My going-away party, Part III

I have just been fucked by two strangers. I can't see them, but I know how they feel on top of me, the texture of their skin, the scent of their breath, the size and shape of their cocks, the way they fuck and the way they sound when they come, the volume of sperm they pump into me (a lot).

"How much edge can you handle, you little slut?" Chris had asked the question with a fond look but an edge in his voice. I knew he had been angry with me for screwing around on him -- just as I had been pissed at his continued dalliance with Heather. So now I was leaving, and he wanted to throw me a "party." Would I go along? No details. "I don't want to be hurt, and if you bring friends, make them wear condoms," I said. He nodded. Liar.

Now I lie on the soft, expensive sheets that smell of sex. My hands are still tied to the headboard with soft but unyielding restraints. My little pussy aches from being fucked and from being taken to the edge without letting me come. I know it's all part of his plan. If a woman could have blue balls, I am she. No one says a word.

The mattress is again depressed and a body lies beside me. Skin on skin, this is unmistakably female. She gives me urgent French kisses, her tongue exploring my mouth, then lingering, teasing lip brushes. Her hair falls down on my cheeks and neck. It feels lush and curly. She's a good kisser. After a few minutes of this, she leans over me and one heavy breast caresses my face, then the other does. Her nipples are erect and thick, and I lick and suck them hungrily. But soon she takes them away. Now I feel a leg coming across me and I smell pussy as she moves to sit on my face and get adjusted. Her pubic hair is soft and sparse.

Her pussy is very wet. The juices cover my lips and nose as I start licking and tonguing her. She's has a very pungent pussy odor, and I start to get aroused all over again. Someone has recently fucked her, because as I drill my tongue into her vaginal canal I taste man -- I get thick globs of semen mixed up with her pussy juices and swallow them. The semen has a sharp, nasty smell. She rocks back and forth, moaning softly as I work on her. After a thorough tongue-fucking, I worship her labia, only occasionally darting up to her clit. She has small, bud-like pussy lips. Then, as I really focus on her clit, she starts grinding against me. This goes on a long time. With my hands tied, I can't guide her or raise her pelvis.

Thank God she's relatively light or I would suffocate. By now she's really grinding against my face and I am bearing down with my tongue on her clit. Her pussy is making lubrication overtime now and it covers my face even as I try to lick it up and swallow it. Her cunty smell becomes even more pronounced, and I can feel her shake in little pre-orgasm contractions.

"AhhhhhhhhhhhOhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhGod
Godaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she lets out this long, low moan, shaking and pushing against my face. I involuntarily wrestle at my restraints. I want to hold her close. But I can't. After sitting and rocking for awhile, she dismounts with a little yelp, and I am alone again on the bed.

Fuck me the way you fuck her

Well, Chris and I were back in the sack over the weekend. I know he's fucking Heather, too, although he won't admit it. He's very sheepish. I'm too old for this shit. Just tell me the truth and we can figure out what to do next. I'll fuck whom I choose, and he (sheepishly) isn't asking.

At one point I got him very overheated with a blowjob. Very, very slow licking of Linda's lollypop, up and down the shaft, around the glans, varying the intensity. Then making an "O" with my thumb and forefinger and very lightly stroking the shaft up and down as I sucked on the head. But I was being very careful. I didn't want him to come. I wanted him to want to come so badly!

"I know you're still fucking Heather," I cooed, in between taking his penis in my mouth.

"No..." he groaned. "Let's not talk about..."

With my other hand, I stroked his balls. "You're a very bad boy, Chris."

"Please...oh..." But there would be no relief, yet. I had a lifetime of cocksucking teases in my bag of tricks. I moved my head up and down, my lips barely touching his cock. He was shuddering.

"I want you to fuck me in her favorite position," I said, giving his shaft and head an especially intense sucking. I was afraid I had almost taken him too far. I backed off. He was in an agony of delayed pleasure.

"You're a perv, Linda."

"Yes" Lick, lick.

"I can't..."

Suck, stroke. "You'd better. And in that little bitch's favorite position." Lick. "The one that makes her lose control."

He rose up and grabbed my shoulders, passionately kissing me. "You want to be fucked, huh?" His eyes were mad with lust. He laid me back on the bed and started licking me, tongue-fucking me. Now I was the one losing control. He's a good one, knows how to play me. After several minutes of this and a baby orgasm, I felt the big head of his cock push into my pussy. He started fucking me hard but I pushed against his abs, holding him at a distance.

"You'd better show me, you bad boy."

He gave me a devil smile and took my legs in his arms, raising them. Soon he had my ankles up on his strong shoulders and his cock was really deep. I was talking dirty and moaning and already starting to feel my feet getting hot. He pulled almost all the way out, rotated his hips so I could just get the feeling of his cockhead inside me -- an amazing sensation, as his movement oscillated -- then he would slam into me. Over and over this way. Now I was the one begging for relief. Thinking of young, long-legged blond Heather getting it only made me more aroused.

Then he just started fucking me like a madman, my legs still up straight, my feet by my ears, his cock in and out of me, filling me again and again, sooooo deep in there, the whole power of his body fucking me. We both came together, both of us screaming, them whimpering as we collapsed into a heap.

He was a gentleman: He didn't scream her name when he came in me. This morning, I still feel the most delightful stretch in my legs.

Doors open to dark slutty passages

The return of Heather into Chris' life and our unsuccessful bid to lure her into our bed naturally destabilized things. On Wednesday night, Chris called me to say he was working late and might be over later. My radar went up, of course. And when he got to my place around eleven, I smelled pussy on his face when he kissed me. And it wasn't my pussy. Maybe he had suddenly turned dumb and stupid, thinking I wouldn't notice. Maybe, as we find in my business, he had a secret wish to get caught.

Get caught he did. He tearfully confessed that he had gone over to Heather's condo. She had called him hysterically, threatening suicide if he didn't talk to her in person. That's what he said. And one thing led to another, pretty soon they were in bed. He had her pussy scent on him, nicely pungent, the pussy of this 24-year-old blonde with her perfect hair. Fourteen years younger than me, the worthless little bitch. Whatever. Later the whole thing might arouse me and I would want all the gory details, but at that moment I turned jealous psycho bitch and kicked him out. The wheels of sexual fate were turning, whether I realized it not. I kept smelling Heather...

Things didn't get better Friday when my sister Amber came into the city to have lunch with me. Amber is, let's say, the anti-Linda. Even though she is younger than me, she is as sexually conservative as a woman from the 1950s, a total suburban soccer mom. She used the lunch to lecture me on the need to "get married and settle down and quit being 'that' kind of woman.' " I was pissed, to say the least. She doesn't know a goddamned thing about me. But she judges me every time she looks at me because I don't have three kids, a boring husband and a look-alike house on a cul-de-sac.

I decided to stay home alone Friday night. I was watching Netflix and drinking my second martini when the doorbell rang. I thought it might be a contrite Chris, but it was my brother-in-law. Justin has made no secret of his lust for me and I have repeatedly rebuffed him. He's the kind of lout that absolutely doesn't attract me. But there he stood, this big, tall lug, obviously tipsy, walking past me into my loft.

He noticed the martini glass in my hand. "We never had that drink you promised me," he said. I told him I never made that promise and it was time for him to leave.

"That's not going to happen," he said angrily. "I'm tired of the way you **** girls have treated me for years," he said, using my last name and the maiden name of his wife, my sister Amber. "You know how fucking long it's been since I've had sex? Amber won't even suck my cock. And you...," he faced me menacingly, "you're a little fuck slut. I know how good it will be with you." He stepped into my private space and put his hands heavily on my shoulders.

Now let me interrupt here to say I could easily have taken Justin down, gently or hard, and he never would have known what hit him. But this spooky sense of (perhaps self-destructive) revenge came over me and I didn't do it. I put down my drink and just said, "fuck you, you white trash loser," and I slapped his face hard enough to leave a red spot on his cheek.

It had the desired effect.

"You little bitch!" he screamed, grabbing my arms and pushing me against the wall. "You've always thought you were too good for me. Well, guess again Susie fuckslut!" He kissed me with all that can be described as brutal lust. It was primal and, I have to say, for that moment at least, arousing. His breath smelled of cigarettes and his strong tongue pushed past my teeth and into my mouth. I could already feel his hard cock against my belly -- he's that tall.

I felt my blouse being torn off. He didn't wait for anything as time-consuming as a button. I slapped and fought ineffectually against him, and then I felt his real strength as he dragged me by the arm into the living room and knocked my feet out from under me. I went down with a slam onto the hardwood floor and just as quickly my jeans and panties were being pulled down. I never stopped "struggling," which added to my dark arousal. He undid his pants in one quick movement and his cock was bobbing before me.

I'd seen it before, and it's probably the biggest in my experience. About nine inches and thick. Unlike some big cocks, it's very hard all the way...so there it was bobbing in front of my eyes as he pulled my knees apart and leaned into me. I felt the head of his cock on my pussy lips. "Susie wants it," he panted. He could feel that I was trenching wet. I said no.

He shoved in with one motion and I cried out, for real this time. He reached down and grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head. Hs breath was hot and foul against me. The floor was cold and hard. I really felt like I was being pulled apart down there. Even with the lubrication, my poor little pussy walls were being stretched way beyond what they were used to. Then he was in to the hilt. I couldn't believe it. He started fucking me hard. I raised my legs so he wouldn't hurt so much banging against my cervix and pretty soon my magic pussy had expanded to accommodate him.

"You're a tight little cunt," he huffed as he plunged in and out. I turned my head away, but my body kept responding. I could feel a massive orgasm building in me as I used my legs and heels to pull him deep into me with each downstroke. There was no artistry here, no lovemaking here. Just animal fucking. He re-adjusted, raising himself on his arms and letting my hands go free. I grabbed his ass and fucked him back as our rhythm quickened into madness.

Intellectually, I hated to give him the satisfaction, but intellectualism had long since gone out the door. I surrendered to a long orgasm, screaming, clawing at his back. "Ohhhhh,shit,"he yelled, and I could feel his huge dick pulsing inside me. Just like the bastard I knew he was, he pulled out immediately -- seeing his penis again, I was amazed I had gotten that monster inside me; it was now covered with semen and pussy juice, wet, snowy liquid, the thick veins on the shaft standing out. He stood, pulled up his pants and walked away, sitting down and drinking the remains of my martini. He lit up a Marlboro.

So there I lay, wide open and dripping semen on my floor, my clothes ripped off, some dark river crossed. He just stared. In a while I went in the bathroom, cleaned up and tried not to look at myself in the mirror. Cum was running out of my pussy and down my legs, come that had been in my sister, too. He was still there when I came out and gathered my clothes.

"Don't get dressed, Susie, we're just beginning. You're gonna suck me off and swallow every drop. Goddamned, girl, you fuck like a snake. Are you really related to that frigid bitch I married?" He said it and turned from me to open the beer he had pulled from the refrigerator. At that moment, I rabbit punched him in the kidney and used my foot behind his kneecap to drop him to the floor. He fell hard and yelped. Then I brought both hands against his ears, just hard enough to addle him -- I know just the right amount to avoid serious damage.

I said, "Get the fuck out." He looked at me, frightened, and left. He didn't have the guts to call me a bitch until he was safely through the door. I made myself another drink, lit one of the cigarettes he left behind, and felt fine.

A girl walks into a bar...

I walked into the bar first. I was wearing a nicely fitting green top, a pleated gray skirt that came to my knees and sheer white stockings. I thought it was a demure look, but I could feel the eyes on me. I took a table, as Chris and I had agreed, and began fending off the advances of strange men. It was a nice problem to have.

Chris came in next and took a chair at the bar. He looked at me approvingly and smiled. I recrossed my legs for him. He smiled more. Heather was late, which I suppose is a prerogative of sweet young things. She swept past me, wearing a little black dress. She wanted to make a statement and did she...! Her blond hair flowed gently back and forth on the nape of her neck as she walked past, clueless about me.

She hugged Chris and then kissed him, and not a friendly, I-used-to-be-your-girlfriend kiss. It lingered and went tonguey. It was an I-want-you-back kiss. He kissed her, too, and ran his hand down her back to her tight little ass. This wasn't exactly part of the plan, but I should have expected it. As you recall, I told Chris he could fuck Heather and I would fuck other men, or we would invite her into our world. She may have been an ex, but since she came back, he's clearly been aroused by the idea of some kind of action involving Heather. He liked the latter suggestion and here we were putting the plan into action.

She sat on the opposite chair and the skirt rode up even higher on her thigh. Chris likes the leggy ones, fortunately for me. They talked, thick as thieves, Heather drinking a cosmopolitan that was the same shade as her lipstick. I was joined by a banker type. Not bad looking. I smiled and let him introduce himself while they talked. She tossed her hair and took his hand. Oh, does she want him back... I listen to my new friend talk about the rain and imagine her legs wrapped around Chris as he fucks her. I wonder how she'd be in a threesome and how she'd be with just me. We might make Chris jealous.

What's she like,? I asked him. Pretty straight-laced, he said. You'd never know it from the dress and the PDA, but who knows. So the evening goes on and I am on my second martini when her body language changes. She goes as rigid as a statue. She withdraws her hand from his. She glances over at me and I give her a smile and a little wave. She just stands there and stares. She's a pretty thing when surprised. I can see the flush spread from her breastbone up into her fair face. She doesn't smile back.

The remains of the cosmo were in Chris' face before I even saw the flash of the glass. She stormed toward the door, but not before stopping at my table.

"You bitch!"

"You might like me," I said pleasantly.

The blush became so bad I thought she would stroke out. Meanwhile my new banker friend cautiously excused himself.

Heather clicked away on her little pointed-toes. I finished my drink. Oh, well.

Feeling vulnerable, territorial and...aroused

My lover gave me quite the fucking last night. He had my legs up under his arms, spreading me wide as he pounded that glorious big-head cock into me. It's a vulnerable position. I'm pushed down and open. It's also a very arousing one. It's cool and the window is cracked open but sweat sheens on his face as he fucks me to a more frantic pace. His eyes are closed. At first I was running my hands across his chest, holding his arms, but as things step up I grab his ass and feel it slamming in and out of me. I reach up and scratch his back, which makes him even more powerful in his strokes.

I know he's thinking about fucking Heather again, or maybe fucking me and Heather together. He says he's never done anything like that before. And he's keeping his own counsel about my advice to him the other night. But the intensity of the sex is clearly higher.

I am thinking about him fucking Heather, too. It's bringing me close to orgasm, thinking about the way he pinned her legs back and rammed in and out -- does she moan or scream? Was she inventive and edgy? I want to know but he won't say much yet. I assume the worst: she's a hot little harlot with all the right moves.

It's a curious feeling, a pit of the stomach insecurity, a pit of the pussy voyeurism, an all-over flush of primal territorial madness. This my man...I have to take back my man... Oh, she's a little babe. She has the kind of straight perfect yellow-blond hair that always made me feel plain. It moves as a sleek unit against the nape of her neck as she turns her head. And she's ten years younger -- hard to compete against that. I'm also attracted to her. And if he wants he, well let's me honest...it might let me off the hook.

Don't think I'm a heartless bitch. I want to believe in love. But I need sex more and I cherish my freedom of action. Mixing love and pleasure can be dangerous. How will he choose? Will I choose for him? Stay tuned, dear readers.

Domestic bliss for Linda? Not to worry

Things are getting interesting with my new lover, and for once I'm not the slut (yet).

I was meeting him at a bar on Saturday night and, as often is the case (hey, I'm a girl), was running late. To reach the bar, you have to walk down a corridor, then through the main part of the restaurant. I did all these things, to see my honey kissing another woman. She was cute and young, with lovely straight blond shoulder-length hair, cut just-so. She had a nice little body, poured into black jeans.

They were together at the crowded bar and locked in a kiss that was not just a friendly smooch. She reached around and grabbed the ass that had been my territory lately. They talked a little more and she left. She walked past me and I smiled. She smiled back. We're just two females navigating a world of predatory men, right?

There was a time when I might have been jealous or, for a time especially when I was PMSing, gone psycho. Instead, I just sauntered in,enjoying all the strangers' eyes on me. Chris greeted me with a kiss. I pulled him down to me and tongued his mouth, imagining the transaction that had gone on. We had a drink and a nice chat, considering the loudness of the room. Later we went to dinner and I told him what I had seen.

He turned bright red. I felt sorry for him. She was his former girlfriend, Heather. She was having a hard time, missing him. He didn't mean for the kiss to happen. Please, Linda...

I stopped him. I'm not looking for forever, babe. So you need to make a decision. You can fuck her, and I will fuck other men. Or you can bring her into our world. You decide.

He was speechless. He said nothing as we walked back to my place and had the most fiery sex so far. He promised he'd think about it.