By the time I woke up it was already dark outside and I wandered into the living room to find J sitting at the computer working out what he wanted to gamble on for the day. For lack of a second chair in the room I sat on the floor at his side. Despite having slept away the entire day we were both still drained and he mentioned going back to bed for a nap before the football game came on at 7.
Finished with his gambling, he turned to a website for a brothel near Vegas. "R thinks we should go here when I go see him in Vegas next week," he told me as he scanned through thumbnails of girls who were currently "at the ranch" or "not at the ranch". I mentioned I found this fairly boring as I wasn't going to Vegas at all, so definitely not to the ranch. He took the hint and switched over to some short video clips on another site.
We sat watching a few until he came across a series of videos featuring two asian girls, which he knows I have a thing for. I hit him on the arm. "Asshole, why the fuck didn't you start with these? You knew this was here." He grinned without looking away from the screen. I glanced down and noticed a huge hard on poking up beneath his loose sleeping shorts and grinned myself as I reached for him and ran my hand up his thigh and inside. I stuck one little finger out and gently ran it up the length of his cock.
That was all it took for him to turn his chair to face me and pull one side of his shorts up high enough for his cock to fall out into my waiting hand. I looked up into his face and circled the head with my tongue while slowly stroking him with my hand. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, his soft moans barely audible beneath the sounds of the two asian girls eating each other out on the looped video J had left running on the screen. He reached for my head to push my mouth further down on his cock, but I decided he wasn't the boss of me just then and slapped his hands away from me. Apparently he was too tired to argue because he let his hands drop to my shoulders while I continued my hand job with bonus tongue. When I finally did take him all the way in my mouth it was enough to send him over the edge and I tasted come almost immediately.
When I had swallowed that, licked him clean, and returned him properly back inside his shorts, he reached one hand up to click off the window with the video loop, which had suddenly become somewhat annoying to listen to. I wrapped my arms around him while he pulled me to his chest with his other arm and held me there stroking my hair. "Well that was relaxing," he said. "Don't think I'll be needing that nap after all."
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Tuesday, December 6, 2005
Wordless
I don’t wake up until you rub your cock against my face. I am groggy as I open my eyes and see you looming over me. Your body glows pale blue with the light from the street lamps. Your hand grabs the hair at the base of my neck and pulls tight. You brush your cockhead against my mouth. With this silent command I part my lips for you and you feed it to me. Your grip on my hair holds me steady for you as you fuck my mouth and throat like a pussy. Your cock is thick and long and fills my whole mouth, and I wonder vaguely about how many girls you‘ve had that never learned to deep throat and nearly choked on you. I can’t stop the tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. My eyes fly open in surprise when you yank my head back and off of you, but by the time I focus on the place you were standing, you have already moved behind me and torn the blankets away from my naked body. Your hands grip my hips and pull me to my knees and you plunge inside me so hard that my head hits the headboard. I start to put my hand up to protect my head, but it’s hardly necessary: a feel your hand close around the back of my neck as you force my head down hard into the mattress. I can’t turn my head to look at you and I can’t really breathe well with my mouth and nose pressed so hard to the bed, but I can move enough to rock back against you in time with your thrusts, and I can definitely feel the brutal slap you are administering to my cheeks. I don’t need to see them to know that they are glowing red. My fingers move to my clit and I start to rub in furious circles while you pound me faster and harder from behind. You hand has moved from my neck back to my head, and now you’re pulling my hair so hard my scalp is on fire. When I start to come you slam into me hard and then stay there, letting my pulsing cunt squeeze your cock again and again.. I haven’t even begun to catch my breath when you slide your cock out of me. You are slick with my juices now and I suddenly feel you pressing against my rosebud, testing me. I freeze in fear and think please, no, you’re way too big…but I am unable to speak. Besides it’s already too late. Not for you this teasing me into relaxing. You force the whole thing in on the first thrust as your hand clamps down on my mouth to stifle my scream. The tears have started again, but this time it’s more than just a trickle. The pain is almost unbearable and I want to push you away, but my arms have turned to lead and I am helpless to stop you. I feel your hand reach underneath me and you mercifully start to stroke my clit with your fingers. It relaxes me a little, but you’re too big for it to make much difference in the pain .Behind me I hear your breath quicken and now you’re fucking me so hard I’m genuinely afraid you’re going to rip me. An ecstatic moan escapes your lips when you come. I feel your cock pulse inside me and fill me with your hot load, which thankfully seems to sooth the pain. You pull out of me and I collapse forward sweaty and hurting and too tired to move or care. My head is swimming out of consciousness, but I think I feel your lips brush against mine, though you may have already been gone. The last thought I have before I drift back to sleep is that we never spoke a single word.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Desired
"8 o'clock sharp," complained J under his breath, glancing at the sloppy drunk two stools away from me at the bar.
Thursday had moved to Friday for the week, being that I was out of town for a few days. I had flown back to town in the late afternoon, and was tired from traveling, so I took a nap before getting dressed for the walk to the bar. It was a slow walk with me wearing high heeled boots and the sidewalks covered with fresh, slippery wet snow, and I didn't get there until about 20 after. Which was about two and a half seconds after another bar regular had managed to stumble out of her cab and into the bar, already a drunken mess. She then proceeded to engage us both in pointless meandering conversation, though she was too drunk to notice our exasperated looks at one another.
We did manage to sneak away later on (twice, once for a greedy blow job and again for a good pounding bent over the sink), but easily the hottest moment of my night was "8 o'clock sharp"; spoken not as a command or an admonishment, but in a tone of near desperation, and picturing J thinking of me while glancing at the clock repeatedly (perhaps actually worried that I wouldn't show up?) while trying not to chop up his fingers along with the lemons.
How sexy it feels to be desired like that.
Thursday had moved to Friday for the week, being that I was out of town for a few days. I had flown back to town in the late afternoon, and was tired from traveling, so I took a nap before getting dressed for the walk to the bar. It was a slow walk with me wearing high heeled boots and the sidewalks covered with fresh, slippery wet snow, and I didn't get there until about 20 after. Which was about two and a half seconds after another bar regular had managed to stumble out of her cab and into the bar, already a drunken mess. She then proceeded to engage us both in pointless meandering conversation, though she was too drunk to notice our exasperated looks at one another.
We did manage to sneak away later on (twice, once for a greedy blow job and again for a good pounding bent over the sink), but easily the hottest moment of my night was "8 o'clock sharp"; spoken not as a command or an admonishment, but in a tone of near desperation, and picturing J thinking of me while glancing at the clock repeatedly (perhaps actually worried that I wouldn't show up?) while trying not to chop up his fingers along with the lemons.
How sexy it feels to be desired like that.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Brevity
Sometimes leaving things to the imagination is the best way to go. Here's an e-mail I sent to Q that sparked much, um, rejoicing:
Re: Story
Once upon a time there was this guy Q who had a friend named Amber who wanted bent over and fucked. The end.
Re: Story
Once upon a time there was this guy Q who had a friend named Amber who wanted bent over and fucked. The end.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Sometimes
Sometimes my fingers; sometimes a vibe
Sometimes in bed; sometimes in the bath
Sometimes quietly; sometimes screaming
Sometimes quickly, sometimes all night
But always, always with thoughts of you.
Sometimes in bed; sometimes in the bath
Sometimes quietly; sometimes screaming
Sometimes quickly, sometimes all night
But always, always with thoughts of you.
Friday, September 9, 2005
I love Compliments
S: so E is drunk tuesday
S: I mean fucking hammered
Brancie: yes, i was there
S: were you there when he was describing K's ass as "grecian"?
S: and how he'd like to stick his dick in it?
Brancie: oh yes.
S: ok, but you weren't there for when he tried to give H head
S: not once
S: not twice
S: but 3 times
Brancie: no, that i missed
S: he settled for just spooning with H instead
Brancie: H should have just let him. he can close his eyes and pretend it's a girl
Brancie: seriously, one of these days someone should call his bluff and see how far he'll take it
S: i have... and its far enough to convince me that he is, at the least, bi
Brancie: details, dick
S: I was wearing shorts... he tried to put his hand up my pants... I let him get to my boxers before I decided I was going to lose this game of chicken
Brancie: bah, that's nothing. someone needs to see if he'll put his mouth on their dick.
S: no one is willing to take those odds, I assure you
Brancie: chickens. you guys are lame, seriously. what's the big deal? you get your dick sucked out of it.
Brancie: if i had one i'd do it
S: it would be not at all scaring to us
S: silly woman
S: don't you have something to cook?
Brancie: you're lying, you're afraid if you let E suck your dick people will find out and label you gay
S: no
S: It honestly doesn't do anything for me
Brancie: close your eyes and pretend it's me
S: I doubt he is THAT good at sucking dick
Brancie: or actually no, not me, some other girl.
Brancie: yeah i don't want him ruining my reputation
Brancie: he needs more experience if he's gonna pretend to be me. he'd choke on you.
S: I mean fucking hammered
Brancie: yes, i was there
S: were you there when he was describing K's ass as "grecian"?
S: and how he'd like to stick his dick in it?
Brancie: oh yes.
S: ok, but you weren't there for when he tried to give H head
S: not once
S: not twice
S: but 3 times
Brancie: no, that i missed
S: he settled for just spooning with H instead
Brancie: H should have just let him. he can close his eyes and pretend it's a girl
Brancie: seriously, one of these days someone should call his bluff and see how far he'll take it
S: i have... and its far enough to convince me that he is, at the least, bi
Brancie: details, dick
S: I was wearing shorts... he tried to put his hand up my pants... I let him get to my boxers before I decided I was going to lose this game of chicken
Brancie: bah, that's nothing. someone needs to see if he'll put his mouth on their dick.
S: no one is willing to take those odds, I assure you
Brancie: chickens. you guys are lame, seriously. what's the big deal? you get your dick sucked out of it.
Brancie: if i had one i'd do it
S: it would be not at all scaring to us
S: silly woman
S: don't you have something to cook?
Brancie: you're lying, you're afraid if you let E suck your dick people will find out and label you gay
S: no
S: It honestly doesn't do anything for me
Brancie: close your eyes and pretend it's me
S: I doubt he is THAT good at sucking dick
Brancie: or actually no, not me, some other girl.
Brancie: yeah i don't want him ruining my reputation
Brancie: he needs more experience if he's gonna pretend to be me. he'd choke on you.
Friday, August 19, 2005
Thursday Night's Events
I showed up at the bar in a short khaki skirt and a little pink lace top. I saw him take this in when he opened the door for me. So far so good.
The usual routine ensued. Beer for me, football on tv, J chops fruit, gets ice, stocks the bar, etc. We do the whole "What?" dance. He tells me about his roommate's new skank girlfriend and complains about her always using his contact solution, so frequently that he's taken to hiding it in his room. Oddly, I had a dream earlier in the week that J and I were at a bar together and for some reason he decided to take his contacts out while we were at the bar. Then he gave them to me with his contact solution to hold onto for him so he wouldn't lose them. I tell him about the dream, and he agrees that it was weird. Then he says, "I had a really weird dream last night, but it was sexual. Do you want to hear about it?"
I shrug.
"You were in it," he offered.
"Oh, well in that case I definitely want to hear it."
"It's weird because in my dream you had a khaki skirt on too. Hmm." He pointedly looks at my skirt. "Anyway, you came in the bar and you were acting all cocky for some reason. And I was like, 'The fuck's wrong with you?' And you wouldn't stop. So then all of a sudden you pull your skirt up and you're wearing this little strap on. And I mean little like this: (estimates about 4 inches with his fingers). And I started laughing at you like 'What do you think you're going to do with that little thing?' You know?"
I laugh because it's the exact same reaction he would have had were it for real and not just a dream.
"So then you're like 'I'm gonna fuck you with it.' And you did! You bent me over the pool table. You called me your whore."
"HAHAHA! I did?" I think this is great, but also hilarious because I just can't picture that happening in real life.
"Yeah, you did. I remember you calling me your whore."
"That's hot."
"No it isn't. It's just weird," he concludes. "But then when I woke up I remembered that I'm still supposed to fuck you in the ass (this is in reference to some deal we made while we were on vacation together a while ago) and then I had to jerk off."
"Really? That's hot too." He knows I love it when he tells me he was thinking about me and jerking off.
The whole time he's talking he keeps glancing at my skirt. I kept shifting around on the barstool hoping he'd catch a glimpse of my cute pink panties.
J excused himself to use the bathroom and I turned back to the football game. When he came back out he yelled to me, "Hey did you see they stained the doors?" The owner had put up new doors for the bathrooms a while back and they had stayed bare wood for months. I walked back to where he was standing to check out their handiwork. After admiring the door for a bit, J suddenly reached down and pulled the edge of my skirt up to my waist. He looked at me for a second and then grinned and said "Just checking." I laughed and wrapped my arm around his waist to hug him, but before I could get any closer he ran his hand down my stomach and then trailed his finger along the edge of my panties. I leaned forward to bury my head in his shoulder and kissed his neck. He had wrapped his other arm around me now and was cupping my ass in his hand, holding me against him. His fingers moved from the edge of my panties to my clit which he pushed down on with his thumb. I shuddered and leaned hard against him, clutching at his shoulder now as he began massaging my clit through my panties. His breath was hot against my cheek and I could feel him growing hard against my leg. He was getting me so worked up, working his fingers in tiny circles. I could feel myself getting close and I reached down and plunged two fingers into my pussy, finger fucking myself while he sped up his own pace. When I came I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming so the owner (who lives upstairs) wouldn't hear. J's arm wrapped around me holding me against him is all that kept me from falling to the floor. Knees still shaking, I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my head in his shoulder while I caught my breath. "I jerked off to you this morning, so I thought I would jerk you off too," he said.
"Well that's sweet of you," I laughed. He held me like that for another minute and then pulled me into the bathroom with him, closing the door behind us.
"You liked hearing about that dream, didn't you?" he teased while he undid his shorts. "You like thinking about fucking my ass and calling me a whore."
"I like to think of it both ways," I told him.
He reached out and pulled me closer to him. "Oh you do, do you? You like to think about me fucking your ass?" He was half growling, half whispering this to me, his mouth against my ear. My hand found his cock and I began stroking him slowly.
"Yes," I said, "and I think you need to come over again, and very soon."* I pushed the edge of my panties out of the way and started rubbing his dick against my pussy lips, soaking him with my juices. He kept talking to me while I rubbed him against me.
"I'm going to show up one morning and wake you up. You're going to be on your knees and getting 10 inches in your ass. I am going to pound the fuck out of you, just like you were pounding my ass on the pool table. You're going to be my whore just like I was your whore in that dream. And I don't want to hear any 'ow's either. Your ass is going to be so sore you won't be able to go back to sleep. And you're going to love it. When I'm through with you you'll be begging me to cum in your ass."
Just when I started to think I couldn't take any more of his talk, he pushed me away from him and spun me around to face the sink. When he pushed my skirt up to my waist and yanked my poor soaking wet panties to my knees he said, "I have to warn you, I'm so turned on I'm going to be really quick." True to his word, after 5 or 6 good hard thrusts he pulled out and covered my ass in hot cum.
I've spent every morning since then laying in bed an extra few minutes hoping to hear a knock at the door.
* A couple of weeks ago, J showed up at my door unannounced at 6:30 in the morning. I had sent him a text that night to tell him I'd written a piece of fiction about him (this one ) and he'd called back when he got home and had me read it to him. He told me he was going to bed and hung up, and the next thing I knew he was standing on my front porch. Sorry I didn't relay the details to you all, but this one is for me. :-)
The usual routine ensued. Beer for me, football on tv, J chops fruit, gets ice, stocks the bar, etc. We do the whole "What?" dance. He tells me about his roommate's new skank girlfriend and complains about her always using his contact solution, so frequently that he's taken to hiding it in his room. Oddly, I had a dream earlier in the week that J and I were at a bar together and for some reason he decided to take his contacts out while we were at the bar. Then he gave them to me with his contact solution to hold onto for him so he wouldn't lose them. I tell him about the dream, and he agrees that it was weird. Then he says, "I had a really weird dream last night, but it was sexual. Do you want to hear about it?"
I shrug.
"You were in it," he offered.
"Oh, well in that case I definitely want to hear it."
"It's weird because in my dream you had a khaki skirt on too. Hmm." He pointedly looks at my skirt. "Anyway, you came in the bar and you were acting all cocky for some reason. And I was like, 'The fuck's wrong with you?' And you wouldn't stop. So then all of a sudden you pull your skirt up and you're wearing this little strap on. And I mean little like this: (estimates about 4 inches with his fingers). And I started laughing at you like 'What do you think you're going to do with that little thing?' You know?"
I laugh because it's the exact same reaction he would have had were it for real and not just a dream.
"So then you're like 'I'm gonna fuck you with it.' And you did! You bent me over the pool table. You called me your whore."
"HAHAHA! I did?" I think this is great, but also hilarious because I just can't picture that happening in real life.
"Yeah, you did. I remember you calling me your whore."
"That's hot."
"No it isn't. It's just weird," he concludes. "But then when I woke up I remembered that I'm still supposed to fuck you in the ass (this is in reference to some deal we made while we were on vacation together a while ago) and then I had to jerk off."
"Really? That's hot too." He knows I love it when he tells me he was thinking about me and jerking off.
The whole time he's talking he keeps glancing at my skirt. I kept shifting around on the barstool hoping he'd catch a glimpse of my cute pink panties.
J excused himself to use the bathroom and I turned back to the football game. When he came back out he yelled to me, "Hey did you see they stained the doors?" The owner had put up new doors for the bathrooms a while back and they had stayed bare wood for months. I walked back to where he was standing to check out their handiwork. After admiring the door for a bit, J suddenly reached down and pulled the edge of my skirt up to my waist. He looked at me for a second and then grinned and said "Just checking." I laughed and wrapped my arm around his waist to hug him, but before I could get any closer he ran his hand down my stomach and then trailed his finger along the edge of my panties. I leaned forward to bury my head in his shoulder and kissed his neck. He had wrapped his other arm around me now and was cupping my ass in his hand, holding me against him. His fingers moved from the edge of my panties to my clit which he pushed down on with his thumb. I shuddered and leaned hard against him, clutching at his shoulder now as he began massaging my clit through my panties. His breath was hot against my cheek and I could feel him growing hard against my leg. He was getting me so worked up, working his fingers in tiny circles. I could feel myself getting close and I reached down and plunged two fingers into my pussy, finger fucking myself while he sped up his own pace. When I came I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming so the owner (who lives upstairs) wouldn't hear. J's arm wrapped around me holding me against him is all that kept me from falling to the floor. Knees still shaking, I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my head in his shoulder while I caught my breath. "I jerked off to you this morning, so I thought I would jerk you off too," he said.
"Well that's sweet of you," I laughed. He held me like that for another minute and then pulled me into the bathroom with him, closing the door behind us.
"You liked hearing about that dream, didn't you?" he teased while he undid his shorts. "You like thinking about fucking my ass and calling me a whore."
"I like to think of it both ways," I told him.
He reached out and pulled me closer to him. "Oh you do, do you? You like to think about me fucking your ass?" He was half growling, half whispering this to me, his mouth against my ear. My hand found his cock and I began stroking him slowly.
"Yes," I said, "and I think you need to come over again, and very soon."* I pushed the edge of my panties out of the way and started rubbing his dick against my pussy lips, soaking him with my juices. He kept talking to me while I rubbed him against me.
"I'm going to show up one morning and wake you up. You're going to be on your knees and getting 10 inches in your ass. I am going to pound the fuck out of you, just like you were pounding my ass on the pool table. You're going to be my whore just like I was your whore in that dream. And I don't want to hear any 'ow's either. Your ass is going to be so sore you won't be able to go back to sleep. And you're going to love it. When I'm through with you you'll be begging me to cum in your ass."
Just when I started to think I couldn't take any more of his talk, he pushed me away from him and spun me around to face the sink. When he pushed my skirt up to my waist and yanked my poor soaking wet panties to my knees he said, "I have to warn you, I'm so turned on I'm going to be really quick." True to his word, after 5 or 6 good hard thrusts he pulled out and covered my ass in hot cum.
I've spent every morning since then laying in bed an extra few minutes hoping to hear a knock at the door.
* A couple of weeks ago, J showed up at my door unannounced at 6:30 in the morning. I had sent him a text that night to tell him I'd written a piece of fiction about him (this one ) and he'd called back when he got home and had me read it to him. He told me he was going to bed and hung up, and the next thing I knew he was standing on my front porch. Sorry I didn't relay the details to you all, but this one is for me. :-)
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Today
For those following along from my post last Friday, today is Thursday and I am wearing a skirt.
Hopefully I will have a good story for you tomorrow.
Hopefully I will have a good story for you tomorrow.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Grumpy Today
Today I am irritated.
When I started this little experiment with my protege, S, I was very clear about one point: We Are Not Dating. And I had a laundry list of reasons to back that up: we are too good of friends to risk screwing that up, I am still not over my last relationship, I am enjoying being single and want to keep it that way, I can't promise to make a commitment to him. And he said "O.K." I have steadfastly held to that for months. It SEEMED like that was cool. Until...
Vixen is my very dear friend whom I haven't seen in a while, mostly because her boyfriend is a douche. We are having girls night on Friday and she is sleeping over. Probably the evening will consist of pints of Ben & Jerry's and some cheesy chick flicks, with some gossip thrown in here and there. I've been looking forward to it, though trying not to because I don't want to get my hopes up only to have the douche screw it up, which he is prone to doing. But back to my story.
"Don't sleep with [Vixen]," S blurts out the other night while we were discussing the upcoming weekend.
O.K., first of all...um...what? Exactly who said anything about sleeping with Vixen? I don't recall ever saying something like, "Vixen is coming over Friday and we're going to take a bath together and then fuck!" or anything remotely similar. I can't even figure out where he got that one from. I turn to him incredulously and say as much. "I don't know. She's pretty...I just don't want to share you with anyone."
Exactly what part of "I am not your girlfriend" was unclear? I have made no deals about not sleeping with other people, obviously, or I wouldn't end up with J every freaking Thursday. It's not like I've been wishy washy about it. It's not like I've ever said that maybe one day I would date him. And yet here he is, suddenly and out of the blue, asking me the one thing that I told him he could never ask of me.
What the fuck? Since when is it the boy who confuses sex with love? Guys?
When I started this little experiment with my protege, S, I was very clear about one point: We Are Not Dating. And I had a laundry list of reasons to back that up: we are too good of friends to risk screwing that up, I am still not over my last relationship, I am enjoying being single and want to keep it that way, I can't promise to make a commitment to him. And he said "O.K." I have steadfastly held to that for months. It SEEMED like that was cool. Until...
Vixen is my very dear friend whom I haven't seen in a while, mostly because her boyfriend is a douche. We are having girls night on Friday and she is sleeping over. Probably the evening will consist of pints of Ben & Jerry's and some cheesy chick flicks, with some gossip thrown in here and there. I've been looking forward to it, though trying not to because I don't want to get my hopes up only to have the douche screw it up, which he is prone to doing. But back to my story.
"Don't sleep with [Vixen]," S blurts out the other night while we were discussing the upcoming weekend.
O.K., first of all...um...what? Exactly who said anything about sleeping with Vixen? I don't recall ever saying something like, "Vixen is coming over Friday and we're going to take a bath together and then fuck!" or anything remotely similar. I can't even figure out where he got that one from. I turn to him incredulously and say as much. "I don't know. She's pretty...I just don't want to share you with anyone."
Exactly what part of "I am not your girlfriend" was unclear? I have made no deals about not sleeping with other people, obviously, or I wouldn't end up with J every freaking Thursday. It's not like I've been wishy washy about it. It's not like I've ever said that maybe one day I would date him. And yet here he is, suddenly and out of the blue, asking me the one thing that I told him he could never ask of me.
What the fuck? Since when is it the boy who confuses sex with love? Guys?
Friday, August 12, 2005
What
There is a little game we play.
Every Thursday I go to the bar. Every Thursday J is there waiting for me. Every Thursday we sneak off somewhere to play.
This arrangement has obviously come to be an expectation for both of us, and yet we are both entirely unable to acknowledge that this is now the case. And so every Thursday we end up having the same, entirely bizarre exchange:
I get to the bar and sit down and J gets me a beer, which I drink while we watch football or baseball or Comedy Central and J cuts up fruit. He is a far more patient person than I, and so I always end up getting antsy and squirming in my seat and trying to will him with my mind to stop with the lemons and whisk me off to the bathroom or the basement or the dj booth. Every week he starts to feel that tension building and looks up to catch me staring at him intently. And then he says "What?" This is silly because he knows perfectly well what. He knows it and I know it, and still every time I get the same question. And then I say "Nothing." Which is also silly because he knows perfectly well I don't mean it. I say the same thing every time and he pretends to buy it - every time.
Following this he comes out from behind the bar and either sits next to me or stands near me and we pretend to watch television until phase two of our little dance, where he astutely observes and then comments on whether or not I'm wearing a skirt. Because although it's never actually been stated, if I'm wearing a skirt it means I want fucked, but if I'm wearing pants it means I just want to suck him off. And shortly thereafter, he will wordlessly walk away from me knowing that I will casually get up and follow him.
It is only when the door is locked and he is reaching for his belt that either of us dare to whisper what we really mean: "Bend over." "Fuck me harder." "Yeah, suck it."
When it is over, we walk back to the bar and slip back into the routine, watching football or talking about music, sometimes picking up a conversation in the middle, right where we left off before the "What?". As if it never happened. As if we aren't going to do the exact same thing next week.
It may seem odd that two people who are capable of (and guilty of) incredibly filthy exchanges in any other setting are reduced to the level of junior high kids when put into context of this one particular location. But you see, that is part of the draw of it. These are stolen moments. We are engaging in something forbidden. It is an erotic fantasy fulfilled that would be taken away from us if we were ever caught. And so we have to keep it a secret.
Even from each other.
Every Thursday I go to the bar. Every Thursday J is there waiting for me. Every Thursday we sneak off somewhere to play.
This arrangement has obviously come to be an expectation for both of us, and yet we are both entirely unable to acknowledge that this is now the case. And so every Thursday we end up having the same, entirely bizarre exchange:
I get to the bar and sit down and J gets me a beer, which I drink while we watch football or baseball or Comedy Central and J cuts up fruit. He is a far more patient person than I, and so I always end up getting antsy and squirming in my seat and trying to will him with my mind to stop with the lemons and whisk me off to the bathroom or the basement or the dj booth. Every week he starts to feel that tension building and looks up to catch me staring at him intently. And then he says "What?" This is silly because he knows perfectly well what. He knows it and I know it, and still every time I get the same question. And then I say "Nothing." Which is also silly because he knows perfectly well I don't mean it. I say the same thing every time and he pretends to buy it - every time.
Following this he comes out from behind the bar and either sits next to me or stands near me and we pretend to watch television until phase two of our little dance, where he astutely observes and then comments on whether or not I'm wearing a skirt. Because although it's never actually been stated, if I'm wearing a skirt it means I want fucked, but if I'm wearing pants it means I just want to suck him off. And shortly thereafter, he will wordlessly walk away from me knowing that I will casually get up and follow him.
It is only when the door is locked and he is reaching for his belt that either of us dare to whisper what we really mean: "Bend over." "Fuck me harder." "Yeah, suck it."
When it is over, we walk back to the bar and slip back into the routine, watching football or talking about music, sometimes picking up a conversation in the middle, right where we left off before the "What?". As if it never happened. As if we aren't going to do the exact same thing next week.
It may seem odd that two people who are capable of (and guilty of) incredibly filthy exchanges in any other setting are reduced to the level of junior high kids when put into context of this one particular location. But you see, that is part of the draw of it. These are stolen moments. We are engaging in something forbidden. It is an erotic fantasy fulfilled that would be taken away from us if we were ever caught. And so we have to keep it a secret.
Even from each other.
Monday, August 8, 2005
Technical Difficulties
Question darlings:
Is it possible to masturbate too much?
Here is why I'm asking - I currently own 5 vibrators. One is a keychain vibrator and is really just meant to be a conversation starter at bars and whatnot. One is about 8 years old and understandably doesn't work anymore. I think I keep it around for nostalgia. My waterproof one is about 6 months old and I've already broken the squirmy motion on it. My absolute favorite vibrator, my silver bullet, is also 6 months old and is suddenly getting fritzy, I think the cord is frayed inside somewhere. If you don't hold it at a certain angle the power will cut out. Finally, last night I pulled out my biggest vibrator to find that the batteries were dead. Not low, dead.
I'm really confused. I take really good care of my babies. I make sure they are clean, that I have extra batteries handy, that I use water based lubricants with them. The only thing I can think of is that I'm using them too much. So is there such a thing?
Is it possible to masturbate too much?
Here is why I'm asking - I currently own 5 vibrators. One is a keychain vibrator and is really just meant to be a conversation starter at bars and whatnot. One is about 8 years old and understandably doesn't work anymore. I think I keep it around for nostalgia. My waterproof one is about 6 months old and I've already broken the squirmy motion on it. My absolute favorite vibrator, my silver bullet, is also 6 months old and is suddenly getting fritzy, I think the cord is frayed inside somewhere. If you don't hold it at a certain angle the power will cut out. Finally, last night I pulled out my biggest vibrator to find that the batteries were dead. Not low, dead.
I'm really confused. I take really good care of my babies. I make sure they are clean, that I have extra batteries handy, that I use water based lubricants with them. The only thing I can think of is that I'm using them too much. So is there such a thing?
Friday, July 29, 2005
Pushing Limits
Right. So J was in some kind of mood last night. Starts off the evening by throwing me over a stool in the bathroom and fucking me REALLY FUCKING HARD (still sore. yay.). This was slightly riskier than normal as the owner had called earlier and said he would be stopping by early on his way to the movies. He never showed, but we didn't know that would be the case at the time. And on a normal night that would have been the end of it.
Shortly after that, he gets a few customers in. I am watching Army of Darkness, he disappears into the basement, presumably to get some more ice. But no. I get a text message that just reads "BASEMENT" so I head down there. Mind you, patrons of this establishment don't go in the basement, so I'm sure I looked fairly conspicuous. Get to the basement and he fucks me again. I come to find out later that he had brought lube with him to work that day, as his original plan was to fuck my ass. He scrapped it due to time constraints stemming from having more customers than usual.
Last week's Thursday night sex was a blow job in the dj booth, with the owner's father feet away in the next room.
I have two observations here.
1. These escapades are getting more and more daring as far as the possibility of being caught.
2. At one time we confined the sexcapades to one dedicated bathroom, but now they seem to be traveling all over the bar.
Combining these two things I've come up with a theory: J is on a mission to have sex in every room of the bar. This would by nature force more daring attempts. The back room is fairly open. The front room has a wall made entirely of glass which faces the street. Further to that the bar sits at the corner of a busy intersection.
All of this leads to a spark of hope for a fantasy of mine which has been floating around my head for some time.
I get to the bar even earlier than usual, J having only just arrived himself. He is behind the bar cutting up fruit when I come in, and glances up in surprise when instead of grabbing a seat on a stool, I come around behind the bar to where he is.
He starts to ask what I'm doing, but I silence him with a finger to his lips while my other hand reaches down to squeeze him through his pants. I use that grip to steer him up against the bar with his back to the street. I unzip his pants and pull his cock out, while glancing out the window to make sure there is no one walking by, but I see no one so I kneel to take him in my mouth. Someone could show up at any second - there is no time to fool around. I take all of him in my mouth at once and suck hard with long, fast strokes that hit the back of my throat again and again. I glance up at him. He is leaning back, both hands gripping the edge of the bar. His eyes are closed; his head thrown back. The sound of his ragged breathing mixes with the cars constant passing us on the street outside. I feel his right hand run through my hair before he grabs a handful of it and pulls me in to him. His cock explodes and pours his salty hot come into my hungry waiting mouth.
I pause and look up at him before I get up from the floor. He is looking down at me, his expression part surprise, part confusion part satisfaction. The expression never changes as I say "Thanks for the drink," turn on him, and walk out the front door.
I don't look back.
Shortly after that, he gets a few customers in. I am watching Army of Darkness, he disappears into the basement, presumably to get some more ice. But no. I get a text message that just reads "BASEMENT" so I head down there. Mind you, patrons of this establishment don't go in the basement, so I'm sure I looked fairly conspicuous. Get to the basement and he fucks me again. I come to find out later that he had brought lube with him to work that day, as his original plan was to fuck my ass. He scrapped it due to time constraints stemming from having more customers than usual.
Last week's Thursday night sex was a blow job in the dj booth, with the owner's father feet away in the next room.
I have two observations here.
1. These escapades are getting more and more daring as far as the possibility of being caught.
2. At one time we confined the sexcapades to one dedicated bathroom, but now they seem to be traveling all over the bar.
Combining these two things I've come up with a theory: J is on a mission to have sex in every room of the bar. This would by nature force more daring attempts. The back room is fairly open. The front room has a wall made entirely of glass which faces the street. Further to that the bar sits at the corner of a busy intersection.
All of this leads to a spark of hope for a fantasy of mine which has been floating around my head for some time.
I get to the bar even earlier than usual, J having only just arrived himself. He is behind the bar cutting up fruit when I come in, and glances up in surprise when instead of grabbing a seat on a stool, I come around behind the bar to where he is.
He starts to ask what I'm doing, but I silence him with a finger to his lips while my other hand reaches down to squeeze him through his pants. I use that grip to steer him up against the bar with his back to the street. I unzip his pants and pull his cock out, while glancing out the window to make sure there is no one walking by, but I see no one so I kneel to take him in my mouth. Someone could show up at any second - there is no time to fool around. I take all of him in my mouth at once and suck hard with long, fast strokes that hit the back of my throat again and again. I glance up at him. He is leaning back, both hands gripping the edge of the bar. His eyes are closed; his head thrown back. The sound of his ragged breathing mixes with the cars constant passing us on the street outside. I feel his right hand run through my hair before he grabs a handful of it and pulls me in to him. His cock explodes and pours his salty hot come into my hungry waiting mouth.
I pause and look up at him before I get up from the floor. He is looking down at me, his expression part surprise, part confusion part satisfaction. The expression never changes as I say "Thanks for the drink," turn on him, and walk out the front door.
I don't look back.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Inspired by the Rain
I curse my stupidity as I step off the train. I’d heard the weather forecast that morning; there is no excuse for not bringing a jacket or an umbrella. As if to mock me, the oppressive heat of the last three days has disappeared, replaced by an autumn-like coolness and a stiff breeze that blows right through my little purple sundress. I’d have driven today, but you have borrowed my car for an out of town trip. And so I am faced with a walk of nearly a mile in a torrential downpour.
I take no advantage of the relative shelter offered to me by the trees or the awnings, but walk on under the open sky – my punishment for my lack of planning. The rain beats down on me like a thousand tiny fists. The puddles are too big to jump over, my feet in their tiny sandals sink into them up to my ankles. Gusts of wind make me shiver and blow my dress even tighter against my body where it clings to me as a second skin.
As I walk, I find myself thinking of what you might say if you saw me like this, drenched to the core as a result of my usual flightiness about practical matters. I know it drives you crazy. I imagine your face as I walk through the door, my dress obscenely molded to my flesh, my erect nipples straining against the thin material. “Typical,” you say, “just typical. Never prepared for the weather, and now look at you. Look you’re dripping a puddle on the floor.”
“I’m sorry.”
You sigh. “You are a dripping wet mess. You’re going to have to learn to start planning ahead.” You walk to the closet and get my umbrella and a jacket, then grab me by the back of my arm and steer me into the bedroom. You toss me facedown on the bed. I feel you push my dress to my waist and peel off my soaked through panties.
I gasp the first time you bring the umbrella down on my ass. My bare skin stings from the blow, the wetness and the cold heightening the pain. CRACK! Again, and I feel the sting of each metal rod punishing my behind. On the third blow I open my mouth to scream, but you cram the jacket into it and silence my cries. I bite down on it as your umbrella blows rain down on me, harder now and faster, each one steadily increasing the pleasure and pain.
When you drop the umbrella and drag me off the bed onto the floor I am breathless and weak. But I will get no respite as you sit on the edge of the bed, pull the jacket from my mouth and replace it with your hard cock. Your hands grip the sides of my wet head and pull me down onto you. I try to keep from gagging as you force your entire cock down my throat. Tears run from my eyes as you ravage my mouth. I can feel the rain dripping off my ponytail, running cold down my back and into the cleft of my ass, in sharp contrast to the hot tears streaming down the side of my face. I am fighting for my breath now, struggling against panic as you grind my face into your pelvic bone, pummeling the back of my throat with your enormous erection.
Just as I think I can’t take any more you pull your cock out of my mouth, pushing my head back and holding me there as you empty your balls onto my face. Your cum mixes with my tears and the rainwater and the wet strands of hair that are stuck to my cheeks. You relax your grip on my head and I hear you say, “Perhaps next time you’ll take an umbrella,” as I collapse in a heap on the floor, soaked with rain and with your cum, my cold, wet dress still clinging uncomfortably to my skin.
The images stay with me as I reach my empty apartment, peel my wet clothes off and step into a hot bath. You see, my darling? Even the rain reminds me of you.
I take no advantage of the relative shelter offered to me by the trees or the awnings, but walk on under the open sky – my punishment for my lack of planning. The rain beats down on me like a thousand tiny fists. The puddles are too big to jump over, my feet in their tiny sandals sink into them up to my ankles. Gusts of wind make me shiver and blow my dress even tighter against my body where it clings to me as a second skin.
As I walk, I find myself thinking of what you might say if you saw me like this, drenched to the core as a result of my usual flightiness about practical matters. I know it drives you crazy. I imagine your face as I walk through the door, my dress obscenely molded to my flesh, my erect nipples straining against the thin material. “Typical,” you say, “just typical. Never prepared for the weather, and now look at you. Look you’re dripping a puddle on the floor.”
“I’m sorry.”
You sigh. “You are a dripping wet mess. You’re going to have to learn to start planning ahead.” You walk to the closet and get my umbrella and a jacket, then grab me by the back of my arm and steer me into the bedroom. You toss me facedown on the bed. I feel you push my dress to my waist and peel off my soaked through panties.
I gasp the first time you bring the umbrella down on my ass. My bare skin stings from the blow, the wetness and the cold heightening the pain. CRACK! Again, and I feel the sting of each metal rod punishing my behind. On the third blow I open my mouth to scream, but you cram the jacket into it and silence my cries. I bite down on it as your umbrella blows rain down on me, harder now and faster, each one steadily increasing the pleasure and pain.
When you drop the umbrella and drag me off the bed onto the floor I am breathless and weak. But I will get no respite as you sit on the edge of the bed, pull the jacket from my mouth and replace it with your hard cock. Your hands grip the sides of my wet head and pull me down onto you. I try to keep from gagging as you force your entire cock down my throat. Tears run from my eyes as you ravage my mouth. I can feel the rain dripping off my ponytail, running cold down my back and into the cleft of my ass, in sharp contrast to the hot tears streaming down the side of my face. I am fighting for my breath now, struggling against panic as you grind my face into your pelvic bone, pummeling the back of my throat with your enormous erection.
Just as I think I can’t take any more you pull your cock out of my mouth, pushing my head back and holding me there as you empty your balls onto my face. Your cum mixes with my tears and the rainwater and the wet strands of hair that are stuck to my cheeks. You relax your grip on my head and I hear you say, “Perhaps next time you’ll take an umbrella,” as I collapse in a heap on the floor, soaked with rain and with your cum, my cold, wet dress still clinging uncomfortably to my skin.
The images stay with me as I reach my empty apartment, peel my wet clothes off and step into a hot bath. You see, my darling? Even the rain reminds me of you.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
A New Amber
I've discovered a paradox: that when you have a full sex life, you don't have much time to write about it. And I feel badly about that because I have stories upon stories for you all, but no time to write them down. I'll try to do better in the future I promise!
I've also discovered another thing. As you can probably tell from previous posts, I tend to be somewhat submissive, especially with men. And I really never questioned that because I was enjoying myself that way. However I have several interesting things going on right now that are entirely contrary to that.
The first is a friend who was a virgin until a few months ago. It was something he didn't like about himself, along with the fact that he's always been terrified of approaching girls. It had become somewhat of a downward spiral: the longer he remained a virgin, the more intimidated he was by girls, but by not being able to talk to girls he was prolonging his virginity. So after much discussion during which I ceased to be "a girl" and became instead a trusted confidant, it was decided that I would teach him both about girls and about sex. This has, by necessity, thrust me into a much more dominant role than I am accustomed to. Despite his comfort level with me as a person, he is still painfully aware of the disparity in our levels of experience, and so almost always defers to me. I am working on breaking him of that habit, but it's been slow going.
Coming right on the heels of that situation is one with another friend that is almost the exact opposite. This friend has experience far greater than my own and has pretty much always played the dominant role. Despite being close friends and knowing him quite well, I have always found him slightly intimidating. About a month ago he came to me with an interesting request - he wanted to be my bitch. Always one to be open to trying new things, he felt he'd become complacent about his role in the bedroom and decided it was time for a grand experiment. I have no idea what it was that made him come to me with it. He knows plenty of girls who are far more aggressive than I. It's possible that that is the reason, that as long as he's going to try something that is the opposite of his experience he should take along someone who would be doing the same. Regardless, I find that it has been going quite well.
So, it seems I've discovered a whole new facet to myself that I never knew existed. It has pushed me out of my comfort zone in a way that I think is very good for me. Which is why I moved away from home in the first place - to explore myself, to test the boundaries of what I am capable of. And hopefully it will also generate some interesting stories for you all.
Just as soon as I have time to write them down.
I've also discovered another thing. As you can probably tell from previous posts, I tend to be somewhat submissive, especially with men. And I really never questioned that because I was enjoying myself that way. However I have several interesting things going on right now that are entirely contrary to that.
The first is a friend who was a virgin until a few months ago. It was something he didn't like about himself, along with the fact that he's always been terrified of approaching girls. It had become somewhat of a downward spiral: the longer he remained a virgin, the more intimidated he was by girls, but by not being able to talk to girls he was prolonging his virginity. So after much discussion during which I ceased to be "a girl" and became instead a trusted confidant, it was decided that I would teach him both about girls and about sex. This has, by necessity, thrust me into a much more dominant role than I am accustomed to. Despite his comfort level with me as a person, he is still painfully aware of the disparity in our levels of experience, and so almost always defers to me. I am working on breaking him of that habit, but it's been slow going.
Coming right on the heels of that situation is one with another friend that is almost the exact opposite. This friend has experience far greater than my own and has pretty much always played the dominant role. Despite being close friends and knowing him quite well, I have always found him slightly intimidating. About a month ago he came to me with an interesting request - he wanted to be my bitch. Always one to be open to trying new things, he felt he'd become complacent about his role in the bedroom and decided it was time for a grand experiment. I have no idea what it was that made him come to me with it. He knows plenty of girls who are far more aggressive than I. It's possible that that is the reason, that as long as he's going to try something that is the opposite of his experience he should take along someone who would be doing the same. Regardless, I find that it has been going quite well.
So, it seems I've discovered a whole new facet to myself that I never knew existed. It has pushed me out of my comfort zone in a way that I think is very good for me. Which is why I moved away from home in the first place - to explore myself, to test the boundaries of what I am capable of. And hopefully it will also generate some interesting stories for you all.
Just as soon as I have time to write them down.
Monday, July 11, 2005
I Remember
I see pink panties in a ball on the floor
and I remember how you pulled them to my knees,
remember your hands on my hips in their place,
remember you ravaging me from behind
your swollen cock pounding me again and again,
my pussy easily conquered by your thickness
without their thin veil of protection.
I see a short blue dress beside them,
inside out and I remember you raising it above my ass,
remember the sting of your slaps to my backside
sharper now with no material for cover,
angry red marks left on my ass
and I remember your hand on my breast squeezing hard
twisting my nipple through the blue cloth.
I see white sandals by the door
and I remember my hands on my ankles while you fucked me,
remember seeing your feet just outside mine
almost on tiptoe to get the angle that you like,
remember you pulling me backwards to meet you
so hard I nearly lost my balance
and my hands grabbing the sink to keep from falling
I see a paper towel in the basket
and I remember your cock sliding out of me
my pussy aching from your sudden absence,
remember my hand finding you behind me
remember your cock slick with me beneath my hand,
your chest against my back while I jerked you off
and you handing me the towel after coming on my ass.
and I remember how you pulled them to my knees,
remember your hands on my hips in their place,
remember you ravaging me from behind
your swollen cock pounding me again and again,
my pussy easily conquered by your thickness
without their thin veil of protection.
I see a short blue dress beside them,
inside out and I remember you raising it above my ass,
remember the sting of your slaps to my backside
sharper now with no material for cover,
angry red marks left on my ass
and I remember your hand on my breast squeezing hard
twisting my nipple through the blue cloth.
I see white sandals by the door
and I remember my hands on my ankles while you fucked me,
remember seeing your feet just outside mine
almost on tiptoe to get the angle that you like,
remember you pulling me backwards to meet you
so hard I nearly lost my balance
and my hands grabbing the sink to keep from falling
I see a paper towel in the basket
and I remember your cock sliding out of me
my pussy aching from your sudden absence,
remember my hand finding you behind me
remember your cock slick with me beneath my hand,
your chest against my back while I jerked you off
and you handing me the towel after coming on my ass.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Just a Quickie
Just coming back from a long weekend on vacation with some friends, so I've got some stuff to get settled at work before I can fill you all in on the latest. In the meantime, here's an e-mail I sent to J last Friday, when I was too horny to concentrate at work:
I am in a mood today, and as the resident pervert around here, it means you're getting an e-mail. Congratulations.
Today's random essay goes like this: I love sucking your cock. It's possible you may have noticed this already, based on the fact that I've been sucking you off every Thursday for the last two months. Probably it seems like that's for you, and it sort of is, but really it's for me. The feeling of you filling up my whole mouth and throat, your hand in my hair, grabbing on to your hot little ass (your ass is fucking cute) for balance, the taste of you when you cum in my mouth and the way it feels sliding down my throat when I swallow it - it's all for me. It feeds my head later on, after I'm home in my bed, remembering your taste and finger fucking myself until I'm raw.
Yesterday may have been the hottest one yet, for me. Feeling you push back into me, hitting the back of my throat and making my eyes water...you don't even have to touch me, I can almost come just from that. It leads me to hope that some upcoming Thursday, and very soon, when you take me in the bathroom and I drop to my knees, that I won't be sucking your cock at all, but instead you'll be holding my head still with both hands while you recklessly fuck my mouth. That is my newest Thursday night desire.
Warned you I was in a mood...I'd keep going but I need to run to the bathroom and get myself off now. -Amber
I am in a mood today, and as the resident pervert around here, it means you're getting an e-mail. Congratulations.
Today's random essay goes like this: I love sucking your cock. It's possible you may have noticed this already, based on the fact that I've been sucking you off every Thursday for the last two months. Probably it seems like that's for you, and it sort of is, but really it's for me. The feeling of you filling up my whole mouth and throat, your hand in my hair, grabbing on to your hot little ass (your ass is fucking cute) for balance, the taste of you when you cum in my mouth and the way it feels sliding down my throat when I swallow it - it's all for me. It feeds my head later on, after I'm home in my bed, remembering your taste and finger fucking myself until I'm raw.
Yesterday may have been the hottest one yet, for me. Feeling you push back into me, hitting the back of my throat and making my eyes water...you don't even have to touch me, I can almost come just from that. It leads me to hope that some upcoming Thursday, and very soon, when you take me in the bathroom and I drop to my knees, that I won't be sucking your cock at all, but instead you'll be holding my head still with both hands while you recklessly fuck my mouth. That is my newest Thursday night desire.
Warned you I was in a mood...I'd keep going but I need to run to the bathroom and get myself off now. -Amber
Friday, June 10, 2005
Rockstar
"You're such a rockstar!" my roommate exclaimed. "I'm the one who's in a band, but you're the one living the rockstar life."
This was my roommate's observation last night when I came home from the bar with a brand new fuck tale. Which was coming on the heels of him coming home while I had a friend over for some hot sex and digital photography only two days earlier. Which came on the heels of having yet another friend over for his very first experience with sex ever the day before that.
I don't think I've behaved this badly since the summer after I finished high school. And the funny thing is, instead of leaving me satisfied, what I'm really thinking is "more".
This was my roommate's observation last night when I came home from the bar with a brand new fuck tale. Which was coming on the heels of him coming home while I had a friend over for some hot sex and digital photography only two days earlier. Which came on the heels of having yet another friend over for his very first experience with sex ever the day before that.
I don't think I've behaved this badly since the summer after I finished high school. And the funny thing is, instead of leaving me satisfied, what I'm really thinking is "more".
The Payback
I watched out of the corner of my eye as J grabbed a stool from the end of the bar and took it into the front bathroom with him. Up until then I had been largely ignoring him.
I had dressed in a tiny cheerleader skirt and my braille t-shirt in anticipation of the payback I was promised a week ago, only to show up and find that J had gotten to the bar late and still had setting up to do, and that another friend of his was there in the bar, taking his time getting upstairs to do some work on the roof. I was frustrated and irritated, the same thing as last week!, so I pulled out my phone to play video games and turned my back on the pair.
Eventually, the friend had gone up to the roof, and J finished setting up, 45 minutes after the bar usually opens, and came to sit next to me. He made a big production out of leaning waaaay back to check out my ass, and then astutely observed, "You're wearing a skirt."
"Really? I hadn't noticed," I replied sarcastically without looking up from Collapse. And then he wordlessly took the bar stool in the bathroom.
I couldn't help but look up from my game at him when he returned. He saw me looking at him and said, "What?"
I shook my head. "Nothing."
"You're wondering why I put a stool in the bathroom," he suggested.
"Yes."
"I'll show you." I got up and followed him into the bathroom. "The stool is in here," he said, closing the door behind him and locking it, "to give you something to hold on to while I'm pounding my cock into your hole."
Yay! I wrapped my arms around his waist. "I thought you said you weren't going to have time," I teased.
"Well, we don't have much. We have to hurry before people start showing up, or he comes down from the roof. But I promised you. And I wouldn't want to waste another skirt." He had been lightly rubbing my back while we talked, but now he pushed me away from him and said roughly, "Turn around."
"Bossy fuck," I mumbled, and turned to lean over my barstool. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of his pants dropping to the floor, felt him step closer to me, push my skirt a up a little further, grabbing my panties and yanking hem to my knees. He trailed his fingers back up the back of my legs and then hit me with a stinging slap that made me gasp. A second later I felt his huge cock slam into me so hard and fast I nearly lost my balance. I gripped my stool harder to keep from falling over while J drove into me hard from behind, one hand with a death grip on my hair, the other leaving angry red marks on my ass. My finger found their way under my skirt to my clit and I rubbed in small circles. I turned my head and caught a glimpse of J's contorted face in the mirror. He saw me watching him and smiled leeringly, saying "Come on, Amber. Come for me."
I pushed back on him, impaling myself. My orgasm rocketed though me and I stifled a scream. Both of J's hands moved to grip my hips and keep me from collapsing as I fell forward with my head on the barstool. He held me like that until he felt the waves subsiding, and then slowly slipped out of me.
I turned around and kissed him, while I grabbed his cock and started jacking him off. When I could tell he was about to come, I knelt and slipped my mouth around him, tasting myself mixed with his hot cum. With one hand on my shoulder he leaned heavily on me while he filled my mouth. As we stood there for a moment, leaning on each other and catching our breath he said, "See? I always keep my promises."
I had dressed in a tiny cheerleader skirt and my braille t-shirt in anticipation of the payback I was promised a week ago, only to show up and find that J had gotten to the bar late and still had setting up to do, and that another friend of his was there in the bar, taking his time getting upstairs to do some work on the roof. I was frustrated and irritated, the same thing as last week!, so I pulled out my phone to play video games and turned my back on the pair.
Eventually, the friend had gone up to the roof, and J finished setting up, 45 minutes after the bar usually opens, and came to sit next to me. He made a big production out of leaning waaaay back to check out my ass, and then astutely observed, "You're wearing a skirt."
"Really? I hadn't noticed," I replied sarcastically without looking up from Collapse. And then he wordlessly took the bar stool in the bathroom.
I couldn't help but look up from my game at him when he returned. He saw me looking at him and said, "What?"
I shook my head. "Nothing."
"You're wondering why I put a stool in the bathroom," he suggested.
"Yes."
"I'll show you." I got up and followed him into the bathroom. "The stool is in here," he said, closing the door behind him and locking it, "to give you something to hold on to while I'm pounding my cock into your hole."
Yay! I wrapped my arms around his waist. "I thought you said you weren't going to have time," I teased.
"Well, we don't have much. We have to hurry before people start showing up, or he comes down from the roof. But I promised you. And I wouldn't want to waste another skirt." He had been lightly rubbing my back while we talked, but now he pushed me away from him and said roughly, "Turn around."
"Bossy fuck," I mumbled, and turned to lean over my barstool. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of his pants dropping to the floor, felt him step closer to me, push my skirt a up a little further, grabbing my panties and yanking hem to my knees. He trailed his fingers back up the back of my legs and then hit me with a stinging slap that made me gasp. A second later I felt his huge cock slam into me so hard and fast I nearly lost my balance. I gripped my stool harder to keep from falling over while J drove into me hard from behind, one hand with a death grip on my hair, the other leaving angry red marks on my ass. My finger found their way under my skirt to my clit and I rubbed in small circles. I turned my head and caught a glimpse of J's contorted face in the mirror. He saw me watching him and smiled leeringly, saying "Come on, Amber. Come for me."
I pushed back on him, impaling myself. My orgasm rocketed though me and I stifled a scream. Both of J's hands moved to grip my hips and keep me from collapsing as I fell forward with my head on the barstool. He held me like that until he felt the waves subsiding, and then slowly slipped out of me.
I turned around and kissed him, while I grabbed his cock and started jacking him off. When I could tell he was about to come, I knelt and slipped my mouth around him, tasting myself mixed with his hot cum. With one hand on my shoulder he leaned heavily on me while he filled my mouth. As we stood there for a moment, leaning on each other and catching our breath he said, "See? I always keep my promises."
Wednesday, June 8, 2005
Thwarted
Another Thursday night blow job for J. Not that either of us are complaining. It's just not what we had planned.
What we had planned involved me showing up before he opened the bar in a tiny skirt and no underwear, and me getting bent over the sink for a good hard pounding.
And that's exactly how I was dressed when I arrived. J unlocked the door with a brutal scowl, and announced that the ATM machine had broken down and that the owner and the repair guy were on their way, then sulkily poured me a beer. As if to add insult to injury, another regular showed up at the bar insanely early. The owner and the repair guy stood in the corner taking apart the ATM, the other regular sipped her beer, J stalked around the bar in a small fury, and I sat still getting increasingly irritated. I pulled out my cell and pretended to play video games. I sent J a text, "I hate when you're in a bad mood. Ruins the whole point of showing up early in a tiny skirt."
"My mood has nothing to do with it. Bad timing again." This was in reference to the prior week when he asked me to watch the door for him while he went and jacked off, but never got around to it because the phone kept ringing.
"Regardless, it sucks to be me right now. Sucks."
"Sorry about the skirt. But speaking of sucking"
"Is that an invitation?"
"It is too bad about the skirt. i know it is a waste for there is no time. i could not help the ATM problem or R showing up. now time is the concern. quick is all we have...i.e. blow job"
By this time the owner had left, there were a few more people in the bar and our disappearance would be less obvious.
"I like blow jobs," I texted back. "You know that. But you totally owe me." Moments later, J disappeared into the back of the bar. I waited what seemed like an inconspicuous amount of time and followed.
I found him in the back bathroom, making a deliberate show of washing his hands in the event someone came walking by. When he saw it was me he gave me a knowing smirk and stepped back further into the room. I locked the door behind me and slid my arms around his broad shoulders, kissing down his neck. "I feel bad about the skirt, " he murmured in my ear. "Wear a skirt next week and I'll throw you over that sink and pound you harder than you've ever had in your life. And I'll smack that ass until it's red." As he spoke he had slid his hands up under my skirt and was lightly cupping my ass. He emphasized that last bit with a very light, almost silent spank.
"Yeah, you better," I replied. I drew back from him a little and rested my forehead on his chest to watch him free himself from his pants. I think he took this as a sign of disappointment because he said, "You don't have to suck it. You can just jack me off if you want."
"Are you kidding me?" I asked him rhetorically, kneeling in front of him and holding his already rock hard cock against my cheek. "This is one of my favorite things."
I started licking circles around his head before taking it in my mouth and sucking it slowly. With one hand on the back of his leg to steady myself I started taking him in, a little bit at a time in long, slow strokes. I could hear him breathing raggedly above me, and knew he had his eyes closed and his head leaning back. I kept going, a little lower each time, flicking the underside of his shaft with my tongue on the way back up.
He slid his hand around to the back of my head and grabbed a fistful of my hair at my scalp. He used his grip to push my head all the way down. Tears ran out of my eyes from the force of his cock jammed down my throat. When he let up I changed pace, taking him all in, faster and sucking as hard as I could. He kept his grip on my head and roughly shoved his other hand down the front of my tank top, squeezing my breast and running his thumb over my nipple.
"Your friend B," he was saying. "You should have a little girl talk with her. Tell her how nice you think my big, thick cock is. And when she comes to visit, you'll bring her over my house and we can fuck her together. You can eat her pussy while I fuck you from behind, and you two can suck my cock together. And you can grind your cunt on her face will I rub my dick between her tits and suck on yours." I sucked harder and faster until I felt him push back into me, hard. He groaned as quietly as he could manage as he exploded into the back of my throat, his cum filling my mouth and a little bit running out of the corner. I collapsed on the floor in a heap.
J started putting himself back together as I stood and smoothed my hair in the mirror. "I'll let you go back first," he said. I dropped a quick kiss on his temple and headed back to the front.
A few minutes later, J was back behind the bar and leafing through a take out menu. " I haven't eaten yet," he said to me. "I'm gonna order something. Are you hungry?"
I smiled and said loud enough so only he could hear, "I was."
What we had planned involved me showing up before he opened the bar in a tiny skirt and no underwear, and me getting bent over the sink for a good hard pounding.
And that's exactly how I was dressed when I arrived. J unlocked the door with a brutal scowl, and announced that the ATM machine had broken down and that the owner and the repair guy were on their way, then sulkily poured me a beer. As if to add insult to injury, another regular showed up at the bar insanely early. The owner and the repair guy stood in the corner taking apart the ATM, the other regular sipped her beer, J stalked around the bar in a small fury, and I sat still getting increasingly irritated. I pulled out my cell and pretended to play video games. I sent J a text, "I hate when you're in a bad mood. Ruins the whole point of showing up early in a tiny skirt."
"My mood has nothing to do with it. Bad timing again." This was in reference to the prior week when he asked me to watch the door for him while he went and jacked off, but never got around to it because the phone kept ringing.
"Regardless, it sucks to be me right now. Sucks."
"Sorry about the skirt. But speaking of sucking"
"Is that an invitation?"
"It is too bad about the skirt. i know it is a waste for there is no time. i could not help the ATM problem or R showing up. now time is the concern. quick is all we have...i.e. blow job"
By this time the owner had left, there were a few more people in the bar and our disappearance would be less obvious.
"I like blow jobs," I texted back. "You know that. But you totally owe me." Moments later, J disappeared into the back of the bar. I waited what seemed like an inconspicuous amount of time and followed.
I found him in the back bathroom, making a deliberate show of washing his hands in the event someone came walking by. When he saw it was me he gave me a knowing smirk and stepped back further into the room. I locked the door behind me and slid my arms around his broad shoulders, kissing down his neck. "I feel bad about the skirt, " he murmured in my ear. "Wear a skirt next week and I'll throw you over that sink and pound you harder than you've ever had in your life. And I'll smack that ass until it's red." As he spoke he had slid his hands up under my skirt and was lightly cupping my ass. He emphasized that last bit with a very light, almost silent spank.
"Yeah, you better," I replied. I drew back from him a little and rested my forehead on his chest to watch him free himself from his pants. I think he took this as a sign of disappointment because he said, "You don't have to suck it. You can just jack me off if you want."
"Are you kidding me?" I asked him rhetorically, kneeling in front of him and holding his already rock hard cock against my cheek. "This is one of my favorite things."
I started licking circles around his head before taking it in my mouth and sucking it slowly. With one hand on the back of his leg to steady myself I started taking him in, a little bit at a time in long, slow strokes. I could hear him breathing raggedly above me, and knew he had his eyes closed and his head leaning back. I kept going, a little lower each time, flicking the underside of his shaft with my tongue on the way back up.
He slid his hand around to the back of my head and grabbed a fistful of my hair at my scalp. He used his grip to push my head all the way down. Tears ran out of my eyes from the force of his cock jammed down my throat. When he let up I changed pace, taking him all in, faster and sucking as hard as I could. He kept his grip on my head and roughly shoved his other hand down the front of my tank top, squeezing my breast and running his thumb over my nipple.
"Your friend B," he was saying. "You should have a little girl talk with her. Tell her how nice you think my big, thick cock is. And when she comes to visit, you'll bring her over my house and we can fuck her together. You can eat her pussy while I fuck you from behind, and you two can suck my cock together. And you can grind your cunt on her face will I rub my dick between her tits and suck on yours." I sucked harder and faster until I felt him push back into me, hard. He groaned as quietly as he could manage as he exploded into the back of my throat, his cum filling my mouth and a little bit running out of the corner. I collapsed on the floor in a heap.
J started putting himself back together as I stood and smoothed my hair in the mirror. "I'll let you go back first," he said. I dropped a quick kiss on his temple and headed back to the front.
A few minutes later, J was back behind the bar and leafing through a take out menu. " I haven't eaten yet," he said to me. "I'm gonna order something. Are you hungry?"
I smiled and said loud enough so only he could hear, "I was."
Monday, May 23, 2005
How's That For A Tip?
I felt my cell phone vibrate in my pocket. It was Thursday night, and I was at my regular Thursday night bar, where my friend J is the bartender.
"TONIGHT IS WEIRD...I HAVE TO JACK OFF SOON"
I looked across the bar at J. I hadn't seen him send that message, and I was a little startled. He wasn't looking at me; he was pouring a Newcastle and watching the basketball game.
"So?" I sent back.
"WANT TO WATCH?"
J and I used to fuck, but that ended before I moved here. At least it seemed to have. I assumed he got bored with me, or the novelty wore off because I was here all the time now. This line of questioning seemed out of the blue. Still, I was entirely turned on by it.
"Don't jack off," I sent back. "I know a better plan."
"YOU KNOW WHERE TO FIND ME"
A few minutes later, J disappeared into the back of the bar. I found him in the back women's bathroom. I closed the door behind me and locked it. J said, "I don't know what the deal is today. Every since I got up. I jacked off three times already today, and I've been thinking about it since I got here. I..."
"Shut up," I said, grinning.
He grinned back. "You shut up," he said and pulled me toward him.
We kissed briefly, and somewhat awkwardly, half because it had been so long and half because we both knew he couldn't disappear for long without someone noticing that the only bartender was missing.
I pulled away from him and undid his belt, pushing his pants to the floor. I rested my hand on his cock. I could feel the heat from his rock hard cock through his shorts. He pushed his underwear down as I dropped to my knees.
I am always completely in awe of his cock. He is a freak of nature; beyond porn star huge. I'm talking, when I wrap my hand around him, I can't touch my thumb to my middle finger without squeezing him. Add proportionate length to that girth and you're talking a fucking monster dick on this guy. He is also generally a pretty smallish framed man. He's pretty short and not real bulky either, so the overall visual effect of this little guy with a freakishly huge cock is almost unreal.
And it is so much fun to suck. It's somewhat challenging, being that there's really no room in my mouth for any of my usual tricks, so I have to think creatively usually to get the result I want.
Not today, however.
"Mmmm," he moaned softly when I slowly licked his shaft from base to tip. He gently rested his hand on my shoulder. "I'm going to cum fast," he whispered to me. "I've been thinking about this all day." He wasn't kidding. After a few quick teasing sucks, I took all of him in my mouth and sucked hard. He came almost immediately, what little room was left in my mouth was filled with his thick hot cum. It took all of about 10 seconds.
I looked up at him and grinned. "You weren't kidding," I said, as I finished licking him clean and helped him put his pants back together. He said nothing, but gave me a quick hug and kiss before quickly slipping out the door and back behind the bar. I waited a few minutes and followed. I went back to hanging out with my brother and his friends, assuming no one was the wiser.
However, more people see things than you think in a little neighborhood bar. Later on that evening, I was outside with the owner and one of the bouncers discussing the owner's gambling winnings at the track that day. He had won quite a lot that day and was bragging about it. "I'm the pimp daddy of horse-track betting," he announced.
"Well, you were," I teased, "right up until you referred to yourself as 'the pimp daddy' of betting horses."
"Oh, yeah, you can talk," he replied. "Making out with J - that looks real good on your resume."
I looked at the ground and blushed. I felt someone nudge my shoulder.
"Yeah, Amber!" the bouncer joined in. "How was the bathroom tonight anyway?"
I giggled and said no comment. I mean, in a way it was embarrassing, but mostly it just made the whole thing that much hotter, knowing that everyone knew.
I love that bar.
"TONIGHT IS WEIRD...I HAVE TO JACK OFF SOON"
I looked across the bar at J. I hadn't seen him send that message, and I was a little startled. He wasn't looking at me; he was pouring a Newcastle and watching the basketball game.
"So?" I sent back.
"WANT TO WATCH?"
J and I used to fuck, but that ended before I moved here. At least it seemed to have. I assumed he got bored with me, or the novelty wore off because I was here all the time now. This line of questioning seemed out of the blue. Still, I was entirely turned on by it.
"Don't jack off," I sent back. "I know a better plan."
"YOU KNOW WHERE TO FIND ME"
A few minutes later, J disappeared into the back of the bar. I found him in the back women's bathroom. I closed the door behind me and locked it. J said, "I don't know what the deal is today. Every since I got up. I jacked off three times already today, and I've been thinking about it since I got here. I..."
"Shut up," I said, grinning.
He grinned back. "You shut up," he said and pulled me toward him.
We kissed briefly, and somewhat awkwardly, half because it had been so long and half because we both knew he couldn't disappear for long without someone noticing that the only bartender was missing.
I pulled away from him and undid his belt, pushing his pants to the floor. I rested my hand on his cock. I could feel the heat from his rock hard cock through his shorts. He pushed his underwear down as I dropped to my knees.
I am always completely in awe of his cock. He is a freak of nature; beyond porn star huge. I'm talking, when I wrap my hand around him, I can't touch my thumb to my middle finger without squeezing him. Add proportionate length to that girth and you're talking a fucking monster dick on this guy. He is also generally a pretty smallish framed man. He's pretty short and not real bulky either, so the overall visual effect of this little guy with a freakishly huge cock is almost unreal.
And it is so much fun to suck. It's somewhat challenging, being that there's really no room in my mouth for any of my usual tricks, so I have to think creatively usually to get the result I want.
Not today, however.
"Mmmm," he moaned softly when I slowly licked his shaft from base to tip. He gently rested his hand on my shoulder. "I'm going to cum fast," he whispered to me. "I've been thinking about this all day." He wasn't kidding. After a few quick teasing sucks, I took all of him in my mouth and sucked hard. He came almost immediately, what little room was left in my mouth was filled with his thick hot cum. It took all of about 10 seconds.
I looked up at him and grinned. "You weren't kidding," I said, as I finished licking him clean and helped him put his pants back together. He said nothing, but gave me a quick hug and kiss before quickly slipping out the door and back behind the bar. I waited a few minutes and followed. I went back to hanging out with my brother and his friends, assuming no one was the wiser.
However, more people see things than you think in a little neighborhood bar. Later on that evening, I was outside with the owner and one of the bouncers discussing the owner's gambling winnings at the track that day. He had won quite a lot that day and was bragging about it. "I'm the pimp daddy of horse-track betting," he announced.
"Well, you were," I teased, "right up until you referred to yourself as 'the pimp daddy' of betting horses."
"Oh, yeah, you can talk," he replied. "Making out with J - that looks real good on your resume."
I looked at the ground and blushed. I felt someone nudge my shoulder.
"Yeah, Amber!" the bouncer joined in. "How was the bathroom tonight anyway?"
I giggled and said no comment. I mean, in a way it was embarrassing, but mostly it just made the whole thing that much hotter, knowing that everyone knew.
I love that bar.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
A Quick Funny
Sorry I've not posted, much is going on around here. Anyway, to tide you over:
I created a MySpace page because all my other friends are doing it.
Last night my friend calls, and in the course of conversation says to me, "Hey, I was reading your MySpace profile. I didn't know you were bi. That's really cool."
I said, "Joe, you've been in my house. Did the dozen naked pictures of girls and the Playboy I had sitting out not give it away?"
and he said, "I just thought you were really into art."
On a related note, I've decided I haven't slept with nearly enough girls. I plan to make a concerted effort to rectify this injustice. Starting...now.
I created a MySpace page because all my other friends are doing it.
Last night my friend calls, and in the course of conversation says to me, "Hey, I was reading your MySpace profile. I didn't know you were bi. That's really cool."
I said, "Joe, you've been in my house. Did the dozen naked pictures of girls and the Playboy I had sitting out not give it away?"
and he said, "I just thought you were really into art."
On a related note, I've decided I haven't slept with nearly enough girls. I plan to make a concerted effort to rectify this injustice. Starting...now.
A Quick Funny
Sorry I've not posted, much is going on around here. Anyway, to tide you over:
I created a MySpace page because all my other friends are doing it.
Last night my friend calls, and in the course of conversation says to me, "Hey, I was reading your MySpace profile. I didn't know you were bi. That's really cool."
I said, "Joe, you've been in my house. Did the dozen naked pictures of girls and the Playboy I had sitting out not give it away?"
and he said, "I just thought you were really into art."
On a related note, I've decided I haven't slept with nearly enough girls. I plan to make a concerted effort to rectify this injustice. Starting...now.
I created a MySpace page because all my other friends are doing it.
Last night my friend calls, and in the course of conversation says to me, "Hey, I was reading your MySpace profile. I didn't know you were bi. That's really cool."
I said, "Joe, you've been in my house. Did the dozen naked pictures of girls and the Playboy I had sitting out not give it away?"
and he said, "I just thought you were really into art."
On a related note, I've decided I haven't slept with nearly enough girls. I plan to make a concerted effort to rectify this injustice. Starting...now.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Hair Pulling 101
I was going through some past experiences today looking for material to post, and I came to the following realization: There is a right way and a wrong way to pull someone's hair.
Thinking back on it, it seems that the people who know how to do it the right way come by it naturally, and the reason for that is that they like doing it for their own gratification. The people who suck at this are the ones who would never think this up on their own and are only doing it in an attempt to make the person who is having their hair pulled happy.
I'm going to go out on a limb here and postulate that most of the readers of this blog are likely to be talented hair-pullers happily yanking away at their partners' lovely locks. On the off-chance that any of you are not, let me take this opportunity to make a few suggestions. After all, if the whole point is only to make your partner happy, you'll want to do a good job at this right?
Basically there are two ways to pull hair correctly. The best way in my opinion is to grab hair in fistfulls as close to the scalp as you can. The closer your hand is to my head, the better. Alternatively, you can twist the hair around your hand a few times and then pull. Obviously this will only work on girls with really long hair. Most trendy hairstyles these days aren't long enough for this to be effective, and frankly, it's better the other way anyway. Do not grab my hair by the very very end of it and pull that way. For one thing, my hair is going to slip out of your hand if you don't get a better grip on it and for another thing, What the hell kind of pussy are you? Really. I should not be able to move my head around without you deliberately relaxing your wrist to allow it. Conversely, you should have enough control over my head to steer it wherever you want it to go.
Next up: you have to let go once in a while. Seriously. This is best for both you and me in the long run. First, if you have the proper grip and are pulling hard enough, your fingers are going to get tired and cramped. You need a rest. Second, if you are pulling on one spot on my head constantly for 20 minutes, my head is going to get numb and I won't feel it anymore. I will also have a splitting headache about a half hour later. I don't want a headache, and trust me, you don't want me around when I have one. Take breaks. Then do it again. It's in everyone's best interest.
Last and most importantly, never NEVER ask me if you are pulling too hard. Just pull my hair and shut the fuck up. You are defeating the whole purpose when you whine "Does this hurt? Do you want me to stop?" YES it hurts, dumbass, that is why I asked you to do it. And if I want you to stop, there's no need to ask because, trust me, you'll know. You'll know because I'll say something like "Not so hard" or "Cut that out" or "OW! WHAT THE FUCK????" If you don't hear something of that nature then you are not pulling too hard. Don't be such a pussy; it is not attractive. If I wanted a pussy I'd go fuck a girl, and I don't allow girls to pull my hair.
This concludes your brief tutorial in the art of erotic hair-pulling. Use this data wisely, grasshopper, and you shall reap many rewards.
Thinking back on it, it seems that the people who know how to do it the right way come by it naturally, and the reason for that is that they like doing it for their own gratification. The people who suck at this are the ones who would never think this up on their own and are only doing it in an attempt to make the person who is having their hair pulled happy.
I'm going to go out on a limb here and postulate that most of the readers of this blog are likely to be talented hair-pullers happily yanking away at their partners' lovely locks. On the off-chance that any of you are not, let me take this opportunity to make a few suggestions. After all, if the whole point is only to make your partner happy, you'll want to do a good job at this right?
Basically there are two ways to pull hair correctly. The best way in my opinion is to grab hair in fistfulls as close to the scalp as you can. The closer your hand is to my head, the better. Alternatively, you can twist the hair around your hand a few times and then pull. Obviously this will only work on girls with really long hair. Most trendy hairstyles these days aren't long enough for this to be effective, and frankly, it's better the other way anyway. Do not grab my hair by the very very end of it and pull that way. For one thing, my hair is going to slip out of your hand if you don't get a better grip on it and for another thing, What the hell kind of pussy are you? Really. I should not be able to move my head around without you deliberately relaxing your wrist to allow it. Conversely, you should have enough control over my head to steer it wherever you want it to go.
Next up: you have to let go once in a while. Seriously. This is best for both you and me in the long run. First, if you have the proper grip and are pulling hard enough, your fingers are going to get tired and cramped. You need a rest. Second, if you are pulling on one spot on my head constantly for 20 minutes, my head is going to get numb and I won't feel it anymore. I will also have a splitting headache about a half hour later. I don't want a headache, and trust me, you don't want me around when I have one. Take breaks. Then do it again. It's in everyone's best interest.
Last and most importantly, never NEVER ask me if you are pulling too hard. Just pull my hair and shut the fuck up. You are defeating the whole purpose when you whine "Does this hurt? Do you want me to stop?" YES it hurts, dumbass, that is why I asked you to do it. And if I want you to stop, there's no need to ask because, trust me, you'll know. You'll know because I'll say something like "Not so hard" or "Cut that out" or "OW! WHAT THE FUCK????" If you don't hear something of that nature then you are not pulling too hard. Don't be such a pussy; it is not attractive. If I wanted a pussy I'd go fuck a girl, and I don't allow girls to pull my hair.
This concludes your brief tutorial in the art of erotic hair-pulling. Use this data wisely, grasshopper, and you shall reap many rewards.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Today I am in the mood...
...for a blow job. Actually, yesterday and the preceding two days as well. I can't concentrate on anything: work, the book I'm reading, what I'd like to have for lunch...nothing. It is all consuming and demanding my full attention.
I took a bath last night with my waterproof vibrator and a mind full of various fantasies, but to no avail. In fact, I think I made it worse by trying to live out my imagination with nothing but my own thumb to stick in my mouth.
I called my friend this morning and tried to get him to come over, but he was on his way home from work and had "gone too far in the other direction". I had this vision in my head of dragging him into my room, shoving him down on my mattress, yanking his pants down and sucking him off. Would I have been that bold really? Probably not, he intimidates me via superior experience without ever meaning to, but still he would have let me play (I think), and I might actually be getting some work done right about now. Meanie. Ah, well, more fodder for the bathtub I guess.
Outside of that there is no one else to play with here, and it is tormenting me. How is it exactly that in a world of girls that hate giving blow jobs, there exists a girl who LOVES giving blow jobs and yet she is somehow thwarted at every turn? I find this patently unfair. *sulk*
(Note to J - for the record, when I said you get extra credit for finding the post about you, this is not the post I was referring to. )
I took a bath last night with my waterproof vibrator and a mind full of various fantasies, but to no avail. In fact, I think I made it worse by trying to live out my imagination with nothing but my own thumb to stick in my mouth.
I called my friend this morning and tried to get him to come over, but he was on his way home from work and had "gone too far in the other direction". I had this vision in my head of dragging him into my room, shoving him down on my mattress, yanking his pants down and sucking him off. Would I have been that bold really? Probably not, he intimidates me via superior experience without ever meaning to, but still he would have let me play (I think), and I might actually be getting some work done right about now. Meanie. Ah, well, more fodder for the bathtub I guess.
Outside of that there is no one else to play with here, and it is tormenting me. How is it exactly that in a world of girls that hate giving blow jobs, there exists a girl who LOVES giving blow jobs and yet she is somehow thwarted at every turn? I find this patently unfair. *sulk*
(Note to J - for the record, when I said you get extra credit for finding the post about you, this is not the post I was referring to. )
Amber's Fantasy
Destroy me.
Make me submit to only your desires. Reduce me till I exist solely for your amusement. Let loose the fire I see in your glare.
I want to be your whore, your fucktoy, the embodiment of your most errant depravity. Tell me what to be; ignore my feeble protests. Push me to the limit of my boundaries and hold me there until I beg to be released.
I am meant to be used. Fuck my mouth until I can't breathe. Hold me down until I can't fight you. Smack me until my skin is raw.
Even now you intimidate me with your experience. The power of you feeds my fear as you relentlessly drive me further from myself and into a place where nothing exists beyond your brutal lust until I lose, finally, my own consciousness and become, utterly, Yours.
Make me submit to only your desires. Reduce me till I exist solely for your amusement. Let loose the fire I see in your glare.
I want to be your whore, your fucktoy, the embodiment of your most errant depravity. Tell me what to be; ignore my feeble protests. Push me to the limit of my boundaries and hold me there until I beg to be released.
I am meant to be used. Fuck my mouth until I can't breathe. Hold me down until I can't fight you. Smack me until my skin is raw.
Even now you intimidate me with your experience. The power of you feeds my fear as you relentlessly drive me further from myself and into a place where nothing exists beyond your brutal lust until I lose, finally, my own consciousness and become, utterly, Yours.
Friday, March 18, 2005
Masturbating at Work
Masturbating at work is not an activity I would say I engage in frequently. Investment Consulting is not exactly pornographic, after all. Having said that though, there is something inherently hot about conspiring with one's self to get off at the office.
Right now, as I have a cubicle rather than an office with a door like at my old company, this gets even more appealing, because it requires far more stealth than just the casual closing of the door. You have to be very alert to the sound of people coming by, extremely fast to lessen the chance of being interrupted, and as near to silent as possible so as not to arouse the suspicions of your neighbors. All those factors added together create such an incredible amount of tension. When it is released, there is nothing in the world that compares. I am seeing stars right now.
I just had to share.
Right now, as I have a cubicle rather than an office with a door like at my old company, this gets even more appealing, because it requires far more stealth than just the casual closing of the door. You have to be very alert to the sound of people coming by, extremely fast to lessen the chance of being interrupted, and as near to silent as possible so as not to arouse the suspicions of your neighbors. All those factors added together create such an incredible amount of tension. When it is released, there is nothing in the world that compares. I am seeing stars right now.
I just had to share.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Happy SBJ Day!
Happy Steak and Blow Job Day to my favorite boys!
Now then, how would you like that done? ;)
Now then, how would you like that done? ;)
An Exercise With Verbs
Just to see if I could, I tried arranging 32 -ing verbs into a poem that tells a chronological story. Here are the results:
Kissing
touching
stripping
teasing
holding
squeezing
licking
sucking
Tasting
stroking
moving
grinding
grabbing
biting
moaning
fucking
Pulling
smacking
pounding
screaming
clenching
gasping
coming
seeping
Sweating
smiling
talking
kissing
resting
breathing
drifting
sleeping
Kissing
touching
stripping
teasing
holding
squeezing
licking
sucking
Tasting
stroking
moving
grinding
grabbing
biting
moaning
fucking
Pulling
smacking
pounding
screaming
clenching
gasping
coming
seeping
Sweating
smiling
talking
kissing
resting
breathing
drifting
sleeping
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Hello!
I've finally decided to start a second blog where I can post my more lurid adventures, as well as my fledgling attempts at writing erotica, without having my family accidentally come across it and be scared for life. I hope everyone finds reading it as enjoyable as I find living it. Stay tuned...
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