An invitation

I probably shouldn't do this.

A couple of weeks ago, in the small town that is D.C., I ran into Robin, the hostess of the lifestyle club where my friend Chris took me a while back. She was so glad to see me and we had coffee together. She said that she and her husband had been thinking about me, a lot. And would I consider coming over on Valentine's night. I demurred but she was persistent. It would be just her and her husband, James. They had promised each other something special and kinky for Valentine's Day.

I thought about it and said yes, canceling a date that would have been pleasant but not particularly promising. So I'm going. As they say in my business, "What could possibly go wrong?"

In the meantime, any poll takers care to share about your "losing it" experience? I'd love to read the good, the bad and the premature ejaculations. The comments section awaits you.

Cape Cod memories

Work just took me to Cape Cod. It was wintery and icy, with the ocean the color of lead. Despite this, the landscape brought back an amazing sense memory. I was 21, in college in Boston, with long red hair and, as a girlfriend said, a body to die for. In the late spring, a boyfriend and I spent a long weekend on the Cape. Everything was blooming and the sea was a deep blue, mirroring the cloudless sky. It wasn’t crowded with tourists yet, just enough people that things didn’t seem as desolate as the past few days in real time. He was tall, dark, athletic build, magical mind. He had dark, curly hair and a dick with a thick shaft and small head, which created an interesting sensation when he was inside me. We took a bag of books to read but ended up fucking what seemed the entire three days. I don’t think I read a thing.

The “tone” of the trip was set when we found a secluded beach, laid down a blanket and screwed. I had on a denim miniskirt, and he – a great kisser, this one – laid next to me and kissed my lips, face and neck while his fingers found their way inside my panties. By the time he pulled them off, they were wet and I was panting. He stripped off his jeans and slipped inside, riding me at an easy pace even though I was already moaning loudly, right on the edge of coming. The nature all around, from the sea bird calls to the breeze to the openness of the terrain only added to the arousal. My skirt was hiked up on my hips and he raised my legs over this shoulders and really started fucking me. The feeling of his balls against my hips was incredible. I came with a scream, which only added to his momentum. He moaned, shuddered and collapsed on top of me. We held each other with the ardent passion that only comes with youth and then laid side-by-side, staring up at the puffy clouds that had started to roll by. It didn’t take him long to get hard again, and I gave him a long blowjob; it certainly wasn’t given with the skill I later learned, but he didn’t complain. Those young balls gave me a nice full load that spurted all the way into my throat.

Later, we checked into a bed-and-breakfast and became notorious. As you know, dear reader, I am loud when I make love. It only took a couple of hours before there was a knock at the door and the yuppie-matronly owner told us to quiet down. Did I see a little smile in her eye? After that, I tried the “don’t wake the children” style that I imagine parents must learn, stifling my moans by biting my lower lip, and eventually screaming into a pillow as he was fucking me hard from behind. Oh, he wanted to fuck my virgin asshole, but I wouldn’t let him.

We ate lobster in Provincetown (I still have a picture of us wearing bibs and looking goofy). We were, ahem, in the minority as a straight couple. He dared me to pick up a girl at one of the bars, but I was too chicken then — even though I’d crossed that slutty threshold with Pam. It was tempting, though, and only added to the sexual vibe. I challenged him to pick up a guy; men were already eyeing him. "See how they're looking at your crotch?" I teased. He got all discombobulated, as men usually do, and refused.

The last morning, we made slow love in the bed of our notorious lodgings. Missionary style. My knees up and against him, and then my legs and feet resting against the backs of his thighs. The windows were open, birds were singing, and a cool breeze caressed our naked bodies. After he came and lay next to me, I thought: Could life get any better? Now I think, Was I ever that young? Back to the present, one night I did stop at a bar in Provincetown for a light dinner and a martini. I had a long talk with a woman next to me: Short blond hair, sweetheart face, buff body, about my age. As closing time approached, we made out a little — she had a snaky, inviting tongue — and she invited me to her house. I demurred. There’s a lot of truth to the old saw: What does a lesbian bring on the second date? A U-Haul. And I wasn’t looking to be her wife. Anyway, I was on the job.

I want it on my desk, now!

I work in an environment that's very macho. Even the women who do that I do have to adopt the mask or be seen as weak. And part of the machismo is lots of sex talk and come-ons. No amount of sensitivity training, or the occasional banishment of an offender (like the one caught banging an intern in a supervisor's office) to, say, Afghanistan, changes the basic culture. I don't mind it, because I love to study sex, I like men, I can take care of myself and I hate PC shit. When people are in really stressful, dangerous jobs they need to blow off steam. But that's just me.

Ben desperately wants to fuck me. He's married, of course, and constantly complains about sex on the home front. His wife, Jennifer, is a mousy little thing and, to hear him tell it, only lets him fuck her once a month, always missionary style. "I bet you do every position in the kama sutra with those long legs of yours, Linda," he has said more than once. More than once, I have said, "I need a guy who has a dick longer than three inches, Ben." Which pisses him off. He's actually got big feet, but I won't fuck him. Too skinny. I don't typically go for blond men. And he's a graceless clod. (I also learned my lesson about fishing off the company pier with Mike, as wild and eye-opening as that affair was).

I did have an affair with Henry a few years ago. We were working very long hours alone and finally ended up fucking on a conference table, a very hot, very spontaneous thing. He's older and married. Maybe to his credit, he was beset with guilt and we only carried on a few more times. Sometimes I still give him a secret smile. I like it when nobody knows whom I've slept with.

We women talk about sex and men, too. Don't let anybody tell you differently. Sometimes it's sad. I had a drink with my friend Beth, who's a stunner, blonde, great body, in her early 50s but looks a decade or more younger. She's out of field work now, but smart, sexy. She's married to a very nice and attractive man, whom I've met. Anyway, over martinis, Beth said she and her husband hadn't had sex in two years (!). I wondered if she was having an affair. But, no. "I'm just not horny anymore," she said. God, save me from that fate. Sometimes women talk about the men they've shared; one particularly unfortunate lad was very good at getting his partners to give him head, in cars, wherever. But they started comparing notes and soon the entire unit knew that his unit was only three inches long.

We play a game out in the field: Would you sleep with (attractive man)? If so, would you sleep with (really unattractive man) to get him? I'm sure the guys do the same thing. When it's a mixed group, everyone tries to be careful, but it's, er, hard. Flirting and propositions are commonplace, especially among peers. Oh, if they knew my recent adventures as a cougar, much less with women. I tend to come across as quiet and bookish (and a very good shot).

In my wider world, where I'm just Linda who has a dull job at the Justice Department, things are less fraught with being accused of disclosing state secrets while getting laid. Bob and Tamara are both having affairs right now, and both apparently know. Tamara is my friend and she hates him for it. But she started it, seducing her boss. So they carry on. Holly's husband wanted to see her fuck another man, and after a long process, she did it. And really liked it. He enjoyed being cuckolded much less than he thought. Now it's a major stress in their marriage. I know: Sounds like a story out of the Kristen Archives, but this one's true. Holly have me a quite graphic account of the guy and the deed: He was quite the athletic, giving, well-endowed lover. Hubby watched, then stormed out when Holly started screaming and moaning the way she never did for him. Be careful what you ask for. Hubby looked really beaten down, that 5,000-yard stare, the last time I saw them.

Back at work, there's Susan, a young beautiful young thing who likes to project toughness, but she's incredibly naive. Also tightly wound and straight-laced. She's going through the sexist hazing right now and being propositioned. She strikes me as the type to report it and get us all in deep shit. I can see it coming now: New memos, and another sensitivity workshop.

I haven't been with Wendy in awhile, and that's fine. Every fling runs its course, and we're still friends. Not so with young Chad, who I kicked to the curb. So I guess I'm available.

His first time

A friend told me this story. It was hot enough to share:

I was sixteen and played trumpet in a high school jazz band. We had been hired by the sophomore class at a high school in Ohio to play for their prom and it was a long difficult gig (long bus ride from plus a 3 hour on-stage performance.) After the gig we returned to the motel still excited about getting paid for what we loved doing. Some of us went to a bowling alley to relax and wind down. Someone, I think it was either Don or Max learned of a “whore house” nearby. “Triple Dog Dares” followed “Double Dog Dares” and I wound up in a taxi with a bemused driver. My friends were financing the adventure to the tune of 20 bucks

He drove a couple of blocks, turned into a back alley and stopped behind a nondescript looking house. “Here you go son, that’ll be $3.50” I slipped him a five and walked tentatively up to the back door of the house. My teeth were chattering even though it was not cold. The door opened to my ring and I almost jumped out of my skin. An elderly woman dressed as a maid beckoned me in. I hesitated a moment but gathered my courage and was ushered into a waiting room.

To my surprise, there were two other members from the band sitting there: Jim and Bill both played in the sax line and if anything they looked more frightened than I was. I sat on a weathered couch and tried to read an old Playboy magazine – pausing deliberately at the centerfold and wondering what was in store for me.

The door opened and a gorgeous blonde sidled into the room. She wore a strapless form fitting sea green dress that hid nothing and revealed lots. She was about 5’4” and had a lovely figure with impressive cleavage and seductive hips. “Who’s next?” she said in a throaty voice. I looked at my buddies but they had raised their magazines defensively; hiding their faces. I stood. “I guess that’s me,” I said. She beckoned to me, turned and, showing a fabulous back, flowed out the door.

She ushered me into the room next to the waiting room. “Hi, my name is Lori. I’m 28” she said with her eyes twinkling, her voice a rich dark contralto. “What kind of party do you want,” she said smiling up at me. I stammered “Hi, I am Jack” and something to the effect of “What are my choices?” She cocked her head quizzically and replied, “Well there’s an ‘Around the World’ for Fifteen dollars or just a ‘Regular’ for twelve.” I had no clue as to what either of those meant so I mumbled, “The Regular I guess.”

She giggled “You don’t have much experience, do you?”

“No ma’am, this is my first time.”

That set her back, “You’ve never been with a working girl?”

“No, I have never been with a woman before,” I stuttered while handing her the money.

“You mean I get your cherry?”

I nodded dumbly. She grinned up at me, “Don’t be nervous, Hon, we are going to have fun.“ With that she turned for the door and said over her shoulder, “Take your clothes off and put them on that chair, I’ll be right back.”

It seemed like an eternity while I undressed and carefully folded my clothes over the chair. By now I had a painful erection: My cock strained and elongated like never before. I stood, shivering again and wondering how long it was going to take when the door opened suddenly and Lori slipped in. She saw me and giggled, then she unzipped the front of her dress and stood before me, gloriously naked: No bra, no panties no stockings. She wore only her pale green high heeled shoes and a bewitching smile. Her breasts were full and pointed: her nipples pink and erect. Her stomach was flat and her pubic hair matched the blondness of the hair on her head. She walked toward me, holding up her hands, hips swaying, full breasts all a-jiggle: a powerfully erotic sight.

“Let’s have a look at you,” she said and grabbed my cock with her left hand. I almost fainted with the sensation of it all. Her bare breasts jiggled while she stroked my cock two or three times. “

You have a very nice cock,” she said, “I doubt that you’ll ever have trouble with women with that tool of yours” I groaned. She squeezed hard and pulled on my now engorged cock and looked critically at the head of it, searching for signs of any discharge.

Seeing none, she dragged me over to the sink like a “pull toy” and began washing my cock and balls with soap and warm water. Afraid of finishing too soon, I groaned again and she said, “Be patient, we’ll get to the real thing in a minute. She dried me off, reached up and patted me on the cheek, “Let’s get busy.” She grinned, and turning, slipped out of her heels, lay down on the bed, and beckoned me over.
I knelt between her splayed legs while she reached down and guided the head of my cock to her waiting cunt.

“Go ahead and push.” she said. I pushed gently and easily slid in up to the hilt. The sensation was amazing. I was buried balls-deep in the slick warmth of her and it felt wonderful. I eased forward onto my elbows and stared down into her blue eyes as I registered the amazing feeling of her pussy: she clenched her pussy muscles twice, squeezing my cock. “Come on, Hon, let’s fuck” she whispered hoarsely. Her hands guided my hips into an easy rhythm. For the first time, I felt powerful in the embrace of a woman.

At first, I tried to keep a slow steady beat, but as my passion and my power rose, my thrusting became more insistent and faster. She was holding my face with both hands now, “You won’t have to jack off any more” she whispered. “I’ll be jacking off remembering this for a long time” I groaned in response. Soon our conjoined rhythm became more intense; I was slamming into her with all my strength. My balls were slapping her cunt with a wet squishy sound. The bed was squeaking and banging the wall with my efforts. She gripped me with her legs wrapped high around my waist — her knees pressed tightly to my ribcage, her heels hooked behind my thighs.

“Come on Hon, give it to me — give it to me — I want it.”

I drove myself harder — striving for my finish. My whole world shrunk into the sensation of our fucking: nothing else was perceivable. Her breasts moved in circles under my chest: her erect nipples traced lines of fire around mine. Her arms were locked around my shoulders. She was beginning to pant: her eyes closed and she stretched her head back: neck tendons taut and rigid. Her mouth was open and she was grunting to my thrusts. Her hands moved to my butt and she made me understand the urgency of her rhythm. Her hips worked in counterpoint to mine. She whimpered and moaned with the pleasure of our coupling. I felt her pussy contracting around me: she began to jerk and spasm.

She groaned into my ear: “Come for me Jack, come for me now!”

I felt a small ball of electric fire ignite at the base of my spine. It grew slowly and spread to the whole of my groin. Panting and gasping I rasped, “Oh Lori, I’m gonna come!” Lori dropped her legs from around my back, planted her feet on the bed and levered me up into a kneeling position. The electric fire in my groin consumed me, my face contorted into a grimace and I came hard: jerking and grunting as the bolts of come shot out through my cock into the depths of her. My whole body contracted with each discharge – It felt like I was ejaculating white hot pearls through my cock. At each pulse of my cock, she squeezed me with her pussy, milking every last drop.
We were still locked together, I was panting and sweating. I fell forward onto her and hugged her.

Lori gently wiped my forehead with her right hand. “There, that wasn’t so difficult was it?” she said, letting her legs slide down to the bed. “Thank you Lori, thank you,” I croaked. I was overwhelmed with gratitude to her for her gentle but erotic tutoring. We held still for a moment, then she gently pushed me away, “Get dressed, we’re done here.” There was a sadness in her voice: a recognition that we would never meet again. When I stood and started dressing, she quickly zippered into her green gown and left the room.

I don’t remember leaving the place, I suppose I found a cab and went back to the motel. The next day on the bus, my friends started to kid me in front of the rest of the band about my "adventure." I could only stare out the window, smiling, day-dreaming of how I lost my cherry. The vision of Lori's face, framed in blond curls, contorted in pleasure, swam in my imagination. I was so distracted that they realized I was not going to respond to their taunts, and so, losing interest, they left me alone: to dream and remember.

Ooops. Please vote again

I meant for people to be able to select multiple answers! #$@%#! technology.
— Linda Sue

The best of 2010

Get out your hands and fingers, boys and girls. Here's a look back at the most popular Linda Sue true stories of the year:

About Me — And More About Me

Returning to the Lifestyle Club

Losing My Other Cherry

My work being what it is, I can't make an ironclad promise. But I'll try to blog more next year. Thanks for reading and have a Happy (and sex-filled) New Year.

A cock in the hand

A reader wants my take on hand jobs. "I'm interested in any story with a big cock, a lot of cum, or just about anything that strikes you. Needless to say, detail would be much appreciated." And, "PS, Have you ever caught a guy masturbating? If so, a story about that would be fantastic as well." You know me. I love to be of service, and serviced.

Hand jobs aren't my kink. Still, there's something wonderful about making out with a guy and feeling his erection through his pants. Then slipping my hand inside his fly and stroking his cock. I've stroked men through their suit slacks in fancy bars, and done it under the table of four-star restaurants with my foot. If it's a new lover it's like (I think I've written before) opening a Christmas present. Cocks are hard, yet their skin is so preternaturally soft. I do love to stroke a cock as he kisses me, or fingers me. I only had one bad experience this way when I reached inside and found a skinny, three-inch penis. Since he was married anyway, I just ended things after the make-out session.

I did a good deal of hand jobs in high school, when I was keeping my virginity by jerking off my boyfriend (and a couple of other dates, too), before I graduated to blow jobs. Those early memories of the first time I felt a cock in my hand are still arousing. Boyfriend came the first time after I ran my hand up and down his penis maybe half a dozen times, leaving a huge stream of semen all over his pants, steering wheel and, of course, my hand. It was the volume and power of an ejaculation that only a seventeen-year-old boy could have. We were both surprised as hell! It was cool, white and sticky, stringy and unlike anything I had ever experienced. I wasn't adventurous enough then to lick it all up, but I did take a little taste off my finger — and I was addicted to semen ever since. After that, he always wanted me to jerk him off, since I was saving my cherry. After I started sucking cock and fucking, the hand job alone lost its allure.

There was one exception. I had a fling with a very well-endowed man. His cock was so thick he couldn't get it inside me. He called himself "Foster" because he claimed his penis was the size of one of those big Aussie beer cans. It wasn't quite that thick, but I just couldn't take him in my little pussy. So I gave him several hand jobs, sometimes as part of fellatio, sometimes just with my hand. His cock was shaped like a missile, with a smaller head than the shaft. His balls held plenty of white stuff and I loved making a mess.

As for catching someone in the act, when I was fourteen I walked in on my brother as he was masturbating. I almost immediately closed the door, but the image was burned in my brain. He was surrounded by porn magazines and frantically running his hand up and down his cock. I was horrified but also a little turned on. I did my own masturbating in my room; more than once my mom threw open the door and gave me a long lecture about how "that" would give me diseases, how "that" was the devil's work. She should have seen her son.

Once I was drunk in college and went back to my boyfriend's place late. We smoked some dope and listened to music. Then ended up fucking a long time on the floor while his room-mate was supposedly passed out on the sofa. But as I was riding my lover I noticed movement, and the roomie was jerking off while watching us. I caught his eye, then he immediately pretended to me asleep. I had a major orgasm, right then, stifling myself in boyfriend's shoulder. Back then I was still too repressed to have invited the room-mate to join in. But as I lay there panting, I looked over and saw that he had come, too. And he was licking his sperm off his hand! By this time, he wasn't even faking sleep. He grinned at me lasciviously. A few days later, we were fucking on the same sofa, while boyfriend was away.

I had to hand it to him.

Tongue worshipping

One thing I've never been able to replace with my ex is his ability at pussy licking.

It was on wondrous display on our most recent liaison. As usual, he covered me with kisses — he's a great kisser. My ears, neck, breasts — he knows I like my nipples sucked hard until I'm moaning and panting, belly button. Then he started down at my feet. He licks them and sucks my toes. Long before I knew about foot-fetishes, I knew how he could send tingles into my crotch by sucking my toes and licking and biting my ankles. He talks in his rich baritone: "My God, any woman would envy your ankles...I love your toes." Then he moves up each leg slowly, kissing and licking. He spends much time at the insides of my thighs. "Do you know how many men would kill to be doing this," he murmurs. By this time I am squirming and very wet.

He barely touches my pussy with his mouth and beard before starting on the other leg and working his way up again. Part of me wants to grab his head and bury it in my crotch, grind against his face until I come. But I know it will be better if I let him take his time. As I wrote before, he loves to run his tongue around every part of my labia, and dart it deeply inside me. "Tongue-fucking," he calls it. The whole operation is "tongue worshipping." I feel his tongue making gentle circles on my clit, and by this time I'm on the high-speed train to orgasmville, so it's hard to remember everything.

He knows how to use the different facets of his tongue. He'll circle my clit with the end of his tongue, then go back into my labia. Suddenly, the flat edge of his tongue will go back up to my clit, applying more pressure. Typically, my feet are burning and I'm starting to see colors at the edge of my eyes. If I look down, I see my ex with his "red beard," i.e. my pubic hair and the rest of his face. My scent fills the room. I start to come and scream — he loves it that I'm a real screamer, "that rarest of lovers," as he puts it. Sometimes I'm holding his hands, fingers entwined, tightly. Sometimes I hold his head and his wavy dark hair. He keeps the pressure and tongue-moves just right, an amazing skill, to maintain my orgasm without things getting so intense that I can't stand it. Then, I'm wasted. Just moaning. He licks lightly, kissing the inside of my thighs and finally coming up to hold me a long time.

When we were first dating, I was determined not to be a slut. So we had several dates that just ended with a kiss, then more and more passionate kisses. After that, I let him into my blouse and let him caress and suck my breasts — then I stopped it. I felt like a high-school girl (or maybe nowadays, a junior-high girl). Believe me, I was ready to fuck. Finally, I was at his place and we were making out on his soft sectional sofa. I let him undress me, and to my surprise, he went down on me. I think I came like a nuclear reaction after about 30 seconds.

It amazes me how most men aren't very good at this, even as they demand head from a woman. Get a clue, gentlemen.

Blast from the past

One thing that keeps me sane is a stable of fuck buddies: Old lovers who moved on but are reliable after their fashion, trustworthy, sexy and insatiably horny. One of my more forbidden secrets is that I still have sex once every year or two with my former husband. It's true. We had a very messy break-up, with adultery on both sides. The funny thing is, even during the divorce, we fucked a few times. And after. Maybe it's not so funny: I know a number of women who slept with their exes even after the marriage ended. Even with all the damage, there's still that magnetism that drew you together in the first place, the magic — white and black magic — of shared history. I'd be interested in reader experiences.

So my ex-husband called. He was coming to town and did I want to have dinner? I knew where this would end up (as an insecure boyfriend put it a few years ago, "If you go see him, you'll fuck him). So I just shortcut the process and told him to come over. Come over to my place with my oh-so-experienced bed that has taken so many men and a few women since we were married. Of course, he needed no coaxing. Of the many things we have in common: We're both sluts.

He's still a handsome man, smart as hell with the kind of voice that makes me melt. He still makes me laugh. He reads, unlike so many men now. The affair with his little Rachel led to marriage and that blew up, but not before they had a daughter and he's paying major child support. Do I ever think about the children we could have had? Someday I'll tell you about that. But this is a sex blog, right? "Why would I be doing this?" my so-called healthy girlfriends would say. Because he knows just how to kiss me, when to brush my lips and neck with his mouth, when to pull me forcefully to him and kiss me deeply. Because he knows just how to undress me, and when I want to be fucked dressed hoisted up on the bathroom vanity (as happened this time, panties pulled aside, my skirt up, stockings still on and high heels digging little souvenirs in his back.

His cock is average length, thick, with a big head. It still hurts a little when that big head enters me, a good hurt that will ease very quickly but leave a forbidden memory. He's gotten better as he's aged, and not every man can say that. Before I set aside my own jealousy, I remember once he was fucking me with my legs pulled wide against his elbows, giving me this amazing pounding I'd never experienced before. "You've been practicing!" I moaned. (He claimed the wife hadn't had sex with him for a year, which I actually believe). He appreciates my sluttiness, too. Oh, my god, he can lick me. Of all my lovers, he's the best cunnilinguist. So this time, after he carried me to the bed after the hard, screaming standup fuck in the bathroom, he lovingly undressed me and started, as he always does, at my toes. A major foot-fetish guy, he loves to lick my toes — a major turn-on. Then he started kissing and caressing all the way up one leg. He barely touched my pussy with his mouth and breath before starting again on the other leg, all the way back at the foot. He loves my feet. He loves my legs and spends much time on the inside of my thighs, driving me crazy. Soon he was licking every millimeter of my labia and deep tongue-fucking me, before moving up, ever-so-gently, to my clit. Then doing all this at just the right pressure before I came again so hard I thought I was going to pass out. Later, I rode him and ran my fingers across his so-familiar chest, with its light thatch of dark hair, feeling his warm hands on my hips, then letting him pull me down to suck hard on my nipples. Then, face to face missionary style, a long, long time.

We have new traditions, one of which is when I give him a last blow job before he leaves, I say, "You're really going to miss this." I started that when we had our first strange but irresistible sex after the big blow up and separation. And he always says, as he did this time, "I know."

More reader questions about me (updated)

More questions from readers (unless there's a slew of new questions, I'll answer them on this post with updates):

Are your emails interesting?

Oh, yeah. I get everything from women asking romantic advice to guys sending photos of their cocks. Just had a young man send me a video of him jerking off a very nice big black cock for me. I answer every one.

Do you wear high heels for your dates? How high? Stockings or pantyhose?

I wear high heels, but not that high — I'm tall already. Stockings are very sexy to me, usually sheer black, sometimes white, too, in the bedroom.

Have you ever been required to fuck someone while on the job? Or anything sexual at that? Or, it's classified! ;)

It happens on the job and I know women who have done it. One famous incident involved the Mossad agent "Cindy" — really named Cheryl — who used the tender trap to help in the kidnap of an Israeli who spilled the beans on their nuclear program. Our intelligence agencies do it, too. I haven't been called upon for that particular work, although my looks have helped me in various situations.

What's your kinkiest unfulfilled fantasy? Have you ever been tied up? Done the tying up?

I've been tied and done the tying and it's sexy. My kinkiest unfulfilled fantasy...I'll have to think about that. Any suggestions?

Can you take a picture for Halloween? i.e. Cheerleader being naughty?

That would give away my high school.

What other foreplay do you like?

A man's voice — the right kind of voice — can make me wet. Skin-on-skin is a turn-on, when my lover and I lie side-by-side. Strong, sure hands on me. Talking about sex. Another woman being interested in my lover makes me territorial. Footsie under a table. Being passionately kissed on a Paris street under the streetlights. A man who reads books and can talk intelligently about them.

Have your pics ever made it to the Internet?

The frat boys were taping my near gang-bang experience in college. My ex-husband took some pics of me and he was so mad later he might have put them out there (luckily I changed my hair style).

Does size matter?

It depends on the woman, really. A good five- or six-inch cock can be totally satisfying, especially wielded by a good lover. On the other hand, a really big cock used by a bad lover is disappointing aside from the look of it. Most women would probably like a larger cock with a capable and giving lover, who is a mensch. But I knew a guy with a cock so big he said he couldn't find a lover!

Do you consider yourself bisexual?

I've thought about that, because I've mostly loved my experiences with women. But I prefer guys. I guess I am pan-sexual, open and willing when horny and faced with a horny, attractive lover of either sex.

What has surprised you most doing your blog?

The number of people who have had sex with relatives.

What birth control do you use?

The pill.

Have you ever had public sex?

Yes. I fucked a guy on the hood of his car. He had my imprints there as a reminder of our fun. Once I was sucking a guy's cock as he drove. He became so crazed he pulled over into a rest stop, came around to my side, opened the door, slid me around in the seat, dropped his pants and fucked me hard with his ass sticking out of the open door. I've been fingered on Amtrak. Fucked a guy in a state park by sitting on him with my miniskirt on and his cock sticking through his fly — we were totally dressed and the only clue you would have had was our motion and my orgasm, which I couldn't quite stifle. Got a round of applause from a group of guys in the distance. There were others.

Opening up to readers questions, interesting if the answers are true. The Justin rape is intriguing on several levels. Did you secretly anticipate it? Did you secretly want it to shame your sister? You clearly could have stopped it but didn’t. Was it an experiment in turning the tables mentally from victim to controller? Was it a challenge to humiliate Justin and keep him primed for later encounters? What was really going through your head at the time?

The answers I've given are all true. And I guess the answers to your Justin questions are all, "Yes." I certainly wanted to get back at Amber for a host of things. Afterward, I felt terrible. It was a horrible lapse of judgment brought on by all those things, plus I was really horny.

Does it arouse you to know guys are jerking off to your stories?

Yes. But it's also gratifying to hear from the many women readers who feel liberated or justified by the blog and my sexual freedom, and the number of gay readers who come here.

What other lingerie do you like?

Stockings and garter belts; bustiers and corsets. Usually black. Sometimes white.

MORE QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS:

If you could turn back time, what would you change?

That's the kind of existential question I'd need time to think about. I'm happy with my life. I was very fortunate in my career. And I've had a wonderful lifetime of fucking!

Have you ever wanted to start a paid website with pics and vids of you?

No.

What's your style to "market" yourself for these sexy situations?

The unfair reality is that even an average-looking woman can get laid any time she wants to; that's not true of most men — some reach that point in their 30s, others never do.

I am outgoing and can converse on many levels. I can be flirty or stand-offish, depending on the situation and what I want. I show interest in others. And I was blessed with good emotional intelligence (as well as good taste in clothes and nice legs).

Do you fuck Asians?

You bet.

I'd like to ask if it's always the case whether you can feel a guy cumming inside of you. My girlfriend says she cannot feel it when I finish. I'm wondering what you've found to be true. Also, what does it feel like when a guys cums inside of you?

I can feel it: A wonderful pulse and gooey, warm sensation inside. But not all women can, based on girlfriend sex talk I've had. I think I have more nerves inside than most. And I love the feel of semen trickling (or cascading!) out of me afterward.

Which of your escapades is your favorite, the one that you think of over and over, that gets you wet, that you wish you could repeat? Why?

So many! Probably too many to count. I get pretty wet thinking about that night at the frat house, the sense of innocence, stupidity and intoxication that almost had me pulling a train. That's one.