Last night I wasn't really up for sex, but I did fancy a little action. After a movie, I was back at (s)Exs house.
I was just running my hand up his leg, touching my fingertips against him. Massaging gently. He was sitting next to me. I touched my fingertips into his jeans, the seam in the denim rough. I intentionally caught my fingernails in the seam, just to make the pants move a little. Just a tease.
I teased him for about half an hour, running my fingers over his cock, his pants tight. His pants were tight to start with, and I knew they were getting uncomfortable. He unzipped his pants, allowing his hard cock to push through, the fabric of his boxers tight. I stroked him through the fabric. His boxers were cotton. Expensive, designer label.
I allowed my index finger to slip through the hole in the front of his boxers, lightly brushing his shaft then the head of his hard cock. I kept stroking him through the fabric of his boxer shorts. I looked up, my head was rested against his chest. He had his eyes closed. The television was playing for its own sake.
I paused for a moment, I pulled my hand away. His chest tensed. His legs tensed. I licked my fingers. Then I slipped his cock out through the unbuttoned fly of his boxers and started to stroke him. Slowly and gently. I was in no hurry to rush him to orgasm. I stroked him gently, occasionally squeezing tighter, sometimes faster. Mostly I just worked slowly. Up and down, turning my hand, enjoying the feeling of his hard cock in my hand. I rewet my hand in my mouth. I stroked him more vigorously. I could hear him moaning.
I rolled over onto my stomach on the couch, leaning over his lap. I poked my tongue out a little, resting the head of his cock on the middle of my tongue for a moment, before running it around my lips. I licked down the underside of his cock, looking up at him. His hand squeezed my ass, my jeans pulled tight as I bent over. I pulled my shirt off, and my purple Victoria Secret bra let my breasts brush against his thigh as I pulled the head of his cock into my mouth. I licked around the head, flicking my tongue across the underside a few times. I worked slowly and carefully, making sure the pink tip of my tongue stroked every part of him.
With my left hand I held his balls carefully, and with my right I reached up and caressed his chest occasionally. I pressed my lips together, kissing down his shaft. I was being a tease. I felt his fingers dig into my back. I started to suck hard, pulling him deep into my throat, massaging his hard dick with my tongue as he pressed the head of his cock into my throat. I pushed so deep that my nose was touching against his skin.
I sucked, allowing my throat to do some of the hard work, swallowing a little sometimes so my throat would massage his cock as well as my tongue. I felt him tense. He was almost ready to come.
I pulled back.
I rubbed his cock around my lips like a woman applying lipstick, kissing gently, allowing him to breathe. "Oh you're cruel" he murmured. I smiled. "Are you enjoying this?" He asked tentatively. "It's your birthday, after all."
"Yes, I love this" I said. My lips pressed against the underside of his cock, looking up at him. I licked around the head of his cock. "This is perfect" I smiled.
He leaned back, eyes closed, hand relaxed on my back. He drifted back from the edge of orgasm.
I started to suck again. Carefully, working him into my throat, my head bobbing up and down as he touched against the back of my throat. He brushed a tendril of brown hair away from my face.
"You're so beautiful" he whispered.
I didn't pause. I just kept sucking and enjoying the feeling of working him up. His fingers touched the nape of my neck gently. I felt his hands tremble. He was getting close. I wanted him to come now. I'd teased him for more than an hour, I'd been sucking him for forty minutes. I was ready. I kept stroking his balls carefully through the fabric of his boxers, never once letting them go. I took his cock in my right hand, starting to massage carefully with my fingertips. I worked him down into my throat again, massaging with my tongue sucking, swallowing. He stroked my cheek then dug his fingers into my back. He came, shooting his load straight into my mouth. I swallowed every drop of his come.
I rested my head against his stomach, his hand rested on my hair, fingertips stroking my cheek.
"That was amazing." he gasped. I leaned up, his hand dropping to my shoulder and kissed him. He was sweating. I'd pushed him pretty hard. I rested my head back on his stomach. I held his cock in my hand as it went soft.
We curled up, idly watching the movie. I wriggled, and got us both a drink. I curled up next to him, the characters on TV were an hour ahead of where we'd seen. We flicked back through. He'd tucked himself back into his pants. I rested my hand high up on his thigh. He kissed me gently but firmly. Pressing his lips against mine, massaging my tongue with his. He leaned forward, kissing my neck and whispered "You're amazing." He was unusually full of compliments. I squeezed his thigh as he kissed my neck. I felt him twitch again.
Moments later, I had his cock out of his pants, and I was brushing and licking and sucking. I kissed every millimetre of him. I looked up at him, his face a mixture of surprise and joy. I sucked him into my throat. I wanted him to come this time. I'd teased him enough last time. I sucked and massaged, enjoying the feelings from earlier, allowing them to wash over me again. I rubbed the head of his cock along the roof of my mouth, letting the different sensations of my lips and tongue and throat and mouth tantalise him,
He touched my hair. I pressed my lips against the head of his cock "That's it, babe, touch my hair, I love it when you show me what you want." He gasped and pressed my head down, pulling me up slightly by the hair. It wasn't rough, just directive. He was showing me exactly what to do this time.
I heard his moaning, I felt his grip on my hair tighten, the desperation of a closing orgasm. I sucked hard. As he was ready he pulled my head so the head of his cock was pressed against the middle of my tongue. I stroked him with the tip of my tongue. He came. Less this time, but I heard his breathing, sharp and ragged. His grip released on my hair. He went back to stroking my cheek gently with his fingertips. I let his cock go soft in my mouth. I tucked his cock back into his pants. I curled up next to him.
He smiled at me. "That was the best blowjobs". I smiled. I think it was probably two of my better efforts...
Monday 30 April 2012
Sunday 29 April 2012
Another Year...
Another year older and another year wiser
Thank you, my darlings, for reading. I love each and every one of you. Thank you to the ones who've given me their feedback.
Here's to another year of dirty sex, to lots more kink, and lots more play.
I'm toasting my wine glass to all of you, who made the last week of being 23 such a huge amount of fun.
Sharing with you all is the best choice I ever made.
If you have questions you'd like answered, please let me know, I'll happily tell you a story (or paint you a picture) of any memory you like.
With love and wine
xxSSB
Thank you, my darlings, for reading. I love each and every one of you. Thank you to the ones who've given me their feedback.
Here's to another year of dirty sex, to lots more kink, and lots more play.
I'm toasting my wine glass to all of you, who made the last week of being 23 such a huge amount of fun.
Sharing with you all is the best choice I ever made.
If you have questions you'd like answered, please let me know, I'll happily tell you a story (or paint you a picture) of any memory you like.
With love and wine
xxSSB
Saturday 28 April 2012
Feeling sentimental
This is for my best friend, you may have read about him the other day, I called him Long.
Him and I were a couple - he turned out gay after two and a bit years. But we wound up best friends.
I've known him ten years, we've lived together for six of those years. We've done everything together for the last six years. I can't tell him about this blog - it's my only secret.
But about him.
I met him ten years ago, he was dating a friend of mine. He cheated on her. His best mates girlfriend. His girlfriends best friend. Ugh. Long and his best mate were dating two best friends. He slept with the girl from the other couple. In his best mates car. He was caught - of course - by his girlfriend and his best mate, dick inside the other chick.
Disaster.
Had it not been for that moment, we'd never have ended up as close friends. Then he was silly enough to dick another friend of mine. That's another disaster.
But when we got together, he took me out to dinner, bought me sake, we ate Korean grill. We laughed for two days. We went on a road trip. We fell in love on our first date.
We have barely spent a night apart since. Even now, we split up, we still spend as much time together as we can.
So here's to you Long. Some of my favourite memories.
One night, I spent hours with him tied to my bed, teasing him, playing with him, running ice over his body. Touching him with pieces of silk cloth. Licking him. Teasing him. Blind folding him. I tortured his quivering body for hours. Hour after hour. I sucked him until he was close then let him relax. After hours of teasing, I got on top and rode him so hard. I slipped his blindfold off, looked deep into his eyes. Rocking hard on his cock, I squirted for the first time ever that night. By the time we were finished it was six am. We worked the next day. Exhausted, but sexually satisfied and in love. Deeply.
A while later, I experimented with him, I gagged him, buckled myself into a strap on, and fucked him like a little bitch. I had him on his knees in front of me, my thick black plastic cock, hilt deep in his ass, him working his ass up and down, me with my hand wrapped in his hair. He begged to come. I denied him. He begged harder. I denied him. I pulled out, made him go down on me. I came. When he tried to fuck me, I put him on his knees on the floor, pushed his face into the carpet and shoved that cock back in his ass. He couldn't help it that time, he came. So I spanked him. I spanked him so hard. I put him across my knee and spanked him like a naughty little school girl.
Later, he grew as a person, and when he was a little more mature I let him fuck me in the ass a few times. He was good that way - long cock nice and deep. He was always rough during and gentle afterwards. The best combination. He loved when I'd suck his cock afterwards. Just like I made him suck my black plastic one so many times.
I played dress ups for him a few times. He came home and found me dressed as a nurse with a stethoscope. I took his temperature (the old fashioned way...) then he spanked me with a paddle telling me I was a naughty naughty nurse.
Him and I used to get so horny, we would be late everywhere. And whenever we were out we couldn't help but end up in the back of a car or in a toilet together somewhere. So many times he pushed me up onto the counter of a bathroom sink, licking my pussy with his hand over my mouth so I wouldn't scream...
So here's to you old friend. To all the times we played those games and all those stories we collected. To the dozens of times we fucked all day, and the hundreds we fucked all night. To all those times you made me smug with satisfaction when I'd be so satisfied I could barely breathe. To all those times since we split that I realised I was still lucky to have you as my bestest friend.
Love you Long.
xxSSB
Him and I were a couple - he turned out gay after two and a bit years. But we wound up best friends.
I've known him ten years, we've lived together for six of those years. We've done everything together for the last six years. I can't tell him about this blog - it's my only secret.
But about him.
I met him ten years ago, he was dating a friend of mine. He cheated on her. His best mates girlfriend. His girlfriends best friend. Ugh. Long and his best mate were dating two best friends. He slept with the girl from the other couple. In his best mates car. He was caught - of course - by his girlfriend and his best mate, dick inside the other chick.
Disaster.
Had it not been for that moment, we'd never have ended up as close friends. Then he was silly enough to dick another friend of mine. That's another disaster.
But when we got together, he took me out to dinner, bought me sake, we ate Korean grill. We laughed for two days. We went on a road trip. We fell in love on our first date.
We have barely spent a night apart since. Even now, we split up, we still spend as much time together as we can.
So here's to you Long. Some of my favourite memories.
One night, I spent hours with him tied to my bed, teasing him, playing with him, running ice over his body. Touching him with pieces of silk cloth. Licking him. Teasing him. Blind folding him. I tortured his quivering body for hours. Hour after hour. I sucked him until he was close then let him relax. After hours of teasing, I got on top and rode him so hard. I slipped his blindfold off, looked deep into his eyes. Rocking hard on his cock, I squirted for the first time ever that night. By the time we were finished it was six am. We worked the next day. Exhausted, but sexually satisfied and in love. Deeply.
A while later, I experimented with him, I gagged him, buckled myself into a strap on, and fucked him like a little bitch. I had him on his knees in front of me, my thick black plastic cock, hilt deep in his ass, him working his ass up and down, me with my hand wrapped in his hair. He begged to come. I denied him. He begged harder. I denied him. I pulled out, made him go down on me. I came. When he tried to fuck me, I put him on his knees on the floor, pushed his face into the carpet and shoved that cock back in his ass. He couldn't help it that time, he came. So I spanked him. I spanked him so hard. I put him across my knee and spanked him like a naughty little school girl.
Later, he grew as a person, and when he was a little more mature I let him fuck me in the ass a few times. He was good that way - long cock nice and deep. He was always rough during and gentle afterwards. The best combination. He loved when I'd suck his cock afterwards. Just like I made him suck my black plastic one so many times.
I played dress ups for him a few times. He came home and found me dressed as a nurse with a stethoscope. I took his temperature (the old fashioned way...) then he spanked me with a paddle telling me I was a naughty naughty nurse.
Him and I used to get so horny, we would be late everywhere. And whenever we were out we couldn't help but end up in the back of a car or in a toilet together somewhere. So many times he pushed me up onto the counter of a bathroom sink, licking my pussy with his hand over my mouth so I wouldn't scream...
So here's to you old friend. To all the times we played those games and all those stories we collected. To the dozens of times we fucked all day, and the hundreds we fucked all night. To all those times you made me smug with satisfaction when I'd be so satisfied I could barely breathe. To all those times since we split that I realised I was still lucky to have you as my bestest friend.
Love you Long.
xxSSB
Thursday 26 April 2012
Long and Hard
So before I blow my birthday candles out this weekend, I feel like I could celebrate a few of the amazing sexual experiences I've had.
I have a beautiful friend. He's tall, fire-red hair and bright blue eyes. Strong hands. Him and I spent hours and hours, night after night, walking a small out in the middle of nowhere bush cemetery. It was the nearest to my house. It was pitch black. So dark we could barely see where we were going. So dark that in the darkest corners of the place we couldn't see eachother. And in the night sky, in the wrongest of places, where we could hear each others heart beats and feel a cool Autumn breeze, he'd spend hours in me under the stars.
It wasn't hard and rough. It wasn't aggressive. It was strong and passionate and intense. The location, whilst taboo, irrelevant. It was just the only place we could count on for privacy at night. We'd stretch out, on the hood of his car, a few hundred metres from the road, in a cemetery off the side of a highway, the cool metal against my ass. There are many things I could say about this guy. Probably one of the ones that springs to mind so often is he had the most beautiful cock. It was long and thick and hard. And with him in between my sixteen year old thighs, it was enough to send me home bruised. He couldn't have been rougher with me without tearing me, I was so young and so fresh that the first few minutes he was so big that even with oral sex, would cut like a knife inside me. His strong hands would always fill me with confidence, and with in minutes, my screams would be lost in the dark cemetery. No one for miles around to hear me scream his name as I came. Over and over and over. We're still friends now. Occasionally still naked friends.
I spent so many nights with him, while he was with his last lady. Seven years they were together. The day that she agreed to be his girlfriend, he celebrated with me on my hands and knees in the back of his car. We were laying naked intwined, him still inside me, his come still sticky on my thighs where it had leaked out. "I met this chick, I've been seeing her for a while, I think it's serious" he said. We talked about it naturally, I wasn't angry. He drove me home and kissed me goodbye. "I'll see you in a week" he said.
And so he did. And on and off for the next seven years, he played "cricket", and went "bowling" and "rock climbing" and "fixed friends cars" and "worked extra hours" and was "called in for a work emergency".
Seven whole years.
She dumped him for cheating. A sin he'd confessed to. He DELIBERATELY let her find out. The woman? Not me! An ex-girlfriend.
Other nights with him were spent on a jetty, having sex over the water. Or strolling down by the sea, until he'd eventually find something to bend me over and force his fingers roughly inside me. And after six years of sex in the most unusual of places, he spent a full night in my bed.
We never really thought we'd end up together. Not for a moment. I'm in love with part of him though. It's about 27cm long, and I still can't get my hand around it.
I cheated on three guys with him. I don't know how many girlfriends he cheated on with me.
One night, we had a threesome with a girl we both knew once upon a time. My former best friend.
We'd been at my best friends boyfriends party. A long fucking night, and they'd bickered. For a new couple, these two fucking hated each other. So, faithful as ever, Red came and partied with us for a little while. He took us back to his beach house, and we were all lying on the fold out couch.
My best friend made the first move. She started rubbing his leg. I didn't really care. She could fuck him if she wanted. She made a habit of interfering with things she thought were mine. And whilst he was someone elses boyfriend, he was there because I'd asked him to be. So in her crazy head he was mine.
She started kissing me - not a first for us (we'd slept together a hundred times). We opened a couple of beers, we got down on our knees in front of him. I was 16 and she was 17 or 18. Two teenage girls looking up at him. He barely lasted a minute with us both licking and sucking. Kissing each other, his cock between our lips, our tongues touching and grazing over each other.
He relaxed and watched, urging her to push her tongue between my legs. We took each others clothes off. The secret to an FFM threesome isn't the quality of the sex, it's in the theatre of the sex. It's about a man enjoying the visual of two women, so to take her bra off, I kneeled behind her, running my tongue over her smooth ass cheek as I unhooked it. Standing up, kissing her neck making eye contact with him. Then I slipped her two shoulder straps off her shoulders. She knew the game, and didn't let it fall until I had both hands inside the pink lace. I danced around in front of her, sucking one nipple, running my fingertip down her collarbone, over her chest, over her nipple. He watched, to suck her other nipple, I exaggeratedly bent over, in my panties and bra, keeping my heels on to keep my ass higher in the air.
Not many nights do things look like porn, but this was one of those nights. We were dressed to kill, our hair was styled, our make up perfect. Our heels were neckbreakingly high. We played our theatrical games. Her getting down on her knees, me lying back on the couch propped up and her licking the outside of my wet panties. Her tongue was poked out far, to exaggerate the action. Her big blue eyes looked up at me, my green eyes were focussed on him.
I wish I could narrate what happened next more accurately, but we toyed with each other. We stripped down to our panties, and toyed with each other, keeping him from seeing too much to drive him wild.
There came a moment, when we'd toyed far enough and he leapt between us, through us on the bed. He tore my panties off first, dragging me by the hips and lying me flat. He grabbed her and pushed her up to my face, she climbed on top, pushing her wet pussy onto my lips. She came, her pussy juice leaking onto my face. She moaned hard when she came again. She started to shake.
I pushed them both off me, pushing her onto her back, I knelt with my knees on the edge of the bed, pushing two fingers inside her and licking hard, I wanted her to scream. I knew her body, I knew I could push her to the point that she'd beg me to let her rest. He pushed his cock in me from behind, and by standing on the floor behind me, he could see every movement of her breasts, shaking with orgasms, my head between her legs and my hand, dextrously playing with her g spot. She was screaming. I would have been too if I hadn't been sucking on her clit so hard.
I was exhausted and needed a position change. We swapped. I climbed up so he could lick my pussy while he lay on his back and she rode his cock. I knew she was surprised by how big he was, I could hear her whimper with a little discomfort. She was a slut - even by my standards, but we both knew this was the biggest cock she'd ever seen.
She rode him hard, screaming his name, him licking me hard, me moaning and screaming his name too.
She was exhausted, and went to the kitchen, and so he climbed on top of me, and pulled my legs up over his shoulder, his bright blue eyes gazing into my green, his hands holding on my shoulders, pushing deep inside me, he came. He came deep inside me. Kissing my cheek he climbed off.
He begged us to both put our heads on his chest as we fell asleep, so he could doze with two girls on his chest. Her red hair meshed against mine died black our long long hair tangled.
I have a beautiful friend. He's tall, fire-red hair and bright blue eyes. Strong hands. Him and I spent hours and hours, night after night, walking a small out in the middle of nowhere bush cemetery. It was the nearest to my house. It was pitch black. So dark we could barely see where we were going. So dark that in the darkest corners of the place we couldn't see eachother. And in the night sky, in the wrongest of places, where we could hear each others heart beats and feel a cool Autumn breeze, he'd spend hours in me under the stars.
It wasn't hard and rough. It wasn't aggressive. It was strong and passionate and intense. The location, whilst taboo, irrelevant. It was just the only place we could count on for privacy at night. We'd stretch out, on the hood of his car, a few hundred metres from the road, in a cemetery off the side of a highway, the cool metal against my ass. There are many things I could say about this guy. Probably one of the ones that springs to mind so often is he had the most beautiful cock. It was long and thick and hard. And with him in between my sixteen year old thighs, it was enough to send me home bruised. He couldn't have been rougher with me without tearing me, I was so young and so fresh that the first few minutes he was so big that even with oral sex, would cut like a knife inside me. His strong hands would always fill me with confidence, and with in minutes, my screams would be lost in the dark cemetery. No one for miles around to hear me scream his name as I came. Over and over and over. We're still friends now. Occasionally still naked friends.
I spent so many nights with him, while he was with his last lady. Seven years they were together. The day that she agreed to be his girlfriend, he celebrated with me on my hands and knees in the back of his car. We were laying naked intwined, him still inside me, his come still sticky on my thighs where it had leaked out. "I met this chick, I've been seeing her for a while, I think it's serious" he said. We talked about it naturally, I wasn't angry. He drove me home and kissed me goodbye. "I'll see you in a week" he said.
And so he did. And on and off for the next seven years, he played "cricket", and went "bowling" and "rock climbing" and "fixed friends cars" and "worked extra hours" and was "called in for a work emergency".
Seven whole years.
She dumped him for cheating. A sin he'd confessed to. He DELIBERATELY let her find out. The woman? Not me! An ex-girlfriend.
Other nights with him were spent on a jetty, having sex over the water. Or strolling down by the sea, until he'd eventually find something to bend me over and force his fingers roughly inside me. And after six years of sex in the most unusual of places, he spent a full night in my bed.
We never really thought we'd end up together. Not for a moment. I'm in love with part of him though. It's about 27cm long, and I still can't get my hand around it.
I cheated on three guys with him. I don't know how many girlfriends he cheated on with me.
One night, we had a threesome with a girl we both knew once upon a time. My former best friend.
We'd been at my best friends boyfriends party. A long fucking night, and they'd bickered. For a new couple, these two fucking hated each other. So, faithful as ever, Red came and partied with us for a little while. He took us back to his beach house, and we were all lying on the fold out couch.
My best friend made the first move. She started rubbing his leg. I didn't really care. She could fuck him if she wanted. She made a habit of interfering with things she thought were mine. And whilst he was someone elses boyfriend, he was there because I'd asked him to be. So in her crazy head he was mine.
She started kissing me - not a first for us (we'd slept together a hundred times). We opened a couple of beers, we got down on our knees in front of him. I was 16 and she was 17 or 18. Two teenage girls looking up at him. He barely lasted a minute with us both licking and sucking. Kissing each other, his cock between our lips, our tongues touching and grazing over each other.
He relaxed and watched, urging her to push her tongue between my legs. We took each others clothes off. The secret to an FFM threesome isn't the quality of the sex, it's in the theatre of the sex. It's about a man enjoying the visual of two women, so to take her bra off, I kneeled behind her, running my tongue over her smooth ass cheek as I unhooked it. Standing up, kissing her neck making eye contact with him. Then I slipped her two shoulder straps off her shoulders. She knew the game, and didn't let it fall until I had both hands inside the pink lace. I danced around in front of her, sucking one nipple, running my fingertip down her collarbone, over her chest, over her nipple. He watched, to suck her other nipple, I exaggeratedly bent over, in my panties and bra, keeping my heels on to keep my ass higher in the air.
Not many nights do things look like porn, but this was one of those nights. We were dressed to kill, our hair was styled, our make up perfect. Our heels were neckbreakingly high. We played our theatrical games. Her getting down on her knees, me lying back on the couch propped up and her licking the outside of my wet panties. Her tongue was poked out far, to exaggerate the action. Her big blue eyes looked up at me, my green eyes were focussed on him.
I wish I could narrate what happened next more accurately, but we toyed with each other. We stripped down to our panties, and toyed with each other, keeping him from seeing too much to drive him wild.
There came a moment, when we'd toyed far enough and he leapt between us, through us on the bed. He tore my panties off first, dragging me by the hips and lying me flat. He grabbed her and pushed her up to my face, she climbed on top, pushing her wet pussy onto my lips. She came, her pussy juice leaking onto my face. She moaned hard when she came again. She started to shake.
I pushed them both off me, pushing her onto her back, I knelt with my knees on the edge of the bed, pushing two fingers inside her and licking hard, I wanted her to scream. I knew her body, I knew I could push her to the point that she'd beg me to let her rest. He pushed his cock in me from behind, and by standing on the floor behind me, he could see every movement of her breasts, shaking with orgasms, my head between her legs and my hand, dextrously playing with her g spot. She was screaming. I would have been too if I hadn't been sucking on her clit so hard.
I was exhausted and needed a position change. We swapped. I climbed up so he could lick my pussy while he lay on his back and she rode his cock. I knew she was surprised by how big he was, I could hear her whimper with a little discomfort. She was a slut - even by my standards, but we both knew this was the biggest cock she'd ever seen.
She rode him hard, screaming his name, him licking me hard, me moaning and screaming his name too.
She was exhausted, and went to the kitchen, and so he climbed on top of me, and pulled my legs up over his shoulder, his bright blue eyes gazing into my green, his hands holding on my shoulders, pushing deep inside me, he came. He came deep inside me. Kissing my cheek he climbed off.
He begged us to both put our heads on his chest as we fell asleep, so he could doze with two girls on his chest. Her red hair meshed against mine died black our long long hair tangled.
Smudged Mascara
Usually I come home from a night at my (s)Ex's house feeling all buzzed. Like electricity has been injected into my veins. Usually I feel sultry and alive. Usually I come home, relax on my couch, flick over some TV. I feel empowered to write. Within a few minutes I mute the television and write a story or a blog post.
I'm here - I've been home 20 minutes. Long enough to run a brush through my hair and slip out of my jeans and bra. Long enough to wipe off my smudged mascara.
Today everything felt off. I'm still sick and I know feeling off can make things feel weird, but it wasn't easy tonight. The stuff that usually flows didn't. I was cold. He was hot. I felt unmotivated. The sex was good, but empty and I could feel the icicles on my heart hardening. Even with his tongue pressed hard against my clit, my heart wasn't in it. Rare for me. It happens to all of us though.
Usually the soft brown eyes warm me. Today I just felt isolated. I'm being unfair and I know it. His soft hands brushed through my hair and caressed my cheeks. He took an interest in pleasing me.
Tonight there was no pleasing me though. I feel aggravated and ill at ease. Like there is something missing. Something he can't give me.
I've been sitting here for five minutes staring at the screen between the last paragraph and this one.
The answer struck me like a lightening bolt.
He touched me like he loved me. He looked at me adoringly. The more he treats me like an angel, the more I want to back away and find someone who'll give me the counterbalance.
I want to call my friend from a week ago. I would love to talk to him. My fingers twitch impulsively at the thought - a text message in the middle of the night. I would but I can't. It doesn't work that way. It'd be against the rules. The rules are clear. He'll tell me when he has time.
I've flipped through my phone. There are a dozen or more names. I could call one of them. I want something different though. Something a little more intense. Like I'm craving some one stronger and darker. Someone to push me to a new level...
The ideas are brewing. The wants are there. I just feel the desperate need for someone who won't treat me so perfectly. All that respect and kissing in bed is exhausting.
In the meanwhile - I'm going to spend some quality time with an electronic friend and enjoy coming thinking about things that I know he could never give me. I'll spend my time thinking about playing rough, and someone playing rough with me.
I'm here - I've been home 20 minutes. Long enough to run a brush through my hair and slip out of my jeans and bra. Long enough to wipe off my smudged mascara.
Today everything felt off. I'm still sick and I know feeling off can make things feel weird, but it wasn't easy tonight. The stuff that usually flows didn't. I was cold. He was hot. I felt unmotivated. The sex was good, but empty and I could feel the icicles on my heart hardening. Even with his tongue pressed hard against my clit, my heart wasn't in it. Rare for me. It happens to all of us though.
Usually the soft brown eyes warm me. Today I just felt isolated. I'm being unfair and I know it. His soft hands brushed through my hair and caressed my cheeks. He took an interest in pleasing me.
Tonight there was no pleasing me though. I feel aggravated and ill at ease. Like there is something missing. Something he can't give me.
I've been sitting here for five minutes staring at the screen between the last paragraph and this one.
The answer struck me like a lightening bolt.
He touched me like he loved me. He looked at me adoringly. The more he treats me like an angel, the more I want to back away and find someone who'll give me the counterbalance.
I want to call my friend from a week ago. I would love to talk to him. My fingers twitch impulsively at the thought - a text message in the middle of the night. I would but I can't. It doesn't work that way. It'd be against the rules. The rules are clear. He'll tell me when he has time.
I've flipped through my phone. There are a dozen or more names. I could call one of them. I want something different though. Something a little more intense. Like I'm craving some one stronger and darker. Someone to push me to a new level...
The ideas are brewing. The wants are there. I just feel the desperate need for someone who won't treat me so perfectly. All that respect and kissing in bed is exhausting.
In the meanwhile - I'm going to spend some quality time with an electronic friend and enjoy coming thinking about things that I know he could never give me. I'll spend my time thinking about playing rough, and someone playing rough with me.
Surely I can find someone that would like to play a little rougher with me? We'll have to wait and see.
Wednesday 25 April 2012
A Long Night
Last night... So last night was an interesting night.
I didn't 'man up'.
I didn't tell him I wanted him to be firmer with me. I just told him he was sexier when he was assertive.
He was at first. He was firmer. He dragged my hips over the end of the bed and pushed me right over the edge with orgasms. So many orgasms I was quivering and shaking. I'd guess more than a dozen.
I got him on his back on the bed and went down on him.
And nothing.
He just wasn't up for it.
I could sense the disconnection immediately. Like something had washed through his mind. Like a thought had been swirling through his head and had re-routed the blood.
I could feel him tensing up. Him retreating from sex. As though it was game over. I curled up next to him, Kissed him and curled up next to him, running my hand over his muscular chest.
I asked him what was going through his head. He chose not to say. I nuzzled and kissed his neck. It wasn't sexual, more comforting. I didn't want to make a deal out of it. I've dealt with penis issues as a girlfriend - it's easy then. You tell them how you feel, that you like them for who they are. What the hell do you say to an ex?
I rushed a platitude. I wasn't trying to be condescending. I just wanted him to relax. My comfort sounded hollow to my critical ears. I paused and breathed. His dark brown eyes were a zillion miles away. My trite reassurances were lost in the void.
I hung in that awkward place. I quizzed him. I got imprecise blurred sentiment.
"It's different. Now that we're not together. The sex is. I'm different" he stuttered. His face impassive. His voice lacked it's usual cadence. The sentences were forced. The sentiment lost. Yes, the observation that things are different was valid. Things were. But why? My sexual feelings hadn't changed.
And then it struck me.
For me, sex and love are exclusive feelings. I can love someone asexually. I can have amazing sex with someone I don't love. He was in crisis: he'd never really slept with a girl he wasn't on a "path". To him, this gentle but fulfilling sex was filled with all those guilt emotions that those of us who are less conservative feel only when we breach one of societies more illicit rules.
To him, this was me compromising. And with that, he some how felt freer. Freer to touch me, freer to push me sexually. Then the guilt. Guilt that women deserve more. Guilt that he wasn't respecting me. And for him, those two feelings had been personified in the moment that I pulled his cock from my lips, licked it then sucked the head like a lollipop. That was what caused the freeze. I'd done it so he'd be able to see. I thought that he'd like the look of my soft lips. And I'd been right. I hadn't anticipated the guilt.
I assured him that there was nothing I was doing that I wouldn't have done as his girlfriend, that the freedoms he was exploring was just him exploring his sexuality. I assured him that the sex was amazing. My trite reassurances from before became veritable truths. With more direct and genuine conversation, he eased. Pulling me on top of him, he slipped his rock hard cock inside me and I started to grind against him. His fingertips stroking my soft breasts, as I came he pressed them against my clit, rocking my hips harder with the other hand.
We rested for a moment after I came for the sixth time on top. It was seconds before he had me on my back, legs over his shoulders. His cock pressed firmly against my vagina, slipping in.
I came instantly. He pressed my knees down against my chest, pushing his cock further inside me. I was a shaking mess. I came again. I shook so hard. The more I shook the more he pushed and the more I came.
I finally shook and shook and moaned and he came hard, deep inside of me. He rolled of next to me. We lay in bliss. The whole encounter, from him pulling me to the edge of the bed to us lying shaking on the bed was four hours. I'd had well in excess of two dozen orgasms. I was physically exhausted. We laughed, shared a moment of peace together. The chemistry between us was electric.
We curled up together and I slept in his bed. Two hours later I got up, went and sat on the couch. Passed an hour and a bit with some Angry Birds. Weighed up what I'd wear when I got home. I'd woken with a pounding headache and a very sore throat. The chills were running through my body. I curled up back in bed and (s)Ex brought me something for my fever and some water. He stroked my tired head. We lay naked and entwined for another hour, my fingers running over his morning erection. 8am. I excused myself. It was home time. I did some basic stretches to ease my aching muscles. My head was still throbbing and my throat was aching. I kissed him, dressed and he walked me to the door.
I rushed home, the painkillers slowly easing my achy body.
I showered quickly, make up, lipstick and a tidy outfit later, I met a new man for a cup of coffee. TallBoy. He was handsome and funny. Outdoorsy. He's muscular. He looks like something off a glossy cover.
Conversation flowed easily. His big bright blue eyes have a flash of cheekiness. The coffee was easy, the chat was pleasant. He laughed at jokes that weren't funny. Turns out, it's not just girls who do that.
He kissed me on the cheek goodbye. I was grateful to go, the painkillers from earlier were wearing off, and the drive home seemed like an eternally long way.
I rested my forehead against my steering wheel.
It's early afternoon. There is so much more of today left.
So much more.
Despite my aching muscles and my throbbing headache and sore throat. Despite my returning fever. I prepare to text (s)Ex. I'm going to tell him that I'll see him after I finish with some friends tonight. I want to see him. I want to feel his tongue pressed against my clit again. I want to see his big brown eyes looking at me like I"m something of wonder. I feel like a princess the way he looks at me.
As I sit, message screen open. I ponder. What do I say? I know TallBoy is the embodiment of everything (s)Ex would dread I'd like. He'd hate him. If he knew I'd spent the morning with another man, he'd be green eyed and jealous. He'd retreat. Those warm brown eyes would become steeled cold. I'd hate to lose the little care we have left. It'd be saddening to watch him walk away. Fear that he'll make me sad reassures me. I hate being afraid. I'll keep my secrets from him. He need not know. Right?
I didn't 'man up'.
I didn't tell him I wanted him to be firmer with me. I just told him he was sexier when he was assertive.
He was at first. He was firmer. He dragged my hips over the end of the bed and pushed me right over the edge with orgasms. So many orgasms I was quivering and shaking. I'd guess more than a dozen.
I got him on his back on the bed and went down on him.
And nothing.
He just wasn't up for it.
I could sense the disconnection immediately. Like something had washed through his mind. Like a thought had been swirling through his head and had re-routed the blood.
I could feel him tensing up. Him retreating from sex. As though it was game over. I curled up next to him, Kissed him and curled up next to him, running my hand over his muscular chest.
I asked him what was going through his head. He chose not to say. I nuzzled and kissed his neck. It wasn't sexual, more comforting. I didn't want to make a deal out of it. I've dealt with penis issues as a girlfriend - it's easy then. You tell them how you feel, that you like them for who they are. What the hell do you say to an ex?
I rushed a platitude. I wasn't trying to be condescending. I just wanted him to relax. My comfort sounded hollow to my critical ears. I paused and breathed. His dark brown eyes were a zillion miles away. My trite reassurances were lost in the void.
I hung in that awkward place. I quizzed him. I got imprecise blurred sentiment.
"It's different. Now that we're not together. The sex is. I'm different" he stuttered. His face impassive. His voice lacked it's usual cadence. The sentences were forced. The sentiment lost. Yes, the observation that things are different was valid. Things were. But why? My sexual feelings hadn't changed.
And then it struck me.
For me, sex and love are exclusive feelings. I can love someone asexually. I can have amazing sex with someone I don't love. He was in crisis: he'd never really slept with a girl he wasn't on a "path". To him, this gentle but fulfilling sex was filled with all those guilt emotions that those of us who are less conservative feel only when we breach one of societies more illicit rules.
To him, this was me compromising. And with that, he some how felt freer. Freer to touch me, freer to push me sexually. Then the guilt. Guilt that women deserve more. Guilt that he wasn't respecting me. And for him, those two feelings had been personified in the moment that I pulled his cock from my lips, licked it then sucked the head like a lollipop. That was what caused the freeze. I'd done it so he'd be able to see. I thought that he'd like the look of my soft lips. And I'd been right. I hadn't anticipated the guilt.
I assured him that there was nothing I was doing that I wouldn't have done as his girlfriend, that the freedoms he was exploring was just him exploring his sexuality. I assured him that the sex was amazing. My trite reassurances from before became veritable truths. With more direct and genuine conversation, he eased. Pulling me on top of him, he slipped his rock hard cock inside me and I started to grind against him. His fingertips stroking my soft breasts, as I came he pressed them against my clit, rocking my hips harder with the other hand.
We rested for a moment after I came for the sixth time on top. It was seconds before he had me on my back, legs over his shoulders. His cock pressed firmly against my vagina, slipping in.
I came instantly. He pressed my knees down against my chest, pushing his cock further inside me. I was a shaking mess. I came again. I shook so hard. The more I shook the more he pushed and the more I came.
I finally shook and shook and moaned and he came hard, deep inside of me. He rolled of next to me. We lay in bliss. The whole encounter, from him pulling me to the edge of the bed to us lying shaking on the bed was four hours. I'd had well in excess of two dozen orgasms. I was physically exhausted. We laughed, shared a moment of peace together. The chemistry between us was electric.
We curled up together and I slept in his bed. Two hours later I got up, went and sat on the couch. Passed an hour and a bit with some Angry Birds. Weighed up what I'd wear when I got home. I'd woken with a pounding headache and a very sore throat. The chills were running through my body. I curled up back in bed and (s)Ex brought me something for my fever and some water. He stroked my tired head. We lay naked and entwined for another hour, my fingers running over his morning erection. 8am. I excused myself. It was home time. I did some basic stretches to ease my aching muscles. My head was still throbbing and my throat was aching. I kissed him, dressed and he walked me to the door.
I rushed home, the painkillers slowly easing my achy body.
I showered quickly, make up, lipstick and a tidy outfit later, I met a new man for a cup of coffee. TallBoy. He was handsome and funny. Outdoorsy. He's muscular. He looks like something off a glossy cover.
Conversation flowed easily. His big bright blue eyes have a flash of cheekiness. The coffee was easy, the chat was pleasant. He laughed at jokes that weren't funny. Turns out, it's not just girls who do that.
He kissed me on the cheek goodbye. I was grateful to go, the painkillers from earlier were wearing off, and the drive home seemed like an eternally long way.
I rested my forehead against my steering wheel.
It's early afternoon. There is so much more of today left.
So much more.
Despite my aching muscles and my throbbing headache and sore throat. Despite my returning fever. I prepare to text (s)Ex. I'm going to tell him that I'll see him after I finish with some friends tonight. I want to see him. I want to feel his tongue pressed against my clit again. I want to see his big brown eyes looking at me like I"m something of wonder. I feel like a princess the way he looks at me.
As I sit, message screen open. I ponder. What do I say? I know TallBoy is the embodiment of everything (s)Ex would dread I'd like. He'd hate him. If he knew I'd spent the morning with another man, he'd be green eyed and jealous. He'd retreat. Those warm brown eyes would become steeled cold. I'd hate to lose the little care we have left. It'd be saddening to watch him walk away. Fear that he'll make me sad reassures me. I hate being afraid. I'll keep my secrets from him. He need not know. Right?
Tuesday 24 April 2012
The Waiting Game
It's Tuesday. I've had a couple of drinks. Rum.
I'm playing the waiting game.
The waiting game is that time when you're all ready to go, but have no place to be yet.
Tonight I'm off to fuck my (s)Ex. I'm hoping he'll have a few drinks and I can get him to actually play nasty with me tonight. He wants me to squirt. I've told him the basics. If I do though, I know I'll want more. I'll want to confess all my dirty little fantasies to him.
He'll freak. He'll probably cry like the good boy he is.
How do I tell him if he wants me to actually squirt he's going to need to get far dirtier. Far far dirtier than he ever has.
I'm pouring another rum as I ponder this.
I'm sexting my friends ex-boyfriend. He's gay. I just want to be in a beautiful threesome with him again. The first and last time we had a threesome it was fucking beautiful.
My friend was driving. The two boys had broken up. We went out partying as friends. We had been at the bar. This story will be so much easier if I give them names. So tonight, we'll call them Thick and Long. One has a thick cock. It's average in length. The other one has an average girthed cock but it's beautiful and long.
So, we're driving across the city to take Thick home. Long is driving. We're most of the hour and a bit drive to his place, and we stumble across a traffic stop. Random breathalyser test. So Long steps out. Thick and I were sure he was trashed. We both were. The policeman tells Long to step out of the vehicle. I kneel up on the front seat, peering over at Thick with raised eyebrows. A uniformed officer gets into the vehicle and suggests I might want to wear a seatbelt whilst he parks Longs car.
The officer parks Longs car, tells us the wait could be 20 minutes or could be much longer. I slip off my seatbelt. It's winter. The alcohol isn't keeping me warm and I didn't pack a jacket. The officer could see we were both drunk and had taken Longs keys. I climb into the back with Thick. We lean against each other, laughing about the night. Thick looks at me intently. He tells me I'm beautiful. He kisses me.
My lips were on fire. He feels amazing. He whispers. I haven't been with a girl in years and years. I don't know what I'm doing.
I'm speechless.
I want him to relax.
I hop on my knees on the back seat of the car. The windows are foggy from the breathing and talking. My tiny black dress barely covers my ass. It's a blessing the windows are foggy. I unzip his pants and kiss him again.
I gently lick his hard cock. I can sense he's nervous. He brushes his fingers through my brown hair, pulling it up off my face. He's watching me lick and kiss the head of his cock. I'm turning him on. I'm focussing on the head of his cock, wanting him to relax before I do anymore. I feel his hands ease a little. That's my cue. I start to suck, drawing more of him into my mouth. I hear him gasp and say my name. I can tell that he's enjoying it. He reaches under neath my dress and touches my panties. He tells me he can't believe how wet they are. Thicks voice rasping because I'm turning him on. He grabs my hair, pushing his thick cock into my mouth, pulling my head up and pushing down again.
The click of the door catch is deafening, as is the sharp cold air straight across my exposed ass.
Thick freezes. His arm muscles tense up, meaning I'm stuck, his cock deep in my throat.
The silence hangs in the air, the breeze still blowing. My tiny soaking wet g string isn't providing me with much protection.
I wriggle my knees nervously. My knees are on Longs jacket. Thicks cock hardens in my mouth.
Thick speaks first.
"Lick her ass"
I feel his fist tighten on my hair, dick in my throat. He's no longer frozen, he's holding me there.
I feel the weight of Long climb into the car behind me. He shuts the door. The cold breeze stops. He pushes the dress up the rest of the way, slips his finger inside the front of my panties, pulling his finger back along my pussy towards my ass slowly. Gently lifting the lace from between my cheeks.
I feel a warm wet tongue against my ass. I quiver. Thick starts to pull my head up and down. Long is licking my asshole hard. I hear Longs zipper. His cock is rock hard, and he's freeing it from the constraints of his pants.
He shoves his tongue hard into my ass, and starts jerking his cock. Before long, the front of his thighs are pressed hard against the back of mine. He presses his cock into my pussy. I'm wet. My panties are soaking.
My moans are muffled by Thicks cock filling up my mouth. The two boys aren't exactly gentle. They fuck my mouth and my pussy at the same time. I came hard. Repeatedly. My legs start to shake.
Long pulls out. Pushing me aside and starts to suck Thicks hard cock. I play with Longs cock and balls. Trying to get him close, I start to suck hard. Long and Thick are both moaning. Longs mouth as full as mine. I get all of Longs cock into my mouth and throat. It takes a while.
Long comes first. I swallow hard. As Thick is about to come, Long stops sucking and grabs my hair, making me suck him and swallow his cum too.
We all lean against the back seat of the car. Thick and Long have both quit smoking. I light one and pass it to my left and Thick takes it. I light one and pass it to my right and Long takes it. I light another and we sit and smoke. I look down at my designer label dress. There is cum on the fabric covering my tits. I don't know who it belongs to. I straight the hem at the bottom. The dry cleaning bill on this beauty is going to kill me. Who gets come on a five hundred dollar dress?
We slowly finish our cigarettes and dress and begin to drive. The conversation is comfortably quiet.
I drift off to sleep before we reach Thicks house. Long carries me to my warm waiting bed on the other side of town an hour and a bit later. Tucking me in.
And my problem for tonight?
All I have to do is blurt out and tell a guy I want him to be a little more assertive with me. Sounds pretty easy after all that. Right?
I'm playing the waiting game.
The waiting game is that time when you're all ready to go, but have no place to be yet.
Tonight I'm off to fuck my (s)Ex. I'm hoping he'll have a few drinks and I can get him to actually play nasty with me tonight. He wants me to squirt. I've told him the basics. If I do though, I know I'll want more. I'll want to confess all my dirty little fantasies to him.
He'll freak. He'll probably cry like the good boy he is.
How do I tell him if he wants me to actually squirt he's going to need to get far dirtier. Far far dirtier than he ever has.
I'm pouring another rum as I ponder this.
I'm sexting my friends ex-boyfriend. He's gay. I just want to be in a beautiful threesome with him again. The first and last time we had a threesome it was fucking beautiful.
My friend was driving. The two boys had broken up. We went out partying as friends. We had been at the bar. This story will be so much easier if I give them names. So tonight, we'll call them Thick and Long. One has a thick cock. It's average in length. The other one has an average girthed cock but it's beautiful and long.
So, we're driving across the city to take Thick home. Long is driving. We're most of the hour and a bit drive to his place, and we stumble across a traffic stop. Random breathalyser test. So Long steps out. Thick and I were sure he was trashed. We both were. The policeman tells Long to step out of the vehicle. I kneel up on the front seat, peering over at Thick with raised eyebrows. A uniformed officer gets into the vehicle and suggests I might want to wear a seatbelt whilst he parks Longs car.
The officer parks Longs car, tells us the wait could be 20 minutes or could be much longer. I slip off my seatbelt. It's winter. The alcohol isn't keeping me warm and I didn't pack a jacket. The officer could see we were both drunk and had taken Longs keys. I climb into the back with Thick. We lean against each other, laughing about the night. Thick looks at me intently. He tells me I'm beautiful. He kisses me.
My lips were on fire. He feels amazing. He whispers. I haven't been with a girl in years and years. I don't know what I'm doing.
I'm speechless.
I want him to relax.
I hop on my knees on the back seat of the car. The windows are foggy from the breathing and talking. My tiny black dress barely covers my ass. It's a blessing the windows are foggy. I unzip his pants and kiss him again.
I gently lick his hard cock. I can sense he's nervous. He brushes his fingers through my brown hair, pulling it up off my face. He's watching me lick and kiss the head of his cock. I'm turning him on. I'm focussing on the head of his cock, wanting him to relax before I do anymore. I feel his hands ease a little. That's my cue. I start to suck, drawing more of him into my mouth. I hear him gasp and say my name. I can tell that he's enjoying it. He reaches under neath my dress and touches my panties. He tells me he can't believe how wet they are. Thicks voice rasping because I'm turning him on. He grabs my hair, pushing his thick cock into my mouth, pulling my head up and pushing down again.
The click of the door catch is deafening, as is the sharp cold air straight across my exposed ass.
Thick freezes. His arm muscles tense up, meaning I'm stuck, his cock deep in my throat.
The silence hangs in the air, the breeze still blowing. My tiny soaking wet g string isn't providing me with much protection.
I wriggle my knees nervously. My knees are on Longs jacket. Thicks cock hardens in my mouth.
Thick speaks first.
"Lick her ass"
I feel his fist tighten on my hair, dick in my throat. He's no longer frozen, he's holding me there.
I feel the weight of Long climb into the car behind me. He shuts the door. The cold breeze stops. He pushes the dress up the rest of the way, slips his finger inside the front of my panties, pulling his finger back along my pussy towards my ass slowly. Gently lifting the lace from between my cheeks.
I feel a warm wet tongue against my ass. I quiver. Thick starts to pull my head up and down. Long is licking my asshole hard. I hear Longs zipper. His cock is rock hard, and he's freeing it from the constraints of his pants.
He shoves his tongue hard into my ass, and starts jerking his cock. Before long, the front of his thighs are pressed hard against the back of mine. He presses his cock into my pussy. I'm wet. My panties are soaking.
My moans are muffled by Thicks cock filling up my mouth. The two boys aren't exactly gentle. They fuck my mouth and my pussy at the same time. I came hard. Repeatedly. My legs start to shake.
Long pulls out. Pushing me aside and starts to suck Thicks hard cock. I play with Longs cock and balls. Trying to get him close, I start to suck hard. Long and Thick are both moaning. Longs mouth as full as mine. I get all of Longs cock into my mouth and throat. It takes a while.
Long comes first. I swallow hard. As Thick is about to come, Long stops sucking and grabs my hair, making me suck him and swallow his cum too.
We all lean against the back seat of the car. Thick and Long have both quit smoking. I light one and pass it to my left and Thick takes it. I light one and pass it to my right and Long takes it. I light another and we sit and smoke. I look down at my designer label dress. There is cum on the fabric covering my tits. I don't know who it belongs to. I straight the hem at the bottom. The dry cleaning bill on this beauty is going to kill me. Who gets come on a five hundred dollar dress?
We slowly finish our cigarettes and dress and begin to drive. The conversation is comfortably quiet.
I drift off to sleep before we reach Thicks house. Long carries me to my warm waiting bed on the other side of town an hour and a bit later. Tucking me in.
And my problem for tonight?
All I have to do is blurt out and tell a guy I want him to be a little more assertive with me. Sounds pretty easy after all that. Right?
Monday 23 April 2012
A Productive Monday
So today I caught up with a friends fiance. She's great. I love her heaps. She's smart and funny and sweet. Cute too. We had chats and coffee (at his behest). She's great, she dealt with the fact he was in love with me for a very long time. She forgave him fucking fat girls behind her back. She doesn't know we've been fooling around.
I thought I'd feel weird and guilty. I thought it would make me chew my nails. She merrily chatted away about her wedding planning and stuff. All I could think about was him in his car up on his knees jerking off into my mouth.
I know it's dirty. I know it's wrong. She's great. Why risk one of his oldest friendships for a few fuck arounds? Why jeopardise their entire future for a few minutes of fun?
Because he can.
I know that's awful. I know it sounds hollow and empty and shallow. But that's all there is to it. Because he can. The more he manipulates her trust with half truths and the more public the place he cheats the more it turns him on.
A week ago we were parked a hundred metres from a construction site.
Stupid part is he actually loves her. I can hear the moral uproar in my head "If he loved her he wouldn't fuck around with you, homewrecker".
Truth is, if he wasn't fucking around with me it'd be someone else (hey, truth be told, probably is someone else too). At least I don't want to keep him. She doesn't like sex, he does. What do they do?
This strikes me as a not entirely uncommon scenario.
Whilst pondering this question I got into a lovely private chat with one of my readers (Darling, if you're reading this, hello. I didn't use your web ID in case your girl stumbled across my blog).
This lovely man shared with me that there are things he desires sexually that she doesn't share with him. So I did the responsible thing and did a quick whip around of my guy friends to confirm a few things.
After a brief chatty poll I discovered that this is normal. I was speechless. Every guy I spoke to gave me the same chewed out company line: She's great, she's sweet, I love her, it's just this one little thing.
Maybe that's why I'm perpetually single? I actually like getting laid?
In the "getting laid" department (so much fonder of that): this week has another impeding night of my (s)Ex and my favourite TV shows. We may end up drinking tequila.
We caught up last night, but I have a new rule. If he's too gutless to make a move, then why should I fuck him? I told him tonight flat out. If you want more, go for it. I'll just have to keep my Wednesday morning date a secret. He'd flip if I told him. He'd be jealous and possessive and weird.
With much confusion (especially about frigid bitches)
Your favourite homewrecking SSB xxx
I thought I'd feel weird and guilty. I thought it would make me chew my nails. She merrily chatted away about her wedding planning and stuff. All I could think about was him in his car up on his knees jerking off into my mouth.
I know it's dirty. I know it's wrong. She's great. Why risk one of his oldest friendships for a few fuck arounds? Why jeopardise their entire future for a few minutes of fun?
Because he can.
I know that's awful. I know it sounds hollow and empty and shallow. But that's all there is to it. Because he can. The more he manipulates her trust with half truths and the more public the place he cheats the more it turns him on.
A week ago we were parked a hundred metres from a construction site.
Stupid part is he actually loves her. I can hear the moral uproar in my head "If he loved her he wouldn't fuck around with you, homewrecker".
Truth is, if he wasn't fucking around with me it'd be someone else (hey, truth be told, probably is someone else too). At least I don't want to keep him. She doesn't like sex, he does. What do they do?
This strikes me as a not entirely uncommon scenario.
Whilst pondering this question I got into a lovely private chat with one of my readers (Darling, if you're reading this, hello. I didn't use your web ID in case your girl stumbled across my blog).
This lovely man shared with me that there are things he desires sexually that she doesn't share with him. So I did the responsible thing and did a quick whip around of my guy friends to confirm a few things.
After a brief chatty poll I discovered that this is normal. I was speechless. Every guy I spoke to gave me the same chewed out company line: She's great, she's sweet, I love her, it's just this one little thing.
Maybe that's why I'm perpetually single? I actually like getting laid?
In the "getting laid" department (so much fonder of that): this week has another impeding night of my (s)Ex and my favourite TV shows. We may end up drinking tequila.
We caught up last night, but I have a new rule. If he's too gutless to make a move, then why should I fuck him? I told him tonight flat out. If you want more, go for it. I'll just have to keep my Wednesday morning date a secret. He'd flip if I told him. He'd be jealous and possessive and weird.
With much confusion (especially about frigid bitches)
Your favourite homewrecking SSB xxx
I Want You To Want Me
So my (s)ex came over tonight. We watched stupid TV, talked about stupid shit.
I'm so sick of initiating sex with him. I know he's up for it, I had my legs in his lap, I felt his hard on through his pants. But he's so gutless he won't make a move.
What's the story?
When we were a couple he was always reserved about making the first move. I hate being the one who always starts things. Don't get me wrong - it's usually worth it. But after washing my hair, shaving my legs, slipping into a black lacy pair of panties, you'd think the boy could kiss me, right? Nope. Nada. He just sat there like a chump waiting.
I don't know if other people think it's a big deal, but for me, knowing I can have it if I get it is nowhere near as fun as someone wanting it. I mean, I know he'll go down on me if I make the effort to go get him. Worst of all he was at my place.
So I let him leave. I didn't even kiss him goodbye. I curled up in bed, watched some nasty porn (I love those ones with the double penetration), slipped my beautiful vibrator in, and rocked myself to a cosy seven orgasms. It was my second solo-session today, giving me a beautiful total of sixteen orgasms today.
I love my vibrator. Seriously.
My really kinky friend (see blog "A Strange Kinda Thursday" from the other day) has been on the fritz this weekend - I think he's stressed, but I do miss the kinky fun we have. I'm moderately hopeful he'll make time for a round this week.
A really filthy friend of mine just flew into town. I'm patient. He's making the family rounds after being overseas for a couple of years. When I'm ready, I know he'll be up for some fun. But patience is a virtue. He loves dominant/submissive play. But he's a little icier and more experienced. He likes it when it hurts a little and the control. He likes it when I can't breathe properly. I like the danger.
In less-than-sexy news, I'm on a best-friend-regulated date. It's mandatory that every so often I attempt to consume food/coffee with a guy. Dating always ends in a disaster for me. Last one wanted to marry me after ten weeks, and when I couldn't promise it, he freaked out, broke it off and bailed. The one before him turned out to be a religious fanatic. A beautiful little nugget of truth he saved for the first two months. The one before that asked me to move in with him after 11 weeks. Not one passed the twelve week mark. This one is tall, handsome and hand selected from online dating by BFF. He's a geek (we both like an assortment of geeky movies and TV shows), but also a fitness freak. Hopefully it's not a total disaster. Hopefully he doesn't get too attached. I hate that.
An old boss of mine is in town next weekend. Which may make for one long night of sex if I can escape some prior commitments. He announced his arrival with full body naked photos sent to my inbox accompanied by the dates he's in town. He's a slut. Under pressure after tequila one night he estimated that he's slept with between 200-300 women. He's not particularly good looking, but he's got a nice firm body and a fairly ample cock. But mostly? He comes off like he doesn't give a fuck. Which most girls find their Kryptonite. For me? We bond over science, particularly anthropology. We've lain in bed for whole nights and mornings looking at science journals. He's a gentle but selfish lover. He has a huge thing for fingers in his ass, which I don't mind sometimes, but he loves it. A lot. I think he's too repressed to have more in his ass, even though deep down I think he's curious enough to want more.
I miss my friend. She's cute, hard breasts, curvy ass. She's not the stick-thin that's so often preferred these days, but she has a nice muscular round ass. Firm legs. She's a make up free, jeans and tee kind of girl. Her big hazel eyes. She used to wear glasses (laser eye surgery). She's got a beautiful big smile. She's a lying bitch too. She lied to me. So so much. I forgave it. She cheated on her boyfriend (a mate of mine). I ignored it. But she 30% confessed her sins to him. Implicating me. He's spent the last 6 months out of his mind with paranoia. Knowing she's still lying. Knowing there's more. I don't mind that she's a lying bitch. I really just care that she sucks at it. Might sound mean? I've spent at least once a week dealing with her boyfriends fucked up neuroses. So two weeks ago, when she hadn't spoken to me in weeks, he finally put me under enough pressure that I cracked. Told him some more of the truth. Not everything, but enough to set aside her lies and get some better answers. I'd pleaded, negotiated and explained to her she hadn't covered her tracks adequately and that she was getting herself in deep. Bitch didn't listen. If she'd only kept her shit together and not got an attack of the guilts. But she thought she got seen with her secret lover and heard footsteps and confessed. Now she won't talk to me. Mostly I miss her going down on me.
That girl and I did so many naughty things. She'll never watch another Quentin Tarantino movie with a straight face again. I did terribly sordid things to that girl, with QT movies playing in the background, while our friend watched. Our friend. With the frigid girlfriend, and the barely-legal-whores who chase him. He's a watcher. Occasionally a toucher. Never a fucker. If only the Little Lady wasn't such a perfect lady and would suck his cock, he'd be a faithful man.
I miss those days of fun, her coming so hard she'd shake and quiver. Watching the orgasms roll over her, her huge breasts shuddering as she came.
So, here's a toast.
To friends who come and go.
xxSSB
I'm so sick of initiating sex with him. I know he's up for it, I had my legs in his lap, I felt his hard on through his pants. But he's so gutless he won't make a move.
What's the story?
When we were a couple he was always reserved about making the first move. I hate being the one who always starts things. Don't get me wrong - it's usually worth it. But after washing my hair, shaving my legs, slipping into a black lacy pair of panties, you'd think the boy could kiss me, right? Nope. Nada. He just sat there like a chump waiting.
I don't know if other people think it's a big deal, but for me, knowing I can have it if I get it is nowhere near as fun as someone wanting it. I mean, I know he'll go down on me if I make the effort to go get him. Worst of all he was at my place.
So I let him leave. I didn't even kiss him goodbye. I curled up in bed, watched some nasty porn (I love those ones with the double penetration), slipped my beautiful vibrator in, and rocked myself to a cosy seven orgasms. It was my second solo-session today, giving me a beautiful total of sixteen orgasms today.
I love my vibrator. Seriously.
My really kinky friend (see blog "A Strange Kinda Thursday" from the other day) has been on the fritz this weekend - I think he's stressed, but I do miss the kinky fun we have. I'm moderately hopeful he'll make time for a round this week.
A really filthy friend of mine just flew into town. I'm patient. He's making the family rounds after being overseas for a couple of years. When I'm ready, I know he'll be up for some fun. But patience is a virtue. He loves dominant/submissive play. But he's a little icier and more experienced. He likes it when it hurts a little and the control. He likes it when I can't breathe properly. I like the danger.
In less-than-sexy news, I'm on a best-friend-regulated date. It's mandatory that every so often I attempt to consume food/coffee with a guy. Dating always ends in a disaster for me. Last one wanted to marry me after ten weeks, and when I couldn't promise it, he freaked out, broke it off and bailed. The one before him turned out to be a religious fanatic. A beautiful little nugget of truth he saved for the first two months. The one before that asked me to move in with him after 11 weeks. Not one passed the twelve week mark. This one is tall, handsome and hand selected from online dating by BFF. He's a geek (we both like an assortment of geeky movies and TV shows), but also a fitness freak. Hopefully it's not a total disaster. Hopefully he doesn't get too attached. I hate that.
An old boss of mine is in town next weekend. Which may make for one long night of sex if I can escape some prior commitments. He announced his arrival with full body naked photos sent to my inbox accompanied by the dates he's in town. He's a slut. Under pressure after tequila one night he estimated that he's slept with between 200-300 women. He's not particularly good looking, but he's got a nice firm body and a fairly ample cock. But mostly? He comes off like he doesn't give a fuck. Which most girls find their Kryptonite. For me? We bond over science, particularly anthropology. We've lain in bed for whole nights and mornings looking at science journals. He's a gentle but selfish lover. He has a huge thing for fingers in his ass, which I don't mind sometimes, but he loves it. A lot. I think he's too repressed to have more in his ass, even though deep down I think he's curious enough to want more.
I miss my friend. She's cute, hard breasts, curvy ass. She's not the stick-thin that's so often preferred these days, but she has a nice muscular round ass. Firm legs. She's a make up free, jeans and tee kind of girl. Her big hazel eyes. She used to wear glasses (laser eye surgery). She's got a beautiful big smile. She's a lying bitch too. She lied to me. So so much. I forgave it. She cheated on her boyfriend (a mate of mine). I ignored it. But she 30% confessed her sins to him. Implicating me. He's spent the last 6 months out of his mind with paranoia. Knowing she's still lying. Knowing there's more. I don't mind that she's a lying bitch. I really just care that she sucks at it. Might sound mean? I've spent at least once a week dealing with her boyfriends fucked up neuroses. So two weeks ago, when she hadn't spoken to me in weeks, he finally put me under enough pressure that I cracked. Told him some more of the truth. Not everything, but enough to set aside her lies and get some better answers. I'd pleaded, negotiated and explained to her she hadn't covered her tracks adequately and that she was getting herself in deep. Bitch didn't listen. If she'd only kept her shit together and not got an attack of the guilts. But she thought she got seen with her secret lover and heard footsteps and confessed. Now she won't talk to me. Mostly I miss her going down on me.
That girl and I did so many naughty things. She'll never watch another Quentin Tarantino movie with a straight face again. I did terribly sordid things to that girl, with QT movies playing in the background, while our friend watched. Our friend. With the frigid girlfriend, and the barely-legal-whores who chase him. He's a watcher. Occasionally a toucher. Never a fucker. If only the Little Lady wasn't such a perfect lady and would suck his cock, he'd be a faithful man.
I miss those days of fun, her coming so hard she'd shake and quiver. Watching the orgasms roll over her, her huge breasts shuddering as she came.
So, here's a toast.
To friends who come and go.
xxSSB
Saturday 21 April 2012
Who Am I?
So I guess who I am is the next question.
Whether we admit it or like it, looks are the first thing anyone has to go one. So what do I look like? I'm not a model - I'm 'cute' apparently. I'm 162cm tall (5'3" for you American kids). I stepped on the scales to write this blog and I weigh in at 57kg. Making me a size 8-10. I do have big boobs - they're a 10DD. I have green eyes, which I always have thought of as one of my more impressive attributes. I have light brown hair that sits just on my shoulders. The photo in my picture is actually a picture of my lips (I'll confess to touching up a slight blemish to make it a little prettier though).
I study at one of the more prestigious Australian universities. I'm supposed to be "smart". Always hated that word though, as if smart is just something you're born. Smart is something you choose.
I fell in love for the first time at 14. It was a beautiful summer romance. A little over three months. He was my first, a pretty special guy too. We're still friends all these years later. He called me today, asked me to send him a photo of his boobs, I told him he was a dick. He agreed.
I've been in love twice properly. I think. The first time was from 16-18. I spent with a huge douche. He fucked my friends and I let it go. I was scared to be alone. Then he had a relationship with a girl in secret behind my back. Then I moved out. Moved in with a friend who I got into a committed BDSM relationship with for a few months (that's a longer story for another day).
The second time was with an old friend (18- nearly 21). We had one perfect year, six average months, six awful months. At the end he realised he needed to sexually experiment with guys. He dated a few guys, and now he's dating girls again. After all that, we're best friends. Ok...sometimes we sleep together.
And what since? I've tried dating. It's not really working for me though. I'm not really the white-dress-in-a-church kind of girl. I wish I was.
I'm endlessly teased for being a Vulcan (non-nerds: Google that Star Trek reference). I don't get attached, I don't fall in love. And today... today is my three year anniversary of being single. Feels like there should be party hats right?
What does one girl do with a three year stint in singlehood? You fuck. Everyone you ever wanted...
Whether we admit it or like it, looks are the first thing anyone has to go one. So what do I look like? I'm not a model - I'm 'cute' apparently. I'm 162cm tall (5'3" for you American kids). I stepped on the scales to write this blog and I weigh in at 57kg. Making me a size 8-10. I do have big boobs - they're a 10DD. I have green eyes, which I always have thought of as one of my more impressive attributes. I have light brown hair that sits just on my shoulders. The photo in my picture is actually a picture of my lips (I'll confess to touching up a slight blemish to make it a little prettier though).
I study at one of the more prestigious Australian universities. I'm supposed to be "smart". Always hated that word though, as if smart is just something you're born. Smart is something you choose.
I fell in love for the first time at 14. It was a beautiful summer romance. A little over three months. He was my first, a pretty special guy too. We're still friends all these years later. He called me today, asked me to send him a photo of his boobs, I told him he was a dick. He agreed.
I've been in love twice properly. I think. The first time was from 16-18. I spent with a huge douche. He fucked my friends and I let it go. I was scared to be alone. Then he had a relationship with a girl in secret behind my back. Then I moved out. Moved in with a friend who I got into a committed BDSM relationship with for a few months (that's a longer story for another day).
The second time was with an old friend (18- nearly 21). We had one perfect year, six average months, six awful months. At the end he realised he needed to sexually experiment with guys. He dated a few guys, and now he's dating girls again. After all that, we're best friends. Ok...sometimes we sleep together.
And what since? I've tried dating. It's not really working for me though. I'm not really the white-dress-in-a-church kind of girl. I wish I was.
I'm endlessly teased for being a Vulcan (non-nerds: Google that Star Trek reference). I don't get attached, I don't fall in love. And today... today is my three year anniversary of being single. Feels like there should be party hats right?
What does one girl do with a three year stint in singlehood? You fuck. Everyone you ever wanted...
Dereliction of Booty?
I'm weighing up this evenings options.
I can call my (s)ex, but at the same time I don't want to cause myself more trouble than it's worth.
Or I can stay home and watch porn.
I know sex for two is so much more fun but the allure of a night with my vibrators and some peace is so powerful.
I know traditionally single-and-horny's frequent bars, looking for someone drunk enough to smear their lipstick and jizz on their panties before passing out, but drunk fucks with strangers are rarely enjoyable. They always lack the dedication and stamina I look for in a partner. Those first moments of anticipation, of alluring naughtiness, and the threat of impending next-morning-guilt while hunting for your panties as you kiss a perfect stranger never compare to the depressing morning after.
As it is I'm a well documented post-coitus-bailer, I barely like to cuddle with people I love. When I don't love them, I tend to just get dressed and go. On the few occasions when I've stayed the night with someone I don't care about, the next morning while I get dressed, tidy my messed hair and make up and hunt for any excuse to get out makes me resent them and pray I never even have to speak to them again.
The reaction to dressing immediately after sex and leaving is usually one of hurt confusion. I'm sure women hate it, but guys hate it too. They all THINK that they'd be ok with it, but when the girl can't give an explanation about why she doesn't want to stay and just leaves it makes them paranoid it was them. And every precious minute I spend standing there persuading them it wasn't them, I get less persuasive because each precious minute makes it a little less true. It becomes the neurosis that makes sure I never ever go back.
I think it's self defence though - if you stay, if you spend time pretending you give a fuck about people you don't, you end up actually giving a fuck. Why stay and cuddle if you think it's stupid? To make someone you don't care about happy?
For those reasons, I despise having sex at my place. You feel so pressured as the hostess to offer them water, to let them sleep if they're "exhausted" as so many men claim to be after sex (I think of them as "lodgers" when they go "Oh I'm soooooooo tired *yawn*"). How do you tell a lodger that they've overstayed? Look, your penis was great, but you should take it and get the fuck out.
Just me?
I can call my (s)ex, but at the same time I don't want to cause myself more trouble than it's worth.
Or I can stay home and watch porn.
I know sex for two is so much more fun but the allure of a night with my vibrators and some peace is so powerful.
I know traditionally single-and-horny's frequent bars, looking for someone drunk enough to smear their lipstick and jizz on their panties before passing out, but drunk fucks with strangers are rarely enjoyable. They always lack the dedication and stamina I look for in a partner. Those first moments of anticipation, of alluring naughtiness, and the threat of impending next-morning-guilt while hunting for your panties as you kiss a perfect stranger never compare to the depressing morning after.
As it is I'm a well documented post-coitus-bailer, I barely like to cuddle with people I love. When I don't love them, I tend to just get dressed and go. On the few occasions when I've stayed the night with someone I don't care about, the next morning while I get dressed, tidy my messed hair and make up and hunt for any excuse to get out makes me resent them and pray I never even have to speak to them again.
The reaction to dressing immediately after sex and leaving is usually one of hurt confusion. I'm sure women hate it, but guys hate it too. They all THINK that they'd be ok with it, but when the girl can't give an explanation about why she doesn't want to stay and just leaves it makes them paranoid it was them. And every precious minute I spend standing there persuading them it wasn't them, I get less persuasive because each precious minute makes it a little less true. It becomes the neurosis that makes sure I never ever go back.
I think it's self defence though - if you stay, if you spend time pretending you give a fuck about people you don't, you end up actually giving a fuck. Why stay and cuddle if you think it's stupid? To make someone you don't care about happy?
For those reasons, I despise having sex at my place. You feel so pressured as the hostess to offer them water, to let them sleep if they're "exhausted" as so many men claim to be after sex (I think of them as "lodgers" when they go "Oh I'm soooooooo tired *yawn*"). How do you tell a lodger that they've overstayed? Look, your penis was great, but you should take it and get the fuck out.
Just me?
Friday 20 April 2012
A Slow Kind of Friday
It's early afternoon and today has been pretty quiet.
A few dirty texts from a former boss. He's stunning and gorgeous (he was on the cover of a magazine). But he's a douche. A holistic medicine hugs-and-puppies type weirdo.
Silence from my ex-boyfriend (henceforth: (s)Ex). Suits me, I didn't want to say anything.
Dirty texts from my friend on Thursday.
A guy I know is engaged with a small child (a month old). He asked if I want to catch up. In the past I helped him cheat on her. Just oral sex (both ways), kissing and touching. But never full on sex. Lunch last week ended up with a steamy make out session in the back of his car. I came hard with his fingers inside me, but it feels different now he's a dad, and his fiance and I are friends. I don't really feel guilty about it, just confused. I don't want to be the girl who ruins his happiness, especially since I feel nothing for him. In high school he wrote me Star Wars themed love letters. It didn't exactly set the right tune.
Tonight I have no specific plan. I was weighing up pros and cons of sex tonight, but I'm a little worn out. Whilst I could have it home-delivered, a trip to my bath with my vibrator might be the best thing ever.
A few dirty texts from a former boss. He's stunning and gorgeous (he was on the cover of a magazine). But he's a douche. A holistic medicine hugs-and-puppies type weirdo.
Silence from my ex-boyfriend (henceforth: (s)Ex). Suits me, I didn't want to say anything.
Dirty texts from my friend on Thursday.
A guy I know is engaged with a small child (a month old). He asked if I want to catch up. In the past I helped him cheat on her. Just oral sex (both ways), kissing and touching. But never full on sex. Lunch last week ended up with a steamy make out session in the back of his car. I came hard with his fingers inside me, but it feels different now he's a dad, and his fiance and I are friends. I don't really feel guilty about it, just confused. I don't want to be the girl who ruins his happiness, especially since I feel nothing for him. In high school he wrote me Star Wars themed love letters. It didn't exactly set the right tune.
Tonight I have no specific plan. I was weighing up pros and cons of sex tonight, but I'm a little worn out. Whilst I could have it home-delivered, a trip to my bath with my vibrator might be the best thing ever.
Thursday 19 April 2012
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