The best of 2010

Get out your hands and fingers, boys and girls. Here's a look back at the most popular Linda Sue true stories of the year:

About Me — And More About Me

Returning to the Lifestyle Club

Losing My Other Cherry

My work being what it is, I can't make an ironclad promise. But I'll try to blog more next year. Thanks for reading and have a Happy (and sex-filled) New Year.

A cock in the hand

A reader wants my take on hand jobs. "I'm interested in any story with a big cock, a lot of cum, or just about anything that strikes you. Needless to say, detail would be much appreciated." And, "PS, Have you ever caught a guy masturbating? If so, a story about that would be fantastic as well." You know me. I love to be of service, and serviced.

Hand jobs aren't my kink. Still, there's something wonderful about making out with a guy and feeling his erection through his pants. Then slipping my hand inside his fly and stroking his cock. I've stroked men through their suit slacks in fancy bars, and done it under the table of four-star restaurants with my foot. If it's a new lover it's like (I think I've written before) opening a Christmas present. Cocks are hard, yet their skin is so preternaturally soft. I do love to stroke a cock as he kisses me, or fingers me. I only had one bad experience this way when I reached inside and found a skinny, three-inch penis. Since he was married anyway, I just ended things after the make-out session.

I did a good deal of hand jobs in high school, when I was keeping my virginity by jerking off my boyfriend (and a couple of other dates, too), before I graduated to blow jobs. Those early memories of the first time I felt a cock in my hand are still arousing. Boyfriend came the first time after I ran my hand up and down his penis maybe half a dozen times, leaving a huge stream of semen all over his pants, steering wheel and, of course, my hand. It was the volume and power of an ejaculation that only a seventeen-year-old boy could have. We were both surprised as hell! It was cool, white and sticky, stringy and unlike anything I had ever experienced. I wasn't adventurous enough then to lick it all up, but I did take a little taste off my finger — and I was addicted to semen ever since. After that, he always wanted me to jerk him off, since I was saving my cherry. After I started sucking cock and fucking, the hand job alone lost its allure.

There was one exception. I had a fling with a very well-endowed man. His cock was so thick he couldn't get it inside me. He called himself "Foster" because he claimed his penis was the size of one of those big Aussie beer cans. It wasn't quite that thick, but I just couldn't take him in my little pussy. So I gave him several hand jobs, sometimes as part of fellatio, sometimes just with my hand. His cock was shaped like a missile, with a smaller head than the shaft. His balls held plenty of white stuff and I loved making a mess.

As for catching someone in the act, when I was fourteen I walked in on my brother as he was masturbating. I almost immediately closed the door, but the image was burned in my brain. He was surrounded by porn magazines and frantically running his hand up and down his cock. I was horrified but also a little turned on. I did my own masturbating in my room; more than once my mom threw open the door and gave me a long lecture about how "that" would give me diseases, how "that" was the devil's work. She should have seen her son.

Once I was drunk in college and went back to my boyfriend's place late. We smoked some dope and listened to music. Then ended up fucking a long time on the floor while his room-mate was supposedly passed out on the sofa. But as I was riding my lover I noticed movement, and the roomie was jerking off while watching us. I caught his eye, then he immediately pretended to me asleep. I had a major orgasm, right then, stifling myself in boyfriend's shoulder. Back then I was still too repressed to have invited the room-mate to join in. But as I lay there panting, I looked over and saw that he had come, too. And he was licking his sperm off his hand! By this time, he wasn't even faking sleep. He grinned at me lasciviously. A few days later, we were fucking on the same sofa, while boyfriend was away.

I had to hand it to him.

Tongue worshipping

One thing I've never been able to replace with my ex is his ability at pussy licking.

It was on wondrous display on our most recent liaison. As usual, he covered me with kisses — he's a great kisser. My ears, neck, breasts — he knows I like my nipples sucked hard until I'm moaning and panting, belly button. Then he started down at my feet. He licks them and sucks my toes. Long before I knew about foot-fetishes, I knew how he could send tingles into my crotch by sucking my toes and licking and biting my ankles. He talks in his rich baritone: "My God, any woman would envy your ankles...I love your toes." Then he moves up each leg slowly, kissing and licking. He spends much time at the insides of my thighs. "Do you know how many men would kill to be doing this," he murmurs. By this time I am squirming and very wet.

He barely touches my pussy with his mouth and beard before starting on the other leg and working his way up again. Part of me wants to grab his head and bury it in my crotch, grind against his face until I come. But I know it will be better if I let him take his time. As I wrote before, he loves to run his tongue around every part of my labia, and dart it deeply inside me. "Tongue-fucking," he calls it. The whole operation is "tongue worshipping." I feel his tongue making gentle circles on my clit, and by this time I'm on the high-speed train to orgasmville, so it's hard to remember everything.

He knows how to use the different facets of his tongue. He'll circle my clit with the end of his tongue, then go back into my labia. Suddenly, the flat edge of his tongue will go back up to my clit, applying more pressure. Typically, my feet are burning and I'm starting to see colors at the edge of my eyes. If I look down, I see my ex with his "red beard," i.e. my pubic hair and the rest of his face. My scent fills the room. I start to come and scream — he loves it that I'm a real screamer, "that rarest of lovers," as he puts it. Sometimes I'm holding his hands, fingers entwined, tightly. Sometimes I hold his head and his wavy dark hair. He keeps the pressure and tongue-moves just right, an amazing skill, to maintain my orgasm without things getting so intense that I can't stand it. Then, I'm wasted. Just moaning. He licks lightly, kissing the inside of my thighs and finally coming up to hold me a long time.

When we were first dating, I was determined not to be a slut. So we had several dates that just ended with a kiss, then more and more passionate kisses. After that, I let him into my blouse and let him caress and suck my breasts — then I stopped it. I felt like a high-school girl (or maybe nowadays, a junior-high girl). Believe me, I was ready to fuck. Finally, I was at his place and we were making out on his soft sectional sofa. I let him undress me, and to my surprise, he went down on me. I think I came like a nuclear reaction after about 30 seconds.

It amazes me how most men aren't very good at this, even as they demand head from a woman. Get a clue, gentlemen.