Bee

There was a girl. Once upon a time. She was a very good friend of mine.


We met while I worked with her best friend.


Over time him and I became very close. Sleeping together a few times. Him and I were incompatible. I was in my 23 and sleeping with a teenager. Granted he was 18, but I still felt a little... strange. Younger man and all.


He eventually fell in love, I invariably didn't. He sent his best friend, Bee, to do recon. Our group of friends, her now included, ended up drinking together, partying together, her working her way through my defences at his request, to seek information about why I didn't feel the same.


Eventually I came to trust her and I laid it out for her. He was trying to make me be his mother, and I wasn't ready for a teenage child.


She explained this to him, over and over and over. Painfully. Breaking his heart repeatedly. I broke it over and over. The kid was a masochist. He kept coming back, and I'd serve him up a fresh plate of heart ache. 


She got angry with him, resenting him putting himself in the position to have his heart broken. She ended up bonding with me over our mutual dislike of kicking this kid when he was down.


Our bond over hurting him was strangely compelling. She took to spending girls nights at my house, watching action movies, playing guitar hero. We spent Friday through Sunday together. Sometimes more. 


She's taller than me. I'd guess 168 cm tall. Average build, but muscular. Large firm breasts, light brown hair, green eyes. Her eyes are a little more hazel than mine.


She was sleeping with a guy. An engaged guy with a pregnant fiance. They'd been sneaking around for sometime. Eventually she broke it off with him. I picked up the pieces of her broken heart, lying naked in my backyard, bathing in the sunshine of late spring. Months went by. Three days a week, we'd sunbathe and talk.


With how close we'd become, and the public knowledge that we were both bisexual, rumours started. Whispers. People would stare and wonder. 


She was an exhibitionist. She revelled in the attention. She'd walk up behind me in front of our mutual friends and slip her hands around my waist, resting her chin on my shoulder. Brushing my hair off my cheek. She loved to tease them. Torture them. 


One night, we'd been out partying. It had been a long night. Her, my boss and I wound up catching a taxi to my place for a nightcap. Nothing unusual, really. 


He made a joke about us being sexy lesbians. She kissed me, just to tease him. He was in a committed relationship. He wouldn't touch us. She was just being a tease. 


"You're bad" he remarked. 
"Yes, she is" Bee agreed.


She pushed me back in a chair opposite him, getting down on all fours. Looking over her shoulder, ass exposed a little because of her short dress.


"Should I lick her?" she asked. "Maybe I should punish her for being naughty with my tongue."


He froze. Stunned. I looked at her eyes wide. She winked. I wasn't sure if she was serious or playing. Either way, I was wet. 


She licked my lace panties with her tongue. I shivered slightly. 


"Look him in the eye" she whispered in a firm voice. Barely audible, but the directness was unmistakeable.


I obeyed instantly.


I looked him dead in the eye, and she immediately reached inside my lace panties, pushing two fingers straight inside me and as she got all the way in, she applied pressure to my clit with her thumb.


I shook immediately. The eye contact between BossMan and I wasn't breaking. She licked my clit softly, flicking it. I came in seconds. 


He sat there. Staring at us. 


That's how it all started.


She took to teasing me in public. Spanking me sometimes, kissing my neck, nibbling my ears, stroking the back my thighs under a skirt.


She pushed me into the store room at work. One night she even kissed me in front of her heartbroken best friend, just because she could. She wasn't always nice, but she was always a tease.


We ended up close. Very close. A perfect understanding. At night, sometimes we'd watch a movie, sometimes we'd fuck. But every day, we'd end up naked in my yard, talking together, lying in the sun. 


Months went past. The lazy spring weather of October turned to a chilly Autumn in April. The sunshine days were fewer.


My birthday came. We kissed, we partied. She pinned my wrists against a wall in a pub and let a very beautiful lesbian kiss me, tease me. Bee knew how to drag me outside my comfort zone. Make me feel beautiful and dirty in the same heartbeat.


We spent the night apart. Her best friend having a final breakdown at seeing us together. He's never spoken to me since.


During the cooler months of that Autumn, she fell in love. She fell in love with a guy who controlled her. So she lied, manipulated, cheated. I helped her. I gave her alibis, I manipulated his trust. Even though he considered me a friend.


Her and I stopped sleeping together, we just kept teasing guys occasionally. Just for fun. I was happy to help her get her exhibitionist fix.


One day he caught on. He realised I knew more than I'd let on.


He caught me by the wrist, put me on the spot and asked me a question I couldn't cover. The time it took me to think of a good answer was too long, the lie obvious. 


Caught in the depths of her bad lies, tangled in more than a year of deceit. I let it slip. I told him some of the truths. Since the day I told him a whisper, she's not said a word.


I don't miss her for the sex as much as I miss her for the companionship. For the fun. For her big hazel-green eyes and beautiful smile. 


Don't you wish sometimes that you could just fix it? Even when you can't.

A Quiet Week And A Hectic Memory...

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Overreaction?

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Naked Updates

So, heres my live update.


I'm still curled up naked on my couch, that's how recent this is.


I just caught up with an old friend. We dated, we split up 8 years ago after six months. It was a pretty good six months. We'd fuck all day every day. When we both had a day off we could fuck for hours and hours.


Tonight was meant to be a "quiet night in". He stopped past to catch up since it's been a while. We talked for a little while, then he looked at me, perfect eye contact "bring your ass over here". So, like a good girl, I did as I was told.


It was moments before I was straddling his lap, kissing his neck licking his ear, and he had my shirt off. It was very heat of the moment. His fingertips dug into my back, he unclipped my bra with remarkable ease. It comes naturally to him. I got down on my knees, unbuckled his pants and pulled out his cock. He's big. always has been fucking huge.


His cock is comfortably 27cm (estimation, I did measure it once, but that was a few years back). Thick too. He gave me a few minutes on my knees licking the head getting his cock nice and wet, sucking on the head working my way down the shaft. He grew impatient, he tangled his fingers in the back of my hair and pushed his cock into my throat. I started to gag a little, so he gave me a moment to relax. He didn't give me any release, just a pause so I could get used to it being in my throat, then he pushed deeper and deeper.


My throat could have taken him a little deeper, but I couldn't honestly get my mouth open wide enough to get any more of his cock into my throat.


He backed off and let me pull his cock out, and I started to massage his balls with my left hand, jerking his cock with my right whilst sucking him as hard and fast as I could, bobbing my head up and down, sliding my tongue over the head. He grabbed my shoulder and pushed me back, pulling his cock from my lips. I looked up, surprised. He took a deep breath.


"I want to fuck you, then come all over your face. I'm not skipping the first part even if you give the best head."


I stood up, slipping out of my purple lace g string. I climbed up and he rubbed my clit carefully with two fingers then my pussy towards his huge hard cock by grabbing my ass. I pressed the head of his cock against my opening. I pushed down, letting him slide inside me. He was huge. I got half way down and it started to hurt a little. If I don't fuck a big guy for a few months, I get out of practice.


He heard me gasp in pain, and slapped my ass, and with the other hand tangled his fingers in my hair. He laughed "you're out of practice with a big dick again, aren't you". He knows me too well. We've been fooling around for 8 years, he should know me this well by now.

I just love the look on her face...

He dragged me down onto his cock, I moaned and screamed. I orgasmed, even though the searing pain was almost too much to bear. He squeezed my hips and started to drag me up and down on his cock hard. The pain was intense, but so was my fifth and sixth orgasm.


He slowed down, pulling my hips up so only the head of his cock was inside me.
"Can you feel that?" He lowered me onto his cock a fraction. "Thats how wet you are. You're literally dripping down my cock." He was right too, I was so wet it was messy. With that, he pushed me down onto his dick. I rode him as hard as I could, him grabbing and slapping my ass, pulling my hair and digging his fingers in. He reached up, squeezing my tits hard, twisting my nipples roughly. I was ramping up for orgasm number 10, and he grabbed me by the throat, forcing me to look directly into his eyes, pushing my hips down hard. He squeezed hard so I couldn't breathe. He had enough pressure on my arteries that I felt light headed after only a moment. He let go. He pressed hard against my windpipe so I couldn't breathe, or moan. I felt my face redden from the pressure.


"Thats it, come hard, now." he ordered sternly still staring straight into my eyes. I came. As soon as the orgasm was over, he let me breathe again. He kept his hand around my throat, letting me breathe just a little. As he got close, he pushed me in the chest, pushing me onto my back on the floor. He leaned over, grabbed me by the hair and pulled my lips onto his cock. I could taste myself. Using a fistful of my hair he forced his cock deep in my throat over and over. Eventually he pulled out of my mouth and aimed his cock at my left cheek, blowing his load all over my face. He wiped his cock on my lips and I parted them carefully, sucking the last of his come out of him.


The come on my cheek dripped off onto my tits. I scooped it up with my fingertip and licked it. He leaned over, kissed my shoulder. "I love you" he said laughingly "you give the best head". There was zero romance, but a lot of friendship.


I dashed and had a quick shower whilst he dressed, he kissed me goodbye, not wanting to be late to see his girlfriend.


His and my past is long and fun. A story worth telling. One I'll write shortly. Lets call this kid Spike. It suits him.

If Only I Could Tell You About Last Night, Punk

I slept with (s)Ex again. The sex was largely unremarkable. But the oral sex was wonderful. 


Not long after I arrived he had my dress off over my head, and he pushed me onto my back he had two fingers deep inside me and was licking my clit.


I screamed with ecstasy, digging fingers into his shoulders. I was very wet, and very ready. I got on my knees and I sucked his cock hard. I wasn't patient like the times before. I wanted him to come. He was ready, and he came quickly with his cock deep in my throat.




I was hoping for extraordinary sex, but it wasn't unfortunately. I think perhaps the second blow job might have teased him too far. Things fizzled within minutes with him on top. He came hard though.


I dressed quickly, not wanting to waste time. I hate to hang around afterwards. I pulled my dress and bra on, gathered my iPod, keys and phone. I kissed him on the cheek, tucking my panties into my handbag.


As I reached the front door I kissed him on the cheek good bye. My phone rang. I picked it up and recognised the number. The name wasn't saved in there, but I knew who it was.

My little Punk. Bless him. I love that boy. I really do. And after ten years, he's still my boy. 


Ahh Punk. This songs for him. This story needs a sound track.


I met a boy. Ten years ago. I was 14. And I challenged him to a drinking competition. I won. Nothing like a girl who can out drink an army man all night to capture a mans attention.


I remember the night vividly. I spent it being spanked and fucked in the back room by his good friend.  Hand around my throat on my knees... 


After being fucked I wrote my number on his bottle of bourbon, and I left. 


He called me. Every day. We went for drives and hung out. Eventually just after I turned fifteen, this young army man and I ended up in bed. It was an intense night. He picked me up and fucked me. I'd never been with anyone strong enough to just lift my (then 45kg) body up and fuck hard. He wasn't violent, but rough. He dragged me around, pushing me onto my knees, my back. He came over and over. I came so many times on my knees I passed out. After fucking me for hours, I waited till he fell asleep, then I snuck out his bedroom window, and left him there, holding his pillow. 


I ignored Punks calls. My boyfriend would have gone insane if he'd found out. After a couple of months, I eventually caught up with him again. My disinterest only made him crazier for me. He'd changed. His hair was green to match my beautiful dyed black hair. My heavy dark make up. He'd pierced his lip which went nicely with the half a dozen piercings I had. 


Poor Punk. I liked him better before he tried to be who he thought I wanted him to. 


The more he changed, the more I fucked him, the less I liked him. The more I fucked him, the more he liked me.


Culminating in an "I love you". Resulting in me bailing, not returning his calls for a year. 


Repeat. For nine years. 


And out of the blue he got in touch.


I silenced the music by answering as I heard (s)Exs door click closed behind me. "Hello?" I asked. Pretending I didn't know who's call I was answering. It makes him crazier when I ignore him. 


He misses me, he's sorry he let it go so long, He wants to see me.


He thinks he's toughened up. Wednesday next week he wants to see me and show me. He threatened to cable tie me to his headboard so I will actually have to be there when he wakes up this time. Then he chuckled. Then he whispered throatily "Plus I wouldn't want you to be able to squirm away while I'm seeing how many fingers I can fit in you. And I don't just mean in your pussy."


I was a little surprised. It was far more forward than he'd ever been with me.


He whispered "I want to fuck you until you literally can't take any more. I want you to scream and scream and scream. And remember all those times that when you passed out I stopped. I won't this time. I'm going to keep going. Because when you come to, I want you to shake awake with orgasms."


He said he'd spent 10 years being too afraid to do the things he'd always wanted. And since I hadn't seen him in a couple of years, he now had the balls. He said he was ready to step up. 


I told him I didn't believe him. 


He said I'd beg him to let me have a break, if I could manage to through a gag.


It was a conversation that lasted for almost two hours. By the end, I'd had to use my panties shoved in my bag from my one night stand to clean up a mixture of the mess (s)Ex had made, and how wet I'd got from listening to all the promises. 


Next Wednesday. Fingers crossed.

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

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 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