Obsessed

Lately all I can think about is orgies. It’s bizarre because I’m such a monogamy freak, but I really really really want to go to one.  And play. With lots of different people. And meet other people who like to play with lots of different people.

Now I just gotta figure out how to get invited to one.

I mean…to clarify the monogamy thing…. I’m single. I shop around. I have multiple partners. I do my thing when and with whom I want.  I don’t play with nearly as many women as I’d like, which I attribute to women being less forward in general with their advances (myself being a prime example).  

I think an adult party would be a great place to feed my ravenous appetite and meet some nice folks who, unlike most of my current friends, don’t treat sex as something you only do if all nine planets happen to align.

My Babeland top 10 Wish List:

Always Aroused Girl’s most recent post on the Babeland Blog inspired me to do some wish list shopping. I’m a little strapped for cash lately, but I could really use a new toy or two to keep myself entertained. And, (i hope i hope i hope) if I just happened to win AAG’s contest, it’ll be nice to have a clear idea of how to make the most of that $100 Babeland gift card!

Without further adieu, and in no particular order, my list:

1. The Club Vibe

I stumbled upon this when checking out what’s new in Babeland’s inventory. My partners tend to be spankers, and I can only imagine how much fun it would be to set this to “ambient” mode – Whack whack whack! Whee!

2. Innervibe Ring

I know, I know. It’s nine bucks. But it only gives you an hour of time! I hadn’t really considered purchasing one of these until recently when I saw a video of a woman using one on her fingers to make herself ejaculate. A woman after my own heart. Whether or not I get that gift card I’m quite sure one of these little cuties will be on my next receipt.

3. The Vibrating Mistress

This is a great example of what AAG (*ahem*) was talking about when she wrote about Multitasking Sex Toys, and for that reason I’ve wanted one of these for a long while now. It’s a silicone dildo that can vibrate or not, that is sized appropriately to feel good vaginally or anally, and – best of all it works with…

4. Babeland Beginner Strap-On Kit

Oh yeah. I’m not exactly a top, but I’m not exactly unwilling to try, either. I can think of a few girls I’d love to play with as well, including a really hot friend of mine who expressed some interest in fucking me with a strap-on. I really feel like the expense is the only thing keeping us from trying…and if that were no object, then I can’t imagine a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon than getting fucked in her bed.

5. SaSi

Who doesn’t want a SaSi? Only the girls who already have one, that’s who.

6. Door Jam Cuffs

These are awesome. I’ve played with someone else’s and they are a MUST for any renter who likes to play with bondage. Also…

7. Under The Bed Restraints

Whoever came up with these is a genius, I tell you. SHEER GENIUS.  You tuck them under the mattress and then at an opportune moment you give a little tug and suddenly you have bondage gear ready and waiting.  They’re fantastic for those without fancy bed frames, or platform beds like moi.

8. Orchid G + Smart Girl’s Guide…

As if I haven’t read enough material on the G-spot, but I’m interested to see what this book has to say to me. And yes, I want the vibrator.

9. Smart Balls Teneo

Hehe. They said Smart Balls. Seriously though, I keep looking at these things and thinking “I should really get those things.” Who doesn’t want stronger orgasms? I do my Kegels like a good girl, but this would be like adding weights to an already good workout and stepping things up a notch.

10. DELIGHT!

Delight has been taunting me since my first trip into Babeland. At $130 it’s not exactly a steal, but after playing with the thing extensively in the store I’m very confident that it would be worth every penny. Not to mention it’s sleek, sexy, and charges itself in its pretty little case that would be so nice and nondescript under my bed… If you’re my secret Santa for Christmas this year, you’ll get me a black and white Delight.

So that’s my list. A blatant ploy to get <a href=”http://aagblog.com’s attention in hopes that she take pity on this poor little artist girl. I could really use that $100 of awesome.

Chauve à Col Roulé

I hadn’t heard from the Journalist in quite some time when I received his text message: “Oh fuck you, just come out already!”

I was out. I was having a bite and a beverage with a friend of mine by the river. Suddenly I thought to my recent dalliance with visual embellishment and I wondered if he had seen this blog. But the Journalist isn’t really the type to care if I have a sex blog…except that he’s not in it. We fooled around sometime last spring once and he’s been a little hotter in the pursuit of something further than I…I could see a possible annoyance with my blog if he’s not in it.

I wrote back: “Huh?”

Turns out he has another friend who shares my name, and got us mixed up, but he invited me to join them out nonetheless. I politely declined, electing to spend some more time with my friend…but I’d happily meet up with him later.

I texted him again after I took leave of my friend and finally we met up outside his apartment, in a quiet upscale neighborhood close to a boardwalk. We took a walk down by the water and had a really great time catching up. So often the men I see are less intelligent than me, or they don’t understand my professional interests or ambition…The Journalist is a refreshing change of pace. We both agreed that we really must spend more time together outside of booty calls.

Physically we’re not well-matched. His body is not really what I’m used to in a man, he’s more petite than me, although we’re probably the same height. I find his slight body rather fascinating, and he seems to have the same fascination for me – he took a long time admiring my “gorgeous body,” speaking with the same objective enthusiasm with which he speaks to me about his work to compliment my curves and tell me I have a great ass. I’ve lost some weight since the last time I saw him, and we both had a little chuckle when my dress just started sliding off on its own while we were kissing.

He’s not into the power exchange thing, but he knows I like it and he plays into it really well. He likes grabbing my hair and slapping my tits and ordering me around, but he does it lightheartedly. He delights in hearing me giggle and breaks up the seriousness of rough play with his weird brand of silliness. He reminds me a little of a boyfriend I had in college who couldn’t fuck me without making jokes all the way through–which I loved, because it taught me that self-reflexivity is sexy.

Anyway, the notable thing about playing with the Journalist is that he’s uncut. Now I’ve seen a lot of cock in my day, but he’s only the second time I’ve come across this phenomenon. It’s no skin off my nose (so to speak) whether a man is circumcized or not, but I have to say it really puts a hitch in my cocksucking confidence. I am confounded by the shroud surrounding the beast, curious about its shape – less mushroom, more zucchini. I delight in playing with the foreskin, experimenting, peeling it back with my lips and teasing the hidden tip with my tongue. I’m not quite as sure what feels good for him.

Last night I became a little wrapped up in my curiosity and experimenting and momentarily forgot that I was trying to get someone off. He grabbed a handful of my hair, yanked my head up toward him, looked me in the eyes and growled, “Suck it like you mean it, whore.” I grinned back at him and dove back down to comply wholeheartedly, pushing his cock back into my throat, pulling back to bob my head on him a bit while I sucked hard and loud, slurping and smacking…it was so nice to have a dick in my mouth with its owner moaning uncontrollably with every motion of my lips, his hips bucking to fuck my hand, though he tried desperately to stay still to savor the feeling of my warm, moist tongue caressing his balls and his thighs–and then without any warning whatsoever I was lifted off the bed and flipped over onto my hands and knees. He bit into my neck while he jerked off on my ass and there was something so primal and delicious about that neck bite. I reached between my legs and watched him over my shoulder, staring at the ass he’d admired so fondly before.

It’s nice being able to bring myself to a climax while my lover comes on me. It’s nice, in that post-orgasmic moment, to be able to scoop up a handful of his cum and rub it into my breasts and down onto my belly and lick it off my fingers. It’s nice to watch him watching me play in it with that little exhausted smile of fascination they all seem to have when I do that.

Salut.

It’s been a while.

Mes amis!

It’s been a while since I’ve posted, non?. So much has happened since March. I dated the boy who was younger than me and, long story short, it failed miserably. Quelle Dommage. On to new and greater enterprises.

Today I return with a spring in my step and renewed confidence in myself as a slut (with standards). Only now I’m considering taking things to the next level. There is much research to be done on that front, so we’ll see.

The Heartbreaker

I’ve been with a lot of people. We’re talking mid-twenties when you add up my past romances, one-night stands, quick flings and a six-year-long vanilla relationship. Considering that six years was completely monogamous I’d say I’ve fucked more than my share.

Only once have I been with someone truly dominant who was also younger than me. I was twenty-one; he was nineteen. It was totally unexpected; it hit me like a brick wall the moment I saw him. I was terrified that he was too young for me, that I wouldn’t be able to compete with girls his age, that my natural maternal-caretaker instinct would conflict with the dominant/submissive dynamic in our relationship. It seems silly now that I was ever concerned by the age difference, when we were both in college, just a couple years apart, living steps away from each other. Three years is such an insignificant discrepancy, really.

Age was not the problem that made me tear myself away from him. The real conflict was that I had complete faith in him where he had none. I would have followed him to the ends of the earth if only he had shown some inkling of confidence, but there was…nothing there, no conviction of self-worth. He pushed me out little by little, even as hope burned inside me that I could show him how much he meant to me and how much potential I saw in him for greatness. He didn’t feel worthy to keep me but wouldn’t let me go either, and ultimately I just couldn’t bear being a servant in disuse. I told him I had to leave… I fought against it, hard, but I did it.

He broke the hell out of my heart. I felt like I had failed him…nobody understood, because they didn’t know the dynamic of our relationship, they only saw a guy being negligent of his girlfriend. I felt like I had done something wrong with my submission. I never really recovered before I took refuge in that six-year vanilla relationship with the next boy who came along. It was only after I had left him behind too that I came to realize my autonomy from that crushing experience and find a real self identity.

And now, suddenly, I have found another someone: truly dominant, younger than me by six years–totally unexpected, hitting me like a brick wall the moment I heard his voice. I feel like it’s beginning again; I worry that he’s too young, that I can’t compete with girls his age, that my maternal-caretaker instinct will conflict with him, not to mention the newfound independence I have reached after my quarter-life crisis. I can feel myself falling fast and hard, opening to the same intense devotion and severe vulnerability. I’ve already experienced the soul-shattering pain of loss and I’m resistant to total submission because it very nearly broke me. I’m not sure I can fully express my extreme terror at the thought of going through that again.

But letting go…oh it feels so good, and he…is just…perfect.

So here we go…

Up On the Roof

The other night I was at a small rooftop gathering having a fine time, but a little annoyed with this guy I’d been kinda dating for canceling on meeting me there.  I had a lot of fun anyway though; the hostess is a good friend and the other guests were a lot of fun.  As the night wore on we saw another party a few roofs away.  By way of shouting across courtyards we learned they had run out of beer so we invited them over for a drink.

Among the few that took us up on the offer was the Unmarried Man who, ironically, realized he had seen me on a certain website and had been following my activity.  Apparently, although I didn’t remember it too well, we had commented back and forth at each other a bit.  How funny!  He mentioned it had gotten him in trouble with his live-in partner.  Upon seeing my messages and picture on his profile she’d given him the third degree about who I was and why he was talking to me online.  Whoa, touchy!

This opened up a whole can of worms that became a small group of people discussing healthy relationships and listening to his relationship woes, which were obviously weighing heavily on him.  Somehow people kept looking to me for the sage wisdom, which is laughable since I can’t even seem to keep a fuck buddy much less a boyfriend. But I’ve been through a lot and learned from it all, so I shared what I believe to be truths about love and partnerships.  Unmarried listened to me in earnest, concentrating on my every word as if he never wanted to forget what I was saying.  The conversation was lengthy and one by one all the guests trickled away and then even our hostess took her leave, asking me to lock up the roof door on my way out.  I told her we wouldn’t be a few minutes; we would just finish our drinks. 

No sooner had she locked her apartment door behind her, Unmarried touched my knee and said he wanted to show me something in an adjacent yard.  The hand placement was curious, but I wrote it off, figuring he was just using body language to solidify our new friendship.  I followed him to the far end of the roof and saw the prettiest rock garden a couple hundred yards away.  When I felt his hand on the small of my back my heart sank, my eyebrow raised and I turned toward him and noticed for the first time…damn, he was hot.  Slim but not skinny, tall but not lanky, light on the body hair, a contemplative and handsome face, real thought and understanding in his eyes, and when he opened his mouth intelligent things came out…  If I had a type, this would be it.

I asked him what he was doing, what he wanted.  “I just want to touch you,” he said plainly.  “Is that alright?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” I said with a a little grin.  The way he said it made me think he didn’t have the balls to make a real move on me after a two hour discussion circuiting his partner of almost five years.  He beckoned me to sit next to him on a ledge.  I sat and we talked a little more before he started rubbing my neck.  Always carrying so much tension there, I sank right into the massage and without thinking (really–I was  a little drunk) I moaned, “Ohhh that feels so goooood…”  As soon as it came out of my mouth I realized that breathy moan was not my best effort at promoting fidelity.

“Good,” he whispered into my ear.  He pulled my mouth to his and kissed me long and deep.  His hands left my neck and one, his right, moved to my knee and started massaging my inner thigh under the hem of my red strapless dress.  I kissed him back just as hard, enjoying every moment, but the nag in the back of my head wouldn’t shut up about his damn girlfriend.  When he started tugging to get his fingers inside my panties I pushed away to check in.

I peered curiously into his face.  “What is this about?  Is this some kind of retribution thing?”  Earlier he’d said his partner had had an affair.

“No,” he said thoughtfully and decisively.  “This is about you and how you’ve been driving me crazy all night.  You’re so fucking sexy!”

“And what about your partner?”

He buried his face in my neck and I felt his warm breath through my hair as he laughed.  “Well I wasn’t planning to fuck you.”

“Nobody ever plans these things really.” When I’m turned on my voice always sinks into this low, smooth phone-sex-operator voice.  I can’t help it.  I was trying to fight it and speak matter-of-factly, but it wasn’t working.  Instead I’m quite sure it came across as a go-ahead since his hand dove between my thighs again and he tugged my dress down in the front, exposing my breasts and burying his face in them.  I was half in his lap, leaning back over the little ledge with my arms around his neck for support.  I gasped as he rubbed from my asshole to my clit through my cotton panties and then pulled them aside so he could fuck me with his hand.  Tipsy as I was it felt like a dream, and I let go.  I stopped trying to fight.  I relaxed and let my selfish body tell me how to respond.  I heard myself mutter in that buttery bedroom voice: “Are you sure you don’t want to fuck me?”

Minutes later I was lying on the upward slope at the front of the building, moaning and staring up at the moon while he sucked my clit.  Hard.  Wow, really hard.  He licked his pinky and gingerly slid it into my asshole, groaning when my pussy clenched down tight around his other fingers.  I somehow manipulated the situation to give my mouth access to his cock.  His precum tasted really good and I told him so.

He kissed me again and told me to tell him how I liked to be fucked.  I went for the gold and told him I wanted it hard and rough, that I wanted my ass slapped and my hair pulled and to be pushed around and held down and called a whore (I just can’t not love being called a whore).  The way I saw it either that would scare him away (no harm no foul) or the sex would at least be worth the damage to my soul for enabling his de facto adultery.    I really expected him to be a little freaked out and to stop.

He didn’t.  At all.  He pulled my head back by a handful of hair, pushed one of my legs up, pinning me down with my own knee, and pushed his dick into me.  He didn’t even ask–he just took me.  I used to beg my incredibly vanilla ex to do that but he never did…I spent a long time with someone who would barely talk during sex and now here I was on a rooftop at 5 a.m. getting fucked rougher than I’ve been in a decade by some guy I just met.  Woo!

After a brief interruption (but not discovery!) by a noisy neighbor below who had lost his key he pushed me against a wall and ravished me from behind.  We were really too drunk to be very successful at that sort of thing though, and the booze had left us both a little dry (I’m feeling sore today and I’m not sure if it’s from the lack of lubrication or from how hard he was fucking me, but I think probably some combination of the two.

We wound up back where we started, sitting at the table and swigging wine out of the bottle.  We talked mutual media interests.  It’s ironic for someone who minutes before had bent me over and slapped my ass so hard there was an echo, but his voice was really timid when he asked me if he could see me again.  I said I wasn’t sure when because of work stuff, but I’d get back to him.  Then he pulled me into his lap, onto his erection, and I rocked back and forth while he rubbed my clit and whispered “come for me, baby,” until finally I did.  As I arched my back and let out a gasp, my body shuddering on top of his, I noticed that the sun was rising.

We’ve been texting back and forth since.  Today I gave him my IM screen name and he’s been chatting me up all day .  He’s out of town for business now, but he very clearly wants to fuck me again.  And I know it would be better on both ends with less alcohol involved.  And even though I like him a lot I know he’s off limits for a relationship and vice versa since he’s already in one, even if it is going down the tubes.

I don’t know though…I know that this isn’t supposed to be right, but it seems kinda okay.  I don’t want anyone to get hurt but I’m really curious to find out more about what’s going on with him and his weird relationship.  It’s almost like getting sucked into a really good tv show.

What do you think?  Is this a bad idea?

Une prostituée pour le Grand Marnier

I’ve been on a few dates with The Romancer, who is quite taken with me.  He’s funny, smart, incredibly romantic, terribly good to talk to, but (and I know this is shallow) his looks just don’t do it for me.  And he’s a bad kisser.  But last night marked our third date, which just happened to coincide with my inclination to cut BC loose, so I resolved to take action.  I resolved to go on the date and drink enough champagne that I didn’t give a rats ass about looks.  I decided to take advantage of a perfectly legitimate opportunity to get fucked.  After all, BC really isn’t that attractive to me, but I still found myself begging him for more and more…maybe the Romancer would provide me with an equally pleasant surprise.

On the date I found The Romancer’s kissing technique had vastly improved since the last time I’d seen him which, along with several glasses of Brut, further convinced me that fucking him was an excellent idea.  My plan went off without a hitch until we vacated the quiet, romantic restaurant and went back to his apartment only to find he had nothing in his liquor cabinet but some Grand Marnier.  We were tipsy enough from dinner that it was actually quite funny, so we giggled about it and poured the orangey syrup over ice.  He whispered in my ear that he thought it would taste better if he were licking it off me and with a grin I bent over, stuck my ass out and told him he should try it and see.  He got on his knees behind me, slid his hands up my bare legs and under my skirt, then discovered ma garantie de la victoire.  Along with a pair of killer five-inch silver stilettos I was wearing black lace hipster panties, the kind that let the cheeks of one’s derrière hang out of the bottom, comme ça:

(Ce n'est pas moi, mais c'est très belle, non?)

“Oh my God,” he said.  “Well?” I answered in my most velvety come-fuck-me voice, “what about the Grand Marnier?”

He yanked my skirt down and I stepped out of it, then slid my hands down my legs to grip my ankles, ass in the air, lace-covered pussy in his face.  He licked it through the fabric, breathing in its scent and telling me it tasted deliciously sweet.  With a quiver in his voice he asked if I could leave my panties on.  “Of course, darling.  They stretch though…want to see?”  I pulled them to the side, baring myself to him.  He forgot about the Grand Marnier and dove in eagerly, making me come doubled over in the kitchen.

I hustled him back to the bedroom and demanded that he fill me with his cock, giving him just the tiniest taste of a blow job.  He eagerly bent me over again at the side of the bed and tore off the panties, then pushed me down, marveling over the sight of my feet still encased in the glittering peep-toe heels.  I arched my back and wiggled my ass in invitation.  In a moment I was overtaken by his body and he was pumping me from behind harder and harder until my shoes flew off.  Just before he shot a load into the condom he whispered in my ear “I usually have two or three in me…”

And wow, he did.  He kept me at it for three hours, got my pussy so wet I that my cum soaked his nice clean sheets and by the end of it had my whole body shaking uncontrollably.  Ce n’est pas mal.  Pas de tout.

Encore une fois…it’s starting to grow on me.

I went on a date last night with a guy I’m just not attracted to. On dating I take the position that it isn’t always easy to ask someone out (hey, I’ve never done it), so generally I’ll give anyone a chance if he has the stones to ask. Besides, you just never know how it will go; people can surprise you.

This one didn’t, unfortunately. He was sweet, but he very obviously didn’t have an awful lot in common with me. He talked in absolutes, which always rubs me the wrong way…if I feel like I have to teach you to think objectively about the world I’m just not going to be that impressed.  He said and did nothing during the evening to lead me to think I could ever fuck him. Then, as we were winding down from dinner (which he didn’t even offer to get–I don’t necessarily want or need to be paid for, but I think it shows good manners to offer), we were walking through the park and bzzzt! I got a text message. From Barrel Chest. “Hey, sexy. Haven’t heard from you in a while. Thinking about your tight little pussy all week.”

My tight little pussy got excited at the idea of getting fucked as a cap to a bad date, and hairy though he may be, Barrel is damn good at what he does to me. I texted back and forth with him a little, telling my date I had a gay friend who was in the midst of boyfriend drama.  Barrel said he was tired and he’d see me later in the week, which I think was unnecessary psychology to get me to come over. After no small amount of negotiation (I played into his little ownership fetish and called myself his pet. I promised to be a good girl and go right to sleep. Yeah right.) I got my way and showed up at his door in short order.

We laid in bed watching The Office for all of ten minutes before his hands were roaming my naked body. I took the cue and began kissing his belly…he still hadn’t been exposed to one of my trademark blowjobs–long and slow and full of those almost-but-not-quite moments–that have never failed to make a man shudder and moan and beg for more. I could tell he was more than impressed, he was wowed. I love being able to do that to a man, especially a man who likes to dominate me. After fifteen minutes of torturously perfect licking and caressing and breathing I straddled him. His fingers wandered between my legs while I was slipping a condom onto him and his cock gave a little jump when he discovered how hot and wet I’d gotten from blowing him. I smiled and pushed him into me. I didn’t need him to go down on me, I didn’t need to come first. I just wanted to get fucked.

I got close to coming though, and I begged him to get behind me so he’d hit my g spot. He gladly did, loving that I instantly was on elbows and knees with my ass in the air. I squeaked with delight when he grabbed a fistful of my hair and shoved my face into the pillow.  He fucked me until I was ready to burst, playing with my ass and telling me how he liked it, how beautiful it was, how he loved touching it.  I knew how bad he wanted to fuck it, and I was close; I wanted to feel his body getting off so it would push me over the edge.  After a little hard-to-get (to get him harder) I acquiesced. He gave a gutteral groan of excitement and grabbed my hair again. “Don’t fucking move, little girl,” he growled into my ear and pushed me down.  I was quivering…I love it when they say crazy things like that…things that sound almost violent.  Down I stayed while he dug in a drawer to find a tube of lube.

He lubed up and gently slid in, caressing my shoulders and coaching me to breathe. Earlier I had told him it had been a long time since I’d been fucked in the ass–I knew I liked it, but I needed him to be gentle at first.  He said nothing about it, but very clearly was keeping my needs in mind.  After the initial split second of pain I remembered why I used to beg the Sailor for this. It felt delicious. As I relaxed into it he started fucking me gently, attentively checking in every time I whimpered (“Baby I’m fine, you just feel so good inside me…”). He gripped the back of my neck, kissing my ear and my shoulders and ordered me to touch myself while he fucked me. My brain was melting with the pleasure, but I managed to comply and very shortly came to an orgasm. He pulled out and did that thing again….jerked off watching me come. Half for effect and half because I could I brought myself to a second orgasm and he came all over my ass at my breathy invitation.

I want to see him again now…  I want to see if he’ll take the power play to the next level…like to the point where we need safety words and stuff.  I really liked some of the more intense, rough things he said and did this time and I think he could really take me to a new high with it.  I predict that the excitement would only be enhanced by his burly, strong physique and my uncertain, train-wreck-like fascination with him (I can’t really call it an attraction).  And I’m almost positive he’ll be into it–despite the game, he’s very eager to please me in any way he can.  So far he’s given me anything and everything I’ve asked of him.

I didn’t skip out unannounced this time, mostly because I felt a little guilty for skipping out on him the last two times. During our post-coital shower I told him I had to go early, I explained that I had brunch plans (true).  I explained that I always have a lot going on, even on weekends (also true), which seemed to make him feel better about my having run off on him twice.  He set the alarm for me and I fell asleep in his furry arms while he peppered my neck with kisses.  I’m still not sure how I feel about that part.

Try, try again.

I’m convinced I’m a slut. I just am. I want sex all the time, I think about it all the time… My mouth salivates at the idea of a hard cock. I’ve been around the kink block here and there and I’m itching to try some new things. I don’t want a monogamous relationship or a partner… I’m just not there in my life.

Instead I want to fuck…and laugh and play and be friends with the people I fuck. I want it to be fun. I want to care about them. I want to cream my panties over text messages and drop what I’m doing for a quickie and then fix my hair and go right back to my day like nothing happened. I want to make people tremble when they think about my lips on them.

So. When I put out my chat ad (the one that resulted in the dead fish), I of course had other responses. I was sifting through them and found one that sounded just like this ad that I’d almost responded to. I sent a playful email back and soon we were chatting. No picture exchanges yet, just straight imagination.

Mon dieu! when I say I’ve never come this hard by myself I mean it! The things he said…the delicious way he talked to me simultaneously like an innocent little girl and a dirty used-up whore…  After the chatsex (yeah it’s corny but it’s so hot) we described ourselves to each other. He was totally turned on by me, I could tell he’s not the type I’m usually into. But I’m expanding my horizons, so I played along, telling him how I thought “barrel chested” was sexy and that I liked that he was a real man. He responded well to that.  The conversation heated up again and it wasn’t long before my fingers had strayed down south again. When I was coming he begged for my phone number so he could hear me. I gave it and could tell when I heard his voice that he was jerking off to me. I put on a good show while he alternately called me a dirty little girl and praised me for my sexy moans and whimpers.

The next day we met at a bar. I was right; he wasn’t my type…he’s big and burly and hairy and manly; I tend to like more of les nerds classiques.  But I wanted him to fuck me anyway. There was something appealing about the idea of going home with him just to spite my own preferences. Plus he said he wanted to eat my ass. I’ve never done that and I wanted to try it, so I made him bring me back to his place.

It was fucking gymnastic…the ass play was nice, but I could do without it. His cunnilingual skills were much more impressive to me. He brought me way up and kept me there for about an hour… Then finally I was lifting my hips off the bed and begging for his cock. He, on his knees, lifted my hips, pushed it in and fucked me slow and hard, rubbing my clit with his thumb and ordering me to say filthy things until I came again. I went out of my mind and collapsed in a heap of sweat and cum and tears while he got off on watching my body writhe and listening to me whimper. I rubbed his hot cum into my breasts and licked it off my fingers and then passed out.

In the middle of the night I woke to his hands exploring my body again. I grabbed his hard cock and told him to fuck my face like he was paying for it. He took to the idea eagerly. He brutally abused me like a whore who overcharged him, pulling my hair, forcing his cock into my mouth, spanking me, calling me names, then made me deep throat him over and over until he couldn’t take anymore and shot his cum straight into my mouth while I greedily gulped it down. Then he kissed me long and hard, and we both fell asleep with his fingers inside me. I woke at 5 am with his big, hairy, muscly arms around me, snuck out of bed, put my dress back on and slipped out the door quietly.

C’etait magnifique.  Parfait.