It's a good thing I'll be going back to the states soon. Otherwise, I would be a very bad girl, very bad.
Another agent I've been working with is named Ben. He's broad-shouldered, immaculately dressed -- with his suit coat cut just right to conceal his service weapon. God, I'd like to get my hands on his other weapon for service... He looks about six-foot-three, just the right kissing height for my five-foot-eight horny body. He's a toucher, in the right ways, and he makes me laugh. He's got a wife named Jennifer. I've got it bad for him.
Today I couldn't stand it any longer. So I went into the ladies room, to the last stall. Waited until I was alone. Then, I sat and started playing with myself, a pleasure made easier by wearing garters and stockings. So I slid down my panties and my hand found that my pussy was already dripping wet, my lips sensitive and swollen.
I closed my eyes and imagined him kissing me and undressing me, laying me down on the bed and giving me the glory fuck of my young life. The head of his cock pushing into my tight pussy, then pushing in. His long frame on top, my legs over his shoulders as his cock sank in deep. I watch as his penis goes in and out, wet with our juices, then disappearing inside me again. My finger made circles around my clit while my other hand stroked the inside of my thighs, then probed my wet lovehole.
Fortunately these are comfy toilets, because I soon lost myself and leaned back, raising my long legs and jammed my shoes against the walls of the stall. In my mind, we could go all night, but I needed this quick, hard first fucking from him, I needed his semen inside him, the way I make a man mine. Oh, his cock was in so deep. He swiveled those slender hips as he pumped into me.
Suddenly I lost it, letting out this muffled moan-scream: "Ummmmmmmmmmfffffffffffoohhhhhhhhhhh!"
As I lay back, I heard a woman's voice: "Are you okay in there?"
"Uh-huh," I peeped, breathless, my hands drenched in pussy goo.
I waited until she had left before putting myself back together, and going back to work.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
The secret life of men
The poll to your right tells me that more men than will admit it have gotten it on with other men. As for women, it's hard to tell -- I suspect most readers here are male, so the poll may be weighted against girl-on-girl confessions. I've loved my few female experiences, but in the end...and everywhere else...I gotta have cock.
Apparently the same has been true for some of my male readers. Interesting, too, is how many of these liaisons were unplanned. There's a little guilt or regret shown, but mostly they liked it. Mikey liked it. (Mikey will eat anything).
My sense is there's a much deeper, primal taboo inside most men about homosexuality than there is with women. We're natural touchers, and more than once in my life a friendly hug with a female has evolved into caresses that were first comforting, then sexual, then kisses, perhaps tentative...let me try this out...and then...Linda likes it.
Men are different. Now, some are gay of course, and a few are bi, but I'm especially interested in the guys who are straight but either by happenstance or walking on the wild side ended up with a cock in their mouth. I know how wonderful every blowjob is for me. I remember my first vividly. How is it the first time for the average suburban straight guy who never thought he'd have a dick sliding between his lips? (For being so "hard," they're so wonderfully soft, aren't they?). And when that first rush of sperm comes out...I swallowed as fast as I could, surprised at the taste and smell and force of his ejaculation (he was 17, after all). Did you? And did you drive back home to wifey with a mouth full of sperm, or semen running out your anus, feeling flush with accomplishment and guilt?
I'm getting aroused just writing this.
I was dating a man who said he'd be open to a threesome with another guy. We got very hot talking about it, and he was obviously aroused when I said I wanted to see the two of them play together. Alas, he chickened out. Which is a shame, because I wanted to see his first time.
Apparently the same has been true for some of my male readers. Interesting, too, is how many of these liaisons were unplanned. There's a little guilt or regret shown, but mostly they liked it. Mikey liked it. (Mikey will eat anything).
My sense is there's a much deeper, primal taboo inside most men about homosexuality than there is with women. We're natural touchers, and more than once in my life a friendly hug with a female has evolved into caresses that were first comforting, then sexual, then kisses, perhaps tentative...let me try this out...and then...Linda likes it.
Men are different. Now, some are gay of course, and a few are bi, but I'm especially interested in the guys who are straight but either by happenstance or walking on the wild side ended up with a cock in their mouth. I know how wonderful every blowjob is for me. I remember my first vividly. How is it the first time for the average suburban straight guy who never thought he'd have a dick sliding between his lips? (For being so "hard," they're so wonderfully soft, aren't they?). And when that first rush of sperm comes out...I swallowed as fast as I could, surprised at the taste and smell and force of his ejaculation (he was 17, after all). Did you? And did you drive back home to wifey with a mouth full of sperm, or semen running out your anus, feeling flush with accomplishment and guilt?
I'm getting aroused just writing this.
I was dating a man who said he'd be open to a threesome with another guy. We got very hot talking about it, and he was obviously aroused when I said I wanted to see the two of them play together. Alas, he chickened out. Which is a shame, because I wanted to see his first time.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Home alone
Yes, women masturbate -- at least all of the women you'd want to know. This has been much on my mind lately as I am forced by my work situation to avoid the real thing. Horny slut that I am, my going-away gang fuck just wasn't enough to keep me satisfied for long.
I've never been much of one for toys -- I especially don't care for plastic inside me, even though I have used a strap-on on an old boyfriend! -- but my hand can do wonders. When I was 13, I started feeling this magnetic desire to touch myself "down there," even though my mother had made it clear that "down there" was dirty and only made for peeing. But alone in my bed at night, I just couldn't resist. It felt so good. Late that year I was rubbing myself when I suddenly had my first orgasm. It wasn't like the glory comes I would experience later, but it was new and wow! It completely took me by surprise. A few minutes later, my mother tapped on the door and asked if I was alright. Oh, yes. Surely she knew, and worried her little daughter would end up pregnant at sixteen, before going straight to hell.
Well there was no way I was going to get pregnant and stuck in suburban Auburn, Washington. But as you all know, I stayed a virgin all through high school. Yet my masturbatory life flourished. I came to realize the effect I had on boys and men. And I went through the usual round of crushes, and simple appreciation for everything from boys' muscles and masculinity, to the nerdy brainy ones, to my history teacher. I always fantasized when I got myself off, always had specific boys in mind, although I never acted on it. Sometimes I would come home after a game, take off my panties and masturbate in my cheerleader outfit, recalling all the lustful looks my pretty legs had garnered that night.
I thought about this, later, the other night when my neighbors woke me fucking. They can get wonderfully loud -- her moaning and mumbling nonstop in French, still managing to get out a "fuck me!" here and there; he encouraging her until he lets loose with his own moans and yells. It was balmy enough in my room that I pulled off the sheet as I raised my legs, planting my feet on the softness of the mattress. Already highly aroused...but I wanted to take my time. I lightly stroked the inside of my thighs, starting close to the knee, then moving up and just flickering across my pubic mound. Then the other side. I could hear my breathing get deeper.
My outer lips were together and I gently parted them, only granting myself a couple of clit rubs. A finger ran around the uneven form of my labia, lingered at the bottom, stroked my perineum. By now I could feel my heartrate really pick up. On the other side of the wall, I could hear her percussive moans...he was on top, slamming into her, each moan timed to the stroke of his cock. I have seen them both...beautiful people. I imagined him atop me, holding himself up by his elbows as he fucked me. I could look down and see his penis disappear inside me, again and again, filling me up.
By now my other hand was working easy circles on my clit, which felt like it was on electric fire. Meanwhile, I finger-fucked myself, felt all the familiar folds of my pussy, enjoyed the juices that were now flowing all over my labia, down into my anus, onto the sheets. God, I needed a good fucking. I reached up and gently pinched my nippled. What would happen if I went next door, wearing nothing, and banged on the door? Would he dismount and open the door with his erection still hanging in front? And could I take the time to drop to my knees and take it into my mouth, tasting the bounty of their mingled fluids? No, I would have to be fucked right then, right now...on the floor, against the wall.
In real life, the headboard is banging against the wall. I know he is fucking her doggy-style, their typical final act. I tilted my pelvis and raised my legs as my hands did their work, the bottoms of my feet burning, recalling all the find male asses they had rested against as I got fucked.
I heard myself screaming...the rest of me was somewhere else. For a few moments, it was completely silent next door. By the time they resumed, I was seconds from dropping into the sleep that only sex brings.
I've never been much of one for toys -- I especially don't care for plastic inside me, even though I have used a strap-on on an old boyfriend! -- but my hand can do wonders. When I was 13, I started feeling this magnetic desire to touch myself "down there," even though my mother had made it clear that "down there" was dirty and only made for peeing. But alone in my bed at night, I just couldn't resist. It felt so good. Late that year I was rubbing myself when I suddenly had my first orgasm. It wasn't like the glory comes I would experience later, but it was new and wow! It completely took me by surprise. A few minutes later, my mother tapped on the door and asked if I was alright. Oh, yes. Surely she knew, and worried her little daughter would end up pregnant at sixteen, before going straight to hell.
Well there was no way I was going to get pregnant and stuck in suburban Auburn, Washington. But as you all know, I stayed a virgin all through high school. Yet my masturbatory life flourished. I came to realize the effect I had on boys and men. And I went through the usual round of crushes, and simple appreciation for everything from boys' muscles and masculinity, to the nerdy brainy ones, to my history teacher. I always fantasized when I got myself off, always had specific boys in mind, although I never acted on it. Sometimes I would come home after a game, take off my panties and masturbate in my cheerleader outfit, recalling all the lustful looks my pretty legs had garnered that night.
I thought about this, later, the other night when my neighbors woke me fucking. They can get wonderfully loud -- her moaning and mumbling nonstop in French, still managing to get out a "fuck me!" here and there; he encouraging her until he lets loose with his own moans and yells. It was balmy enough in my room that I pulled off the sheet as I raised my legs, planting my feet on the softness of the mattress. Already highly aroused...but I wanted to take my time. I lightly stroked the inside of my thighs, starting close to the knee, then moving up and just flickering across my pubic mound. Then the other side. I could hear my breathing get deeper.
My outer lips were together and I gently parted them, only granting myself a couple of clit rubs. A finger ran around the uneven form of my labia, lingered at the bottom, stroked my perineum. By now I could feel my heartrate really pick up. On the other side of the wall, I could hear her percussive moans...he was on top, slamming into her, each moan timed to the stroke of his cock. I have seen them both...beautiful people. I imagined him atop me, holding himself up by his elbows as he fucked me. I could look down and see his penis disappear inside me, again and again, filling me up.
By now my other hand was working easy circles on my clit, which felt like it was on electric fire. Meanwhile, I finger-fucked myself, felt all the familiar folds of my pussy, enjoyed the juices that were now flowing all over my labia, down into my anus, onto the sheets. God, I needed a good fucking. I reached up and gently pinched my nippled. What would happen if I went next door, wearing nothing, and banged on the door? Would he dismount and open the door with his erection still hanging in front? And could I take the time to drop to my knees and take it into my mouth, tasting the bounty of their mingled fluids? No, I would have to be fucked right then, right now...on the floor, against the wall.
In real life, the headboard is banging against the wall. I know he is fucking her doggy-style, their typical final act. I tilted my pelvis and raised my legs as my hands did their work, the bottoms of my feet burning, recalling all the find male asses they had rested against as I got fucked.
I heard myself screaming...the rest of me was somewhere else. For a few moments, it was completely silent next door. By the time they resumed, I was seconds from dropping into the sleep that only sex brings.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Be patient, loves...
Linda Sue is on the job and on the road. Amuse yourselves with the archives...
Back soon. Kiss...lick...
Back soon. Kiss...lick...
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Oh...my!
I just discovered Dirty Debbie's "CWB" section. Let's just say it's a must-see for horny women, especially if you're not getting any right now.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Ode to a little black dress
My luckiest piece of clothing was my little black dress.
It clung in all the right places, my silhouette,
Flowed out to show off my legs.
Men always loved them, especially in this dress.
I was twenty-eight when I bought it.
I've owned others. But this was the
One.
I've had other lucky clothing. My khaki miniskirt
In college, my power suits with skirts just above
The knee, my muscle T-shirt, worn braless
On Saturday mornings to get a mocha at Uptown Espresso.
But I loved this little black dress above all.
When I was twenty-eight and powerful, such a powerful
Age for a woman, my body still taut and youthful
But my mind wiser.
This little black dress got me lovers
And got me into trouble.
It ended up on the floor at the foot of his bed.
It bunched up against a wall as he fucked me
Standing.
I was reminded of this the other night,
As I walked in the misty black air along the Seine.
I was alone, wearing garters and black stockings
Under a longer dress. But no fun for Linda.
I have duties, responsibilities, minders, a firearm.
Your national security. My sexual insecurity.
Still,
I wanted to feel sexy as I walked, then I heard her.
A cascade of moans and cries and oaths
In a French soprano voice. She never stopped.
I saw them under the ancient bridge. He had her,
Up against the wall. She in a little black dress,
His pants were down, his hip muscles tensed
As he fucked her with madness.
Impaled.
I had been there, mon cheri. Louder than you.
I could see her pale face, red hair,
black dress. Him, his skin was coal black,
Glistening as he took his fair maiden.
She looked at me and we exchanged souls
For a moment. She looked twenty-eight. I told
Her of the lifetime of fucking she had ahead.
Each one wonderfully different, each heartbreak
Worth it.
My black dress would get scuffed and sperm-stained
With all my adventures, with my running from
One lover at eight to another at midnight.
They didn't know they were sharing my
Pussy.
Ah, but my little black dress knew.
They just wanted my legs wrapped around them,
My red hair thrown back and my screams
Validating their manliness. And they did.
They wanted the cute redhead in
The little black dress.
I killed at parties. Made wives went crazy.
Their husbands in a trance, Linda's
Legs.
So many lovers came magnetized to that dress,
And a girl-woman, twenty-eight.
We all got what we were after, right?
I stood there on the storied riverbank,
Paused, a little tingle behind my knees,
As I watched him fuck her.
So much of life flowing by.
It clung in all the right places, my silhouette,
Flowed out to show off my legs.
Men always loved them, especially in this dress.
I was twenty-eight when I bought it.
I've owned others. But this was the
One.
I've had other lucky clothing. My khaki miniskirt
In college, my power suits with skirts just above
The knee, my muscle T-shirt, worn braless
On Saturday mornings to get a mocha at Uptown Espresso.
But I loved this little black dress above all.
When I was twenty-eight and powerful, such a powerful
Age for a woman, my body still taut and youthful
But my mind wiser.
This little black dress got me lovers
And got me into trouble.
It ended up on the floor at the foot of his bed.
It bunched up against a wall as he fucked me
Standing.
I was reminded of this the other night,
As I walked in the misty black air along the Seine.
I was alone, wearing garters and black stockings
Under a longer dress. But no fun for Linda.
I have duties, responsibilities, minders, a firearm.
Your national security. My sexual insecurity.
Still,
I wanted to feel sexy as I walked, then I heard her.
A cascade of moans and cries and oaths
In a French soprano voice. She never stopped.
I saw them under the ancient bridge. He had her,
Up against the wall. She in a little black dress,
His pants were down, his hip muscles tensed
As he fucked her with madness.
Impaled.
I had been there, mon cheri. Louder than you.
I could see her pale face, red hair,
black dress. Him, his skin was coal black,
Glistening as he took his fair maiden.
She looked at me and we exchanged souls
For a moment. She looked twenty-eight. I told
Her of the lifetime of fucking she had ahead.
Each one wonderfully different, each heartbreak
Worth it.
My black dress would get scuffed and sperm-stained
With all my adventures, with my running from
One lover at eight to another at midnight.
They didn't know they were sharing my
Pussy.
Ah, but my little black dress knew.
They just wanted my legs wrapped around them,
My red hair thrown back and my screams
Validating their manliness. And they did.
They wanted the cute redhead in
The little black dress.
I killed at parties. Made wives went crazy.
Their husbands in a trance, Linda's
Legs.
So many lovers came magnetized to that dress,
And a girl-woman, twenty-eight.
We all got what we were after, right?
I stood there on the storied riverbank,
Paused, a little tingle behind my knees,
As I watched him fuck her.
So much of life flowing by.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
I try to resist that last leaving-town temptation
I've loved your kinky stories -- they've given me some hot masturbation material as I have endured celibacy with work taking me from Paris to Berlin, Brussels and, well, I'd better not say.
So you want to know about Justin? Oh, yes, sleeping with my "hood" brother-in-law, after his years of hitting on me. It was one of the most irresponsible things I've ever done, so of course I couldn't eventually resist it. I can be completely straight and narrow on everything but sex.
I spent the days after my going-away party letting my little pussy readjust, and my mind wander back to fond memories. (Read about them here, here here and here). I am packing and thinking, it's good to be getting out of town. Good to be getting away from the inevitable tryst that will blow up my life -- and the playtime with Justin is a very good candidate. C-4 explosive.
So I am slowly saying goodbye to my Seattle condo (where so much good sex has happened), hoping Justin doesn't "drop by" and partly hoping he does. That is Bad Linda talking. As usual, Bad Linda prevails.
I'm already asleep when there's a banging as the door. Justin looms through the fisheye. All I have on is a T-shirt, but I open the door. He comes in with an angry stride -- he and Amber have had a fight. He's at his most macho, masculine, strangely attractive this way -- at least in small doses. So I let him grab me up and start kissing me, while rubbing my bush and pussy that are exposed by the raised T-Shirt. I feel his big cock expanding down the left leg of his jeans.
Back in the bedroom, he just wants to fuck me, but I lay him down and undress him as he complains about my sister. He's not complaining by the time I have him naked and start stroking his cock. It stands up straight and grandly in the ambient light, like some monument to the gods of fucking. But as I start to kiss and lick, I can smell pussy. Not mine.
"Did you fuck her tonight?"
"Mmmm-hmmmm."
So here it is -- my sister's pussy scent and dried pussy juice on my lover's penis. In the abstract, it's strange and compelling. In the flesh before me, it's primal. I am a bad, sick girl, my good-girl voice says. But I am fascinated and turned on. I imagine Amber: the brunette to my red hair, the sister with big boobs, but not my fine legs. Her scent is strong like mine, but somehow different, too. I inhale and run my nose and tongue around his crotch. I make him tell me how he fucks her and I slowly suck his cock. He is blue-collar and inarticulate, but I stop sucking if he stops talking. Amber is a pure missionary girl -- won't even ride him. If she comes, he can't tell. He always has to initiate sex. I stop and make him give me the primal stuff. How it feels. Does she wrap her legs or keep them wide? "She says I'm too big for her..." I go back to worshipping this cock. Soon I let him just enjoy it and am madly sucking and jerking the shaft when he comes. He shoots strongly into the back of my mouth. No wonder they have four kids -- after fucking her, he still has enough semen left to nearly choke me.
We spent the next hour fucking -- he has a wonderful recovery time. And it is surprisingly tender. I let him fuck me in all sorts of positions -- my pussy is very ready to be fucked again. I let him fuck me in the ass, finally. He can get about half the way in. I have a strong orgasm myself. And then I steer him toward the door. He can't stay here tonight. He needs to get back to being a husband. And I am leaving myself. And this big, tall, macho guy cries as I hold him. Then he's gone and the locking of the door sounds unusually loud in the cool night.
So you want to know about Justin? Oh, yes, sleeping with my "hood" brother-in-law, after his years of hitting on me. It was one of the most irresponsible things I've ever done, so of course I couldn't eventually resist it. I can be completely straight and narrow on everything but sex.
I spent the days after my going-away party letting my little pussy readjust, and my mind wander back to fond memories. (Read about them here, here here and here). I am packing and thinking, it's good to be getting out of town. Good to be getting away from the inevitable tryst that will blow up my life -- and the playtime with Justin is a very good candidate. C-4 explosive.
So I am slowly saying goodbye to my Seattle condo (where so much good sex has happened), hoping Justin doesn't "drop by" and partly hoping he does. That is Bad Linda talking. As usual, Bad Linda prevails.
I'm already asleep when there's a banging as the door. Justin looms through the fisheye. All I have on is a T-shirt, but I open the door. He comes in with an angry stride -- he and Amber have had a fight. He's at his most macho, masculine, strangely attractive this way -- at least in small doses. So I let him grab me up and start kissing me, while rubbing my bush and pussy that are exposed by the raised T-Shirt. I feel his big cock expanding down the left leg of his jeans.
Back in the bedroom, he just wants to fuck me, but I lay him down and undress him as he complains about my sister. He's not complaining by the time I have him naked and start stroking his cock. It stands up straight and grandly in the ambient light, like some monument to the gods of fucking. But as I start to kiss and lick, I can smell pussy. Not mine.
"Did you fuck her tonight?"
"Mmmm-hmmmm."
So here it is -- my sister's pussy scent and dried pussy juice on my lover's penis. In the abstract, it's strange and compelling. In the flesh before me, it's primal. I am a bad, sick girl, my good-girl voice says. But I am fascinated and turned on. I imagine Amber: the brunette to my red hair, the sister with big boobs, but not my fine legs. Her scent is strong like mine, but somehow different, too. I inhale and run my nose and tongue around his crotch. I make him tell me how he fucks her and I slowly suck his cock. He is blue-collar and inarticulate, but I stop sucking if he stops talking. Amber is a pure missionary girl -- won't even ride him. If she comes, he can't tell. He always has to initiate sex. I stop and make him give me the primal stuff. How it feels. Does she wrap her legs or keep them wide? "She says I'm too big for her..." I go back to worshipping this cock. Soon I let him just enjoy it and am madly sucking and jerking the shaft when he comes. He shoots strongly into the back of my mouth. No wonder they have four kids -- after fucking her, he still has enough semen left to nearly choke me.
We spent the next hour fucking -- he has a wonderful recovery time. And it is surprisingly tender. I let him fuck me in all sorts of positions -- my pussy is very ready to be fucked again. I let him fuck me in the ass, finally. He can get about half the way in. I have a strong orgasm myself. And then I steer him toward the door. He can't stay here tonight. He needs to get back to being a husband. And I am leaving myself. And this big, tall, macho guy cries as I hold him. Then he's gone and the locking of the door sounds unusually loud in the cool night.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Ball gags? Public sex? Got the wife to take it in the ass?
Some of the sexiest and best-read posts come when readers share your experiences. The answers to the poll already have me wet. So give it up. Tell your story in the comments section of this post. Your email address is secure -- even I can't see it. You don't have to be a "good writer." Just get us all hard or damp with your own...very personal...confessions. Lurkers: That means you, too.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
That secret college lover that the good girl never discussed
I've left up the poll on college sex experiences to savor. What a delicious variety! You already know about many of my coed dalliances.
One of my coleagues is named Susan. She's a little older, but is still gorgeous, with cute-short blond hair, Ivory soap girl skin and, from what I can tell, a killer body, with very firm, perfect breasts. Gradually, she's opened up and we've traded stories. I put in the category about only having sex with your steady -- except for that secret one-night-stand -- because of her inspiration. It took some doing, time and bottles of wine, but here's Susan's college story, as told to Linda Sue.
I grew up in a very straight-laced family in the South. Dad was a church elder. You get the idea. I was a good girl. I was going steady with a guy who was a year older; we met in high school. But it wasn't until I was nineteen and a freshman in college that we went all the way and I lost my virginity. Rob was a very nice young man, but...a little boring. We were both going to the same nearby state university, and it was just assumed we would soon marry after graduation. But, in my way, I already knew I wanted out of there. Southern girls don't rebel -- at least in my experience. So I guess I acted out.
There was Steve. I'd had a crush on him in high school: he was tall, broad shouldered, with dark wavy hair. He made me wet and flushed feeling -- it was so embarrassing. But he was one of the school "hoods" -- rode a motorcycle, not going to college, close to the drug dealers if not one of them, and working class. We were very much middle class, with dad being a prosperous businessman. To date Steve would have been impossible.
But after having lost it with Rob, a few months later I ran into Steve in a store. He asked me out and I accepted. I just did it. I couldn't believe I had done such a thing. My pussy almost gushed into my panties as I said yes. I was going steady with Rob, of course. But there I was. So Steve takes me to a movie and after drives me back to the dorm. We get into a heavy makeout session in his car. I step out and walk back to the dorm in a comatose horny state. I can't think of anything else. I had reached down and felt his hard cock being restrained by the fabric of his pants. My nipples ached they were so hard.
Later that night he calls and we talk awhile, and he tells me to come over to his apartment. Again, totally out of character, I did it. We were all over each other before he even closed the door. He was a great kisser and very strong. He guided me into the bedroom and had my clothes off in a flash. I protested a little, but he was going to have his way with me. And I was turned on by this. Intellectually, it made no sense. But it was a huge attraction, this man I had wanted just taking me. He also kept calling me "Susie." I was always "Susan," nothing else, a quick little bitch to correct people. But when Steve called me "Susie," it just fed my lust. He dropped his pants and kicked them off. His cock was larger than Rob's and it wobbled enticingly as he moved.
I started to caress it and try out my very rudimentary skills in fellatio, but he pushed me down on the bed and was on top of me in a flash. I reached down and guided his cock inside me. I was very tight, but also very wet and he skillfully took his time pushing inside until he was in to the hilt. I was already gasping and moaning and bucking against him. This little voice inside me was saying, "Wow, I have the second cock of my life inside me now -- two in one year, and I was supposed to be faithful and settle down with Rob...even my parents would have been shocked to know Rob and I had done it. That voice didn't last. Steve just overwhelmed me with his physicality. He was very athletic, a much better lover than I had experienced. He was also kind of rough and dominant. Again, this was a turn on. Pretty soon he had my legs up over his shoulders -- an incredible new feeling. He fucked me a long time, and I had my first vaginal orgasm. Then he let out a loud cry and I could feel his big cock pumping semen into my recently virginal pussy.
We made love three more times until it was time for me to go to class. I was fucked doggy for the first time. Even with a shower, his come was running out of me all the next day. I had a date with Rob that night. Although I'm sure I acted strangely, we ended up screwing, too. It was quite a letdown. In two days, two different men. Not exactly church conversation.
Steve was my secret lover for the next three months. I argued with myself about it being wrong, about the need to confess. I never did. More time than I can remember, I went from one man to the other's place with semen in my pussy. Steve would fuck me roughly, in all sorts of positions, giving me these blowout orgasms; Rob would make love to me sweetly and innocently. Steve really knew how to drive me crazy sucking my tits, and he taught me how to give killer blowjobs. I still remember how big and impressive his balls were. I learned how to tease him, then really bring him off in my mouth. Or just give a quick but satisfying blowjob out in the car. Rob benefited from my learning. Steve always gave me this thrilling sense of being an outlaw...ironic considering my eventual career.
Steve knew I was still going with Rob, but didn't really care. I was a college girl, and he knew it had no future. But what fun we had, and made even more so by its illicit nature. The two worlds of Rob and Steve were so separate, I never really worried about getting caught. I broke it off and we had one more great fuck. After graduation, Rob and I married, as expected. But I knew it was a mistake even as I walked down the aisle. We divorced six years later and I left the South for good.
For years, I kept Steve as my little secret. The outward me certainly stayed pretty straight-laced -- only five lovers in forty years. But I'll never forget my "hood."
One of my coleagues is named Susan. She's a little older, but is still gorgeous, with cute-short blond hair, Ivory soap girl skin and, from what I can tell, a killer body, with very firm, perfect breasts. Gradually, she's opened up and we've traded stories. I put in the category about only having sex with your steady -- except for that secret one-night-stand -- because of her inspiration. It took some doing, time and bottles of wine, but here's Susan's college story, as told to Linda Sue.
I grew up in a very straight-laced family in the South. Dad was a church elder. You get the idea. I was a good girl. I was going steady with a guy who was a year older; we met in high school. But it wasn't until I was nineteen and a freshman in college that we went all the way and I lost my virginity. Rob was a very nice young man, but...a little boring. We were both going to the same nearby state university, and it was just assumed we would soon marry after graduation. But, in my way, I already knew I wanted out of there. Southern girls don't rebel -- at least in my experience. So I guess I acted out.
There was Steve. I'd had a crush on him in high school: he was tall, broad shouldered, with dark wavy hair. He made me wet and flushed feeling -- it was so embarrassing. But he was one of the school "hoods" -- rode a motorcycle, not going to college, close to the drug dealers if not one of them, and working class. We were very much middle class, with dad being a prosperous businessman. To date Steve would have been impossible.
But after having lost it with Rob, a few months later I ran into Steve in a store. He asked me out and I accepted. I just did it. I couldn't believe I had done such a thing. My pussy almost gushed into my panties as I said yes. I was going steady with Rob, of course. But there I was. So Steve takes me to a movie and after drives me back to the dorm. We get into a heavy makeout session in his car. I step out and walk back to the dorm in a comatose horny state. I can't think of anything else. I had reached down and felt his hard cock being restrained by the fabric of his pants. My nipples ached they were so hard.
Later that night he calls and we talk awhile, and he tells me to come over to his apartment. Again, totally out of character, I did it. We were all over each other before he even closed the door. He was a great kisser and very strong. He guided me into the bedroom and had my clothes off in a flash. I protested a little, but he was going to have his way with me. And I was turned on by this. Intellectually, it made no sense. But it was a huge attraction, this man I had wanted just taking me. He also kept calling me "Susie." I was always "Susan," nothing else, a quick little bitch to correct people. But when Steve called me "Susie," it just fed my lust. He dropped his pants and kicked them off. His cock was larger than Rob's and it wobbled enticingly as he moved.
I started to caress it and try out my very rudimentary skills in fellatio, but he pushed me down on the bed and was on top of me in a flash. I reached down and guided his cock inside me. I was very tight, but also very wet and he skillfully took his time pushing inside until he was in to the hilt. I was already gasping and moaning and bucking against him. This little voice inside me was saying, "Wow, I have the second cock of my life inside me now -- two in one year, and I was supposed to be faithful and settle down with Rob...even my parents would have been shocked to know Rob and I had done it. That voice didn't last. Steve just overwhelmed me with his physicality. He was very athletic, a much better lover than I had experienced. He was also kind of rough and dominant. Again, this was a turn on. Pretty soon he had my legs up over his shoulders -- an incredible new feeling. He fucked me a long time, and I had my first vaginal orgasm. Then he let out a loud cry and I could feel his big cock pumping semen into my recently virginal pussy.
We made love three more times until it was time for me to go to class. I was fucked doggy for the first time. Even with a shower, his come was running out of me all the next day. I had a date with Rob that night. Although I'm sure I acted strangely, we ended up screwing, too. It was quite a letdown. In two days, two different men. Not exactly church conversation.
Steve was my secret lover for the next three months. I argued with myself about it being wrong, about the need to confess. I never did. More time than I can remember, I went from one man to the other's place with semen in my pussy. Steve would fuck me roughly, in all sorts of positions, giving me these blowout orgasms; Rob would make love to me sweetly and innocently. Steve really knew how to drive me crazy sucking my tits, and he taught me how to give killer blowjobs. I still remember how big and impressive his balls were. I learned how to tease him, then really bring him off in my mouth. Or just give a quick but satisfying blowjob out in the car. Rob benefited from my learning. Steve always gave me this thrilling sense of being an outlaw...ironic considering my eventual career.
Steve knew I was still going with Rob, but didn't really care. I was a college girl, and he knew it had no future. But what fun we had, and made even more so by its illicit nature. The two worlds of Rob and Steve were so separate, I never really worried about getting caught. I broke it off and we had one more great fuck. After graduation, Rob and I married, as expected. But I knew it was a mistake even as I walked down the aisle. We divorced six years later and I left the South for good.
For years, I kept Steve as my little secret. The outward me certainly stayed pretty straight-laced -- only five lovers in forty years. But I'll never forget my "hood."
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