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.

Miss You

Alright guys, so I've been kinda celibate for a while. Not like me at all.


Why?


Well, I've been caught up in this idea of "connecting". You know, actually meeting someone I like enough to spend the night with (and not hate them in the morning). Wanting to look at them, them look at me and have a truly deep understanding. 


A sexual connection that is red hot. One that ties us together and is a little consuming. 


It sounds like obsession, and I suppose that's not far off true.


I suppose something changed. I'll do my best to explain it.


The sheer act of things isn't enough. It's not that I want "vanilla" sex, with no twist or spice. Quite the opposite.


Punk offered to spank me. To put me over his knee and spank me. Hard too.


Truthfully? I want to be spanked. Hard. But not by Punk. By someone who when their hand lands firmly on my ass it stings in so many different ways. Where the moment is intoxicating. Where the thrill exceeds physical. The energy spanning into emotional and psychological thrills.


The subject of me sleeping with women has come up in several conversations lately with various people. Either in whispers of threesomes, or in the suggestions of a lesbian interaction.


I keep coming back to my old friend. Her light brown hair, her big hazel green eyes. Her cheeky smile. She was so beautiful. She was a tease. My darling girl loved to play, to tease. She was never sexier than when she was being a show pony. A true exhibitionist, a great lover. But also my friend.


I miss her terribly. 


We haven't spoken in four months now. One day I'll write a blog about my time with Bee. 


But for now, I just miss her.

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 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