A Weekend...

So MarriedGuy is now in fact married. I did my part, participated in their wedding. Managed not to say anything about the frequency of his indiscretions. I was in his hotel room getting ready to go down to the reception. MarriedGuy copped a feel, whispered "one day I'll grow up", kissed me on the neck. I don't think he has any intention of treating married life differently to the last 6 1/2 years of their relationship.

So, Long. Good old Long and I caught up. It was BossMans birthday party. BabyFace, Long and BossMan and I got talking. There were espresso martinis. Many many espresso martinis. And after a hundred espresso martinis, I was licking espresso off two gay guys then Long and BabyFace took me home and we had quite the interesting night. What a night it was too.... spanking, oral, anal...  Those two boys fucked me so hard it was incredible. Those two twisted my body into a thousand different positions. I think my favourite would have to be on my couch though. Long sitting down with BabyFace holding my head down on Longs cock while fucking me hard from behind.

You'd think that'd be enough for one weekend? But no. At the wedding, I was busted naked by a very handsome musician (getting changed into my dress). The best man was following him into the room. I've known the best man for the better part of 10 years. At the reception, the best man and I were sitting at the bridal table. After ensuring his wife and son were a reasonable distance away, he grabbed my hand under the table, pulled it up onto his thigh, leaned in and whispered "The musician looked away, I didn't. Every inch of skin under your dress is just about perfect." When it came to good bye hugs, he kissed me, almost on the lips. Just far enough to be socially acceptable, but the hand on my ass told me that there are other things on his mind.

Punk and I have been friends - not sex-friends. Just friends. It's going fine, just pleasant.

As for (s)Ex. Well, someone told him I've been seeing other people last week. This lead to a VERY large scene, with him screaming at yours truly. I responded by telling him he could go fuck himself. Doubt there will be much more in this chapter moving forward. He informed me that if I was "interested" in others that there wasn't space for him in my life. I'd have thought after breaking it off with someone you were free to do as you pleased. Apparently I was mistaken. So silent treatment it is, from him. I'd be lying if I said I was disappointed,

As for me? I'm happy as ever. Still a perve, still loving men as much as ever.

With Love (and thoughts of sex)

SSB x

A Quiet Week And A Hectic Memory...

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Overreaction?

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Naked Massages

Last night I had a function to go to, it went ok, nothing too exciting. I left a little earlier than the end, and drove myself over to (s)Ex's house.


I wasn't really in the mood for an all out romp, but occasionally even yours truly needs a curl up, back rub, quiet drink and some kissing.


Exactly what I got. I turned up, all heels and tight tops and quickly stripped down to just my cheetah print lace g string. He loves me in Victorias Secret. I stretched out on the couch, curled my head up in his lap and sipped my Canadian Club. 


We gossiped a little, and he ran his hands over my skin, massaging, caressing, kissing, rubbing my breasts, shoulders, neck, back, legs for hours. 


I kissed him back, enjoying the sensation of his skin pressed against mine. His lips on my ear was perfection. Just the attention I'd been waiting for.


After six hours of long slow foreplay we were both worked up, and I'd been rubbing him through his boxer shorts for a while.


I always like leaving him frustrated and turned on occasionally - it means when I see him next he's all pumped up to fuck me hard all night.


By four am, I'd been there for six hours. The Canadian Clubs, the massage, the warm heater were starting to kick in. He tried to bend my will to stay the night. I didn't want to. I wanted to come home.


While we'd been curled up on the couch, touching sensually, I'd been pausing occasionally to message Punk.


Punk is still away. He's a two and a half weeks away from coming home. I'm actually missing him a little. I didn't think I would. Turns out I was mistaken. Punk and I have reached an understanding of sorts. He likes me, I like him. That's the understanding. Both of us are too emotionally dysfunctional to actually say much more.


Truth be told, I want to love Punk. I hate him, I love him. I want to pull him close and push him away. 


I never know what I want, but I know for the last ten years he's been in and out of my life. This time, I'd prefer if he stayed. I can't make him though. I can't stop him from walking away. All I can do is wait and see.


I'm not lonely in the traditional sense. I don't want someone here every night. I don't want to move in with a man. I don't want someone to watch TV with and talk shit with every day. That would be more than I could do.


If I could choose, I'd choose someone who was close enough, understood me, respected me, who could lead their own separate life. I guess I like being alone, but perhaps a little less alone-ness would be nice?


I'm sure both of them would object to being in the position their in right now - Punk away, texting me, talking about his feelings, while I'm curled up naked with (s)Ex. I'm sure that they'd both be odd about it. At the end of the day though, I don't know really what those two get up to... maybe they're the same? 


I wouldn't care about (s)Ex. He can do whatever he wants, it doesn't phase me much. Punk though.... I dunno... I might care...

"I Love Your Pretty Lips Around My Cock"

"I love your pretty lips around my cock" he whispered. I love MarriedGuy. 

Technically he's not married (yet). Him and his fiance are walking down the aisle soon. I'm going to the wedding. I'm even participating in their wedding. I know. Lecture away. 

His wife to be is a frigid bitch. Actually, she's really nice. But she hates sex, hates sucking his cock, hates giving him handjobs. I think she just fucking hates cock. I'm not sure that she's actually gay, I think she's probably closer to asexual.

I however love his cock. It's a good size (not so big that it makes head difficult, but big enough that when he pushes me down a little I gag).

Tonight we were chatting away happily. She's at home with the baby. I walked him out to the car to say goodbye. I leaned against him hugging him close. "I miss you" I said. It was true; I do miss him. I miss that we used to see each other twice a week. Now we catch up once a month. Usually with his fiance there too. It's still fun, we're still super close. Just not like it was...

He leaned in and rested his chin on my shoulder. "I know, I miss you too" he whispered in my ear. His lips brushed my earlobe. We stood hugging, me leaning into his body. He smelt like a perfect cologne. It suits him.  He asked how I was. I told him that Punk was gone. That I was weighing up seeing him again (also true). That I wasn't sure how I felt about Punk (once again true). I told him (most of) the details of what happened with Punk. That he was gone for another month.

"You'll figure it out" he said, then kissed me gently on the lips. I leaned back and smiled. He pulled me in again and kissed me harder. I reached down and rubbed his cock through his pants. I felt that it was already hard pressed against his tight black jeans. 

He reached into his pocket a moment later, clicked the button for his locking system, and swung me around so my back was against the body of the car, opening the back door with his other hand. "Get in" he whispered, spinning me around again so my ass was pressed against his body. I climbed in and scooted across to the far seat. He climbed in next to me.

He kissed my neck and ear, rubbed my breasts. He kissed me softly. I rubbed his chest. He told me how alone he felt. I sighed. I was feeling hooked on Punk and the things he'd done to me. I needed a break from how I felt. 


I kissed his neck, I kissed his chest. I unzipped his pants, pulling his cock free. It's a good cock. I've never actually fucked him. Just oral. I wasn't up for oral that night, so I just made myself comfortable, rubbing his cock over my lips.


While I caressed him gently with my lips, he stroked my breasts and ass, varying his hands between the two. Occasionally pausing at my hair. He ran his fingertips down my spine. Just to make me shiver. I love that feeling. That little rush of endorphins. That shiver of glee. Knowing in a few moments I'd be working his cock up and down with my lips and both hands.

He was excited before I got all of him in my mouth. I knew it had been too long. He softly stroked my hair. He rubbed my back and leaned back and enjoyed it. I worked his cock comfortably. I knew exactly what I was doing. I knew how he liked it. Slow at first, building speed, friction, intensity. He reached climax fast. He tapped my neck softly with two fingers, telling me he was about to come. I pushed down, so his cock was deep in the back of my throat and he came hard straight away. And that was when he said it. Before I even had his cock out of my mouth


"I love your pretty lips around my cock"


I curled up. Rested my head on his chest. We rested in the silence of the moment. 


I told him how I was feeling about life, about how Punk had kinda messed with my juju a little lately. He told me how it was to be a dad, and how it was to nearly be married. I promised to help with wedding decorations. His future wife would be thrilled. He promised to visit me more. I was thrilled. He kissed my hair softly.


I told him how I felt about Punk. How did I feel then? Last night is a very long time ago. I felt like... like we'd ripped each others hearts out so many fucking times it wasn't ever going to work out. Like it was impossible for either of us to take a step forward towards communicating honestly. Like I was hung up on hating him all the while wishing he'd want more.


Like part of me wanted to feel something for him. Part of me wondered if I could feel something for him. All that unfulfilled promise. 


MarriedGuy told me so many sweet things. How I'm exceptional, but too manly for most guys to handle. How I needed to get past my issues with Punk because - like it or not - there was too much history. If I was that bothered about letting it go, make a move. How if I was so uncertain maybe there was a sign in that.


Music played. The volume increasing. I was lying on the vibrations. I pulled MarriedGuys phone from his pants, handing it to him. His future wifes smiling face on the screen. "Hi honey... no it's ok, I'm at SSB's house... I'll grab tea on the way home... Tell baby I love him... ok honey.... I love you too..."


He kissed me softly after he hung up from her phone call. I knew he only had another 10 minutes to spare. He pulled his pants up. I think the phone call had him feeling a little uncomfortable.


We cuddled in peace, then said goodbye a few minutes later. "You'll be right, you're the toughest bitch I know" he said. I laughed. I'm only short and I'm not exactly muscular, but we weren't talking about physically.


My phone was vibrating on the counter when I got inside. 


PUNK: 6 NEW MESSAGES
(s)Ex: 1 NEW MESSAGE
LONG: 1 NEW MESSAGE
RED: 2 NEW MESSAGES


Anyone would think I'd been in the car a week.


I started at the bottom. Red's back in town, volunteered to do me a favour while he's here. I texted back yes. He told me how happy he is with his new girlfriend too. I told him I'm happy for him. Secretly? I'm counting the minutes until he cheats on her.


Long is on holidays. Just wanted to see how I'm getting on. Fine I say. Hangs when he gets home? Yes. We're in a friends-only place now.


(s)Ex asking me questions about Game of Thrones. Yes, we'll catch up next week. I don't think sex is on the cards though after a minor freakout and calling me his (other) ex-girlfriends name in a drunk panic.


Now to Punk... he's at the pub, he misses me, he wants to hook up when he gets back to town, he sends me a photo of his beer, reminds me that I can still drink him under the table. I text back a single message about him being a boozy floozy, tell him to call me when he's done at the pub.


He obliges. We chatter. He cracks a harsh joke about how I declined a date with him this week. Strictly speaking it was a misunderstanding. He complained that he had no one to go and have tea and play pool with, I said I'd go with him, he said pool was a cool date, I wrote back lol yeah i guess so, he cracked a joke about me asking him on a date, I told him to go fuck himself. 


I bit. "I didn't decline a date, you didn't fucking ask me on one" I snapped.
"Well...umm"
He freezes.


Silence.


Awkwardness.


I'm feeling irritated "What did you expect me to say in that instant? If you LIKED me like that then you'd ask. There's no point in asking"
"Oh because you know me so well" he snaps back
"Well, how DO you feel" I snipe


Silence.


"I like you" he whispers
"Great. I like you too. I'm glad we've established friendship."
"You're being a cunt. I actually want to try. And you know it"


Silence


"What?" I ask confused.
"I like you, I want to try this time and be with you. I want to make it work. We always fuck it up. This time, I want to try. I've always loved you. I still do. We don't always have to be a trainwreck. I know there are some things to figure out, things to talk about, but I want you. Good parts and bad parts. I just want you."


Silence.


"You can't just..." I start
"I can just. I want you. I want to know if you feel the same?"
"Ask me tomorrow morning when you've not been drinking." I stammer out. I'm buying myself time.
"Deal, Miss. Talk to you then."


He hangs up.


I sit. I obsess. I worry.


I think...


I worry.


Yes. I'll try. No. I won't. Yes... No...


I barely sleep.


BEEP BEEP. 5.20AM my phone calls for attention. The screen lights up.


PUNK: 1 NEW MESSAGE
"Sorry for calling you last night. I remember that we talked, but I have no idea about what. Sorry. Talk later."


Talk later means not today.


So here I am. 


Your still-single SSB. The magic charm for keeping away commitment. 

Inspiration

I'm lacking inspiration. Perhaps a little desire.


My encounter with Punk last week has left my mind distracted. Other pursuits have held less interest... He leaves again shortly. A month he'll be gone. A month to clear my head.


I've been dating. I have my fourth date with NewBoy this week. I haven't asked him if he's seeing other people or anything - I can't say it bothers me. 

Since a couple of weeks ago, I've stopped fucking (s)Ex. After his little boozy freakout, I'm not sure how I feel. Never a good move to call your newest ex-girlfriend by your old ex-girlfriends name while screaming at her for not wanting to be with you. It just got awful. It was the most passion we'd ever really had though.


I'm seeing (s)Ex this week though. Game of Thrones and dinner. Perhaps I'll blow him or fuck him if the mood strikes, though after playing nasty with Punk, I can't say I'm over-enthused about the plan. The gentle respectful sex of being with (s)Ex makes things feel different because I know he's only like that because he's repressed. Some part of him would love to let loose.

...to fuck you up

Red has been on vacation, out of the state. He'll be back soon. Lately he's been talking about feelings and love and shit about some girl. It'll pass, but for now he's pretending he's a nice guy instead of the cheating lying bastard we all know and love. Hope he's got her well fooled, else it won't last.


Spike also is making noises about the girl he's been fucking and being in love. His too will pass and will be back in my bed with in the next few months. 


Sometimes they need to detour back through the misery and heartache that is pretending to love someone before they remember what empty people we are sometimes. They're both physically incapable of loving a girl, of being with her without cheating.


Oddly, Spikes girlfriend and Reds girlfriend have the same name. My name too. Heh. At least calling out the wrong name in bed won't be a problem for them I suppose.


I don't know what I want any more. Awkward dates? Rough sex every six weeks? Weekly to fortnightly rolls in the hay with an ex who I'll never love? 


All this stuff seems to wash over me, lacking in inspiration. Lacking in joy.


Perhaps I should just spend more time at home with my favourite new toy (thank you to Swan Vibrators, your Swan Princess model and I are becoming very well acquainted since we met last week).


I haven't slept with NewBoy. This Saturday is a good friends birthday party, and she told me to bring NewBoy. That'll make our first night time date, and date number five. Five dates sounds like a lot. We haven't had tea together yet, we have only had lunch around the corner from his work. I get the idea that he likes me well enough, but I think his divorce is problematic.

I hope with Punk back on his flight to the middle of nowhere, the overwhelming desire to let him hurt me and fuck me and try to break me will subside, letting me refocus and actually get to know NewBoy. This wander down memory lane with Punk has felt like a little bit of a struggle. Like we're stuck in stalemate. The relationship is like lust with pauses of hatred. Ugliness.


I think I just need a new thrill... and perhaps if I felt like I was actually chasing NewBoy I'd be getting that thrill feeling. Even though he's sexy and charming and polite, I don't get that overwhelming desire to fuck him and kiss him and bite his neck, and I don't feel like he wants to throw me against a wall and rip my clothes off. (s)Ex does that. 


Can't a girl just have everything in one man, instead of needing four?

Six

Last night...


Well I saw Punk last night. It started easily, a few drinks and gentle kisses on the couch. Then after a while he grabbed me by the back of the hair and marched me to the bedroom.


Things get a little dizzy and hazy on the order, but I'll do my best to remember them in order. I came so many times that it's all a little hazy.


He got me into the bedroom and threw me onto my knees. Hard. My knees are bruising up already. I hit the floor, my minidress flicked up, exposing my ass, covered with just a little pink lace g-string. I looked over my shoulder, as he brought his hand down on my ass. Hard.


Over and over. He slapped my ass cheeks. I cried out in pain. It hurt so wonderfully. My ass was red and raw. He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me around on my knees and unzipped his pants with my face held against the crotch of his pants.


Pulling his cock out, he dragged my lips over it. I fondled his balls and sucked his cock hard. He was rough, dragging my head up and down. He forced his cock into my throat until I gagged hard.


He dragged me up onto the bed and bent me over. I was on my hands and knees, and he pulled my panties down to my knees. He shoved his tongue hard into my ass. He was rough, then he shoved two of his fingers in my pussy hard. 


He forced his fingers into my ass a moment later. My body shook with orgasms, I was dizzy and tipsy. I was orgasming endlessly.


The exact order of events gets more hazy after several orgasms, but he spent hours exploring my body, shoving his cock in my ass, my pussy, down my throat. 


He slapped me in the face, made me beg for his cock with a fist full of my hair, my juices dripping from him, holding my lips just near the end of his cock.


He pinned my ankles to the bed, with my knees resting firmly against my shoulders and licked my pussy and ass, then shoved his cock in my ass then my pussy then back to my ass.

He lifted me up, pushing my back against the wall, dropping me down on his cock over and over and over.


He pulled me to the end of the bed, bent me over it, fucking me hard in the ass, fingering my pussy, stopping just before I came. 


He put his hand over my mouth, and one around my throat so I couldn't breathe, and fucked me until I passed out. Four times. Over and over and over.


My breathing was desperate, ragged, intense. He bit my shoulder to bring me back, his cock still deep in my ass.


He threw me on my knees and jerked his cock hard, brushing the tip against my face. He shoved his cock hard down my throat, making me gag. He ordered me to look up at him. I did as he came hard down my throat, his hands digging into the back of my neck.

He loved listening to me gag on his cock, so he lay me on my back, slapped my face, slapped my tits, shoved his balls into my mouth, he hung my head over the edge of the bed and shoved his cock down my throat hard. He fucked my mouth so roughly and when he wanted to feel it, hear me gag, he wrapped his hands tightly around my throat making it so hard to breathe. 


It didn't take long, he was back fucking me, my pussy and my ass.


He shoved his cock in my pussy and fucked me, my legs over his shoulders, me coming constantly. He held me by the throat and made me look into his eyes, as he forced his cock back into my ass.


The second orgasm came faster, and he came deep in my ass.


I got up, while he closed his eyes for a moment and packed my things together. I thought he was asleep, and I started hunting for my little tiny dress. 


"Looking for this?" he held up my dress.
I went to snatch it. He pulled me across his lap, and spanked my ass over and over and over. He shoved his fingers into my pussy. 
"I told you I wanted to wake up next to you"


He started to roughly finger fuck my pussy. As I was about to come, he pulled them out, made me lick them, then shoved them back in my ass.


He fingerfucked my ass for a while, when he was done, he pulled his fingers out, and dragged me onto the bed and held me tight. He was exhausted. It was well and truly late into the night, and he'd been fairly athletic with me. We'd been at it for nearly 8 hours. He'd had me bent over, up against the wall, on my knees, he'd shoved his cock roughly everywhere he could, spanked me, slapped me, back handed me, forced me to masturbate in front of him until I came while calling me every name he could think of. He was exhausted.


I didn't sleep, I curled up silently. His tight grip around my wrist and the fact the front door was keylocked made me sure there was no easy way out.


I waited calmly.


The next morning he awoke, we dressed and went for a drive for coffee.


I wanted to go home, but I didn't want to upset him.


We came back and went through the door. He was a 'gentleman' and let me go first. He caught me on the way through in a headlock and dragged me to the kitchen counter.


He bent me over it, bit my shoulder through my dress, pulling my clean black lace panties aside. He tried to shove his cock straight into my pussy, but even though I was wet, I was far too tight.


He dragged my right knee up and put it on the counter, lifting my hips slightly so I couldn't touch the floor with the toes on my left foot. He leaned down and spat on my pussy lips, using the head of his cock to spread them around, slapped me and shoved his  fingers in my mouth. He pressed his cock into my pussy forcing it past the threshold. It hurt a little, feeling tight and abused from the night before. 


He grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged my head back and fucked me as hard as he could. My hips ground against the counter. He came in my pussy this time. As he finished he stroked my hair, smoothing down the mess he'd made.


I was ready to leave, my make up was tidy enough and a quick smooth of my hair. He walked me to my car, pussy still dripping with his come.


I was exhausted. Fucked hard. Worn to the absolute limit.


He kissed me goodbye with his hand around my throat.


He promised me we'd play a game, I mentioned it before, "How many fingers can Punk fit in SSB?" 


Six. Three in my pussy with three in my ass. It was tight as hell and it hurt. But six. He's determined to fit more next time.


xxSSB

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

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?

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?