Saturday, March 22, 2008
Thanks for being truthful...
...but the results of the poll at right, on the number of lovers, makes me realize I've been an even bigger slut than I had realized.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Linda Sue's faithful tales of adultery, part II
The Eliot Spitzer spectacle was uniquely American. War in Iraq? Failure in Afghanistan? Global warming? A garbage cluster in the ocean the size of the lower 48? Historic highs for oil prices? Implosions in the financial system? Nah...puritanical posturing on sex.
People watched "poor" Silda stand ashen-faced by his side and asked, "How can she do it?" Maybe she wants to keep her family together. Maybe she wasn't that interested in sex anymore and knew. Maybe she loved him. Nobody can look inside a marriage and really know what it's about.
My marriage collapsed on infidelity. But of course it was deeper than that. He was disappointed that I couldn't bear him children, and he couldn't express it honestly. I was disappointed that the passion and desire of our courtship seemed to die so quickly. The nights he would fuck me against a wall, the nights he would fuck me four times and still want more, and read me poetry.
I've told you a bit of the break-up. In fact, the first time I went to my husband's office and met his new assistant, Rachel, I knew he would fuck her if he wasn't already. One of those women intuition things. It wasn't just that she looked like a younger version of me, but there was that lust vibe that is so obvious between two people.
Oh, I could be a jealous, psycho bitch back then, especially since I wasn't getting any. It's not that my thoughts were always pure. How bad did it get? I started following him, and I know a thing or two about surveillance. How bad did it get? I followed him after work to Rachel's cute little garden condo, hopped the wall (dressed all in black) and watched as they kissed and she made him a martini. He kissed her like he used to kiss me, and yet it was different. It was somehow more urgent, as if he understood his mortality better and thought he might stave it off for a little while with this young flesh.
How bad did it get? I huddled in the bushes, glad she didn't own a dog, and watched them fuck. Jon was always a turn-off-the-lights-and-open-the-blinds kind of guy. I could see everything. It ripped me apart and made my pussy drip. Sex is a mystery, what can I say? I had denied him nothing with my body, but it wasn't enough. And here he was fucking Rachel, who naked was not quite a clone but prettier, lithe and luminous -- I had to admit it. She was loud when she fucked, too, but different, too...almost like a wild creature once she got going. I had never seen him look so happy. I finally leaped the wall again silently, then threw up in the alley and bawled for an hour in a darkened car.
I got my revenge. But might I have stood with him at the podium if he had ever come clean, not just about the infidelity but about what he really needed, his bottom line? Maybe. Probably. The worst thing about the divorce wasn't losing a husband or even a love. I lost my best friend.
People watched "poor" Silda stand ashen-faced by his side and asked, "How can she do it?" Maybe she wants to keep her family together. Maybe she wasn't that interested in sex anymore and knew. Maybe she loved him. Nobody can look inside a marriage and really know what it's about.
My marriage collapsed on infidelity. But of course it was deeper than that. He was disappointed that I couldn't bear him children, and he couldn't express it honestly. I was disappointed that the passion and desire of our courtship seemed to die so quickly. The nights he would fuck me against a wall, the nights he would fuck me four times and still want more, and read me poetry.
I've told you a bit of the break-up. In fact, the first time I went to my husband's office and met his new assistant, Rachel, I knew he would fuck her if he wasn't already. One of those women intuition things. It wasn't just that she looked like a younger version of me, but there was that lust vibe that is so obvious between two people.
Oh, I could be a jealous, psycho bitch back then, especially since I wasn't getting any. It's not that my thoughts were always pure. How bad did it get? I started following him, and I know a thing or two about surveillance. How bad did it get? I followed him after work to Rachel's cute little garden condo, hopped the wall (dressed all in black) and watched as they kissed and she made him a martini. He kissed her like he used to kiss me, and yet it was different. It was somehow more urgent, as if he understood his mortality better and thought he might stave it off for a little while with this young flesh.
How bad did it get? I huddled in the bushes, glad she didn't own a dog, and watched them fuck. Jon was always a turn-off-the-lights-and-open-the-blinds kind of guy. I could see everything. It ripped me apart and made my pussy drip. Sex is a mystery, what can I say? I had denied him nothing with my body, but it wasn't enough. And here he was fucking Rachel, who naked was not quite a clone but prettier, lithe and luminous -- I had to admit it. She was loud when she fucked, too, but different, too...almost like a wild creature once she got going. I had never seen him look so happy. I finally leaped the wall again silently, then threw up in the alley and bawled for an hour in a darkened car.
I got my revenge. But might I have stood with him at the podium if he had ever come clean, not just about the infidelity but about what he really needed, his bottom line? Maybe. Probably. The worst thing about the divorce wasn't losing a husband or even a love. I lost my best friend.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Candy's dandy but semen gets me creamin'
If you think the taste of semen or pussy juice is yucky, you need an attitude adjustment! They're among the sexiest things about sex. Read all about it on my new post at the Fellatrices.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Mary Beth tells all about call girls and powerful men
Mary Beth came over last night for wine, Thai food and a long talk about our favorite subject, sex. As you know, Mary Beth turned a chance encounter in college into an entrepreneurial gold mine. She was a coed hooker. We talked about many things sexual, but I wanted her specifically to weigh in on the troubles of New York Gov. Eliot Spitzer, or, as the Daily Show dubbed him, the Luv Guv.
Linda Sue: So did you ever fuck a governor?
Mary Beth: No, but I did pick up a few high-powered clients over time. Remember, most of the time I worked for myself. I tried to be very careful, using referrals from one man to the next. I was very discreet and never greedy. I did work for an agency for a few months, which was also interesting. Anyway, I had a city councilman, a couple of members – ha! – of the state Legislature. There were some very rich businessmen, at least one of whom was later on the cover of BusinessWeek.
LS: Which one surprised you the most?
MB: Without a doubt, it was when I fucked the president of the university. Fortunately, he didn’t know I was a student.
LS: How were they different from your other johns?
MB: They tended to be paranoid, very careful. A couple had bodyguards that stayed outside, but most tried to be as anonymous as possible. They were all Type As, very intense, very bossy. A few were nice men, but most were kind of cold and selfish, almost like I wasn’t there. But they liked me. They liked the idea of fucking this sweet young thing. One liked me to dress up like a school girl, another loved me in a tennis skirt. They pretty much were into the same things as other men, but that also means they could get pretty intense and rough as they worked out whatever stresses or issues they had in their lives. They liked it that I would do what their wives wouldn’t, blowjobs, anal, different positions…that I really seemed to liked sex and came.
LS: Ever fake an orgasm?
MB: No. I love to come. I did learn to tailor my responses, at least a little. If they got turned on by a screamer and scratcher, I could do that. When I really come, I usually don’t scream.
LS: I can barely contain myself, so it’s a good thing I don’t have kids. Any kinky stuff?
MB: The college president was into light bondage and a blindfold. That was about the most. I wouldn’t go for anything heavy duty or scary. Remember, I vetted them in advance.
LS: Did you think less of them for going to you, or think about their wives.
MB: I didn’t think less of them. Remember, I was a kid and pretty selfish in some ways. I did this because I could rebel, I loved sex, but I especially loved the money. I never think badly of a customer. I didn’t think about the wives. I figured, hey, you can’t satisfy your husband, so not my problem. The hubris of a cute 20-year-old, what can I say? Now that I am married and have children, I am more ambivalent about this. I think men in general will stray, and it’s how you decide to deal with it. Having said that, it would really hurt me if my husband, C****, did it, whether it was with a hooker or a girlfriend. Now I do think I probably kept some marriages together by giving the men an outlet. But I can really see both sides. But there’s a reason it’s the oldest profession.
LS: You said you worked for an agency. I never knew that.
MB: Yeah, that was an adventure. It was very high-class and safe. I had a driver who was a former cop. Got a good cut of the money, which was very good. But it also produced the scariest episode, which probably caused me to get out of it for good.
LS: Let’s tell that story another day…How about a refill?
Linda Sue: So did you ever fuck a governor?
Mary Beth: No, but I did pick up a few high-powered clients over time. Remember, most of the time I worked for myself. I tried to be very careful, using referrals from one man to the next. I was very discreet and never greedy. I did work for an agency for a few months, which was also interesting. Anyway, I had a city councilman, a couple of members – ha! – of the state Legislature. There were some very rich businessmen, at least one of whom was later on the cover of BusinessWeek.
LS: Which one surprised you the most?
MB: Without a doubt, it was when I fucked the president of the university. Fortunately, he didn’t know I was a student.
LS: How were they different from your other johns?
MB: They tended to be paranoid, very careful. A couple had bodyguards that stayed outside, but most tried to be as anonymous as possible. They were all Type As, very intense, very bossy. A few were nice men, but most were kind of cold and selfish, almost like I wasn’t there. But they liked me. They liked the idea of fucking this sweet young thing. One liked me to dress up like a school girl, another loved me in a tennis skirt. They pretty much were into the same things as other men, but that also means they could get pretty intense and rough as they worked out whatever stresses or issues they had in their lives. They liked it that I would do what their wives wouldn’t, blowjobs, anal, different positions…that I really seemed to liked sex and came.
LS: Ever fake an orgasm?
MB: No. I love to come. I did learn to tailor my responses, at least a little. If they got turned on by a screamer and scratcher, I could do that. When I really come, I usually don’t scream.
LS: I can barely contain myself, so it’s a good thing I don’t have kids. Any kinky stuff?
MB: The college president was into light bondage and a blindfold. That was about the most. I wouldn’t go for anything heavy duty or scary. Remember, I vetted them in advance.
LS: Did you think less of them for going to you, or think about their wives.
MB: I didn’t think less of them. Remember, I was a kid and pretty selfish in some ways. I did this because I could rebel, I loved sex, but I especially loved the money. I never think badly of a customer. I didn’t think about the wives. I figured, hey, you can’t satisfy your husband, so not my problem. The hubris of a cute 20-year-old, what can I say? Now that I am married and have children, I am more ambivalent about this. I think men in general will stray, and it’s how you decide to deal with it. Having said that, it would really hurt me if my husband, C****, did it, whether it was with a hooker or a girlfriend. Now I do think I probably kept some marriages together by giving the men an outlet. But I can really see both sides. But there’s a reason it’s the oldest profession.
LS: You said you worked for an agency. I never knew that.
MB: Yeah, that was an adventure. It was very high-class and safe. I had a driver who was a former cop. Got a good cut of the money, which was very good. But it also produced the scariest episode, which probably caused me to get out of it for good.
LS: Let’s tell that story another day…How about a refill?
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Lies, damned lies and statistics
Gee, I know I'm a girl and not supposed to be good at math and all, but I can't help noticing the poll.
Last time I looked, 53 percent of respondents said they had enjoyed one or more affairs (assuming the same-sex affairs were multiple votes). But a total of only 33 percent either confessed it or never said anything about it.
What did you other 20 percent do?
Last time I looked, 53 percent of respondents said they had enjoyed one or more affairs (assuming the same-sex affairs were multiple votes). But a total of only 33 percent either confessed it or never said anything about it.
What did you other 20 percent do?
Friday, March 7, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
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.
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.
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