There's no getting around a distinction between the lovers in our lives: The ones who were in a broad category ranging from disastrous to fun, and the ones who really thrilled us. I suppose the only exceptions are those who married their first sweetheart and stayed that way, or had a succession of duds (who's to blame, there?).
Thrilling lovers stay in the memory. They still tingle my pussy. They're threatening to men who want to know about my past, even if the lover I mention was years ago. Men (and women, especially) have a radar for that lilt in your voice when you mention those special ones. They're not even the ones you want to marry; often far from it.
I lost my virginity to my high-school boyfriend, Mike, my first summer home from college back east. He was sweet, gentle and everything a woman could want in her first. But that same summer, while I was in Seattle, I ran across one of the school hoods, Steve. He was a year older, and although his parents had money, he was a bad boy in nearly every way. I let him pick me up at a supermarket and take me to his emphatically messy apartment in one of the city's sleazier neighborhoods.
Not knowing what to expect, I didn't have to worry about virginal fumbling or romance. He barely got the door closed before he roughly took me in his arms and started kissing me, one hand running up and down my legs and up in my blouse. This went on for some time even though I was dripping wet with excitement. He raised me up against the wall, slid my panties aside and pushed his cock inside so hard it nearly knocked the wind out of me. It was night, the lights were on. When I turned my head, I saw a man in a nearby apartment staring at us. This only added to the turn-on. I came almost immediately, his firm hands holding my teenage ass up against the wall.
I didn't think about Mike once.
Steve never sent me flowers, never took me on a real date. He just fucked the daylights out of me, teaching me every kind of position. Even with foreplay, his style was to take me, not seduce me. Somehow with his bad-boy charisma this was not just okay, but a major attraction. He obviously was experienced and could fuck me for an hour before he decided to come. He taught me how to really give a blowjob. We did several public sex acts, including him fucking me on a blanket in a fairly crowded park. Somehow we avoided arrest.
Meanwhile, I was doing "normal" date-y things with Mike and having sex with him, too. More than once, we had sex with Steve's come inside me, and a few times Steve fucked me after I had been with Mike. Neither knew about the other. I was young enough and still enough in my family's orbit that I felt guilty and kept wrestling with breaking things off with Steve and tearfully confessing to Mike. But it never happened. Whenever I saw Steve, I just melted and if he wanted me down on his frayed rug getting fucked from behind with my clothes halfway off, no problem. He loved the way I was noisy, horny and responsive.
Still he definitely had the power in the "relationship." Once he made a passing reference to remembering me as a cheerleader, but otherwise I was not that important to him. This is strange, because I love romance, compliments and romance. But with this hood, he fucked me with such an athletic prowess and the ever-present whiff of danger that I went with it. I'm also sure in retrospect he was juggling me with other women, but I'm confident I was a good lover for him. The power gradually started to shift my way.
It was never going to last. I broke up with him at the end of the summer and went back to college. Mike, too. We were too far apart and I had a world open to me. Last I heard, Mike was settled down in a corporate job with two children and Steve was in prison. Neither outcome surprises me. But even thinking about my hood still thrills me. I'd be interested in your experiences in this regard.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
No, I'm not dead
But I'll be out of country until the fall. In the meantime, enjoy the archives. Use this thread to tell me your dirtiest, most forbidden experiences. Wish I could tell you more about me right now, but you know how it goes...
Linda Sue
p.s., Dirty Debbie is blogging again. Hot stuff. Check it out.
Linda Sue
p.s., Dirty Debbie is blogging again. Hot stuff. Check it out.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Note to readers
While I'm out of the country, keeping up with the blog is proving impossible. Enjoy the archives and use this post to tell me your sexual adventures, fantasies and questions.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Foreign affairs
Things have been very busy lately. 'Nuff said. I was in an airport overseas last week and saw my first boyfriend in a bar. He didn't see me and I didn't make an effort to connect. I was stunned to think of all the years that had gone by. He's turned into a handsome man and was wearing a suit, nursing something that looked like bourbon alone. I wondered what he did now: A contractor? Working for an oil company? I thought of learning how to suck cock on him, those nights in his car in high school. I never did the hookups that were common then — we were real "steadies," which is more and more of an anomaly. And the first time we fucked. It was a sweet memory. I moved on into a secure area of the terminal where he couldn't see me. In my mind, I'm as horny as when I was seventeen, stroking his cock, putting it in my mouth, tasting semen for the first time, hearing his entreaties to fuck him. I hope the years have been good to him.
My sister, Amber, forwarded me a link from home (Seattle). It was about a girl who was picked up on Aurora Avenue by a guy who wanted to pay her to tie her up. Only my parents know what I really do for a living. Amber knows I'm a slut, and I really think she believes I'm a prostitute. Anyway, the dude turned out to have a torture room and the girl was lucky to get away alive. "Are you going to kill me?" she asked him. "We'll see," he said. Lots of sickos out there. I wondered: How many men my age go to prostitutes? There's so much free stuff out there. But from the trade along Aurora and every other similar avenue in America, the answer must be: A lot. A few women are like my friend Mary Beth, high-end call girls making good money. But that's the exception. Most are feeding a drug habit, many have kids and lots don't even like sex. My mother was so fucked up sexually, I've wondered if my dad found release with a prostitute — but not for long. Who wonders about their parents' sex lives.
Once I was back in country, Amber calls. She's crying. Confesses to me she's been having an affair with a man who goes to her mega-church. He's married, of course. She knows her husband Justin has cheated on her. But she was "seduced" by this married man and now they see each other at least every week. Between her worries that she's going to hell, she wanted advice. It's very strange giving your sister blowjob tricks. Letting her know it's okay if she feels aroused and has an orgasm, that it's not the devil.
Amber is a pretty girl, younger than me and the looker in the family. Dark, straight hair, very busty. She's kept her looks through having three children. There she is out in the suburbs, going to church and hearing the preacher talk about sex and sin, and getting horny hearing all that fornication talk. Nobody's perfect. We were never close and this conversation is the closest we've ever been. It made me sad for her that she can't enjoy just her sexuality. Lord knows Justin deserves it, as long as it doesn't blow up and hurt my nieces and nephews.
I'm sure we'll talk again. The guy likes to fuck her from behind. "It makes me feel like an animal," she said. A lilt in her voice.
My sister, Amber, forwarded me a link from home (Seattle). It was about a girl who was picked up on Aurora Avenue by a guy who wanted to pay her to tie her up. Only my parents know what I really do for a living. Amber knows I'm a slut, and I really think she believes I'm a prostitute. Anyway, the dude turned out to have a torture room and the girl was lucky to get away alive. "Are you going to kill me?" she asked him. "We'll see," he said. Lots of sickos out there. I wondered: How many men my age go to prostitutes? There's so much free stuff out there. But from the trade along Aurora and every other similar avenue in America, the answer must be: A lot. A few women are like my friend Mary Beth, high-end call girls making good money. But that's the exception. Most are feeding a drug habit, many have kids and lots don't even like sex. My mother was so fucked up sexually, I've wondered if my dad found release with a prostitute — but not for long. Who wonders about their parents' sex lives.
Once I was back in country, Amber calls. She's crying. Confesses to me she's been having an affair with a man who goes to her mega-church. He's married, of course. She knows her husband Justin has cheated on her. But she was "seduced" by this married man and now they see each other at least every week. Between her worries that she's going to hell, she wanted advice. It's very strange giving your sister blowjob tricks. Letting her know it's okay if she feels aroused and has an orgasm, that it's not the devil.
Amber is a pretty girl, younger than me and the looker in the family. Dark, straight hair, very busty. She's kept her looks through having three children. There she is out in the suburbs, going to church and hearing the preacher talk about sex and sin, and getting horny hearing all that fornication talk. Nobody's perfect. We were never close and this conversation is the closest we've ever been. It made me sad for her that she can't enjoy just her sexuality. Lord knows Justin deserves it, as long as it doesn't blow up and hurt my nieces and nephews.
I'm sure we'll talk again. The guy likes to fuck her from behind. "It makes me feel like an animal," she said. A lilt in her voice.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
Tips for men, part 1
And just when you thought this was becoming a porn site, back to prose. (And, by the way, some of the pics here are indeed me — you just have to use your imagination as to which ones.) I am sorry to report, after much research, that most men are mediocre-to-bad lovers. My girlfriends tell me this about their husbands and boyfriends, too. But all is not lost. Be a lifetime learner. Here are ten pieces of advice.
1. DO be a great kisser. Kissing is very important to women, much more so than to most men. It's more than a prelude, more than foreplay. Learn to kiss her as she wants to be kissed; learn the different rhythms and styles. A light kiss and nose-to-nose rubbing can be a great start. Take her face gently into your hands. Use your tongue gradually, teasingly. Spend time with this. Kiss her beforehand, during the act and afterward. As she opens up, kiss her deeply, let your tongues play together. Kiss her ears, neck...wrists are very sensitive. Act as if you could spend the whole night kissing her.
2. DO spend time with foreplay. There are always quickies and up-against-the-wall or bent-over-the-sofa fucks. But usually, women need to be warmed up, and the right foreplay is as important as fucking itself. Learn how she likes to have her breasts loved on — I like my pert nipples to be sucked hard, but not every woman does; some have such sensitive nipples the wrong kind of sucking can be painful. Circle the nipple with your tongue and go from there. Nibble on her belly, lick her navel and suck her toes, lick her legs, suck her fingers. Skin on skin. A light touch across her body.
3. DO take your time.
4. DO learn to be a great pussy licker. This is the only way many women can really have an authentic orgasm, or learn to open up to you and let go. And it's a great compensator if you come too fast or reach that age where you have a sudden erectile dysfunction. Tell her she has a beautiful pussy. Tell her you love her scent (not "smell").
5. DO fuck her missionary. Women love to look you in the eye and feel that connection. Try the "riding high" adaptation of this position, where you're putting pressure on her pubic bone and clit — it's a great feeling and can give many women an orgasm. Missionary is also a wonderful starter to then putting her legs over your shoulders and other positions. Then let her get on top and ride.
6. DO say her name as you fuck her. I love my name and love to hear it from a man who's inside me.
7. DO be slow and gentle at first, especially if you're well-endowed. Learn the moves and rhythms she responds to.
8. DON'T pull out suddenly after you come. It's a yucky feeling for a woman. Stay put and let your penis go flaccid while you kiss her and stroke her hair.
9. DON'T assume she wants to be taken roughly unless she sends you some clear signals. Most women don't, especially at first. They do want an assertive, confident man. But there's a difference — learn it. And don't act out the latest porn vid you saw by, for example, slapping her butt while you fuck her from behind. Trashy. Major turn-off.
10. DON'T kick her out or leave unless she signals that she wants that. It makes even a one-night-stand lover feel cheap, feel like a whore (in a bad way). Hold her after the first time. Cuddle. Do it all over again. Send her roses the next day like the class act you are.
I'm sure my female readers have some additional advice to add.
1. DO be a great kisser. Kissing is very important to women, much more so than to most men. It's more than a prelude, more than foreplay. Learn to kiss her as she wants to be kissed; learn the different rhythms and styles. A light kiss and nose-to-nose rubbing can be a great start. Take her face gently into your hands. Use your tongue gradually, teasingly. Spend time with this. Kiss her beforehand, during the act and afterward. As she opens up, kiss her deeply, let your tongues play together. Kiss her ears, neck...wrists are very sensitive. Act as if you could spend the whole night kissing her.
2. DO spend time with foreplay. There are always quickies and up-against-the-wall or bent-over-the-sofa fucks. But usually, women need to be warmed up, and the right foreplay is as important as fucking itself. Learn how she likes to have her breasts loved on — I like my pert nipples to be sucked hard, but not every woman does; some have such sensitive nipples the wrong kind of sucking can be painful. Circle the nipple with your tongue and go from there. Nibble on her belly, lick her navel and suck her toes, lick her legs, suck her fingers. Skin on skin. A light touch across her body.
3. DO take your time.
4. DO learn to be a great pussy licker. This is the only way many women can really have an authentic orgasm, or learn to open up to you and let go. And it's a great compensator if you come too fast or reach that age where you have a sudden erectile dysfunction. Tell her she has a beautiful pussy. Tell her you love her scent (not "smell").
5. DO fuck her missionary. Women love to look you in the eye and feel that connection. Try the "riding high" adaptation of this position, where you're putting pressure on her pubic bone and clit — it's a great feeling and can give many women an orgasm. Missionary is also a wonderful starter to then putting her legs over your shoulders and other positions. Then let her get on top and ride.
6. DO say her name as you fuck her. I love my name and love to hear it from a man who's inside me.
7. DO be slow and gentle at first, especially if you're well-endowed. Learn the moves and rhythms she responds to.
8. DON'T pull out suddenly after you come. It's a yucky feeling for a woman. Stay put and let your penis go flaccid while you kiss her and stroke her hair.
9. DON'T assume she wants to be taken roughly unless she sends you some clear signals. Most women don't, especially at first. They do want an assertive, confident man. But there's a difference — learn it. And don't act out the latest porn vid you saw by, for example, slapping her butt while you fuck her from behind. Trashy. Major turn-off.
10. DON'T kick her out or leave unless she signals that she wants that. It makes even a one-night-stand lover feel cheap, feel like a whore (in a bad way). Hold her after the first time. Cuddle. Do it all over again. Send her roses the next day like the class act you are.
I'm sure my female readers have some additional advice to add.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
What my mailbag looks like...
Funny, my female emailers don't send me their intimate shots. But thanks, gentlemen. What do you think, ladies (and curious/bi/gay men)? And readers keep submitting them!
Monday, March 21, 2011
Little black riding hood
It's been a very intense couple of weeks, for reasons you can guess but of course I can't tell you.
Friday night I was totally fried when I finally got some freedom, did some window-shopping and was walking home. But not so fried that my sixth sense didn't tell me I was being followed. And badly, at that. This was an amateur. So I didn't head in the direction of home, walked instead a long way down Pennsylvania Avenue and let the crowds thin out. I stepped into an alley and waited. My gut was tight but I was cool and focused. I unsnapped the retention snap on the holster holding my SIG Sauer (for you gun nuts, I was wearing my Galco Silhouette highride, a very nice accessory for my pants suit). When the figure passed me, I whispered, just loud enough.
"Hi, there."
The figure jumped in surprise and faced me. Beneath the black hood of the raincoat was...Robin.
"Amber..." she sputtered.
"Why are you following me?
"I'm not..." I saw the red of her face even in the dim light. Then her expression changed and she advanced toward me in the alley, her body quaking with anger.
"You fucked my husband!" she shouted.
Fuck
I know, I know. You warned me, and I had an uneasy feeling about out solitary romp. I took a step back and lied. I'm usually a very good liar.
"Lying little bitch!" she screamed. "I saw the video on his computer!"
Fuck, fuck. He taped us.
"Look Robin," I said. "James told me you were OK with this, and you have your own boy toy on the side..."
"I...do...not!"
I'm usually very good at defusing situations. But she just slapped me, hard. I felt I had to let her do it. But it was no girl slap — I almost felt some dental work start to come loose. When she tried it again, I grabbed her wrist, turned her, put an arm lock on her and kicked her behind the knee, dropping her to the pavement, face down. Then I heard the blip of the siren and saw the walls reflecting the emergency lights.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
It was a DC police cruiser, pulled to the curb. Two officers were getting out of the car.
"Stay," I commanded Robin. Then I walked (in a non-threatening manner) to the cops and discreetly showed them my credentials. They went away, silently resenting the feds. I walked back to Robin, who was on her knee crying. I helped her up.
As we stood there, she cried and told me how they had started swinging after their kids had grown up and left the house, how she was very reluctant at first but grew to enjoy it, but how each had pledged to do no cheating on the side.
I'd like to tell you that I took her back to my place, made us drinks and we made passionate make-up girl love. But that didn't happen.
"He's in love with you, Amber," she blubbered. "I don't want to lose him!"
If that was true, she had bigger problems than me. She's a pretty woman worried that she's losing her looks. If James is screwing me on the side, who else might he be doing? I am that most threatening thing to a married woman: A single woman who men want to fuck. And a redhead. But all I could promise was that I wouldn't see him again. As she pulled up her black hood and hailed a cab, I knew I wouldn't be getting any more invitations to the lifestyle club. Now I just need to call in a favor and get the asshole's video erased before it ends up on the Web.
Friday night I was totally fried when I finally got some freedom, did some window-shopping and was walking home. But not so fried that my sixth sense didn't tell me I was being followed. And badly, at that. This was an amateur. So I didn't head in the direction of home, walked instead a long way down Pennsylvania Avenue and let the crowds thin out. I stepped into an alley and waited. My gut was tight but I was cool and focused. I unsnapped the retention snap on the holster holding my SIG Sauer (for you gun nuts, I was wearing my Galco Silhouette highride, a very nice accessory for my pants suit). When the figure passed me, I whispered, just loud enough.
"Hi, there."
The figure jumped in surprise and faced me. Beneath the black hood of the raincoat was...Robin.
"Amber..." she sputtered.
"Why are you following me?
"I'm not..." I saw the red of her face even in the dim light. Then her expression changed and she advanced toward me in the alley, her body quaking with anger.
"You fucked my husband!" she shouted.
Fuck
I know, I know. You warned me, and I had an uneasy feeling about out solitary romp. I took a step back and lied. I'm usually a very good liar.
"Lying little bitch!" she screamed. "I saw the video on his computer!"
Fuck, fuck. He taped us.
"Look Robin," I said. "James told me you were OK with this, and you have your own boy toy on the side..."
"I...do...not!"
I'm usually very good at defusing situations. But she just slapped me, hard. I felt I had to let her do it. But it was no girl slap — I almost felt some dental work start to come loose. When she tried it again, I grabbed her wrist, turned her, put an arm lock on her and kicked her behind the knee, dropping her to the pavement, face down. Then I heard the blip of the siren and saw the walls reflecting the emergency lights.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
It was a DC police cruiser, pulled to the curb. Two officers were getting out of the car.
"Stay," I commanded Robin. Then I walked (in a non-threatening manner) to the cops and discreetly showed them my credentials. They went away, silently resenting the feds. I walked back to Robin, who was on her knee crying. I helped her up.
As we stood there, she cried and told me how they had started swinging after their kids had grown up and left the house, how she was very reluctant at first but grew to enjoy it, but how each had pledged to do no cheating on the side.
I'd like to tell you that I took her back to my place, made us drinks and we made passionate make-up girl love. But that didn't happen.
"He's in love with you, Amber," she blubbered. "I don't want to lose him!"
If that was true, she had bigger problems than me. She's a pretty woman worried that she's losing her looks. If James is screwing me on the side, who else might he be doing? I am that most threatening thing to a married woman: A single woman who men want to fuck. And a redhead. But all I could promise was that I wouldn't see him again. As she pulled up her black hood and hailed a cab, I knew I wouldn't be getting any more invitations to the lifestyle club. Now I just need to call in a favor and get the asshole's video erased before it ends up on the Web.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Half of my threesome
A few days later I got another invitation to be with my new friends, Robin and James. If I didn't need an additional incentive, I was feeling my period coming on. That's the time of the month when I am frantically, insatiably, recklessly horny. Same hotel, same room. James met me at the door and his brown eyes glittered in appreciation of the little black dress I was wearing. My coat dropped to the floor. He took me in his arms and started a marathon of kissing, light, deep French, lips all over my face, ears and neck. I was panting in anticipation.
"Where's Robin?"
"She's running late," he said, nibbling my neck, letting my hair fall into his face. "You are the hottest goddamned woman I've ever seen, Amber."
I was against the wall of the entryway into the room as we continued to make out. As he kissed me, he fondled my breasts, gently pinching my nipples. Then his hands wrapped around my waist and I could feel his fingers searching for my panty line. "Such a bad girl," he murmured, as he realized I wasn't wearing anything beneath the dress. His hard penis poked against me through his tailored slacks. I reached down and unzipped him, letting it hang out freely as I wrapped my hand around the shafted and stroked up and down. He reached under my hemline and brushed my bush, put a finger inside me. All this while we stood there, kissing like teenagers. I tried to guide us inside to the bed, but he kept me there.
"I want you now," he said, and in a flash the slacks and boxers were at his ankles. He pushed me against the wall, raised my hips with his hands. My legs went up and he slipped right in, mashing my back against the wall. We fucked, my legs wrapped around his lower back, his thick cock impaling me, his hands holding me in the air. He was strong as hell; all I really had to do was enjoy, which I did. It had been years since a man had fucked me against a wall...back in...hell, my mind was too fuck-addled for history. His breathing picked up and I was whimpering and moaning, his cock finding its way deeper and deeper into me. "Amber...oh, my god...fuck...," he yelled and I felt his pelvis and legs shudder as he came. The man was no boor: He held me there, his cock still inside me, kissing me gently. Finally I felt him go soft and slip out. He eased me down, then picked me up and carried me to the bed, where he slowly undressed me, what little there was to undress.
He used the little black dress to brush lightly across my nipples, which were so hard already. Amazing feeling. Then he started licking them in concentric circles, one nipple, then the other, back and forth, each time applying more pressure until he was really sucking hard, which I love. I pulled off his shirt and ran my hands across the light hair on his chest. Then he eased me back down and dropped down on the bed. I felt his mouth on my right foot, licking and sucking my toes. It sent bolts of pleasure up my legs into my pussy. For maybe the next 30 minutes he gave me "the treatment," licking and kissing up one leg, then the other, lingering on my inner thigh. Then I felt his tongue on my clit and shuddered. He wasn't going to let me off that easy, though. He backed down and started running his tongue around my pussy lips, then he tongue-fucking me, causing me to get pretty noisy but not go over the edge. I felt him sucking at me. A good Kegel girl, I bore down and gave him a taste of his come. Was it. He rose up and French kissed me with a huge glob of semen mingled with my pussy juices. Our tongues danced in it before I swallowed the goo. That had me bucking and grinding against him, I was so desperate to come. He went back and brought me off expertly with his tongue, then fucked me awhile missionary — not bad for an "old guy." I had an aftershock through my pelvis with every stroke. "Oh, a scratcher and and screamer," he said, looking down on me. I hadn't noticed. Then he held me as I came down off the orgasm plateau.
"Robin's not coming."
This broke me reverie. I asked why. "She has her own lover tonight, a younger guy. Maybe we'll invite him sometime."
This made me vaguely uneasy, as I had checked them both out before embarking on this little adventure, and I knew nothing of Robin having a separate lover.
"Does she know you're with me?"
"Sure," he said. It was a lie, I knew it.
"I just had to have you, Amber."
I didn't resist as he pulled me on top of him and I slipped his penis inside me and started to ride.
"Where's Robin?"
"She's running late," he said, nibbling my neck, letting my hair fall into his face. "You are the hottest goddamned woman I've ever seen, Amber."
I was against the wall of the entryway into the room as we continued to make out. As he kissed me, he fondled my breasts, gently pinching my nipples. Then his hands wrapped around my waist and I could feel his fingers searching for my panty line. "Such a bad girl," he murmured, as he realized I wasn't wearing anything beneath the dress. His hard penis poked against me through his tailored slacks. I reached down and unzipped him, letting it hang out freely as I wrapped my hand around the shafted and stroked up and down. He reached under my hemline and brushed my bush, put a finger inside me. All this while we stood there, kissing like teenagers. I tried to guide us inside to the bed, but he kept me there.
"I want you now," he said, and in a flash the slacks and boxers were at his ankles. He pushed me against the wall, raised my hips with his hands. My legs went up and he slipped right in, mashing my back against the wall. We fucked, my legs wrapped around his lower back, his thick cock impaling me, his hands holding me in the air. He was strong as hell; all I really had to do was enjoy, which I did. It had been years since a man had fucked me against a wall...back in...hell, my mind was too fuck-addled for history. His breathing picked up and I was whimpering and moaning, his cock finding its way deeper and deeper into me. "Amber...oh, my god...fuck...," he yelled and I felt his pelvis and legs shudder as he came. The man was no boor: He held me there, his cock still inside me, kissing me gently. Finally I felt him go soft and slip out. He eased me down, then picked me up and carried me to the bed, where he slowly undressed me, what little there was to undress.
He used the little black dress to brush lightly across my nipples, which were so hard already. Amazing feeling. Then he started licking them in concentric circles, one nipple, then the other, back and forth, each time applying more pressure until he was really sucking hard, which I love. I pulled off his shirt and ran my hands across the light hair on his chest. Then he eased me back down and dropped down on the bed. I felt his mouth on my right foot, licking and sucking my toes. It sent bolts of pleasure up my legs into my pussy. For maybe the next 30 minutes he gave me "the treatment," licking and kissing up one leg, then the other, lingering on my inner thigh. Then I felt his tongue on my clit and shuddered. He wasn't going to let me off that easy, though. He backed down and started running his tongue around my pussy lips, then he tongue-fucking me, causing me to get pretty noisy but not go over the edge. I felt him sucking at me. A good Kegel girl, I bore down and gave him a taste of his come. Was it. He rose up and French kissed me with a huge glob of semen mingled with my pussy juices. Our tongues danced in it before I swallowed the goo. That had me bucking and grinding against him, I was so desperate to come. He went back and brought me off expertly with his tongue, then fucked me awhile missionary — not bad for an "old guy." I had an aftershock through my pelvis with every stroke. "Oh, a scratcher and and screamer," he said, looking down on me. I hadn't noticed. Then he held me as I came down off the orgasm plateau.
"Robin's not coming."
This broke me reverie. I asked why. "She has her own lover tonight, a younger guy. Maybe we'll invite him sometime."
This made me vaguely uneasy, as I had checked them both out before embarking on this little adventure, and I knew nothing of Robin having a separate lover.
"Does she know you're with me?"
"Sure," he said. It was a lie, I knew it.
"I just had to have you, Amber."
I didn't resist as he pulled me on top of him and I slipped his penis inside me and started to ride.
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