged her. I had her sit on my face while I tongue-fucked her, tasting the mingled semen of both men. Then I had her come down so I could French kiss her with the delightful concoction. Both fucks had been fast and graceless, but she loved tasting the results from my mouth. We both came violently in a long bout of love-making.

What I really want to talk about is the "goodbye fuck." I think this is exclusively a female phenomenon, but I'd be interested in what readers think.

By "goodbye fuck," I mean when a woman chooses to sleep with a male colleague who is about to move to a new job or assignment in another location. I've done this a couple of times, and the delight comes from a couple of sources. First, you can sexually sample a guy you've had your eye on, but for whatever reason never bedded him. Second, it's a guaranteed one-night stand -- he's leaving -- and yet it's safe, knowable, controllable.

(ADDENDUM: Let me explain more about what I mean when I say "female phenomenon." Guys will generally fuck anything, anytime. Women generally control whether it happens -- and usually it doesn't; think of all the girls and women you wanted to fuck and never had a chance. So to me, in most cases, only the woman has the power of the sexual landscape to bestow a real "goodbye fuck" on a lucky guy. Maybe some incredibly charismatic men can do the same, but I am a little skeptical. Even these guys would have already fucked the woman, if they were attracted and had the sexual power to get what they wanted.)

I gave one goodbye fuck to a professor in graduate school just after I graduated. I knew he had his eye on me and that he liked redheads -- his wife was one. I came by his office, said goodbye and he gave me a hug. We lingered in each other's arms. He kissed me, lightly at first -- and then when I didn't resist, he slipped his tongue between my teeth. We went back to my apartment and fucked twice that afternoon before he had to go home. Quite a thick cock for such a slender, short geeky guy. The next day I left town to begin my training in Virginia.

Another goodbye fuck was with an older male colleague, who was leaving for an overseas posting. We had a drink with some of the gang and he walked me to the Metro station. There we embraced and I kissed him. We had quite a little PDA going that continued into a hotel room and an all-night romp. I let him fuck me in the ass, too. Next day, gone. I know both guys loved it because they were thinking exactly what I was: No strings.

I think about this knowing the LT will be gone soon. He's got to punch his ticket in Afghanistan if he's going to keep rising, and he's eager to get out there. It's that leaving vibe that has his girlfriend eager to get married. Sigh. I can't give him the classic goodbye fuck because we're already screwing several times a week. But I'll give him a farewell he won't forget.

Teaching Wendy

Sorry, gang, I've been out in the field. (Nobody got shot).

Wendy came over that night. I was ready to make martinis to help her calm down, but she kissed me at the door and let me lead her right into the bedroom. I had several candles going -- girls like this. We slowly undressed each other. She was very shy and awkward, yet very horny and curious.

Later I would learn that her husband had never licked her pussy -- he thought it was "nasty down there"; her married boyfriend doesn't, either -- so she had never experienced the kind of orgasm I gave her that first night. She was very eager to come again -- almost like a guy in college. But I really took my time and made her wait. She was shivering and shaking, clenching her legs together, as I sucked and lightly bit her breasts. They are medium-sized and very firm for a woman her age (49), and I really got into them. By the time I started tongue-fucking her pussy, she was already starting to come. I made her scream...Wendy, our quiet, strait-laced research specialist!

She went down on me clumsily, but was open to instruction...and just the idea of her down there was ramping up my already high state of arousal. Like me in my limited girl-love experience, she was fascinated by my pussy. It was very hot to see her lift her face out of my crotch and see it covered with my juices. She's quite pretty without her nerdy glasses. And a woman's tongue always feels different... Anyway, I came hard, my knees pulled up and my feet resting on her shoulders. She came up and held me, the room smelling like a pussy bomb had gone off. I made drinks and we talked a long time.

I asked her how long it took her to recover, and she didn't know. Such has been this woman's love life. So later, I started kissing and caressing her again, and pretty soon I was tongue-worshipping her lovely pussy (labia a la O'Keeffe). I pulled out my bag of sex toys, which includes a seven-inch penis, with head and veins -- I'm not that into it on my own, but with a friend... Anyway, I coaxed her into letting me "fuck" her. She was already very lubricated, but I added KY to the cock and gentle eased it into her.

She gasped and winced, so I went very slowly. But a woman's vagina is a wonderful thing and soon all seven thick inches were inside her, with the plastic balls against her ass. I gently fucked her.

"You like?"

"Ohhhh..." Head nodding vigorously.

It was very hot to see this cock going in and out of her, pulling almost all the way out, the shaft glistening with her juices, then going all the way inside...seeing the walls of her pussy expand with the cock, and her labia wrap around it and rock 'n' roll with its motions. I caressed her legs with one hand and started licking her clit as I fucked her, and pretty soon she was moaning loudly. Then she grabbed my head and had another screaming orgasm.

Definitely some potential here.

The next night I fucked the LT three times, so I got my cock, too.

Baby, we were born to run...

I had another kind of ladies' room experience today. I had just washed my hands and dried them, and was preparing to leave...when Wendy walked in. She froze inside the door, looking at me doe-eyed. Suddenly she just walked over to me, took me in her arms and kissed me.

And I mean kissed me. A passionate lip-lock, with her tongue gently probing inside my mouth. I was so stunned that for a moment I didn't kiss her back. Then I returned the embrace and our tongues danced together for long seconds. Her strong pussy scent came into my nostrils. Fortunately we were alone.

She released me, her face a deep scarlet. "I'm not a lesbian," she said.

"Neither am I." I smiled and lightly ran my finger down her cheek. "Why don't you come over tonight?" She nodded.

Stay tuned.

Meanwhile, the LT is feeling pressure from girlfriend to get married. I let him tell me all this as I am giving him a long, lingering feather blowjob. In between licking and light sucking, I ask him if he really wants to get married. "No," he moans. "I don't know. I feel like I'm supposed to..."

"Feel this..." I take him deeply into my mouth and go up and down on his shaft applying just enough pressure with the muscles of my mouth that he's well on his way to coming.

Young people are so dumb. But this one can go all night. I guarantee that won't continue once girlfriend gets that ring on her finger.

The stranger

I see from the most recent poll that quite a few of you have a secret fantasy to be taken roughly by a stranger. I'll tell you a story I've never told before, and you can decide if it would really be for you. This is definitely not the Harlequin romance "rape" fantasy carried around by some women.

I was 20, naive and stupid, and I hadn't learned how to fight. In other words, I couldn't control a "rough taking" for my own purposes, as I have sometimes done later. It was a typical late spring Saturday night in college, bar-hopping with girlfriends, cockteasing, drinking. I vividly remember everything, right down to what I was wearing: a khaki miniskirt and tight olive-green top, braless. I had a boyfriend at the time, but had gone out with some female friends. We were in one of the bars near campus; it was late and we were flirting with some of the louts from town. They desperately wanted to fuck us, and quietly hated us because they thought we felt we were above them (and we were). Still, there was much laughing, touching, propositioning...my pal Heather was giving each man a kiss after she did a shot of Jager.

I broke off to go pee. The bar had two unisex bathrooms with locks on the doors. I waited for a girl to finish in one and went in, starting to close the door behind me.

I never got that far.

A man was right behind me and pushed me inside, locking the door behind us. I let out a shriek but it was drowned out by the band. He was only a little taller than me, but very muscular and stocky, with skin so black it shone. I barely had noticed him hovering on the edge of our little group out at the bar. He was very drunk and I smelled the beer and cigarettes on his breath as he shoved me against the wall and mashed his mouth against me, pushing a thick, long tongue between my teeth. I flailed my arms ineffectually as he pulled up my top and roughly sucked on my nipples.

I was pinned and knew I was in real trouble, and my mind wasn't really working. Was I being raped? The thought never really came into play. Everything was overwhelmed by this masculine force and the primal insistence on what he wanted. He pushed me hard against the wall as he grabbed at my legs, fondling me under my skirt, getting big fingers under my panties.

Then I was spun hard toward the sink, barely reaching out to grab on before I ended up on the floor. I stared at the dirty porcelain as I felt my panties being literally ripped off. Then the hem of my miniskirt was pushed up on my hips and I was forced forward. His strong legs spread me almost like a cop ready to perform a frisk -- but that wasn't what he was about. A voice in my head: "You're going to get fucked..." And then, over the music, he yelled the exact words, adding some choice misogynistic terms.

He stood close behind me. Then there was a sudden, searing pain in my pussy. I didn't even have time to feel his cock about to enter me. The air was knocked out of me and I felt my pussy walls straining to fit him. I wasn't even very wet at that moment -- and I was wet almost all the time back in those days. It took several strokes before the lubrication made it easier, but he was hung and fucked like a thug. Hard and fast and like I wasn't even there. I was bent forward, heaving out with every stroke, but his strong grip was on my hips and there was always another "in" stroke coming. Sometimes it went painfully up to my cervix. I was completely in his control. I felt like his cock was so thick it would split me, a feeling that only gradually eased as I got dripping wet and my pussy changed to accommodate such a big one. I looked down and saw his pants at his ankles, undulating on the floor to his movements inside me.

I hung onto the edges of the sink and looked up to see my face, grimacing with each pounding of his shaft. Behind me, he looked smug and angry as he fucked me standing up, his mouth half open, grinning when he saw me watching us. My little skirt was hiked high and the black of his hands were amazing in contrast to the peaches-and-cream paleness of my ass. I had a little orgasm in spite of myself, which just made him fuck me more roughly.

Just as the band finished the set the room was silent enough for me to hear him grunt loudly, and I felt several spurts of semen going deep into me. Thank God I was on the pill. He kept fucking me, slower now, for several minutes, and I think he even came again. By this time my forehead was down on my arm, my eyes closed. I didn't want to look.

He pulled out as roughly as he had entered. As he pulled up his pants, I got a look at his big cock, with little ridges and swirls of our white juices on it. Even deflating, it was the biggest one I had seen so far. Then he opened the door, showing me still proned out over the sink, my legs opened, cum starting to run down my leg. I could hear his buddies applauding and knew they were debating whether to come in and take turns. Somehow I got enough strength to slam the door and lock it. I sat on the toilet and watched his semen dribble out. I didn't know how I was supposed to feel. Angry? Guilty? I mostly felt numb, and very sore. Later, as I walked back to my dorm -- my ripped panties gone, he took them as a trophy -- he kept dribbling out of me, down my shaking legs.

I was raped then and now I'd cut his balls off with a combat knife. But I'd be a liar if I didn't admit to looking back on that encounter and feeling a little aroused by the memory. People are weird that way. And as some readers have told me, I do have a latent submissive side.

Girl walks into a bar

I was at one my favorite D.C. watering holes recently, wearing a skirt that just kept riding up on my thighs and a jacket cut specifically to hide my firearm. A man sidles up, sits next to me and starts talking. He's short -- maybe my height -- with tight curly gray hair and a receding hairline. A big open face with black bushy eyebrows. An off-the-rack suit. He's in town on business: A lawyer for an auto-parts maker in Akron.

So we talk. Back in Akron he's got two kids who hate him and a wife who doesn't understand him. They haven't had sex in a year and she only likes the missionary position. People will tell you the damnedest things when they're drunk, needy and want to get laid. Did I tell you that I was wearing sheer black stockings and garters? I like the feel. They make me feel sexy, the lace against my skin, the open space between stockings and panties, the feeling of ever-present naughtiness.

What do you do, he asks? I usually give my standard, "I work for the government," and let people think I'm a secretary at the Agriculture Department...whatever. This time I say, "I'm a dancer." I watch his eyes. I add, "I strip."

His eyes grow wide. "Do you like it?" He gulps his drink. "It's okay," I say.

I have this overriding whimsy to follow up and say, "I fuck for money." I am feeling edgy and horny and ready to get into trouble. He senses it. I wonder what he looks like naked. Short and squat with a paunch and a too-hairy chest and skinny middle-aged-man legs. He turns red and I look down to see his cock bulging down the left leg of his trousers. This one's hung: It looks about nine inches but not thick; all the same circumference as it runs down his leg, not tapering or flaring toward the head.

I want to say, "I fuck for money" and see what he says. He'll ask if I'm a cop and I'll say no, which is technically true, I am not local law enforcement. When he asks about money, I'll say a thousand for an hour, and we'll go back to his hotel room where he's living out of a battered Midwestern suitcase, and I'll see how much of that long dick he can get inside me. I'll do everything his boring little fat wife won't do. These thoughts have be drenched down below. I can smell myself. I know he can, too.

Unfortunately, I can quote the statutes I'll be breaking, so after awhile I finish my drink and leave. Back home, I slowly strip down to everything but my stockings, lie in bed with only the city lights flowing into the room. I come the second I touch my clit. Later, I think: Maybe he was a cop. Wouldn't that have been a hoot...until I was fired.

And now, his punishment...

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Complications

I wish I could give you boys (and curious girls) a porno style ending to the Wendy saga, but real life doesn't work out that way.

After I brought her off, we went in my bedroom and I held her. She really seemed to love that. It's something many men just can't bring themselves to do. At some point, I took her hand and placed it on my breast while I kissed her. Then I put her hand down between my legs. My pussy was sopping wet, and she started to gently finger me while we kissed. I was shaking with arousal, stroking her hair, trying to ease her head in the direction of my crotch.

Suddenly, she jumps up and runs to the bathroom, barely shutting the door. I hear her throwing up, then the flushing of the toilet. We'd each had about one bottle of red wine between us. When she came back out, she looked green around the gills and staggered out to the living room. By the time I got there, she was dressing.

"I just can't, Linda," she said. "It's just not me. We can't ever do this again."

"Okay." I felt pussy juice running down my thigh. In a few minutes, the door closed and Wendy was gone. Another lover who will deny something ever happened between us. Sigh...I loved bringing her off and giving her some sensual lovemaking. She seemed like she needed it. I went back to bed, used my imagination and got myself off. Definitely not as much fun when you're flying solo. But I had Wendy's wonderful scent still on my face.

The next morning my headache was added to by a call from my sister, Amber.

"Justin raped me last night," she said. I wanted to say, How long has it been since you've fucked your husband? But I didn't. I just responded sympathetically and waited.

"He made me do things," Amber said. "He sodomized me!"

My headache was going away in a hurry. There's always been a bit of the voyeur in me. Did he fuck her in the ass or just make her suck him off -- with Amber one wouldn't know. Until she said, "I can barely walk. I don't know if I should go to the doctor..."

I asked her if she was bleeding. She said no. Ah, that neighborhood of Sodom.

"I think you'll be fine," I said. "But you and Justin need to get counseling."

"I've asked him to talk to Pastor Bob."

Great. Pastor Bob sounds like the name of a pedophile hiding inside a judgmental little prick who would tell Justin sex is only justified for making babies, but I'm a cynic. I asked where she was, and she said at home. Where was Justin? In the next room.

"Maybe you need to take (I named my nephews) and go be with mom and dad until things call down."

"I don't want to do that," Amber said. "I just don't know why he's always after me for, you know... It makes me feel so dirty. I just don't want to...I just don't know why he can't keep his hands off me, act like an adult and not an animal?"

I think: Well, maybe because he's a normal horny guy and you're a beautiful young woman -- definitely prettier than me, and with big boobs. It's not that I'm totally unsympathetic -- Justin's dick would definitely hurt getting sis's anal cherry.

Then, "When he...you know...as he was finishing with me...when he..."

"When he came?"

"When he came," she said. "When he came, he called our your name. He screamed and called out your name!"

Girl love

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The black lonelies

Lady's got the blues. I had to work Valentine's Day, and the Lt. and I had planned to meet at my place that night. He didn't show. Didn't call. I guess I've done worse, but I prefer to be the first to walk away. God, I am fighting this feeling of being old and unattractive -- so immature. I called him once and left a message. I won't call again. It's a shame: not that he was "the one" but because we hadn't enjoyed each other up yet. Times like this get me thinking about all those roads not taken. I could have had children and a "happily married life." I didn't want that...not with a dangerous career for mommy, not with my family's fuckupedness genes, not with me the way I am. I'll be fine. Shit...

Fucking over lunch

I've enjoyed a couple of splendid "nooners" lately, with the Lieutenant working close enough to my apartment to grab the Metro and meet me there to devour each other. Nooners are the perfect place for the urgent fuck -- where you just go for it, with the goal being to get off as fast and intensely as possible.

The well-done urgent fuck requires a skillful lover. Otherwise, it's just like back in college (for a woman, anyway) where the guys just want to hump and come in you and fall asleep or go off drinking with the guys. I did a few of those, and they leave you feeling empty and unsatisfied. Ah, but a good urgent fuck...

What's the difference? Anticipation for someone who you know will also love you well and all night long? Knowing how to get off myself, instead of hoping for my white knight while some 19-year-old fucks me for two minutes. That demon craving for cock, inside me, now. After college, I had several affairs where we would screw over the lunch break and it was grand. Urgent fucking can assume other venues, of course, such as the time my boyfriend fucked me on the hood of his car on a dark country road -- but that, dear readers, is another story.

The trouble is, I can't recall every detail -- that's part of the intensity. Piles of clothes. Good kissing and a sense that there's all the time in the world...even if you have an important 1:15 meeting. Mounting that nice hard penis, I'm already so wet!, and riding to my own greedy orgasm. Or letting him give me a good athletic fuck on top, my ankles up over his shoulders making me feel him so deep inside -- and he just goes nuts fucking me until he comes. Even if I have only a couple of baby orgasms, it's worth it. Afterwards, he holds me close and I play with the hair on his chest. A few minutes can go a long way.

Sometimes I am a little flushed at my next meeting or work assignment. But my co-workers just think I'm the blushing type...

Daydreams and all-night-fucking

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Turn clockwise to release semen

He entered me the old-fashioned way, me on the bed, legs spread; him on top, his penis dangling in the ambient light. I reached down and grasped his shaft, ran my hand around the nicely prominent head, then guided him inside me. That first sweet moment where cock head met vagina...hard to describe -- a little brief discomfort, a lot of pleasure, a filled-up, nerves-everywhere primal feeling. Then he slid in and started fucking me at a slow, steady rhythm.

I'll call him the Lieutenant. He's very toned and buff -- and for those of you average-endowment guys, he's average, which is still very nice. He was raised up on his forearms, so I could look down his washboard abs and see his cock disappearing in me and coming back out again. It's the most arousing sight, especially as I am feeling filled up and fucked while I get this visual feast. (Sorry, girls, no pic).

Did I mention that he's 23? Tall, dark-haired, muscular shoulders and chest, witty, came on to me several times and I decided to let it happen. My place was warm, no small deal in D.C. last week. He's very sure of himself. Very sure he's a stud. But he's still young and has been fucking sweet young things. Ah, my friend, there's much to learn, especially from a woman who just turned 39 and is neurotic about it, not wanting to turn into my mother...

It felt divine. The skin on skin and the warmth were almost as good as the pulses emanating from my pussy. Foreplay had been a mad make-out session, first on the elevator -- where I was so wet and aroused I could smell myself -- then on my sofa. He slid me out of my slacks and gave my pussy a few lollipop licks, then carried me into the warm bedroom.

So I let the Lt. fuck me for a few minutes like I was a college girl. There was much to enjoy...running my hands along the muscles of his back, grabbing his tight ass, resting my legs against him, my feet against the backs of his thighs, running my legs along the taut skin of his flanks. I was already making noise and having mini contractions, I was so ready for this. He buried himself in me and his pubic hair was fine and soft against my skin.

But there's something about Mister Studs that brings out the bad girl in me.

So I opened my legs, bent my knees and planted my feet on the mattress. I started to fuck him back, oscillating my pelvis as I met his strokes. It's hard to keep focus when you're about to come and all you want to do is lie there and get fucked. But...I fucked him back. He started moaning and gasping. My pelvis went clockwise, my kegel-trained pussy kissing and grabbing his sweet shaft. Most men aren't used to this -- even the ones who think they can fuck all night and control the action. Based on past experience, I gave him about 10 strokes...he made it to nine. Then he gave a loud groan and, "Oh, shiiit!"

We'll have to work on the romantic pillow/orgasm language, but he's only 23. He collapsed on top of me and I felt his semen slowly leak out as I gently rocked against him, bringing myself off for the first of several orgasms that night. "You're amazing," he panted. "I've never...never imagined..." The boy has some potential. At least he was grateful.

I only felt like an ice queen

The inauguration was magical, even if I had to work and spent part of the day freezing my butt off. It was c-o-l-d. Don't worry -- when Renegade decided to get out and walk, Pennsylvania Avenue was much more secure than you might think. I got to go to a couple of the balls, dressed to the nines...alas, working. But then I was off duty, finally. The news is that I'm walking with that special sweet soreness today. More to come...

Crazy time

This town is shut down for the inauguration and my team and I are working pretty much 24/7. I have to rely on my imagination and fingers during my downtime. Working in a macho, testosterone hothouse only makes me hornier. But I am thinking of you, dear readers. More soon. XXXXXO

Be careful what you wish for

I ran into an old friend from my twenties. I'll call her Kerry to protect the innocent. As with many people, Kerry just sees me as Linda with the dull government job. We were pretty well-lubricated (with booze, ye dirty minds) when she opened up about the breakup of her marriage a few years back.

I first knew her when she was married to...let's call him Dave. They owned a nice gallery in Georgetown (Kerry is from money) and were a fun couple to hang out with. Kerry has perfectly straight blond hair, a killer figure and knows just how to dress to be sexy without being slutty. Dave was chiseled handsome, the perfect product of an Ivy. I was never particularly attracted to him. But Kerry tells me now that he really wanted to fuck me. He asked if she would invite me to join them in a threesome.

Kerry had never done anything like that before, and automatically said no. She also seems like a woman who would have absolutely no interest in another female -- her loss. Anyway, I feigned shock and sympathy -- all the while thinking about what an fun tryst it would have been. I knew them through a combination dry spell and flings with Bad Men. I could have used a little loving.

Still, Dave kept pestering her. But she countered with a threesome involving two men. Dave backed away from that, but confessed that he had a fantasy to see another man fuck his pretty blond wife. At this point, I am thinking this sounds like one of those delicious stories on the Kristen Archives, but I just sipped my martini and listened. Kerry let it drop, but obviously it was like dropping crumbs in front of birds for Dave. He kept bringing it up. Finally, she decided to call his bluff. And she warned him, he might not like it. "I would just have died to watch him make love to another woman."

I think by this time their marriage was starting to get shaky anyway -- why do people get married in their twenties when they don't even know who the hell they are yet? An older man had been putting the moves on Kerry for some time. So one night she took him to a bar and popped the question. And not being a damned fool, he said, oh, yes! I wish I could have gotten lots of gory details, but alas, she was mostly ladylike. She did aver that it was the best fucking of her young life, and they did "everything" -- including things that she had never done for Dave. After the man left, they had a huge fight, him accusing her of being a slut, etc. Guys can be so stupid when they underestimate how unbalanced sexual power is.

Sadly, she didn't sound hot reliving the story, so I kept it low-key. I did tell her I had been a couple of threesomes and would highly recommend it. She smiled and said she's think about it.

It's 2009!

New Year's resolutions. Hmmmmm...
1. Seek out a committed relationship and make sure sex is always connected to love. Wow. That's not wholly up to me, so I don't really think I can sign on. And the love = sex stuff is bullshit, pardon my unladylike langauge. I guess I have "loved" every man I ever slept with, after my fashion. But in many cases, my pure sex lovers have gotten the best of me, and me of them. How could I settle for a loving relationship that didn't include lots of great, adventurous, passionate sex. And how could I keep from being bored?

2. Seek out a younger stud to help me deal with turning 39 and getting older. Young and strong and willing to learn. I can do this.

3. Seek out a sophisticated, cultured, brainy older man who is a skilled and giving lover. Ooooo...I can do this one, too.

4. Have another affair with a girl. I have really been wanting to scratch this itch.

5. Get into more sex talks with my women friends and share their adventures with you. Most of the time, they're turned on by the prospect...as long as I don't use their last names.

6. Play high-class call girl some night. God, I'd love to. But it would break about a million regs and I really want to keep my job.

7. No fishing off the Company pier. No way, no how.

8. Try to blog more for you, dear readers.