This morning, I was taking off my pajamas to put on some shorts to mow the lawn. My wife was taking hers off to get in the shower. I picked her up and sat her on the bathroom counter and fucked her.
No words were exchanged.
I kept eye contact with myself in the mirror behind her, occasionally noticing her feet flailing wildly in the periphery. She held onto me. In my imagination, I was taking her, using her for a moment of pleasure. I realized, in reality, that is exactly what it was. I pulled out just as I started to orgasm, and handed her a towel to clean up the mess of sperm left in her pubic hair.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Fresh bottle of pee
I just put a fresh bottle of pee in the hotel fridge. Not something I normally am into... trying out something new. ;)
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Jenny Swallows
I have fallen in love. No, not with another woman... or another man for that matter... but with the erotic talents of a woman whose writings speak to me.
Living in an internet world where anything and everything... from the highs of emotional foreplay to the lows of unmentionable desire... lies but a few keystrokes away... it is a rare event that someone truly inspires me. It is rare to find a substance to erotica that goes beyond the bare necessity of turning me on and getting me off.
I have found, in this woman's talents, her unique ability to connect with her readers.... to connect with me. For the first time, I find myself imagining the author of the words... the words themselves are no longer a means to an end... but a part of something... of someone... else.
To be connected in this way to the genuine feelings of another human being... it is refreshing. It is the type of thing you didn't realize was missing until you experienced it... or perhaps until it experienced you... as the connection surely must flow both ways. That the typically inherent anonymity of internet erotica can somehow become personal... it gives me hope for those who long to find a way to intimate their sexual feelings and desires beyond the random release of their pent up energy.
I find myself humbled at the experience. Check her out. You will surely not be disappointed.
http://jennyswallows.blogspot.com/
Living in an internet world where anything and everything... from the highs of emotional foreplay to the lows of unmentionable desire... lies but a few keystrokes away... it is a rare event that someone truly inspires me. It is rare to find a substance to erotica that goes beyond the bare necessity of turning me on and getting me off.
I have found, in this woman's talents, her unique ability to connect with her readers.... to connect with me. For the first time, I find myself imagining the author of the words... the words themselves are no longer a means to an end... but a part of something... of someone... else.
To be connected in this way to the genuine feelings of another human being... it is refreshing. It is the type of thing you didn't realize was missing until you experienced it... or perhaps until it experienced you... as the connection surely must flow both ways. That the typically inherent anonymity of internet erotica can somehow become personal... it gives me hope for those who long to find a way to intimate their sexual feelings and desires beyond the random release of their pent up energy.
I find myself humbled at the experience. Check her out. You will surely not be disappointed.
http://jennyswallows.blogspot.com/
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Jenny's Hall of Fame is getting bigger
That's me :) Wow... I feel a little giddy that Jenny likes my cock. I'm blushing like you wouldn't believe!
And it's not the only thing. All men should have a pair of jeans like these - it'd save a lot of fishing around inside their briefs.
Thank you, I love it AND it made me laugh!
via Jenny Swallows by Jenny Swallows on 4/6/10
And it's not the only thing. All men should have a pair of jeans like these - it'd save a lot of fishing around inside their briefs.
Thank you, I love it AND it made me laugh!
Things you can do from here:
- Subscribe to Jenny Swallows using Google Reader
Monday, April 5, 2010
Tenth Grade Math: Algebra 3-4
As a sophomore in high school, there was an unbelievably hot girl the sat diagonally in front of me. She would kick off her shoes in class and toe at them... she was as out of my league as a girl can get. Once, during a lecture... yes our teacher managed to give us lectures in 10th grade math... she seemed intent on making my cock burst out of my jeans. She was dangling her shoe from her toe... rubbing her socked feet together or playing with her shoes... she dropped her pencil at one point and picked it up with her toes and that put me over the edge. I needed to cum. There is no way else to say it. I didn't want to cum... I had a pressing... biological need... like bouncing in your seat because you have to pee so bad you can barely hold it in. I NEEDED to cum.
So sitting there in the back of math class while the pencils of my classmates could be heard furiously trying to keep up with the notes he was giving... mine was in my lap, rubbing at the bulging heap of denim. First slowly, and then furiously until I could take no more. I orgasmed... hard... it washed over me... I managed to keep quiet but was out of breath. My toes were curled in my tennis shoes. She could have been staring at me... for all I would have known the whole class could have been staring with the teacher now discussing my technique instead of mathematical anomalies. I did not take my eyes off of her feet from the moment she curled her toes around that pencil until my pants were damp from the cum stained underwear beneath them.
But the sound of scribbling graphite on paper continued, unabated. As I looked around the room, not a single eye was turned my way. For the first time, I had an orgasm in a public place with some 25 or more people in the room. I had no idea how to do the assignment that night... but I count it as among the more accomplished days I had in my four years of high school.
So sitting there in the back of math class while the pencils of my classmates could be heard furiously trying to keep up with the notes he was giving... mine was in my lap, rubbing at the bulging heap of denim. First slowly, and then furiously until I could take no more. I orgasmed... hard... it washed over me... I managed to keep quiet but was out of breath. My toes were curled in my tennis shoes. She could have been staring at me... for all I would have known the whole class could have been staring with the teacher now discussing my technique instead of mathematical anomalies. I did not take my eyes off of her feet from the moment she curled her toes around that pencil until my pants were damp from the cum stained underwear beneath them.
But the sound of scribbling graphite on paper continued, unabated. As I looked around the room, not a single eye was turned my way. For the first time, I had an orgasm in a public place with some 25 or more people in the room. I had no idea how to do the assignment that night... but I count it as among the more accomplished days I had in my four years of high school.
Wow! This story makes my top 10.
Wow... she did such an amazing job identifying with the male character in this story. I have had experiences play out like this growing up... where nervousness and fear keep you hesitating... inching up to the point of no return, until desire takes over and pushes you full force across the line. Jenny is an amazing writer. I love her work. Check her out. I think I'll be buying her ebook after this one! http://jennyswallows.blogspot.com
Speaking As A Man
"Just out of curiosity," a friend asked recently, "have you ever tried writing anything from the guy's point of view?" In fact I have, a long time ago in a notebook that I'd filed away years back, although I'm not sure that this is what he was hoping for. Comments welcome!!!
If I really put my mind to it, I’d say that Mark had been my best friend my entire life. We grew up just a couple of houses from one another, attended the same schools until it was time to leave for college, and had spent most of our vacation time together since then. Even after he left home to take an apartment closer to college, in Rhode Island, we saw one another as often as we could, and this latest visit – a few days before the spring semester began – was just one more in a long line of the things.
We had nothing planned; we’d drink, we’d chase girls, we’d catch a movie or two, and the only thing that was at all different was, the guy he shared the apartment with, Tom, would be in town at the same time as me, which meant I wouldn’t be sleeping where I normally did. But no matter. Mark had the biggest of the two bedrooms, with a couch and a camp bed for me to choose from – although, as we settled down for the night, I found myself wondering whether the floor wouldn’t have been more comfortable than either.
“Having trouble over there, Pete?” Mark’s voice cut through my latest impatient sigh, as I tried to squeeze my six-foot frame into a five-foot space.
“If I could just get my legs comfortable, I’d be okay,” I murmured, and he laughed. “You can always hop in with me. I promise I won’t snore.”
“Okay.” I couldn’t count the number of nights that he and I had shared a bed in the past, and wasn’t certain why we were so adamant that tonight would not be another one. Sleepovers at one another’s homes while we were growing up, saving money on motel rooms when we went out to Colorado for a week of skiing… I’d probably spent more nights asleep alongside Mark than I had ever spent with a woman, and not given the matter another thought.
“Thanks.” He flicked on his bedside lamp as I maneuvered myself off the camp bed and into the queen sized that he was nestled up in, and if I noticed that he was naked as I pulled back the single sheet that covered him, it didn’t register. Again, why would it? You spent as much time together as we had, and you’re certain to see one another’s todger at some point.
We talked for a while, till I felt myself drifting; said goodnight and I was away…. Away, that is, until I found myself awake again, to feel his body nestled tight against mine. Tight and, although I knew from his breathing that he was fast asleep, insistent. I can safely say I had never previously been awakened by the weight of a hot, hard cock pressing against the small of my back. But I could certainly feel one now and, as I lay there in the silence, I could feel my own prick stirring as well.
What the fuck? I’m not gay. Not even mildly bi. In fact, I’ve never even given that side of life a second thought, and I’m damned certain Mark hasn’t, either. He’d have mentioned it if he had, because I know there is nothing that we haven’t shared at some point in the past. Including every last dirty detail of our sex lives. And, if I’d thought about it, I’d have figured that his hard-on was just an involuntary reflex, his dick sensing the warmth of another body in the bed, and simply trying its luck.
But I wasn’t thinking about it. Or rather, I was, but not in any way that I would ever have dreamed of doing. My own cock was rock hard now, reacting exclusively, and exquisitely, to the feel of his against the bare flesh of my back. I could feel my boxers tenting around it, and thought about slipping out of bed, running to the bathroom and jerking myself off. Moving, though, would disturb Mark, and for some reason that was one thing I didn’t want to do.
I adjusted my position a little, rolling until I was half on my back, and his cock rolled with me, resting on my hip. There was, what… six inches of space between my cock and his. I rolled again, flat on my back now, with one hand pressing down on my shaft, angling it towards where his cock head now lay. So close!
I was holding my breath now, fearful that the slightest sound might disturb him, cause him to roll over and away from me. But feigning sleep as well, so if he did wake up and discover how we lay, he wouldn’t know I’d had anything to do with it. Just like he wouldn’t know if my hand slipped away from my throbbing cock, and gently touched his.
At twenty-one years of age, I knew exactly what my cock felt like, and - assuming I'd even given the matter a moment's thought, which I hadn't - I guess I just assumed that every other guy’s would feel the same. Right? Wrong. The moment my fingers brushed his… and that’s all they did, they brushed it… it was as though I’d stuck my hand inside an electrical socket. The heat was unbelievable, the feel of the flesh was astonishing. And when I raised my hand to my face and sniffed, the faintest aroma almost caused my heart to burst.
How long did I lay there, touching his cock and then breathing it in? Two minutes? Five? Twenty-five? I don’t know, but every time I did, I moved down the bed a little, curling up into what could have been called a fetal position, but which had just one thought in mind. To bring my face closer to that magnificent cock. And suddenly Mark moved as well, stretching in his sleep, as though he were trying to hoist himself up the bed – and now his erection was no further from my face than it had been from my cock a while before. I didn’t even need to use my fingers anymore. I could smell him without moving, tart and taunting, an odor unlike any I had ever smelled before, and more alluring than any as well.
More minutes passed, as I inched down and he inched up; it could almost have been a ballet if he wasn’t so obviously sound asleep, and I wondered what he’d say now, if he woke up to find my face just inches from his helmet, and stretching my tongue out as far as it could go, in the hope of tasting the aroma that now obsessed me. The sheet was bunched up somewhere below my armpit and his balls, and the streetlight that shone in through the uncurtained window was just enough to illuminate the shadow of his shaft. I lowered my head a little further.
At the back of my mind, a tiny voice suddenly spoke. You’re trying to lick your best friend’s cock.
Wrong. I’m not trying. It was just the tip of my tongue that made contact, but his flavor flooded me, incinerating my taste buds with delight and desire. I withdrew it for a moment, to try and savor the flavor some more, but it was gone in an instant and I knew I needed more.
I tried to picture his cock in my mind. Like I said, I’d seen it a thousand times in the past, and once or twice – first thing in the morning, on his way for a piss – I’d seen his erection as well. Back then, though, it was just a biological function, a bit of his body that I had no interest in. I hadn’t mapped the veins or studied the ridges, hadn’t paid any attention to the thickness or the length, hadn’t gazed longingly at the meaty helmet… it would be meaty, I knew that, thick and full, soft behind its iron-hard strength… and I cursed the street light for not being brighter.
How far could I go? My tongue was on him again, and this time I held it there for as long as I dared. I let it swish over his helmet, felt the faint ridge of the eye in the tip, and let my tongue probe the entrance. Moisture met me. Pre-cum. It tasted even better than the flesh, and now a new thought obsessed me. I wanted him to cum. I wanted him to cum in my mouth. And I didn’t care whether he woke up or not.
My hand grasped his shaft, held it upright, as I rearranged my legs beneath me, and moved to kneel alongside him. I glanced up at him one more time. I didn’t know what this would do to our friendship… everything else I’d done, I could have still feigned sleep. But this? I lowered my head. It wasn’t too late to stop. It wasn’t too late for me to turn over and try to go to sleep, or get up and make do with the couch once again. Or even the camp bed.
And then a hand on the back of my head forced me down, at the very same moment as my mouth stretched around him, and now I knew that Mark had been awake this whole time, as desperate to feel my mouth on his cock as I was to taste his cock in my mouth.
No words passed between us, no sound more than a deep sigh of pleasure as my jaw relaxed and I drew him in, and the barely audible squeak of the bed frame as my head bobbed up and down, his cock slipping in and out of my salvia-flooded mouth; or a groan as I released him and allowed my tongue to do the walking, bathing his shaft in sensation and spit. I nuzzled down to his balls and sucked on them tentatively – he groaned again, and I drew one testicle into my mouth, sucking harder and then releasing it to return to the main attraction.
I broke. “Turn the light on,” I whispered, and Mark obeyed. And now I could see him, fat and firm, a lighter pink than the rest of his body, but proudly veined and surmounted by a thick purple helmet… as meaty as I’d hoped… that begged me to take it back into my mouth. “This is fucking amazing” – I didn’t intend to speak aloud, but I did, and Mark agreed. “You are fucking amazing,” he replied, and the hand that had been on my back was suddenly slipping down towards my ass, then between my legs to cup my balls, and then on to grasp my shaft.
He was jerking me and that was all I could stand. I needed all my concentration for this, for the wonderful cock that was back in my mouth, and now I was fucking him as hard as my head could bob, praying for him to cum before my neck muscles tired… and my prayers were answered with a lurch and a jerk that I needed all of my wits to withstand. And then he was flooding me, filling my mouth and leaking out around the thickness that I so resolutely clung onto, sucking as he spurted, fighting back the urge to cough or breathe, just drinking him in and swallowing as he twitched and twisted in my grip, and still sucking as he softened and I could take even more inside. Until my chin was on his abdomen and my nose was in his balls, and he was gasping and laughing and still jerking me off… jerking me till I came, and my jet soaked his hand – a hand that he slowly raised to his own lips and licked, before pulling me around till my cock was in his face, and then sucking me to satisfied softness as well.
We slept well that night and late into the following day. Neither of us mentioned what had happened that night and, all these years on, we still haven’t spoken about it. But occasionally, when we’ve had a few drinks, and the rest of the company… usually our wives, sometimes our kids, too… have gone to bed or elsewhere, Mark will laugh and remind me that he still owes me a favor. And one day, he insists, he’ll deliver.
My cock is waiting.
Speaking As A Man
"Just out of curiosity," a friend asked recently, "have you ever tried writing anything from the guy's point of view?" In fact I have, a long time ago in a notebook that I'd filed away years back, although I'm not sure that this is what he was hoping for. Comments welcome!!!
If I really put my mind to it, I’d say that Mark had been my best friend my entire life. We grew up just a couple of houses from one another, attended the same schools until it was time to leave for college, and had spent most of our vacation time together since then. Even after he left home to take an apartment closer to college, in Rhode Island, we saw one another as often as we could, and this latest visit – a few days before the spring semester began – was just one more in a long line of the things.
We had nothing planned; we’d drink, we’d chase girls, we’d catch a movie or two, and the only thing that was at all different was, the guy he shared the apartment with, Tom, would be in town at the same time as me, which meant I wouldn’t be sleeping where I normally did. But no matter. Mark had the biggest of the two bedrooms, with a couch and a camp bed for me to choose from – although, as we settled down for the night, I found myself wondering whether the floor wouldn’t have been more comfortable than either.
“Having trouble over there, Pete?” Mark’s voice cut through my latest impatient sigh, as I tried to squeeze my six-foot frame into a five-foot space.
“If I could just get my legs comfortable, I’d be okay,” I murmured, and he laughed. “You can always hop in with me. I promise I won’t snore.”
“Okay.” I couldn’t count the number of nights that he and I had shared a bed in the past, and wasn’t certain why we were so adamant that tonight would not be another one. Sleepovers at one another’s homes while we were growing up, saving money on motel rooms when we went out to Colorado for a week of skiing… I’d probably spent more nights asleep alongside Mark than I had ever spent with a woman, and not given the matter another thought.
“Thanks.” He flicked on his bedside lamp as I maneuvered myself off the camp bed and into the queen sized that he was nestled up in, and if I noticed that he was naked as I pulled back the single sheet that covered him, it didn’t register. Again, why would it? You spent as much time together as we had, and you’re certain to see one another’s todger at some point.
We talked for a while, till I felt myself drifting; said goodnight and I was away…. Away, that is, until I found myself awake again, to feel his body nestled tight against mine. Tight and, although I knew from his breathing that he was fast asleep, insistent. I can safely say I had never previously been awakened by the weight of a hot, hard cock pressing against the small of my back. But I could certainly feel one now and, as I lay there in the silence, I could feel my own prick stirring as well.
What the fuck? I’m not gay. Not even mildly bi. In fact, I’ve never even given that side of life a second thought, and I’m damned certain Mark hasn’t, either. He’d have mentioned it if he had, because I know there is nothing that we haven’t shared at some point in the past. Including every last dirty detail of our sex lives. And, if I’d thought about it, I’d have figured that his hard-on was just an involuntary reflex, his dick sensing the warmth of another body in the bed, and simply trying its luck.
But I wasn’t thinking about it. Or rather, I was, but not in any way that I would ever have dreamed of doing. My own cock was rock hard now, reacting exclusively, and exquisitely, to the feel of his against the bare flesh of my back. I could feel my boxers tenting around it, and thought about slipping out of bed, running to the bathroom and jerking myself off. Moving, though, would disturb Mark, and for some reason that was one thing I didn’t want to do.
I adjusted my position a little, rolling until I was half on my back, and his cock rolled with me, resting on my hip. There was, what… six inches of space between my cock and his. I rolled again, flat on my back now, with one hand pressing down on my shaft, angling it towards where his cock head now lay. So close!
I was holding my breath now, fearful that the slightest sound might disturb him, cause him to roll over and away from me. But feigning sleep as well, so if he did wake up and discover how we lay, he wouldn’t know I’d had anything to do with it. Just like he wouldn’t know if my hand slipped away from my throbbing cock, and gently touched his.
At twenty-one years of age, I knew exactly what my cock felt like, and - assuming I'd even given the matter a moment's thought, which I hadn't - I guess I just assumed that every other guy’s would feel the same. Right? Wrong. The moment my fingers brushed his… and that’s all they did, they brushed it… it was as though I’d stuck my hand inside an electrical socket. The heat was unbelievable, the feel of the flesh was astonishing. And when I raised my hand to my face and sniffed, the faintest aroma almost caused my heart to burst.
How long did I lay there, touching his cock and then breathing it in? Two minutes? Five? Twenty-five? I don’t know, but every time I did, I moved down the bed a little, curling up into what could have been called a fetal position, but which had just one thought in mind. To bring my face closer to that magnificent cock. And suddenly Mark moved as well, stretching in his sleep, as though he were trying to hoist himself up the bed – and now his erection was no further from my face than it had been from my cock a while before. I didn’t even need to use my fingers anymore. I could smell him without moving, tart and taunting, an odor unlike any I had ever smelled before, and more alluring than any as well.
More minutes passed, as I inched down and he inched up; it could almost have been a ballet if he wasn’t so obviously sound asleep, and I wondered what he’d say now, if he woke up to find my face just inches from his helmet, and stretching my tongue out as far as it could go, in the hope of tasting the aroma that now obsessed me. The sheet was bunched up somewhere below my armpit and his balls, and the streetlight that shone in through the uncurtained window was just enough to illuminate the shadow of his shaft. I lowered my head a little further.
At the back of my mind, a tiny voice suddenly spoke. You’re trying to lick your best friend’s cock.
Wrong. I’m not trying. It was just the tip of my tongue that made contact, but his flavor flooded me, incinerating my taste buds with delight and desire. I withdrew it for a moment, to try and savor the flavor some more, but it was gone in an instant and I knew I needed more.
I tried to picture his cock in my mind. Like I said, I’d seen it a thousand times in the past, and once or twice – first thing in the morning, on his way for a piss – I’d seen his erection as well. Back then, though, it was just a biological function, a bit of his body that I had no interest in. I hadn’t mapped the veins or studied the ridges, hadn’t paid any attention to the thickness or the length, hadn’t gazed longingly at the meaty helmet… it would be meaty, I knew that, thick and full, soft behind its iron-hard strength… and I cursed the street light for not being brighter.
How far could I go? My tongue was on him again, and this time I held it there for as long as I dared. I let it swish over his helmet, felt the faint ridge of the eye in the tip, and let my tongue probe the entrance. Moisture met me. Pre-cum. It tasted even better than the flesh, and now a new thought obsessed me. I wanted him to cum. I wanted him to cum in my mouth. And I didn’t care whether he woke up or not.
My hand grasped his shaft, held it upright, as I rearranged my legs beneath me, and moved to kneel alongside him. I glanced up at him one more time. I didn’t know what this would do to our friendship… everything else I’d done, I could have still feigned sleep. But this? I lowered my head. It wasn’t too late to stop. It wasn’t too late for me to turn over and try to go to sleep, or get up and make do with the couch once again. Or even the camp bed.
And then a hand on the back of my head forced me down, at the very same moment as my mouth stretched around him, and now I knew that Mark had been awake this whole time, as desperate to feel my mouth on his cock as I was to taste his cock in my mouth.
No words passed between us, no sound more than a deep sigh of pleasure as my jaw relaxed and I drew him in, and the barely audible squeak of the bed frame as my head bobbed up and down, his cock slipping in and out of my salvia-flooded mouth; or a groan as I released him and allowed my tongue to do the walking, bathing his shaft in sensation and spit. I nuzzled down to his balls and sucked on them tentatively – he groaned again, and I drew one testicle into my mouth, sucking harder and then releasing it to return to the main attraction.
I broke. “Turn the light on,” I whispered, and Mark obeyed. And now I could see him, fat and firm, a lighter pink than the rest of his body, but proudly veined and surmounted by a thick purple helmet… as meaty as I’d hoped… that begged me to take it back into my mouth. “This is fucking amazing” – I didn’t intend to speak aloud, but I did, and Mark agreed. “You are fucking amazing,” he replied, and the hand that had been on my back was suddenly slipping down towards my ass, then between my legs to cup my balls, and then on to grasp my shaft.
He was jerking me and that was all I could stand. I needed all my concentration for this, for the wonderful cock that was back in my mouth, and now I was fucking him as hard as my head could bob, praying for him to cum before my neck muscles tired… and my prayers were answered with a lurch and a jerk that I needed all of my wits to withstand. And then he was flooding me, filling my mouth and leaking out around the thickness that I so resolutely clung onto, sucking as he spurted, fighting back the urge to cough or breathe, just drinking him in and swallowing as he twitched and twisted in my grip, and still sucking as he softened and I could take even more inside. Until my chin was on his abdomen and my nose was in his balls, and he was gasping and laughing and still jerking me off… jerking me till I came, and my jet soaked his hand – a hand that he slowly raised to his own lips and licked, before pulling me around till my cock was in his face, and then sucking me to satisfied softness as well.
We slept well that night and late into the following day. Neither of us mentioned what had happened that night and, all these years on, we still haven’t spoken about it. But occasionally, when we’ve had a few drinks, and the rest of the company… usually our wives, sometimes our kids, too… have gone to bed or elsewhere, Mark will laugh and remind me that he still owes me a favor. And one day, he insists, he’ll deliver.
My cock is waiting.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
I once had sex with a guy
We were in high school. He was my best friend. We had giving each other countless hand jobs and blow jobs. He wanted to know what it was like. It did not last long... not more than one stroke in fact. I entered him and it was too much for him. I pulled out. He was nearly in tears.
Strangely, I've wanted it to feel him inside me even more... but I left it alone. I held him while he adjusted his composure. He was embarrassed that he could not take me. I was embarrassed that I did not have the experience to give him what he wanted in a pleasurable way.
I want to know what it feels like to give that pleasure to a man. I want to know what it feels like to feel the pleasure he gives.
Strangely, I've wanted it to feel him inside me even more... but I left it alone. I held him while he adjusted his composure. He was embarrassed that he could not take me. I was embarrassed that I did not have the experience to give him what he wanted in a pleasurable way.
I want to know what it feels like to give that pleasure to a man. I want to know what it feels like to feel the pleasure he gives.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Sucking On Her Cock
via Jenny Swallows by Jenny Swallows on 4/2/10
It was my first ever solo trip to "the big city" – a girlfriend and I took the bus to Dallas for a museum opening, booked a downtown hotel on Elm Street and had three days (and nights) in which to live life without a single parent to frown at us. So I was pretty pissed when Alice, my friend, suddenly announced she'd made arrangements to meet up with a boy she knew on our first night in the city, meaning that I was going to be on my own for the evening.
I wandered down to the hotel bar and looked around. Businessmen, hookers, other guests – what else did I expect to find? But I ordered a drink and a salad and took a seat by the window, wondering what a lone woman in a strange city was supposed to do when she didn't know a soul.
It's a long story – I'll shorten it. Lisa was also on her own, also in a strange city, also staying at the hotel. We met when she walked in about ten minutes after I arrived to find every table had now been taken and her choice of dining partners was limited either to a few lonely-looking salesman types, a couple with a rambunctious baby, or me. "Do you mind if I join you?" I shook my head. "Please…."
She was stunning. Taller than me, with reddish hair that cascaded to her shoulders, perfect features, perfect figure. Her top was tight enough to show off the swell of her breasts, her pants framed legs that went on forever. I wanted her more than I had ever wanted any other woman.
We talked, we laughed, we got on well. We took a walk through downtown, we stopped at a liquor store and picked up some wine, and then back at the hotel, we agreed to take our party up to her room… Alice had said she'd be back before midnight… and with my heart in my mouth, I kissed Lisa for the first time as we sat dialing channels on the hotel TV. Neither of us had said, or even hinted, at anything in that direction, but the wine we'd sunk over dinner was already swimming around my head and it just seemed the right thing to do.
Lisa kissed me back; the remote control was forgotten and her hands were on my breasts, first through my blouse and then in between the buttons. She moved swiftly but gently – my attempts to caress her felt clumsy by comparison, and she knew it. "Lay still," she whispered. "Let me…."
I obeyed. Off came my blouse and the skimpy bra I'd been wearing, and her mouth was playing magically across my flesh, licking my nipples until I thought they would burst, and then sucking them hard, till my back arched and my pussy screamed for a taste of the same treatment. She knew it, too, and a hand sank between my legs, gently stroking me through my sodden panties, until suddenly she had whipped them off and two fingers slipped effortlessly inside me.
Lisa's mouth was on my abdomen, my tummy, my waist. She was taking her time, and every minute stretched out into hours of exquisite tease and tension, until at last her face was between my legs, breathing me in and purring as I bucked my hips towards her, crying out with impatience and lust, and reaching out too, to touch her where she was touching me, to feel her and taste her and drink her in…. She moved away quickly, but I moved even faster.
My hand clasped her pussy – and something else. A strap-on. She was wearing a strap-on. My mind jolted for a moment, wondering when she'd put it on. Or had she been wearing it all evening? And did it even matter? My right hand held her face to my cunt, my left hand felt her toy's length and thickness, and wrestled with her pants to free it from its cage.
She was still struggling to get away, but with less and less conviction as her buttons finally parted and I pulled her towards my mouth, breathed in and… it wasn't a strap-on. It was a cock, a long, hard, beautiful and very real cock. As real as the bare breasts that she'd revealed when she undressed me, and which she'd let me suck on just a few moments earlier, as real as the orgasm that was building up inside me. I pulled her into my mouth and sucked.
The taste was different - a man, but not quite a man. My fingers grazed her balls, small, tight, hairless. But her cock was huge, eight inches at least, and as fat around as my wrist. My jaw strained around her, but I didn't care. I wanted every inch.
I gripped her length, guess-timating how much of it I could comfortably fit in as she started to move, and now she was fucking my face, the thick meaty helmet thrusting inside me, her movements matching my own as I moved closer and closer to my climax – and then I released hershaft and slapped both hands to her ass, pushing her deep inside my mouth as my entire body shook to my final explosion, and she came as well, a flood of cum that poured down my throat, so hard and fast that I barely even felt it, but so thick that I tasted it backing up in my mouth, for me to swallow more luxuriously as her pounding slowed down and our bodies calmed.
And afterwards… Lisa tried to explain, but I hushed her. I didn't care. Later, I wished I had asked more questions; later still, once the Internet began making stars of so-called she-males, I wondered how her life has panned out since our frenzied encounter that night ten years ago. I still do, but one thing is for sure. In my mind, she is still one of the most beautiful women I have ever met. And she owned one of the most beautiful cocks.
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I let my ex pee on me in the shower
She never understood what I got out of it... but she loved me and that was all she needed. I loved getting down on my knees in the shower with her... looking up at her... watching her squirm a little... laughing... trying to pee but being just a little to nervous or embarrassed for it to come naturally. Until eventually... just when I had about given up... the stream bursts forth and hits me in the chest... she positions herself so it would hit my cock... she can't believe I'm so hard from this. I want to taste... to drink from her fountain... but I know I am pressing it as it is. Afraid to push too far, I am left with the few drops I can swipe off my cock that haven't been washed away from the shower when she was not looking. It only made me want to drink from her even more.
I want to watch my wife fuck her former lover
I have been in love with my wife all my life... from the time we were kids growing up in the same neighborhood. Eventually, we dated but split up after I graduated high school and got back together about a year after she had graduated. I was her first sexual partner and she was my first female sexual partner. During that gap, she had two sexual relationships... one with the boy who took her to the prom. And the other with her next door neighbor... the one she had a crush on all of her life... since they were kids.
When we started dating again, it began as friends. She was not in an emotional relationship with her neighbor, but oh how she wanted to be. In reality, she was his fuck buddy. There is just something about looking at my innocent wife and thinking she was once this man's fuck toy. Of course, I am hugely intimidated by the emotional connection she had with him from her perspective. I never got over her and I imagine she never got over him. I think to myself, I want her to be happy. I would love to see her in bed with him. To see her face light up as she makes believe that he loves her too. I would love to see the way he looks at her... knowing it's just to get himself off before he goes out with his "real" girlfriend. I want to hold her as she cries when he gets dressed and leaves her there, naked in his bed. I want to be on my knees, between her legs, giving her the orgasm he denied her... sucking out every last trace of the cum he left inside of her... showing her that it is me who really loves her and that she doesn't need him for anything more than a fuck toy of her own.
When we started dating again, it began as friends. She was not in an emotional relationship with her neighbor, but oh how she wanted to be. In reality, she was his fuck buddy. There is just something about looking at my innocent wife and thinking she was once this man's fuck toy. Of course, I am hugely intimidated by the emotional connection she had with him from her perspective. I never got over her and I imagine she never got over him. I think to myself, I want her to be happy. I would love to see her in bed with him. To see her face light up as she makes believe that he loves her too. I would love to see the way he looks at her... knowing it's just to get himself off before he goes out with his "real" girlfriend. I want to hold her as she cries when he gets dressed and leaves her there, naked in his bed. I want to be on my knees, between her legs, giving her the orgasm he denied her... sucking out every last trace of the cum he left inside of her... showing her that it is me who really loves her and that she doesn't need him for anything more than a fuck toy of her own.
Break up sex... to say goodbye
Some 13 years ago, I packed her things and told her it was time to move on. I knew she was cheating on me and I had been cheating on her... with my ex. We talked it out. We cried. We decided we wanted one more time together as our way of making a clean break. We took off each others clothes, kissing as passionately as the first time we kissed. We rolled around in bed... touching and kissing. She climbed on top of me and slid my cock inside of her. We didn't use a condom this time. We wanted to feel each other. Yes, that was a risk, but it was one we left to fate. I slipped my finger deep into her ass... something I had never done before. She didn't take her lips from mine, or her hands from my cheeks, the entire time we made love. It was amazing. Parts of us questioned if we should part... we were so good together in bed. But we both knew it was time. The emotional after-shocks were tough for some time, for both of us. I still love her. We're both married now, me to the ex I was cheating on her with. Her... I am not sure. We didn't keep touch.
I prefer to be naked
I am naked as often as I can be. I travel a lot for work and that puts me in hotels nearly every week. I am naked from the moment I enter the room until the moment I check out. I enjoy driving naked when I get the chance. My ex-fiance was not into it herself, but did not object to me being naked while either of us drove. She had a convertible, so it was nice stroking myself in the sun with the wind in my hair. My wife allowed me the same when we first married, but once we had kids, that ended the opportunities.
One of my favorite things to do is housework in the nude... especially when I am scrubbing a floor, a tub, or a toilet in the house. It just gives me this mixed sense of freedom and submission that ... I don't really know how to explain it. It's liberating.
One of my favorite things to do is housework in the nude... especially when I am scrubbing a floor, a tub, or a toilet in the house. It just gives me this mixed sense of freedom and submission that ... I don't really know how to explain it. It's liberating.
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