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.