Friday, December 30, 2011

Doggy delight

I survived Christmas with my family in Seattle. I got a hotel room, not wanting to stay with my parents and sure as hell not wanting to stay with Amber and Justin. I did see Chris one night and we had a romp for old times.

He took the initiative and I was just along for the ride. But the big event was neither me riding him or him riding me. I dressed in sheer white stockings and white garter belt for him, and he fucked me from behind for what seemed like an hour. I must admit, he was a master. He started very slowly, sliding in inch by inch even though I was already sopping wet from our earlier fucking. Then he fell into this amazing slow rhythm interspersed with hard, fast thrusts.

My butt was in the air, his strong hands gripping my hips. My head was down on the sheets and my hands in front steadying myself. It wasn't easy, and not just from when he was really banging me. When he was going slow, I could feel him swiveling his hips to push his cock in from different angles. Two little orgasms hit me about halfway through and I started pushing frantically against him. But he wouldn't let me really get off.

He kept his hands firmly on my hips, controlling the motion. Other times, I felt his warm hands caressing my thighs and my back. I was shaking from the stimulation of his cock in and out of me. I remember multiple gasps, moans and "fuck me!" coming out of my mouth. Gripping and clawing the sheets came naturally, not as theater. Finally he started a steady, faster tempo, faster and harder, slamming into me. Colors were shooting into the sides of me eyes and my feet started burning. I knew I was a goner and one of the most intense orgasm of my life exploded out of my pussy. At the same moment, I felt his big cock pulse, he let out a yell and came inside me.

I fell forward, whimpering. He fell on top, his cock still in me, his torso sweaty. Yow-ser.

Now I'm back in D.C. The Professor and I are going out for New Year's Eve.

As to the commenter who said I should consider moving out of field work: There's some pressure for that. I'm not 25 any more, except maybe sexually. But I have some skills that are unusual and highly valued (no, not blowing every guy in town). So, we'll see.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Christmas eve thoughts

By the time this posts, I'll be on my way to the West Coast for the family Christmas celebration. After the year I've been through, I can't say I'm looking forward to the stress this visit will involve (although its a different kind of pressure than I faced elsewhere). I hope all have a lovely and sexually hot holiday season!

So I'm trying not to be my usual slutty self in this it a relationship? We've been on four dates now. I let him kiss me on the second date and we made out on the third. For the fourth, I went up to his place for a nightcap and I let him take off my top and make love to my breasts — and then I gently stopped things, just like I nice girl. I haven't worn stockings and garters, only panty hose.

Part of me has no idea why I am doing this; all I can say is that things happened during my absence from this blog that were very intense, and I need life slow and easy for awhile. The man is a little older, handsome in a shaggy/tweedy way, tall, smart. I can feel his cock against me, pushing at the fabric of his trousers, when we kiss. I'll call him the Professor. He's very attractive — and safe. I feel bad to go through the usual lies about working for the Agriculture Department blah blah blah, but those are the rules. So I am taking it slow.

It's not fair. I can get Chad to fuck me anytime I wish. I turn him away most of the time, but sometimes I just have to get off and get fucked. I wonder what his little girlfriend, Lauren, would say if she knew? Am I a bitch for betraying another woman this way with "her man"? No. She knows what she's getting with him. He can be very appealing but he's also narcissistic in the way only a guy with a big penis can be. And if she whines about the size of his cock, doesn't give him as much sex as he needs and doesn't like get the idea. In the consensual sexual battlefield, there are no victims, only volunteers.

p.s., for you gun boys, I have a new toy: An FN Five-Seven!

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Back in the USA

First, don't ask what I've been doing. You know I can't tell you.

Second, maintaining a sex blog is hard work. I've been doing this since 2007, and it's amazing how many blogs have fallen by the wayside. The biggest loss is the Fellatrices. This started out with one woman as the Fellatrix. Then she invited me and a couple of other female bloggers to contribute. I did at least a dozen posts and they were the most popular. Now the site is gone, as is all my writing. So I'll have to catch you up on my oral sex essays if I can remember them.

In the meantime, if any sex bloggers would like to share links shoot me an email. I'm especially interested in women and real stories, not fantasies.

D.C. is the way I like it, slightly rainy and in the fifties. I can wear suits again. Being back in the office has its ups and downs. I'm also back in the soap-operas of my life. Chad is still playing emotionally unavailable to his girlfriend, Lauren. He's a dozen years or more younger than me, and even though I kicked him to the curb before I went on my long assignment, I fucked him the other night. I'm feeling very fortysomething and, truth be told, it's flattering to have an attractive young man want to bed me. So I gave his big cock a long, agonizing (to him) blowjob before bringing him off in my mouth and tasting that thick semen as it rolled down my throat. Chad being Chad, he was hard again in no time, and I rode him to a nice orgasm. This is going nowhere, but I was horny.

I also spent a night with Wendy. Her effort to patch up her marriage has failed (no surprise) and her affair with the married man continues to disappoint her (no surprise). Girl love has its rewards in cuddling, patience and the forbidden (if mom could only see her slutty little daughter licking an older woman's pussy). Wendy and I both came multiple times. But again, this is going nowhere. I'm just a port in the storm, but at least I get off.

At my advanced age, it's nice to still be hit on. I'm going on a real date this weekend with a guy my age.

Monday, November 28, 2011

Lovers who thrill us

There's no getting around a distinction between the lovers in our lives: The ones who were in a broad category ranging from disastrous to fun, and the ones who really thrilled us. I suppose the only exceptions are those who married their first sweetheart and stayed that way, or had a succession of duds (who's to blame, there?).

Thrilling lovers stay in the memory. They still tingle my pussy. They're threatening to men who want to know about my past, even if the lover I mention was years ago. Men (and women, especially) have a radar for that lilt in your voice when you mention those special ones. They're not even the ones you want to marry; often far from it.

I lost my virginity to my high-school boyfriend, Mike, my first summer home from college back east. He was sweet, gentle and everything a woman could want in her first. But that same summer, while I was in Seattle, I ran across one of the school hoods, Steve. He was a year older, and although his parents had money, he was a bad boy in nearly every way. I let him pick me up at a supermarket and take me to his emphatically messy apartment in one of the city's sleazier neighborhoods.

Not knowing what to expect, I didn't have to worry about virginal fumbling or romance. He barely got the door closed before he roughly took me in his arms and started kissing me, one hand running up and down my legs and up in my blouse. This went on for some time even though I was dripping wet with excitement. He raised me up against the wall, slid my panties aside and pushed his cock inside so hard it nearly knocked the wind out of me. It was night, the lights were on. When I turned my head, I saw a man in a nearby apartment staring at us. This only added to the turn-on. I came almost immediately, his firm hands holding my teenage ass up against the wall.

I didn't think about Mike once.

Steve never sent me flowers, never took me on a real date. He just fucked the daylights out of me, teaching me every kind of position. Even with foreplay, his style was to take me, not seduce me. Somehow with his bad-boy charisma this was not just okay, but a major attraction. He obviously was experienced and could fuck me for an hour before he decided to come. He taught me how to really give a blowjob. We did several public sex acts, including him fucking me on a blanket in a fairly crowded park. Somehow we avoided arrest.

Meanwhile, I was doing "normal" date-y things with Mike and having sex with him, too. More than once, we had sex with Steve's come inside me, and a few times Steve fucked me after I had been with Mike. Neither knew about the other. I was young enough and still enough in my family's orbit that I felt guilty and kept wrestling with breaking things off with Steve and tearfully confessing to Mike. But it never happened. Whenever I saw Steve, I just melted and if he wanted me down on his frayed rug getting fucked from behind with my clothes halfway off, no problem. He loved the way I was noisy, horny and responsive.

Still he definitely had the power in the "relationship." Once he made a passing reference to remembering me as a cheerleader, but otherwise I was not that important to him. This is strange, because I love romance, compliments and romance. But with this hood, he fucked me with such an athletic prowess and the ever-present whiff of danger that I went with it. I'm also sure in retrospect he was juggling me with other women, but I'm confident I was a good lover for him. The power gradually started to shift my way.

It was never going to last. I broke up with him at the end of the summer and went back to college. Mike, too. We were too far apart and I had a world open to me. Last I heard, Mike was settled down in a corporate job with two children and Steve was in prison. Neither outcome surprises me. But even thinking about my hood still thrills me. I'd be interested in your experiences in this regard.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

No, I'm not dead

But I'll be out of country until the fall. In the meantime, enjoy the archives. Use this thread to tell me your dirtiest, most forbidden experiences. Wish I could tell you more about me right now, but you know how it goes...

Linda Sue

p.s., Dirty Debbie is blogging again. Hot stuff. Check it out.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Note to readers

While I'm out of the country, keeping up with the blog is proving impossible. Enjoy the archives and use this post to tell me your sexual adventures, fantasies and questions.

Friday, May 6, 2011

Foreign affairs

Things have been very busy lately. 'Nuff said. I was in an airport overseas last week and saw my first boyfriend in a bar. He didn't see me and I didn't make an effort to connect. I was stunned to think of all the years that had gone by. He's turned into a handsome man and was wearing a suit, nursing something that looked like bourbon alone. I wondered what he did now: A contractor? Working for an oil company? I thought of learning how to suck cock on him, those nights in his car in high school. I never did the hookups that were common then — we were real "steadies," which is more and more of an anomaly. And the first time we fucked. It was a sweet memory. I moved on into a secure area of the terminal where he couldn't see me. In my mind, I'm as horny as when I was seventeen, stroking his cock, putting it in my mouth, tasting semen for the first time, hearing his entreaties to fuck him. I hope the years have been good to him.

My sister, Amber, forwarded me a link from home (Seattle). It was about a girl who was picked up on Aurora Avenue by a guy who wanted to pay her to tie her up. Only my parents know what I really do for a living. Amber knows I'm a slut, and I really think she believes I'm a prostitute. Anyway, the dude turned out to have a torture room and the girl was lucky to get away alive. "Are you going to kill me?" she asked him. "We'll see," he said. Lots of sickos out there. I wondered: How many men my age go to prostitutes? There's so much free stuff out there. But from the trade along Aurora and every other similar avenue in America, the answer must be: A lot. A few women are like my friend Mary Beth, high-end call girls making good money. But that's the exception. Most are feeding a drug habit, many have kids and lots don't even like sex. My mother was so fucked up sexually, I've wondered if my dad found release with a prostitute — but not for long. Who wonders about their parents' sex lives.

Once I was back in country, Amber calls. She's crying. Confesses to me she's been having an affair with a man who goes to her mega-church. He's married, of course. She knows her husband Justin has cheated on her. But she was "seduced" by this married man and now they see each other at least every week. Between her worries that she's going to hell, she wanted advice. It's very strange giving your sister blowjob tricks. Letting her know it's okay if she feels aroused and has an orgasm, that it's not the devil.

Amber is a pretty girl, younger than me and the looker in the family. Dark, straight hair, very busty. She's kept her looks through having three children. There she is out in the suburbs, going to church and hearing the preacher talk about sex and sin, and getting horny hearing all that fornication talk. Nobody's perfect. We were never close and this conversation is the closest we've ever been. It made me sad for her that she can't enjoy just her sexuality. Lord knows Justin deserves it, as long as it doesn't blow up and hurt my nieces and nephews.

I'm sure we'll talk again. The guy likes to fuck her from behind. "It makes me feel like an animal," she said. A lilt in her voice.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Tips for women, part 1

What's good for the guys is good for the girls. So I'll offer some advice to the distaff. As the comments on the previous post showed, not everyone will agree. These are just my takes after a lifetime of screwing.

1. DO know your bottom line and act accordingly. Do you want to play with no strings. Really? Do you need a transitional man to fuck your brains out while you forget your EX. Are you wanting marriage and children? Are you acting out of a ticking biological clock? You need to know and act accordingly. If your fuck-buddy doesn't want to get married and you stick around when that's your real desire — blame yourself. Same thing if you marry some guy who you think will produce good children, then end up unhappy because he has nothing in common with you and/or is a jerk.

2. DO praise his cock. Don't be insincere and tell a little guy he's huge, but there's always something nice and real to say. Men love this.

3. DO give blowjobs and swallow. Learn how to suck cock. He will be putty in your hands.

4. DO fuck him back. Don't just lie there. Work your pelvis, run your legs against his body, wrap them around him, get in the rhythm in whatever position, flip over and ride him. You'll have fun, too.

5. DO tell him what you like, and what you need so you can enjoy yourself and come.

6. DO be open to things. That doesn't mean you should submit to anal sex, for example, if you've tried it and hated it. Be up front about that. But don't shut yourself off from new experiences, much less be like some women I've known who refuse to let men perform cunnilingus on them. And remember, men judge the quality of the relationship to a huge degree on the sex! Sure, get him to be a communicator, etc. But don't

7. DO dress sexy. For me, that means miniskirts, stockings, garterbelts, merrywidows and corsets, etc. For a special guy: My cheerleader outfit.

8. DON'T fake an orgasm. Ever.

9. DON'T tell him the actual number of lovers you've had unless 1) It's really a fling and you don't care or 2) You really get to know him and he can handle it if you've had more than a handful. Or maybe you have actually had a handful; then you're safer. "Who was your best?" "You, baby."

10. DON'T ask him a question about his sexual past if you can't handle the answer.

Monday, April 11, 2011

Tips for men, part 1

And just when you thought this was becoming a porn site, back to prose. (And, by the way, some of the pics here are indeed me — you just have to use your imagination as to which ones.) I am sorry to report, after much research, that most men are mediocre-to-bad lovers. My girlfriends tell me this about their husbands and boyfriends, too. But all is not lost. Be a lifetime learner. Here are ten pieces of advice.

1. DO be a great kisser. Kissing is very important to women, much more so than to most men. It's more than a prelude, more than foreplay. Learn to kiss her as she wants to be kissed; learn the different rhythms and styles. A light kiss and nose-to-nose rubbing can be a great start. Take her face gently into your hands. Use your tongue gradually, teasingly. Spend time with this. Kiss her beforehand, during the act and afterward. As she opens up, kiss her deeply, let your tongues play together. Kiss her ears, neck...wrists are very sensitive. Act as if you could spend the whole night kissing her.

2. DO spend time with foreplay. There are always quickies and up-against-the-wall or bent-over-the-sofa fucks. But usually, women need to be warmed up, and the right foreplay is as important as fucking itself. Learn how she likes to have her breasts loved on — I like my pert nipples to be sucked hard, but not every woman does; some have such sensitive nipples the wrong kind of sucking can be painful. Circle the nipple with your tongue and go from there. Nibble on her belly, lick her navel and suck her toes, lick her legs, suck her fingers. Skin on skin. A light touch across her body.

3. DO take your time.

4. DO learn to be a great pussy licker. This is the only way many women can really have an authentic orgasm, or learn to open up to you and let go. And it's a great compensator if you come too fast or reach that age where you have a sudden erectile dysfunction. Tell her she has a beautiful pussy. Tell her you love her scent (not "smell").

5. DO fuck her missionary. Women love to look you in the eye and feel that connection. Try the "riding high" adaptation of this position, where you're putting pressure on her pubic bone and clit — it's a great feeling and can give many women an orgasm. Missionary is also a wonderful starter to then putting her legs over your shoulders and other positions. Then let her get on top and ride.

6. DO say her name as you fuck her. I love my name and love to hear it from a man who's inside me.

7. DO be slow and gentle at first, especially if you're well-endowed. Learn the moves and rhythms she responds to.

8. DON'T pull out suddenly after you come. It's a yucky feeling for a woman. Stay put and let your penis go flaccid while you kiss her and stroke her hair.

9. DON'T assume she wants to be taken roughly unless she sends you some clear signals. Most women don't, especially at first. They do want an assertive, confident man. But there's a difference — learn it. And don't act out the latest porn vid you saw by, for example, slapping her butt while you fuck her from behind. Trashy. Major turn-off.

10. DON'T kick her out or leave unless she signals that she wants that. It makes even a one-night-stand lover feel cheap, feel like a whore (in a bad way). Hold her after the first time. Cuddle. Do it all over again. Send her roses the next day like the class act you are.

I'm sure my female readers have some additional advice to add.

Friday, April 8, 2011

Monday, April 4, 2011

What my mailbag looks like...

Funny, my female emailers don't send me their intimate shots. But thanks, gentlemen. What do you think, ladies (and curious/bi/gay men)? And readers keep submitting them!

Monday, March 21, 2011

Little black riding hood

It's been a very intense couple of weeks, for reasons you can guess but of course I can't tell you.

Friday night I was totally fried when I finally got some freedom, did some window-shopping and was walking home. But not so fried that my sixth sense didn't tell me I was being followed. And badly, at that. This was an amateur. So I didn't head in the direction of home, walked instead a long way down Pennsylvania Avenue and let the crowds thin out. I stepped into an alley and waited. My gut was tight but I was cool and focused. I unsnapped the retention snap on the holster holding my SIG Sauer (for you gun nuts, I was wearing my Galco Silhouette highride, a very nice accessory for my pants suit). When the figure passed me, I whispered, just loud enough.

"Hi, there."

The figure jumped in surprise and faced me. Beneath the black hood of the raincoat was...Robin.

"Amber..." she sputtered.

"Why are you following me?

"I'm not..." I saw the red of her face even in the dim light. Then her expression changed and she advanced toward me in the alley, her body quaking with anger.

"You fucked my husband!" she shouted.


I know, I know. You warned me, and I had an uneasy feeling about out solitary romp. I took a step back and lied. I'm usually a very good liar.

"Lying little bitch!" she screamed. "I saw the video on his computer!"

Fuck, fuck. He taped us.

"Look Robin," I said. "James told me you were OK with this, and you have your own boy toy on the side..."


I'm usually very good at defusing situations. But she just slapped me, hard. I felt I had to let her do it. But it was no girl slap — I almost felt some dental work start to come loose. When she tried it again, I grabbed her wrist, turned her, put an arm lock on her and kicked her behind the knee, dropping her to the pavement, face down. Then I heard the blip of the siren and saw the walls reflecting the emergency lights.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

It was a DC police cruiser, pulled to the curb. Two officers were getting out of the car.

"Stay," I commanded Robin. Then I walked (in a non-threatening manner) to the cops and discreetly showed them my credentials. They went away, silently resenting the feds. I walked back to Robin, who was on her knee crying. I helped her up.

As we stood there, she cried and told me how they had started swinging after their kids had grown up and left the house, how she was very reluctant at first but grew to enjoy it, but how each had pledged to do no cheating on the side.

I'd like to tell you that I took her back to my place, made us drinks and we made passionate make-up girl love. But that didn't happen.

"He's in love with you, Amber," she blubbered. "I don't want to lose him!"

If that was true, she had bigger problems than me. She's a pretty woman worried that she's losing her looks. If James is screwing me on the side, who else might he be doing? I am that most threatening thing to a married woman: A single woman who men want to fuck. And a redhead. But all I could promise was that I wouldn't see him again. As she pulled up her black hood and hailed a cab, I knew I wouldn't be getting any more invitations to the lifestyle club. Now I just need to call in a favor and get the asshole's video erased before it ends up on the Web.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Half of my threesome

A few days later I got another invitation to be with my new friends, Robin and James. If I didn't need an additional incentive, I was feeling my period coming on. That's the time of the month when I am frantically, insatiably, recklessly horny. Same hotel, same room. James met me at the door and his brown eyes glittered in appreciation of the little black dress I was wearing. My coat dropped to the floor. He took me in his arms and started a marathon of kissing, light, deep French, lips all over my face, ears and neck. I was panting in anticipation.

"Where's Robin?"

"She's running late," he said, nibbling my neck, letting my hair fall into his face. "You are the hottest goddamned woman I've ever seen, Amber."

I was against the wall of the entryway into the room as we continued to make out. As he kissed me, he fondled my breasts, gently pinching my nipples. Then his hands wrapped around my waist and I could feel his fingers searching for my panty line. "Such a bad girl," he murmured, as he realized I wasn't wearing anything beneath the dress. His hard penis poked against me through his tailored slacks. I reached down and unzipped him, letting it hang out freely as I wrapped my hand around the shafted and stroked up and down. He reached under my hemline and brushed my bush, put a finger inside me. All this while we stood there, kissing like teenagers. I tried to guide us inside to the bed, but he kept me there.

"I want you now," he said, and in a flash the slacks and boxers were at his ankles. He pushed me against the wall, raised my hips with his hands. My legs went up and he slipped right in, mashing my back against the wall. We fucked, my legs wrapped around his lower back, his thick cock impaling me, his hands holding me in the air. He was strong as hell; all I really had to do was enjoy, which I did. It had been years since a man had fucked me against a wall...back in...hell, my mind was too fuck-addled for history. His breathing picked up and I was whimpering and moaning, his cock finding its way deeper and deeper into me. "Amber...oh, my god...fuck...," he yelled and I felt his pelvis and legs shudder as he came. The man was no boor: He held me there, his cock still inside me, kissing me gently. Finally I felt him go soft and slip out. He eased me down, then picked me up and carried me to the bed, where he slowly undressed me, what little there was to undress.

He used the little black dress to brush lightly across my nipples, which were so hard already. Amazing feeling. Then he started licking them in concentric circles, one nipple, then the other, back and forth, each time applying more pressure until he was really sucking hard, which I love. I pulled off his shirt and ran my hands across the light hair on his chest. Then he eased me back down and dropped down on the bed. I felt his mouth on my right foot, licking and sucking my toes. It sent bolts of pleasure up my legs into my pussy. For maybe the next 30 minutes he gave me "the treatment," licking and kissing up one leg, then the other, lingering on my inner thigh. Then I felt his tongue on my clit and shuddered. He wasn't going to let me off that easy, though. He backed down and started running his tongue around my pussy lips, then he tongue-fucking me, causing me to get pretty noisy but not go over the edge. I felt him sucking at me. A good Kegel girl, I bore down and gave him a taste of his come. Was it. He rose up and French kissed me with a huge glob of semen mingled with my pussy juices. Our tongues danced in it before I swallowed the goo. That had me bucking and grinding against him, I was so desperate to come. He went back and brought me off expertly with his tongue, then fucked me awhile missionary — not bad for an "old guy." I had an aftershock through my pelvis with every stroke. "Oh, a scratcher and and screamer," he said, looking down on me. I hadn't noticed. Then he held me as I came down off the orgasm plateau.

"Robin's not coming."

This broke me reverie. I asked why. "She has her own lover tonight, a younger guy. Maybe we'll invite him sometime."

This made me vaguely uneasy, as I had checked them both out before embarking on this little adventure, and I knew nothing of Robin having a separate lover.

"Does she know you're with me?"

"Sure," he said. It was a lie, I knew it.

"I just had to have you, Amber."

I didn't resist as he pulled me on top of him and I slipped his penis inside me and started to ride.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Valentine slut

Now that I'm walking a little more normal, let me tell you about Valentine's Night with James and Robin. Remember, they know me as "Amber," the name I chose when Chris first introduced us. I thought it was better to be consistent and not raise questions in their minds, so Amber I was. It's easy when you're a professionally trained liar. We met at an intimate bar near DuPont Circle and enjoyed a drink and sexy talk (me a martini, Robin a cosmo). Then we walked to a hotel where they had reserved a suite for their Valentine's gift to each other: A threesome with Amber. I should add that underneath my regulation-issue spy trench coat, I had nothing at all, except for sheer black stockings and a black garter belt.

This was, as a boyfriend once said, quite a fuckfest. So...some impressions:

Robin is five years older than me and looks at least five younger, with flawless fair skin and wheat blond hair worn in a bob; she's shorter than me, but still has nice legs, large breasts and a thatch of colorless-to-gray pubic hair one finds on many blondes (hey, I've been in gym showers). James is ten years older, with a jock body but aging well, executive square jaw, salt-and-pepper hair... His cock is probably around seven inches, nicely thick, with a very, very nice helmet of a head on it...Robin's pussy looks like an "inny" when you first see it, but with a little manipulation and arousal, it's a classic Georgia O'Keeffe blossom...

It can't be avoided, so early on James is fucking me from behind on the king-sized bed while I lick Robin, her legs spread wide in front of me, pussy smell in my nostrils. I take a long time with her, doing it the way I like, such as lingering with my mouth on the insides of her thighs, kissing up to her pussy but just barely touching it with my face before starting on the other thigh. Her skin is taut, warm, smooth, and she shakes and arches her back as I begin to really tongue my way around her labia. She is drenched. And all this would be my focus if I didn't have a nice cock inside me. I feel as if I've revirginated during the time I've been between lovers. I'm tight and it hurts a little at first, and my pussy walls stay clamped around him. He's very gentle and slow. I soon realize this is because he's so aroused by watching me lick Robin that he's afraid he's going to come in me too soon...

Like me, Robin's a screamer and she lets go big time. Animal-like, primal, rhythmic. I love it. Just love it. I gently keep my tongue on her clit to milk every last second out of her orgasm. She grips my hands tightly. After awhile, we change positions, and James is fucking Robin from behind, but I am under her, sixty-nine style. So I get this great view of his cock sliding in and out of her pussy blossom, pussy lips being pushed in, then pulled back out full, again and again, while I try to lick each of them like dessert. Robin rests her head on my tummy while he fucks her, trying to lick me but never quite able to stick with it. "Ah...Oh!...God...!" she moans. I can feel James' shaking, trying to hold out, but he can't and pumps frantically inside her, letting out a big groan. He rocks against her a long time, then gently slides out. I lick his cock, covered with semen and her scent and juices. Then I lick and such his come out of her. She sits up on my face and I get a good glob and her anus on my nose. Then she starts licking me...

In a moment, they're both between my legs, taking turns licking my pussy. James goes up and sucks my nipples hard, then returns to my nether-regions, again and again...we're a tangle of legs and arms...until I can't fight that hot sensation that starts in my feet in pretty soon explodes in my crotch. I scream hard, sudden, gripping Robin's head and forcing it against my pelvis. By this time, James is hard again and climbs on top, giving me a long, hard fucking. He is very into my legs, loves the stockings, tells me to wrap my legs around him, then slips my ankles over his shoulders for a real pounding. His older-man hanging balls bounce sensually against my ass. He calls my name as he fucks me. I like this, even if it's not my real name. I come twice this way while Robin sits back, sips champagne and watches...

We fall asleep all wrapped together. When I come awake, I have my moment of natural paranoia/disorientation. It's strange to wake up with two other people in bed with you. What wakes me is Robin atop James, riding him with ever more urgency, her blond bob bobbing, a little perspiration breaking out on her forehead, a blush spreading across her upper body and face. She silently collapses on top of him. Later we both give him a blowjob, even though the result is just a trickle of semen...he wasn't complaining.

Neither was I. Amber had fun. I caught a cab home around 3 a.m. and let the two of them be together. The inside of my trench coat has a big semen stain on it where my souvenirs dribbled out of me on the ride back.

Friday, February 11, 2011

An invitation

I probably shouldn't do this.

A couple of weeks ago, in the small town that is D.C., I ran into Robin, the hostess of the lifestyle club where my friend Chris took me a while back. She was so glad to see me and we had coffee together. She said that she and her husband had been thinking about me, a lot. And would I consider coming over on Valentine's night. I demurred but she was persistent. It would be just her and her husband, James. They had promised each other something special and kinky for Valentine's Day.

I thought about it and said yes, canceling a date that would have been pleasant but not particularly promising. So I'm going. As they say in my business, "What could possibly go wrong?"

In the meantime, any poll takers care to share about your "losing it" experience? I'd love to read the good, the bad and the premature ejaculations. The comments section awaits you.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Cape Cod memories

Work just took me to Cape Cod. It was wintery and icy, with the ocean the color of lead. Despite this, the landscape brought back an amazing sense memory. I was 21, in college in Boston, with long red hair and, as a girlfriend said, a body to die for. In the late spring, a boyfriend and I spent a long weekend on the Cape. Everything was blooming and the sea was a deep blue, mirroring the cloudless sky. It wasn’t crowded with tourists yet, just enough people that things didn’t seem as desolate as the past few days in real time. He was tall, dark, athletic build, magical mind. He had dark, curly hair and a dick with a thick shaft and small head, which created an interesting sensation when he was inside me. We took a bag of books to read but ended up fucking what seemed the entire three days. I don’t think I read a thing.

The “tone” of the trip was set when we found a secluded beach, laid down a blanket and screwed. I had on a denim miniskirt, and he – a great kisser, this one – laid next to me and kissed my lips, face and neck while his fingers found their way inside my panties. By the time he pulled them off, they were wet and I was panting. He stripped off his jeans and slipped inside, riding me at an easy pace even though I was already moaning loudly, right on the edge of coming. The nature all around, from the sea bird calls to the breeze to the openness of the terrain only added to the arousal. My skirt was hiked up on my hips and he raised my legs over this shoulders and really started fucking me. The feeling of his balls against my hips was incredible. I came with a scream, which only added to his momentum. He moaned, shuddered and collapsed on top of me. We held each other with the ardent passion that only comes with youth and then laid side-by-side, staring up at the puffy clouds that had started to roll by. It didn’t take him long to get hard again, and I gave him a long blowjob; it certainly wasn’t given with the skill I later learned, but he didn’t complain. Those young balls gave me a nice full load that spurted all the way into my throat.

Later, we checked into a bed-and-breakfast and became notorious. As you know, dear reader, I am loud when I make love. It only took a couple of hours before there was a knock at the door and the yuppie-matronly owner told us to quiet down. Did I see a little smile in her eye? After that, I tried the “don’t wake the children” style that I imagine parents must learn, stifling my moans by biting my lower lip, and eventually screaming into a pillow as he was fucking me hard from behind. Oh, he wanted to fuck my virgin asshole, but I wouldn’t let him.

We ate lobster in Provincetown (I still have a picture of us wearing bibs and looking goofy). We were, ahem, in the minority as a straight couple. He dared me to pick up a girl at one of the bars, but I was too chicken then — even though I’d crossed that slutty threshold with Pam. It was tempting, though, and only added to the sexual vibe. I challenged him to pick up a guy; men were already eyeing him. "See how they're looking at your crotch?" I teased. He got all discombobulated, as men usually do, and refused.

The last morning, we made slow love in the bed of our notorious lodgings. Missionary style. My knees up and against him, and then my legs and feet resting against the backs of his thighs. The windows were open, birds were singing, and a cool breeze caressed our naked bodies. After he came and lay next to me, I thought: Could life get any better? Now I think, Was I ever that young? Back to the present, one night I did stop at a bar in Provincetown for a light dinner and a martini. I had a long talk with a woman next to me: Short blond hair, sweetheart face, buff body, about my age. As closing time approached, we made out a little — she had a snaky, inviting tongue — and she invited me to her house. I demurred. There’s a lot of truth to the old saw: What does a lesbian bring on the second date? A U-Haul. And I wasn’t looking to be her wife. Anyway, I was on the job.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

I want it on my desk, now!

I work in an environment that's very macho. Even the women who do that I do have to adopt the mask or be seen as weak. And part of the machismo is lots of sex talk and come-ons. No amount of sensitivity training, or the occasional banishment of an offender (like the one caught banging an intern in a supervisor's office) to, say, Afghanistan, changes the basic culture. I don't mind it, because I love to study sex, I like men, I can take care of myself and I hate PC shit. When people are in really stressful, dangerous jobs they need to blow off steam. But that's just me.

Ben desperately wants to fuck me. He's married, of course, and constantly complains about sex on the home front. His wife, Jennifer, is a mousy little thing and, to hear him tell it, only lets him fuck her once a month, always missionary style. "I bet you do every position in the kama sutra with those long legs of yours, Linda," he has said more than once. More than once, I have said, "I need a guy who has a dick longer than three inches, Ben." Which pisses him off. He's actually got big feet, but I won't fuck him. Too skinny. I don't typically go for blond men. And he's a graceless clod. (I also learned my lesson about fishing off the company pier with Mike, as wild and eye-opening as that affair was).

I did have an affair with Henry a few years ago. We were working very long hours alone and finally ended up fucking on a conference table, a very hot, very spontaneous thing. He's older and married. Maybe to his credit, he was beset with guilt and we only carried on a few more times. Sometimes I still give him a secret smile. I like it when nobody knows whom I've slept with.

We women talk about sex and men, too. Don't let anybody tell you differently. Sometimes it's sad. I had a drink with my friend Beth, who's a stunner, blonde, great body, in her early 50s but looks a decade or more younger. She's out of field work now, but smart, sexy. She's married to a very nice and attractive man, whom I've met. Anyway, over martinis, Beth said she and her husband hadn't had sex in two years (!). I wondered if she was having an affair. But, no. "I'm just not horny anymore," she said. God, save me from that fate. Sometimes women talk about the men they've shared; one particularly unfortunate lad was very good at getting his partners to give him head, in cars, wherever. But they started comparing notes and soon the entire unit knew that his unit was only three inches long.

We play a game out in the field: Would you sleep with (attractive man)? If so, would you sleep with (really unattractive man) to get him? I'm sure the guys do the same thing. When it's a mixed group, everyone tries to be careful, but it's, er, hard. Flirting and propositions are commonplace, especially among peers. Oh, if they knew my recent adventures as a cougar, much less with women. I tend to come across as quiet and bookish (and a very good shot).

In my wider world, where I'm just Linda who has a dull job at the Justice Department, things are less fraught with being accused of disclosing state secrets while getting laid. Bob and Tamara are both having affairs right now, and both apparently know. Tamara is my friend and she hates him for it. But she started it, seducing her boss. So they carry on. Holly's husband wanted to see her fuck another man, and after a long process, she did it. And really liked it. He enjoyed being cuckolded much less than he thought. Now it's a major stress in their marriage. I know: Sounds like a story out of the Kristen Archives, but this one's true. Holly have me a quite graphic account of the guy and the deed: He was quite the athletic, giving, well-endowed lover. Hubby watched, then stormed out when Holly started screaming and moaning the way she never did for him. Be careful what you ask for. Hubby looked really beaten down, that 5,000-yard stare, the last time I saw them.

Back at work, there's Susan, a young beautiful young thing who likes to project toughness, but she's incredibly naive. Also tightly wound and straight-laced. She's going through the sexist hazing right now and being propositioned. She strikes me as the type to report it and get us all in deep shit. I can see it coming now: New memos, and another sensitivity workshop.

I haven't been with Wendy in awhile, and that's fine. Every fling runs its course, and we're still friends. Not so with young Chad, who I kicked to the curb. So I guess I'm available.

Monday, January 10, 2011

His first time

A friend told me this story. It was hot enough to share:

I was sixteen and played trumpet in a high school jazz band. We had been hired by the sophomore class at a high school in Ohio to play for their prom and it was a long difficult gig (long bus ride from plus a 3 hour on-stage performance.) After the gig we returned to the motel still excited about getting paid for what we loved doing. Some of us went to a bowling alley to relax and wind down. Someone, I think it was either Don or Max learned of a “whore house” nearby. “Triple Dog Dares” followed “Double Dog Dares” and I wound up in a taxi with a bemused driver. My friends were financing the adventure to the tune of 20 bucks

He drove a couple of blocks, turned into a back alley and stopped behind a nondescript looking house. “Here you go son, that’ll be $3.50” I slipped him a five and walked tentatively up to the back door of the house. My teeth were chattering even though it was not cold. The door opened to my ring and I almost jumped out of my skin. An elderly woman dressed as a maid beckoned me in. I hesitated a moment but gathered my courage and was ushered into a waiting room.

To my surprise, there were two other members from the band sitting there: Jim and Bill both played in the sax line and if anything they looked more frightened than I was. I sat on a weathered couch and tried to read an old Playboy magazine – pausing deliberately at the centerfold and wondering what was in store for me.

The door opened and a gorgeous blonde sidled into the room. She wore a strapless form fitting sea green dress that hid nothing and revealed lots. She was about 5’4” and had a lovely figure with impressive cleavage and seductive hips. “Who’s next?” she said in a throaty voice. I looked at my buddies but they had raised their magazines defensively; hiding their faces. I stood. “I guess that’s me,” I said. She beckoned to me, turned and, showing a fabulous back, flowed out the door.

She ushered me into the room next to the waiting room. “Hi, my name is Lori. I’m 28” she said with her eyes twinkling, her voice a rich dark contralto. “What kind of party do you want,” she said smiling up at me. I stammered “Hi, I am Jack” and something to the effect of “What are my choices?” She cocked her head quizzically and replied, “Well there’s an ‘Around the World’ for Fifteen dollars or just a ‘Regular’ for twelve.” I had no clue as to what either of those meant so I mumbled, “The Regular I guess.”

She giggled “You don’t have much experience, do you?”

“No ma’am, this is my first time.”

That set her back, “You’ve never been with a working girl?”

“No, I have never been with a woman before,” I stuttered while handing her the money.

“You mean I get your cherry?”

I nodded dumbly. She grinned up at me, “Don’t be nervous, Hon, we are going to have fun.“ With that she turned for the door and said over her shoulder, “Take your clothes off and put them on that chair, I’ll be right back.”

It seemed like an eternity while I undressed and carefully folded my clothes over the chair. By now I had a painful erection: My cock strained and elongated like never before. I stood, shivering again and wondering how long it was going to take when the door opened suddenly and Lori slipped in. She saw me and giggled, then she unzipped the front of her dress and stood before me, gloriously naked: No bra, no panties no stockings. She wore only her pale green high heeled shoes and a bewitching smile. Her breasts were full and pointed: her nipples pink and erect. Her stomach was flat and her pubic hair matched the blondness of the hair on her head. She walked toward me, holding up her hands, hips swaying, full breasts all a-jiggle: a powerfully erotic sight.

“Let’s have a look at you,” she said and grabbed my cock with her left hand. I almost fainted with the sensation of it all. Her bare breasts jiggled while she stroked my cock two or three times. “

You have a very nice cock,” she said, “I doubt that you’ll ever have trouble with women with that tool of yours” I groaned. She squeezed hard and pulled on my now engorged cock and looked critically at the head of it, searching for signs of any discharge.

Seeing none, she dragged me over to the sink like a “pull toy” and began washing my cock and balls with soap and warm water. Afraid of finishing too soon, I groaned again and she said, “Be patient, we’ll get to the real thing in a minute. She dried me off, reached up and patted me on the cheek, “Let’s get busy.” She grinned, and turning, slipped out of her heels, lay down on the bed, and beckoned me over.
I knelt between her splayed legs while she reached down and guided the head of my cock to her waiting cunt.

“Go ahead and push.” she said. I pushed gently and easily slid in up to the hilt. The sensation was amazing. I was buried balls-deep in the slick warmth of her and it felt wonderful. I eased forward onto my elbows and stared down into her blue eyes as I registered the amazing feeling of her pussy: she clenched her pussy muscles twice, squeezing my cock. “Come on, Hon, let’s fuck” she whispered hoarsely. Her hands guided my hips into an easy rhythm. For the first time, I felt powerful in the embrace of a woman.

At first, I tried to keep a slow steady beat, but as my passion and my power rose, my thrusting became more insistent and faster. She was holding my face with both hands now, “You won’t have to jack off any more” she whispered. “I’ll be jacking off remembering this for a long time” I groaned in response. Soon our conjoined rhythm became more intense; I was slamming into her with all my strength. My balls were slapping her cunt with a wet squishy sound. The bed was squeaking and banging the wall with my efforts. She gripped me with her legs wrapped high around my waist — her knees pressed tightly to my ribcage, her heels hooked behind my thighs.

“Come on Hon, give it to me — give it to me — I want it.”

I drove myself harder — striving for my finish. My whole world shrunk into the sensation of our fucking: nothing else was perceivable. Her breasts moved in circles under my chest: her erect nipples traced lines of fire around mine. Her arms were locked around my shoulders. She was beginning to pant: her eyes closed and she stretched her head back: neck tendons taut and rigid. Her mouth was open and she was grunting to my thrusts. Her hands moved to my butt and she made me understand the urgency of her rhythm. Her hips worked in counterpoint to mine. She whimpered and moaned with the pleasure of our coupling. I felt her pussy contracting around me: she began to jerk and spasm.

She groaned into my ear: “Come for me Jack, come for me now!”

I felt a small ball of electric fire ignite at the base of my spine. It grew slowly and spread to the whole of my groin. Panting and gasping I rasped, “Oh Lori, I’m gonna come!” Lori dropped her legs from around my back, planted her feet on the bed and levered me up into a kneeling position. The electric fire in my groin consumed me, my face contorted into a grimace and I came hard: jerking and grunting as the bolts of come shot out through my cock into the depths of her. My whole body contracted with each discharge – It felt like I was ejaculating white hot pearls through my cock. At each pulse of my cock, she squeezed me with her pussy, milking every last drop.
We were still locked together, I was panting and sweating. I fell forward onto her and hugged her.

Lori gently wiped my forehead with her right hand. “There, that wasn’t so difficult was it?” she said, letting her legs slide down to the bed. “Thank you Lori, thank you,” I croaked. I was overwhelmed with gratitude to her for her gentle but erotic tutoring. We held still for a moment, then she gently pushed me away, “Get dressed, we’re done here.” There was a sadness in her voice: a recognition that we would never meet again. When I stood and started dressing, she quickly zippered into her green gown and left the room.

I don’t remember leaving the place, I suppose I found a cab and went back to the motel. The next day on the bus, my friends started to kid me in front of the rest of the band about my "adventure." I could only stare out the window, smiling, day-dreaming of how I lost my cherry. The vision of Lori's face, framed in blond curls, contorted in pleasure, swam in my imagination. I was so distracted that they realized I was not going to respond to their taunts, and so, losing interest, they left me alone: to dream and remember.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Ooops. Please vote again

I meant for people to be able to select multiple answers! #$@%#! technology.
— Linda Sue