Showing posts with label fucking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fucking. Show all posts

Monday, April 8, 2019

My position on ... positions

Once I had an affair with a man who had been dumped by his wife. She would have sex with him only rarely and then only in the missionary style. We had a hot fling and he called me "position girl" because of my willingness to go anywhere.

So here are my takes on sexual positions.

Missionary: I actually love this position, but it comes in many flavors (most of which people never try). The traditional man on top thrusting is fine; sometimes I pull my knees up and lazily enjoy being fucked (let him do the work). Or I can fuck him back using my pelvis — if I put my feet on the mattress or floor or ground, it can give me the leverage to bring him off in a hurry. I love to wrap my long legs around my lover and pull him in as he fucks me.

But my lover can also raise my ankles over his shoulders — this puts him deeper into me and is delightful. My favorite lovers even turn their heads to kiss my ankles as they hoist me into position. So is missionary where the man crooks my knees into his elbows, very intimate, very sense of "being taken." Love it!

And there's the "high riding," where the man positions himself slightly higher, pressing on my pubic bone. When my lover is on top and raising himself on his arms, I can also pull my legs in front of him and nearly cross them, producing a very different sensation.

Unlike many women, I can come in any of these variations. I have a very sensitive G spot.

If you're well endowed, I'll gently press against your abdomen, holding you at a distance until my pussy can adjust to your length. This is another benefit of missionary.

A couple of further grace notes: Reaching around and stroking his balls. I love feeling a man's balls against me as he thrusts and this gives him a major turn-on. Also, intertwining my legs in his. Missionary can be romantic, or dominated, or adventurous.

I don't like a guy to be completely down on me. If he raises himself on his arms, we can see each other's faces and expressions. My favorite lovers smile like angels as they fuck me.

Me on top: This is another position with many varieties. I can ride in the usual sitting position, but also bend my legs back and slide. I've had lovers who grabbed by ass, raised their legs and really pounded into me.

A bonus: My man can caress my breasts and lick and suck my nipples. Have to be careful in this position because if I bear down too much, too soon, I'll immediately start coming.

I'm not a fan of being on top and facing backwards. But that's just me.

Doggy: I love to be taken from behind, but you need to sense the right mood. It's fine to push right in when we're both on fire and have left a trail of clothes from the front door to the bed.

But teasing me with your cock-head right at the edge of my labia, then slowly sliding in is very arousing.

Some men swivel their pelvises to fuck me from different angles with each thrust. They fuck in a rhythm, then pull almost all the way out before slamming in deep (this also can work in the ankles-over-shoulders missionary style). The feeling is amazing.

Bonus: If the relationship is souring or dull, I can fantasize about another man fucking me.

Yes, I claw the sheets if I really get going.

All the above positions work in bed, but I've also done them in public, on the floor, on assorted pieces of furniture, in a meadow, and (missionary) on the hood of a car.

Sixty-nine: I've done this with men and women. Best accomplished with patience and give-and-take. Sometimes I get so aroused that I have to lie my head on your thigh while I come from your tongue-worshipping. Then do the same in return. It's great foreplay — or as the main course.

Side-by-side: A well-hung guy can penetrate me when we're lying beside each other. This isn't a fave, but it offers some variety while enjoying a love-making session with multiple positions.

Scissors: This is popular in girl-girl sex. I don't especially like it because I can't see my lover close-up, or have the submissive rush of doggy. Tried it with my ex-husband, with his cock in me. But we only did it once.

Face-sitting: Two words: Orgasm city.

What are your favorites and why?


Thursday, July 28, 2016

Tell me your naughtiest true story

You've been reading my true adventures for years. Now it's your turn. In the comments section, tell me your kinkiest, most shameful, forbidden, secret sex adventure. The only rule is that is has to be true.

I'll kick it off with this letter from a reader:


It was in the winter of 1981.  I know this because I recall it was about a month and a half after John Lennon was shot in NYC.  As project manager I was finishing the construction of a large industrial furnace in the Mobile, Alabama, area.  The job was complete except for the trial shakedown phase and turning over to the customer.  It had been a long job and my crew had returned to Houston with the exception of one technician, a young man named Tim (I don't remember his last name) who was about 15 years younger than I was.  At that time I was 38 years old.  Tim was a diminutive young dude about 5'4" or so and weighed maybe 130 pounds.  For that reason he had the nickname "Munchkin".  We had both been away from without a break for at least two weeks and it was Friday night and we were scheduled to drive the company truck back to Houston the next day.  (It could have been Saturday evening/night but it was one of those two days.)  I was also separated from my wife at the time.  Tim had a girlfriend (young with a nice body).  I knew Munchkin mostly from work and had never done any partying with him, but I knew him well enough to be comfortable around him.

Mobile is often warm or at least temperate in February and this was one of those nights, somewhere in the mid-50 degree range.  Of course the sun went down early, so the nights were long.  Downtown Mobile had some interesting bars and at least one brothel in '81.  The brothel was called the "55 Club" because you went into the bar on the ground floor and talked to the girls.  If things were "right" between you and the lady, the bartender was handed $55 cash and that got you the basic service upstairs above the bar.  The standard fare was a blowjob or straight vaginal sex.  Anything "special" would cost more and was negotiated directly with the lady.  Tips were expected and regular customers were known to be either good tippers or cheapskates.  I had visited the place two times (I think, might have been three, but I didn't have a lot of cash) just to keep my seminal vessels drained.

In any case, after Munchkin and I got some dinner, he, mostly, wanted to go downtown and get a blow job.  He was emphatic that he needed some relief.  So I drove to the 55 Club.  Just as we pulled into the parking lot, a station wagon with three girls pulled in and as we got out of the company truck (the truck had a magnetic sign on the side which we had removed and put behind the seat) and shouted at us in so many words that they were hooking and could give us a better deal than the 55 Club.  All we had to do was to follow them to the Quality Inn (might have been the Best Western) on the Airport Road.  So we took off following them for a ride of about 5 miles.

When we got to the motel parking lot, the girls climbed out of the wagon.  We were all wearing light jackets except for one of the girls who was wearing a long lightweight overcoat.  She opened her coat to reveal a plump round preggo belly and she said with a laugh:  "I got caught."  One of the girls was tall about 5' 10 and the other two about "standard" height, say 5'5 or 5'6.  I am about 5' 8 which makes me on the short side and I really like tall girls, so I kind of wanted the tall one.

As it turned out, the tall girl, who let's say since my memory is not absolute on this, called herself "Joy" and the other non-pregnant girl called herself "Pam."  I'm sure that those were not their names, but who cares.  The preggo girl never said her name, or I don't remember.  When we got to their room it became immediately obvious that the tall girl, Joy, wanted the Munchkin.  She was about the same age as the Munchkin and was almost gushing over him.  Later she purred that "He's so cute, I just want to take him home."  The senior girl and the one that made it clear that she was obviously in charge and the leader of the group was Pam.  Pam informed us that they had some VIP customers coming by at ten and that we would be on a schedule so as to be gone by then.  This was her way of making clear that we were not going to have anything but a one-pop date.  The preggo girl said:  "I'm tired of watching people fuck, I'm going to the bar" and she left the room.  Drinking while pregnant was not quite so onerous in that day.  
 
Pam it turned out was about two years my senior and so Tim and I placed our $50 each in Pam's hand and we all got undressed.  The room had two standard sized beds with a nightstand in between.  There was a table and a sofa at the far end of the room next to the window so it would have been described in the day as a "business suite"  Pam and I had a brief talk (we were more than a decade older than the Munchkin and Pam and therefore a little more compatible.) and mostly I remember that she professed a liking for heroin.  I had some experience with drugs, cocaine, weed, ludes, speed, and some knowledge of acid, but I had never seen any heroin.  She surprised me, but she seemingly was not holding and that was the extent of the conversation.  Much later I wondered if the 10 o'clock appointment was her connection, but then again maybe they didn't even have one, although Pam's actions seemed to indicate that it was a fact.

As we got undressed, I noticed how really attractive Joy was.  Joy at about 5' 10 had beautiful legs and she was very pretty.  Nice petite breasts, trim with a great complexion.  Pam was average in most every way but she was soft, warm and I was happy enough.  (I have often thought how things would have turned out if I had chosen the preggo girl; it crossed my mind at the time but only in passing.) Pam and I got onto the bed closest to the bath and I went down on her.  Pubic hair was in vogue then and hers was neatly trimmed with a sweet tummy.  As I best recall she had a nice pleasant taste and and after a while she sighed with a little quiver and said "I've had enough of that" and gently lifted my head and invited me to mount her.  On the way up I noticed that Joy was giving the Munchkin a blow job and I figured (so wrongly) that he would pop his load any moment.  So I climbed up slipped inside my lady and in what seemed too short (always) I busted my nut.  I remember saying, "I'm coming y'all, I'm coming."  Condoms were not generally used in that day and I don't remember Pam being exceptionally wet on entering her but my cum certainly slicked her up.

Pam lead me to the bathroom and washed my dick in the sink.  This was noticeably old school even for 1981 and I was pleasantly surprised by this.  I was wondering if she was just keeping me in the bathroom so nature could run its course on the other bed.  She handed me a towel and picked up one of two douche bags, this one was white, that were laying across the tub and proceeded to fill it with water from the tub faucet.  It split down the middle on one of the side seams.  She cursed just a little and informed me that it was two years old and had served her well but could I go ask Joy if she could use Joy's red bag.  (I just now wondered what the preggo girl had if anything, there were only two bags in sight.)

I stepped back into the room and Joy and the Munchkin were going at it missionary style.  All this time I never saw Munchkin's dick, just an average looking pair of balls bouncing in his nut sack.  Pam came right behind me from the bath and I don't remember exactly how but she got the pair to get into doggy with Pam sitting Indian style on her knees behind Munchkin.  I was standing between the beds close to Joy's head which she had placed on top of her forearms so her ass was sticking up.  Munchkin, too, was on his knees, going in and out.  I noticed Pam began to play with his nuts from behind.  I saw her reach between her legs with her right hand and get some slick stuff from her pussy.  At the time I didn't think about my cum still residing in her snatch.  Her hand reached towards the Munchkin's ass.  Suddenly he got a "deer in the headlights" look on his face and went almost catatonic.  I didn't think much at the moment about Pam slipping into his ass and rubbing his prostate.  I just was too busy being still and watching him have a killer orgasm.  He didn't move hardly at all, he didn't groan, or even seem to breath hard, he just was frozen while his auto reflex involuntarily took over.  Even as exciting as this seemed, a wonderful, rich aroma wafted up from Joy and Tim's crotch area.  It was an amazing scent of sexual fluids being blended which I had smelled before but never so intense or so overwhelming.  Even though my gear had been drained, this odor reached my lizard brain and set my primal libido into an almost aroused again mode.  Wow, that was cool.  I noticed Pam had remained motionless during the moment and was very still just sitting behind.  I glanced down at Joy's face and a sly smile came across her and she said, "That's a BIG load!"

Pam guided the Munchkin off the bed and lead him into the bath.  He looked completely spent, somewhat shaky, and like a little sleepy puppy that mommy dog was pulling back into the den.  He was compliant in every way.  Pam asked Joy if she could use her douche bag and Joy said yes and slipped off the side of the bed.  She started around the foot of the bed towards the sofa area and said: "Damn, it's running down my leg, get me something."  Her voice was not imperious, more of distress.  I looked and down her beautiful right thigh, a silver white ribbon of jizz about 4 or 5 inches long was drooling on her skin.  It stunned me for just a second as I contemplated how totally erotic it was.  I then hastily went back to the bath and got a wash cloth.  Pam was washing the Munchkin's pecker just like she did for me.  I was just a little jealous that I hadn't filled my lady to the overflowing point like Tim.  Ah, youthful production!  I took the washcloth to Joy and she shoved it into her crotch.

Tim and I got dressed and as we left, of course, we had to pass by the bathroom door.  Both girls were sitting side by side on a towel on the edge of the tub with their legs inside the tun.  Joy's red douche bag was hanging from the shower curtain and the hose disappeared between her legs.  We exchanged pleasantries and departed.  It was sort of sentimental to see the girls enjoying their feminine moment with the shared douche bag and the silver streak.  It capped off a great adventure.  We badass males got our vesicles tapped and again the pussys were prepared for the next draining.
 

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

Changes

I know. I've been gone.

Since we last visited, I've made some changes in my life. The biggest is that I am no longer playing "cougar."

Don't get my wrong. Parts of it were fun. It was definitely good for my ego to be attractive to younger men. I liked their stamina and their ability to get hard so quickly after coming. I love that strong stream of semen that most young men have. Young, taut skin, washboard abs, muscles and stamina. I had my share of long, thick cocks that stretched me like a virgin. Sweet.

But other things were either turn-offs or got old. In some cases, I was fucking guys half my age. In other words, young enough to be my sons...I tried not to think about that part. I did try to be a good teacher, the older woman initiating the young man into the arts of love in the European way, and in many cases I found willing and grateful pupils. There are women out there thanking me now for the skills their lovers picked up from Linda Sue.

Yet the majority either pretty soon wanted to move on to women their age. I tried not to be jealous, but that green-eyed monster is real. It made me aware that I wasn't 25 any longer. Others wanted a mommy substitute, and I definitely didn't want to play that role.

The thing that started to bother me was when these young bucks complained about my pubic hair and wanted me to shave. I'm proud of my natural red hair down there and it's not as if it is a jungle. It creeped me out that a lover wanted me to look like a prepubescent girl. There were young men who would pull out and masturbate until they came on my belly. This was fun once, because he seemed turned on by it. But it left me feeling unfulfilled, pun intended. I want a man to come in me, and then to feel his penis stay inside me as it became soft, and have him hold me. Their love-making was artless despite my best efforts. I realized that so many young men are porn addicts that they "learn" about sex from videos that show these acts.

No offense to readers who get off on this. But it's not my thing.

Then there was, in most cases, a big cultural and generational divide. I have a job with heavy-duty adult responsibilities, life and death. I like adult things and keep learning and growing. So many of my young lovers acted (and dressed) like adolescents frozen in their teens. They don't read books.

Lately, I've chosen men my age or older. I'm still juggling, but fewer. Two men — one my age, and another one who is ten years older. Both are great lovers (and for those counting, their penises are average length but lovely). And one lover is a woman my age. Jenn is also a natural redhead and my height. To be honest, I have been to a lifestyle club again, so I haven't lost my edge or curiosity. I still love short skirts, garters and stockings. Yes, I'm still a multi-orgasm screamer.

Jenn slowly opened up and told me how she had been brutally raped while working late when some hoods gained entrance to her office. There was nothing sexy about it. No enjoyment and unexpected orgasm. Just cruelty and brutality. It made me question my submissive side and rape fantasies — and I had one scary episode myself that I may tell you about. Anyway, I've tried to set those things aside.

I'm back in country for at least a while. I've grown my hair long, over my shoulders. I think you'd like it. Thanks for all your emails while the blog has been dark. I can't promise to be diligent about posting. Blogging is hard work and I have a fulltime job. And three lovers to keep happy...and to keep me satisfied. Life is good.

P.S., I am looking for some new blogs to link. Ideally, they are real stories like mine, not fantasies. But send me your nominations.

Friday, August 2, 2013

The voyeur

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Fast learner

The virgin loves sex. Like most young men, I've had to break him of some bad habits he's learned from seeing porn on the Internet. It made me glad to find this site by Cindy Gallop (I bet she does). The New York Times also did an article in the Style section about this cougar. I'm doing my modest part.

The good: He's very eager to learn. So as his stamina has increased, I've taught him tricks such as "riding high" in the missionary position, which lets him apply more pressure on a woman's clitoris. And to swivel his hips when he puts my ankles over his shoulders or takes me from behind. He's become very good at cunnilingus and I reward him with feather blowjobs that make him get very loud. He's a legs man who loves for me to wrap mine around him and run them up and down his back and the backs of his legs. I've taught him how to suck my nipples (hard) while cautioning him that not every woman likes that.

We can go five times in a night. He's very sweet and loving, so teaching him not to pull out immediately and to hold me is easy. And the come...OMG. He's got the strongest stream I've ever encountered and can deliver a big load down my throat even after he's come in my a couple of times. He likes women, a big asset. He's smart and funny.

We fucked most of last weekend. Then I had a Sunday date with another man in my life, who gave me yet more good sex. Monday morning, I was pooped and (nicely) sore.

The not-so-good: I've already had the "Don't fall in love with me talk" and he says he's ok with that. But I'm not sure his heart with hear his intellect. So this may come to tears. In the meantime, I am trying to up his social skills and (hidden) charm so he can leave the sex nest and find women his age. It will be tough. When I was that age, I probably wouldn't have been interested in him. But I was a stupid girl, as some are, taken in by shallow things. And plenty of young studs are lousy lovers. In the meantime, we'll keep going.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

With a cherry on top

Girl walks into a bar...

I was in one of my favorite watering holes not far from DuPont Circle, a muggy D.C. night, wearing shorts and a light top, no bra. After nursing a martini, I noticed a young man drinking a beer and reading a book. It was one of Arthur Link's books on Woodrow Wilson. That got my interest. A man who reads! And one of our finest historians! So I took the initiative and soon we were talking about the Progressive Era. He was smart and shy, tall with wavy dark hair.

Nothing happened.

Two weeks later, I happened by the same place. This time I was dressed for work. He was still reading Link. We swapped stories, mine sanitized for civilian consumption. He's in grad school, which brought back plenty of grad-school memories for me (and lots of grad-school fucking, which I didn't get into). Finally, I asked him if he wanted to go back to his place for another drink and we went. He was either one of the shyest men I had ever met or he was gay, but from the way he had been appreciatively noticing my body from the first, I took a chance on the former.

In his small apartment, modestly furnished but filled with good books, we sat on the sofa talking for a couple of hours before he took my hand and held it, just that. His hand was strong and warm. I was very wet. That "I'm going to get fucked" sense was apparent. So I took the initiative and kissed him. Pretty soon, we were making out. He liked kissing, which was a good sign. His cock was punching against the fabric of his slacks and I stroked it without pulling it out.

I led him back to his bedroom and we both fell into his small, unmade bed. Pretty soon, we were naked. He gave me an exquisite fingering while I fondled his penis: average size but with a thick shaft and a prominent, big head. I mounted him and guided his cock inside me, getting that nice, filled feeling. He put his warm hands on my hips and I started riding him.

"Oh!"

Yes, I could feel him coming in me. It had taken all of thirty seconds.

So I just rocked on top and got a nice little orgasm, then lay in his arms. He was chagrined, apologizing. His poor penis was totally flaccid, covered with our mingled juices. He actually batted it back and forth, trying to make it erect again. "Don't hurt it," I said and just stroked his chest and enjoyed the closeness. Men have such a difficult time sometimes...

Of course I wasn't going to leave things at that. Pretty soon, I took him in my mouth and he was hard again. Then I put him inside me and we fucked for several minutes this time, and I had a big screamer that left me totally wrung out. All the time, he was so gentle and caring in his love-making, even if it wasn't an athletic hour-long fucking in every position. Later, he went down on me and it was quite fine. I ran my fingers through his wavy hair as he gave me another orgasm.

Later, when we were talking, I learned that he was a virgin. And nineteen. So, there you go, Linda Sue. This cougar thing has gone too far. He's young enough to be my son. And, sure, I'm a little smug having gotten his cherry. If we play so more I'll teach him moves that women later in his life will thank me for. The danger, of course, is that he'll fall in love with me.

Friday, July 20, 2012

Cheap LA whore

Long-distance relationships are always fraught, the sexual tension and release explosive, and you don't know the person in the same way as if you were in the same city dating every day. Still, I met a man once who made me abandon my caution.

I still remember when we both had business in Los Angeles, and of course I couldn't be truthful to him about what my real business there was. We shared a room at a hotel near LAX that had once been top-of-the-line but was just on the edge of shabby. After pulling off the bedspread, on which ultraviolet would expose countless semen stains of strangers, we were naked on clean, soft sheets. Just the kissing and feel of our bodies totally touching from head to toe had me about to come. Which I did when he climbed on top and fucked me, first in missionary, then with my legs scissored in front of his chest (weird, different feeling!), him leaning close and pinioning my legs with his arms (knees at elbows) and then a long big nasty with my legs over his shoulders as he thrust into me while turning his head to kiss my ankles. Whenever I could, I would look down to see his cock going into me, one of my biggest visual turn-ons.

"I'm a cheap LA whore," I teased, an indeed I was wearing sheer black stockings and garter and being impaled in a crappy hotel room. He wouldn't go there. "You are not," he said, telling me how attractive and wonderful I was. I joked, but perhaps there was something behind the words and perhaps he sensed it.

Yes, I am a slut and must be tough in my professional life. But I had really fallen for this man. He was smart and kind, cleaned up well, had a stimulating range of interests and could always make me laugh with a very dry sense of humor. I had that most dangerous feeling a woman can have: A vision for us. (And maybe some men are as vulnerable). Yet he had been hurt very badly in his recently ended marriage and was wary (even though he never gave me an angry revenge fuck against the ex — he spoke kindly of her). The sex was great and I went with it. But 'though slut that I am, I wanted more. I didn't want to be just his transitional lover.

In bed, we talked until his cock was recovered, and then I worked my way down his chest, kissing his body and rubbing my pert breasts and nipples against him. Stationed between his legs, I licked and sucked him for half an hour until he had another big orgasm. He had the strongest stream of come of any lover I'd had, and even with the second orgasm I got a nice treat.

Then he gave me a working over: Long time kissing and fondling and sucking my breasts. Then I swear he played my pussy for an hour, bringing me right to the edge and pulling back, over and over. At one point, he was lightly rubbing my perineum with one finger while (I learned later) using two fingers to make a "U" motion at the bottom of my pussy, all while tongue-worshipping me. All I could manage was a moan of "What are you doooooing?" before I exploded. It was the most amazing feeling.

We fucked five more times over the next 15 hours before we got on our planes and went different directions. He got married two years later. I won't say/admit it broke my heart. The sex was great and maybe we got the best either had to give at that time.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Dresses I've known (and been known in) Part II

My friend Pam and I were very, very bad a couple of times in college, miniskirt-wise. We put on our sexiest short skirts and found places to sit while doing a "Sharon Stone" leg crossing as men walked by. Then we'd be bitchy cold if they tried to hit on us. Oh, did I say we weren't wearing panties — and with my titian red pubic hair the view up my skirt was unmistakable. No, horny guy, you didn't just imagine that. I have to say, we looked great. That happens when one is twenty. Afterward, we'd be so damned horny that we'd either end up in bed with each other, or have to go off and find our boyfriends of the moment and get some hard fucking. And they thought we were so aroused and came so fast because they were such studs.

Being out in public with no underwear and in a short skirt, too, was an amazing sensory feeling. The fingers of warm summer air tickling up my legs and into my pussy. Nothing between me and the outside world. My long legs, all 5'8" of me ("five-six of that legs," as my ex-husband said) striding through nature oh-so-naturally. Liberating, yes. A turn-on — most definitely. Especially with the eyes on me. I knew what they were thinking, and what if they knew those long legs led up to no panties...

This little adventure was quite the drive into Nasty County for a girl who was still shaking off her uptight, anti-sex, theocratic upbringing. On the other hand, it had risks. Boston then wasn't as gentrified as today, and the hoods were abundant. One day we did our beaver show off campus and a gang of five tough, working-class Irish kids started following us. This was long before I knew martial arts, much less carried a weapon. We were terrified. We gave them the slip at Downtown Crossing. Otherwise, I could imagine being dragged back to Southie or Dorchester for a couple of days of gang rape. Doing this to what they perceived as stuck-up, upper-class college girls would have only added to the allure, and probably brutality. The public defender would have said we were "asking for it." Twenty, cute and stupid. This scared us out of going commando so flagrantly. But I still do it occasionally still. (Pam is now a suburban mommie who wears long jumpers -- sigh).

Short skirts provoked so many consensual fuckings. In recent years, a long-distance lover checked into a hotel and I knocked on his door. I had on a tight, mid-calf skirt. Tasteful but men noticed, especially "leg men." It got his attention. He pulled me inside. After about ten minutes of the most divine kissing and embracing, he steered me into the nearby bathroom, hiked me up on the vanity, pulled his cock out of his suit-trousers and started fucking me. My panties never even made it past one ankle. They shook there like a little storm flag as he frantically screwed me. After we both came and disengaged, his semen spilled onto the inside of the skirt's fabric.

Oh, if I had ten dollars for every time that's happened in my life, or sperm otherwise ended up on one of my short skirts. That cool liquid feeling against the backs of my thighs as I drove home from an interlude. Those skits made for great "access" during college for outdoor and quasi-public sex. A guy fucked me on the hood of his fancy car one night, out on a country road. My khaki miniskirt pushed up to my waist and the breeze wafted over my legs and ass as he mounted me. We left heel and knee prints in the hood, and I bet they would hear me screaming that singular getting-fucked scream a mile away. Another guy pushed me up against a railing at a deserted ocean overlook and took me from behind, just pushing aside the thong I was wearing under the short skirt. I looked out at the waves and somehow that made my orgasm more intense.

A boyfriend in grad school and I were on the train. I was in a denim mini. He just kept reaching over and fingering me. I almost came and was starting to moan when the conductor started through the car and I moved his sweet hand. My first married man lover took me out to a fancy restaurant. I was wearing my first little black dress. He sat across from me and I felt his stocking foot against my calves. Pretty soon it was up inside my crotch expertly "fingering" me. He got quite a kick out of watching me flush and stifle moans while he looked on with great innocence. The toe of his socks ended up quite damp.

And that leaves the grand history of Linda Sue in little black dresses...for another day.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Dresses I've known (and been known in) Part I

My sister Amber got the tits in the family. Men still stare at her chest, making her uncomfortable. I got the legs and ass, learning early that men paid attention. I always favored miniskirts as a result, despite my mother's contention that I dressed like a "harlot." My dresses have so many stories to tell. Here are a few.

My cheerleader outfit. Our high school had traditional sweaters and short-pleated skirts. Nothing as revealing as today, but to my mind more sexy. It was all about legs. On game days I would wear my cheer outfit through the school day to bring the team luck. I also noticed that more than one boy would be staring at me with a tent rising in his pants. One night after a game, I was outside the school when one of my father's friends pulled up and offered me a ride home. I sat into the plush leather of his Mercedes and we drove off. He was a physician and a member of our church, and pretty soon he was expertly running his hand along my thigh. I didn't make him stop. It felt amazing, every nerve in my body shimmering right into my pussy. I could smell my scent and was so wet I worried about his car seat. We pulled over and he pulled me into him and kissed me. It was a deep, full adult kiss, very different from the awkward smooches I had received from my boyfriend. He moved his hand up the inside of my thigh but was foiled by the tight shorts underneath. So all he could do was finger me through the fabric as we made out — I still had a baby orgasm. He unzipped his pants and his erect penis popped out. My mouth wanted it, pure instinct taking over. But I was afraid, so I just stoked it awhile. Then he drove me home. I didn't know how I felt about the whole thing, still being somewhat in thrall of my family's sexual hangups. I was still a virgin. So I felt guilty and avoided him. When he was around my dad, like a lot of dad's friends, he often had those hungry eyes on me.

I never had sex in the cheerleader outfit when I was a cheerleader. But I kept it, and can still fit into it. It's seen me through many a burn-the-paint-off-the-walls role play.


Denim and khaki skirts.
I wore these quite a bit in college during the spring and summer. Most were about mid-thigh, a few shorter. I can't count the number of times a boy or man said, "leave it on," as he fucked me. One at a bar whispered that he's love to see that miniskirt crumpled on the floor at the foot of his bed. I didn't go home with him, but I became aroused anyway, corny line and all. As I recall, I had on a khaki mini the night I barely escaped a gang bang at the frat house. Another one was on the night I was drunk out of my mind and was basically raped by a stranger. Not so good. But it didn't stop me from showing leg. Once I was walking down a street and caused a wreck — a man was watching my saucy walk and my legs and rear-ended an SUV.

In college, the boys were very insistent, lacking any real seduction skills or willingness to let things unfold. They loved to dance or stand at the bar, running a hand inside the hem of my skirt, trying to get inside my panties. Sometimes I stopped them. But for the boys I chose to sleep with, the miniskirt — me in the mini — was definitely "the point of entry" in the attraction. They'd hump me in that endearingly demanding way of young men, but almost always asking me to rub my legs against them, or wrap my legs around them. I didn't need any coaxing, because I loved it, too. And at 5'8", I can do a good job of leg wrapping.

I played tennis for awhile, something expected at my expensive school back east. Oh, I loved that white tennis dress. Virgin-whore, whatever. It made me feel sexy. More than one player's game was destroyed by watching me walk by. I was no Steffi Graf on the court, but I could outfuck her in bed, I bet. One boyfriend played with me regularly, and our games invariably ended back at his place with me being fucked in my tennis whites. One time he fucked me on the grass in a secluded (we thought) spot. I never got those grass stains out.

Friday, February 26, 2010

Earning extra credit

I've been reading the book, The Death of American Virtue, about the Clinton impeachment. Back in college I had my own Monica Lewinsky moment. I was having an affair with one of my professors. A very nice man, who is a well-regarded scholar at an elite university in the northeast -- I'll leave it at that. He was married, of course, and old enough to be my dad. But he was incredible horny and good in bed.

In one of our sessions, we got a motel room and he had just sat on the bed when I dropped to my knees, unzipped his pants, and watched his cock spring out at the ready. I took him in my mouth and spent a long time licking, teasing and sucking. I was still perfecting my techniques. He wasn't complaining at all. Sometimes I would look up at him and smile while I kept jerking him off, then I would go back to earning extra credit. On this occasion, he came suddenly. I felt a little salty, bitter come on my tongue, then came a big spurt of stringy semen. I wasn't ready for it and gagged, pulling away. A viscous white string connected my mouth to his cock head and soon landed on my blouse. I picked up some of it with my fingers and swallowed it, trying to look sultry. But sure enough, I went back to my dorm with a big come stain on between my breasts. My roommate Pam smiled...she knew what it meant. And it sure wasn't, "I spilled a milkshake." It wasn't a blue dress, but, hey...

Another time, I came to class wearing a very short khaki miniskirt, no panties, and sitting in the front row. It was a lecture hall with raised seating for the students, so he could see all the way to Omaha when I opened and crossed my legs, which I did several times. At first, he grew red in the face, and I could tell he was growing elsewhere. Usually, he liked to walk around as he lectured. This time, he stayed safely behind the podium.

Afterwards, he said, "Linda, I need to see you in my office." So I obligingly went with him. Once the door was closed, he nearly threw me against the wall, smothering me with kisses, his hard cock pressing against me from inside his pants. I was already wet and could smell my pussy.

He put his hands on my waist and lifted me on his desk. I was still fully clothed, but the skirt had already ridden up and I opened my legs. I heard his pants unzip and his cock pushed inside me. He fucked me like a maniac, my legs wrapped around him, his hands firmly on my back. Panting in my ear, "Linda...God!...You feel so good!" He lasted maybe two minutes but it was enough for both of us to come. He held me and kissed me, whispering my name...so adult. And his cock finally slipped out of me. His semen and my pussy juice had mingled to make a nice stain on his blotter. But there was also a wet, white stain all over the front of his pants. He had been so eager to fuck me that he hadn't even pulled down his pants.

It was only then that we saw the group of young men and one woman in the adjoining building watching us. Nothing ever came, so to speak, of that public sex. As for how he explained the stain on his trousers to wifey...I never found out.

Friday, November 27, 2009

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.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

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.

Friday, July 24, 2009

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.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

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...

Monday, January 26, 2009

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.