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.

More self-pleasure tales

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.

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.

Rules of the road

I love an affair on a business trip, where the usual rules are suspended and anything goes. My sexy friend Cheryl and I were talking about this, and here's what she told me about one of her adventures:

"I was teamed with a guy and girl who I have worked with before. After a sales blitz all of the teams got together for cocktails. It got late and there were four of us left at this hotel bar. The guy was fucking stunning. He was rather new and I had never worked with him. The other two woman I have known for years as customers. We party when I am in town but not too heavy. Drinks. Dinner. Bed. Alone.

"Both of these ladies are married and I have never known them to stay out this late. I'm in my 40s. Lisa and Deb are mid-30s and Brett is a pup: 26, I'd say; maybe 30, but I doubt it. I could sense (smell?) that my lady customers were hot for Brett. And he knew how to play. The girls are nice looking, with nice 30+-year-old bodies. In fact, about 2 years ago I made out with Lisa after a few cocktails...another story...

"Anyway, I could tell we were all horny and the three of us wanted Brett. He may or may not have wanted any of us but he knew how to play. I said to myself 'fuck this.' This boy is going to pay. So, I threw down the gauntlet. 'Girls, let's see how savvy this boy is. Brett, you wanna play a little game?' He was all for it; the girls, knowing me, were a little nervous. 'Here is my game. Brett, you get one minute to drink in each one of us. Look at us. Smell our perfume. Smell our hair. Get to know us. You cannot touch. One minute spent on each of us. At the end of three minutes we are going into the ladies and taking off our underwear. If you can match even one of our panties to the right owner you will get a reward.'

" 'A reward?' he says. 'A reward???' the girls say. 'Relax. If he wins, I promise I will give the reward if either of you don't want to cheat on hubby....' For some reason they all bought into it.

"We go into the restroom. It was way late, so it was just us. We are giggling like kids. 'Are we really going to do this?' Deb asks. 'Yes we are,' I say. Then I turned to Lisa and said, 'I really, really want to smell hot. Kiss me. Make me cream myself.' Deb's jaw dropped. Lisa cracked up, but came over and stuck out her tongue and brushed my lips. I opened my mouth just a bit and let her tongue dart in. Just that quickly I could feel myself cream. I just love that feeling. Deb was just watching with her mouth open and so Lisa turned and kissed her too. Oh, my god!

"We were all sort of giddy and we did take off our undies. Thank goodness we are all proper women and wear panties! We got Brett and we went to the hotel lobby and found a secluded set of couches. There we presented him with our undies. He was delirious. He sniffed and smelled and I think even took a taste of one pair. He got one right. Lisa. 'Ahhh...my reward. What do I get?' I reached into my purse and gave him a Macy's gift card that I have had for a few months and never used.

"Oh my. The disappointment in his face. 'I'm teasing. You guessed Lisa so it's up to Lisa.' She was like, ummmm, well I am really not able to do much. So I said, 'well what can you do and be comfortable?'

" 'I'd love to make out a bit and I can rub your cock through your pants? Is that good?' Lisa said. Brett would have taken anything. I said, 'well that's pretty good. Maybe I can throw in a little more. How about going to my room?' Deb said she had to leave, so Lisa and I walked her to her car leaving Brett to steam. When Deb left, Lisa said, 'Oh my god, what am I going to do?' I told her to just make out with him and I'll give him a handjob. 'You're in the clear with hubby.' Sooo...

"Up to the room. Lisa starts kissing Brett. I undo his belt and take out his rather average but very, very hard cock and start stroking him. I swear, he came in like 45 seconds. Poor boy. I was going to suck him, too. Ah well. He was a little sheepish and said he had to go. He left.

"I told Lisa I would walk her to her car. She said that would be great. But first, she said, would I mind giving her a little help. 'With what?' I said. 'After that I really need to come and I know it ain't happening at home unless I masturbate and I don't want to do it alone. So...would you either make me come or at least undress and let me masturbate?'

" 'What would you prefer?' I asked. 'I'd love to have you make me come, but I don't think I could take you licking me. Can you do it with your hand?'

" 'Ummm....well, I tell you what. Why not masturbate for a bit and then let me help you finish?' We undressed, pulled back the bedspread and laid down kissing. Lisa started to play with herself frantically. I moved down and sucked her boob. Very nice nipples. She gased, 'Oh, god, I am going to come. Please, please do it for me.' My hand replaced hers. I dipped a finger into her cunt and slowly moved it up between her lips. Her clit was twicthing. She was soooo close. I licked a finger and put it under her ass and slid it up her ass crack. 'Oh my god, oh don't, oh god, oh my god'

"Too late. I slipped my finger into her butt and then stroked her clit with my index and middle finger. I felt her ass tighten and then the throb of the clit. I have made women come quite a few times in my life, but I don't recall the sense of pure joy and relief I saw in her face. Honestly, she shook for a good few minutes. And kept moaning little moans: 'ohhh, ohhh god...ohh my, oh that felt so fucking good...I have nver come like that...oh...Brett's tongue...oh...'

"Enough. Now it was my turn. I got up on my knees and sat on her stomach and then walked my tight bod up to her mouth. She would not do it. I will say this though, she knows how to kiss and play with pussy. Her tongue is incredible and her fingers know just what to do. I had a very satisfying orgasm and we fell asleep. About 5 am she got up and left. She called about 15 minutes later. 'Thanks. I really did need that. And, umm, I think I would like you to go down on me sometime..."

Are you as hot for Cheryl as I am?

The tasty world of high school 'relief sessions'

I've caused way too much trouble already, so I'm going to tell you a wonderfully cock-hardening/panty dampening tale from my friend Cheryl.

She dated guys in high school, but some fun came from her "gal pals." As she told me, "Guys are kind of stupid at that age and while I loved their muscles, the way they smelled and even their dopey guy stuff, I really was kind of afraid of their roughness and wasn't one to put out. I liked making out and letting them play with my boobs and I would toss a hand-job their way on occasion, but I never fucked them.

"I learned to rely on myself for easing the tension, if you will. I should say myself and two other girls I had known for years. For the most part the three of us hung out together all of the time. Sometimes it would just be the three of us on a Friday night, or it would be the three of us and a bunch of other girls, but it would always be the three of us...

"As you can imagine, familiarity either breeds contempt or a special closeness. We were close...So close that we shared everything. At one point that began to included what we called "relief therapy". If one of us had been on a date or did some "heavy petting" with a boy and needed a little relief but didn't want to do it ourselves, we could rely on each other.

"It usually was quite simple and consisted of either two of us or all three of us meeting at one of our houses. The relief sessions would begin by the person in need (funny...at the beginning of the session there was only one in need...by the end almost always all three of us got some relief) lying down and covering her eyes. Then you would feel someone removing your clothes and then, most generally, hands playing.

"Playing with your hair, your boobs, your stomach, feet, knees and finally playing with your pussy. And, we got quite good at jilling each other off. I still mastubate on occasion thinking of relief sessions. When we were freshman in college we all came home (we went to different schools) at Thanksgiving and agreed on a relief session. I got to go first and was quite surprised not only to have a kiss laid upon my lips (we never, ever kissed like that) but to actually being licked down there....oh my god.

"I had a very pleasant orgasm. And when I sat up I was like 'I, I, I...can't...,' and they both started giggling. 'Nice, huh?' Ummm...I would say so....

"Our last relief session together was probably in 1985-86. Two of us still stay in contact and live millions and millions of miles apart in both distance and in the direction of our lives. But, we still love each other. We met a few years back for our 20th reunion. We never mentioned our sessions, but about a week later I got an email from her and she said that she had wanted to talk about them, but just lost her nevve. She has not once done anything with another woman and really missed that special touch. We agreed to have a 'session' one day when we could get time to meet somewhere. Hasn't happened yet. It may never. But I like thinking about it.

"I will always enjoy the touch and feel of a woman and will never go long without the sweetness of a kiss or the absolute joy only one woman can give to another. Men? Can't do with out them. Women? Can't have an incredible, stupendous, outstanding, un-describable, intense, orgasm without them. Oh, sure, I have had good sex with men. But never had head like that from a woman."

And all I have to add is: I think I am going to swoon!

A brief history of my orgasms

It makes me sad when I hear about a woman who can't or won't come. A few may have good reasons. Once a woman told me how she had been abused by her father starting at age 11, until she moved out at age 18. She had a lot of lovers, saying "I like to get the sex out of the way so a man will talk to me." But she had never had an orgasm.

I've told you about a friend who didn't want to let a man lick her pussy because she was afraid of losing control. And I've talked to a few women who seemed to hold varying degrees of this view. I guess most men are crappy at fucking, i.e. fucking so a woman really loves it. So these women don't have to worry about a good ride bringing them off. Pump, pump, snore, watch NASCAR. Finally, I know of a few who just can't come, although most of these just fake it.

I've never faked an orgasm. Maybe it helps that I have always been hopelessly horny. I started playing with myself when I was about 11, and had my first "orgasm" a year later. I put it in quotes, because although it was an orgasm, a revelation and a release, better was to, er, come.

My first lover slipped his cock inside me effortlessly. It felt nothing but good. He didn't last long, but it didn't matter because I was so overheated from him sucking my nipples and finger-fucking me, from weeks of build-up to the big night, and that we were doing it in my parents' bed (!) -- all made me come. I soon realized how I could really have an orgasm, when my college roomie Pam gave me a real pussy licking, and I ended up screaming, coming three times one right after another, and collapsing in a heap.

Oh, so that's what they've been talking about!

As I look back, I also realize I was always curious about sex, was easily aroused thinking about scenarios or appreciating them when they came true, and, to the distraction of my mother, was very uninhibited about my body. I always felt all the connections -- between my pussy and nipples, backs of my knees, toes, wrists, fingers, ears, the inside of my thighs...brain. I learned to make myself come even if a lover was not so skilled. I am a great cowgirl and can grind against him and get off.

I know I'm lucky. Some women, maybe most, can't come from fucking alone. But it helps to be fucked well. Over time I learned to tell the difference. My first older man, a professor, really knew how to take his time, heat me up, and then fuck me on top in a way that still rubbed against my clit. One good orgasm just taught me how to have another, and it became easier and easier.

I also know I am unusual in being both a "multiple" girl and a screamer. I can't help it.

When I turned 30, my lover at the time gave me a present. He fucked me into a couple of baby orgasms. Then he slipped down between my legs and tongue-worshipped me into 28 more huge and small orgasms and aftershocks. Thirty orgasms in all. I couldn't even move when it was done.

Maybe it won't be so bad turning 40, after all.