When I was in college there were few things less appealing than the thought of having children. Marriage is fine and something I've always wanted to head towards, but kids? No, thanks. Somewhere along the line that plan got shot to hell and I am the proud mother of the most beautiful little red haired dimple girl. I see other women's babies and small children and want to talk to them and play with their kids. I'm a totally different person.
The biggest change in my life outside of the fact that, being separated from her father, I have no sex life is that I have a ton of confidence. I look more or less the same as I did before. I'm a bit thinner and after nursing and losing weight my breasts are even smaller, a feat I had previously deemed impossible. I have a couple of stretch marks on my stomach that have already mostly faded, my stomach tattoo has a couple of tiny stretch marks that are only visible if you study it intently, and I have a number of tiny imperfections all over too minor to mention. But even still, I am way more confident. Before giving birth I hated my body and all of its imperfections. I didn't hate my vagina because I have always had a deep rooted respect for that place, but the rest of me was shit.
It wasn't just the act of giving birth that changed my perception of myself but my daughter. I want to be a positive and confident role model. I want to show her to love herself and be strong and sexy and intelligent and own whatever it is that she is. And on top of all that, my daughter thinks I am the most amazing human being ever. Not just me as a mommy but my body. My body is her strength and nourishment. I hold her when she is sad or tired to my chest. When she is happy and awake she crawls all over my body like a jungle gym. I am a pullup bar, my leg can be crawled under like a tunnel. My face is an interesting and interactive toy. She loves my body and damn it, I should too.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
The Story of the Hurricane
They met online. She responded to a personal ad he had placed. Neither of them expected much. He was expecting spam and vapid uninteresting responses and she, well she didn’t much know what to expect, but certainly not this. They had talked online a bit about generalities and finally after some prodding she pushed him into talking about sex. He was hesitant at first but once they started talking about it they couldn’t stop talking, longing, needing each other imagining their bodies pressed against each other nipples and penis and clit all erect the heat and friction and full body sensation, covered in goose bumps but sweating in the end of summer heat.
They thought about the other throughout the day but had never met even for coffee or a beer. They in reality had no real idea what the other looked like. There was a solid chance that, being the internet and all, that they could both be obese oafs with grease stained t-shirts, and some combination of man tits, a fupa, too many cats or a debilitating masturbation addiction. Maybe even all of the above.
But in reality they were both normal average people with one thing in common. Since they had met online and started chatting the same thing awakened inside of them, unshakable and constant arousal. They masturbated to the thought of the other and still couldn’t shake it.
After a couple of weeks of this a hurricane struck hundreds of miles south and the rain and wind worked its way up the coast to their state. They planned to meet but cancelled at the last minute and instead talked all day while they weathered out the storm. By nightfall, the hurricane’s intensity had waned but theirs had not. They decided to meet immediately and his place, though three hours away from hers. As she drove to meet him the wind gently moved her car on the road and the vibrations filled her body. By the time she got to his place her whole body was tingling and alive.
He met her at her car. She saw him and got wet and excited just looking at him. As she stepped out of her car, to buy time and regain composure she stepped out of the car and went to grab her bag from the backseat of the car. He walked over with the intention of giving her a hello hug but the closer he got the electricity and desire took over and instead he grabbed her from behind and pressed his stiff cock against the zipper of his jeans and the seat of hers. She had another surge of wetness and dropped the bag in the back seat, turned around and their bodies and mouths finally met.
She jumped up in his arms, wrapped her legs around his body and rubbed herself against him as they continued making out in the hard wind and rain. He started moving toward the door to his house, but instead she jumped down grabbed and held his bulge and pushed him against the nearest tree she could find. Once he was pressed against the tree she unzipped his pants and pulled his penis out through the fly and started going down in him tasting his delicious precome that had been waiting for her for so long. She got wetter listening to his moaning as the rain dripped off her face and pooled on his jeans around the base of his shaft. She started to slip his pants down to his knees and fondled his balls as he appeared to approach climax. She stopped sucking on his dick pulled up her skirt and put his hand between her legs as he kissed her neck pulling down her shirt as he moved lower down the nape of her neck. With his free hand he started pulling up the bottom of her shirt inching his hand upward and his mouth downward his other hand still up her skirt. She was backed against the tree now and nearly collapsing as she shook uncontrollably from the heat in her body, the cool of the rain, and the feel of his mouth, hands and dick as they explored every inch of her limp and compliant body. She started to lose all consciousness as he pressed her harder against the tree and explored every inch of her.
She regained consciousness in a snap and pushed him down into the muddy grass under the tree pulled his wet and sticky pants completely off, threw off her own clothing and mounted him. It had been sometime since her last partner and although her pussy was drenched with rain and desire she was tight and he nearly came as he slid slowly inside her. He held her pelvis in place for a moment while he took a deep breath and then lifted her hips at a slow and steady pace until he had regained control. The slow steady pace caused her to come in just a few slow deep thrusts and she widened to accept his dick inside her deeper. She threw her head back wildly whipping her drenched hair around as it stuck to her face in her eyes dripping rain and sweat from her locks into her open moaning mouth as she came two more times contracting the muscles inside her each time a little stronger. This sent him past the point of no return and he thrusted hard into her while he came hot come deep within her right up against her cervix as she collapsed on top of him.
They both lost all consciousness for who knows how long but when they regained their composure they had started to get cold from the rain beading on the curve of her lower back and in his belly button. She kissed his neck drinking the water and sweat that had collected in beads all over his body moving down his chest slowly until she reached his belly button where she drank the water there and lingered for a moment as his cock began to stiffen against her chest and hard nipples. She sprung up suddenly and pulled him to his feet with her as they sauntered inside wet clothes in hand.
They thought about the other throughout the day but had never met even for coffee or a beer. They in reality had no real idea what the other looked like. There was a solid chance that, being the internet and all, that they could both be obese oafs with grease stained t-shirts, and some combination of man tits, a fupa, too many cats or a debilitating masturbation addiction. Maybe even all of the above.
But in reality they were both normal average people with one thing in common. Since they had met online and started chatting the same thing awakened inside of them, unshakable and constant arousal. They masturbated to the thought of the other and still couldn’t shake it.
After a couple of weeks of this a hurricane struck hundreds of miles south and the rain and wind worked its way up the coast to their state. They planned to meet but cancelled at the last minute and instead talked all day while they weathered out the storm. By nightfall, the hurricane’s intensity had waned but theirs had not. They decided to meet immediately and his place, though three hours away from hers. As she drove to meet him the wind gently moved her car on the road and the vibrations filled her body. By the time she got to his place her whole body was tingling and alive.
He met her at her car. She saw him and got wet and excited just looking at him. As she stepped out of her car, to buy time and regain composure she stepped out of the car and went to grab her bag from the backseat of the car. He walked over with the intention of giving her a hello hug but the closer he got the electricity and desire took over and instead he grabbed her from behind and pressed his stiff cock against the zipper of his jeans and the seat of hers. She had another surge of wetness and dropped the bag in the back seat, turned around and their bodies and mouths finally met.
She jumped up in his arms, wrapped her legs around his body and rubbed herself against him as they continued making out in the hard wind and rain. He started moving toward the door to his house, but instead she jumped down grabbed and held his bulge and pushed him against the nearest tree she could find. Once he was pressed against the tree she unzipped his pants and pulled his penis out through the fly and started going down in him tasting his delicious precome that had been waiting for her for so long. She got wetter listening to his moaning as the rain dripped off her face and pooled on his jeans around the base of his shaft. She started to slip his pants down to his knees and fondled his balls as he appeared to approach climax. She stopped sucking on his dick pulled up her skirt and put his hand between her legs as he kissed her neck pulling down her shirt as he moved lower down the nape of her neck. With his free hand he started pulling up the bottom of her shirt inching his hand upward and his mouth downward his other hand still up her skirt. She was backed against the tree now and nearly collapsing as she shook uncontrollably from the heat in her body, the cool of the rain, and the feel of his mouth, hands and dick as they explored every inch of her limp and compliant body. She started to lose all consciousness as he pressed her harder against the tree and explored every inch of her.
She regained consciousness in a snap and pushed him down into the muddy grass under the tree pulled his wet and sticky pants completely off, threw off her own clothing and mounted him. It had been sometime since her last partner and although her pussy was drenched with rain and desire she was tight and he nearly came as he slid slowly inside her. He held her pelvis in place for a moment while he took a deep breath and then lifted her hips at a slow and steady pace until he had regained control. The slow steady pace caused her to come in just a few slow deep thrusts and she widened to accept his dick inside her deeper. She threw her head back wildly whipping her drenched hair around as it stuck to her face in her eyes dripping rain and sweat from her locks into her open moaning mouth as she came two more times contracting the muscles inside her each time a little stronger. This sent him past the point of no return and he thrusted hard into her while he came hot come deep within her right up against her cervix as she collapsed on top of him.
They both lost all consciousness for who knows how long but when they regained their composure they had started to get cold from the rain beading on the curve of her lower back and in his belly button. She kissed his neck drinking the water and sweat that had collected in beads all over his body moving down his chest slowly until she reached his belly button where she drank the water there and lingered for a moment as his cock began to stiffen against her chest and hard nipples. She sprung up suddenly and pulled him to his feet with her as they sauntered inside wet clothes in hand.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Pet Peeve Time!
So, I have been trying to date. I am fairly pretty and thin and intelligent and well spoken. Men hit on me all the time. I hate it. Who cares what I look like? I mean really? In a relationship it doesn't matter what a person looks like if you can't stand to spend time with them. Anyhow, I had been on a million first dates and only one second date. More than I hate being judged by my appearance I really hate it when men try to talk themselves up sexually. So, I am going to give some great relationship advice for men:
Do
Not
Tell
Women
How
Much
You
Love
To
Eat
Pussy
.
.
.
Ever.
Not on a first date, not on a second date. Not on any date that precedes intercourse. The only time it is ok is after performing the act. You can say something like "God, I really love the [taste][smell][feel] of your [insert word for vagina here]. Don't tell a women you want to date or even just fuck how much you like to please a woman. Don't brag about your sexual abilities. Don't say that you never leave a woman dissatisfied. There are a few ways to hint at your sexual abilities in a sly and quietly confident, sexy manner, but just coming right out and laying it all on the table... not sexy.
You're welcome.
Do
Not
Tell
Women
How
Much
You
Love
To
Eat
Pussy
.
.
.
Ever.
Not on a first date, not on a second date. Not on any date that precedes intercourse. The only time it is ok is after performing the act. You can say something like "God, I really love the [taste][smell][feel] of your [insert word for vagina here]. Don't tell a women you want to date or even just fuck how much you like to please a woman. Don't brag about your sexual abilities. Don't say that you never leave a woman dissatisfied. There are a few ways to hint at your sexual abilities in a sly and quietly confident, sexy manner, but just coming right out and laying it all on the table... not sexy.
You're welcome.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Postpartum Labia
I have seen a lot of porn. I've seen some really sexy amateur porn, I've seen some interesting commercial porn, and I have seen some depraved sexual acts that should never have been filmed (two girls, one cup? Anybody?). After seeing all of this porn I noticed that some women are what a friend of mine calls 'innies' and others are 'outies.' I'm an innie for sure, but knowing nothing about the female anatomy outside of my own I assumed that outies occurred as a result of hard fucking, abuse, and childbirth. Little did I know that is not the case. The differences are genetic and all forms of labia are totally normal. Mine are just small, tucked in and close together. And although small tidy labia are commercially attractive, I have recently become jealous of the extra labia many women have. It increases friction and helps to move lubrication from the vaginal opening to the clitoris and labia. Extra sensation and extra lubrication? Yes please! Having a smaller vagina the additional lubrication would be so nice. I wouldn't need so much foreplay and it wouldn't be so hard to get inside me. Anyhow...
While I was pushing my daughter into the world I remember thinking "oh god, my vagina is going to be gigantic after this!" As little as a month later (maybe sooner but I didn't investigate sooner) not only was everything exactly the way I remembered it being but I was actually a little bit tighter. The vagina is an amazing thing. It can give amazing pleasure to both partners, it can adjust to the size of any partner, and it can push and bleed and bring life into this world. The vagina is amazing. My vagina is amazing.
While I was pushing my daughter into the world I remember thinking "oh god, my vagina is going to be gigantic after this!" As little as a month later (maybe sooner but I didn't investigate sooner) not only was everything exactly the way I remembered it being but I was actually a little bit tighter. The vagina is an amazing thing. It can give amazing pleasure to both partners, it can adjust to the size of any partner, and it can push and bleed and bring life into this world. The vagina is amazing. My vagina is amazing.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Twenty Four Years in the Making
So being a hypersexual human being one would think that I had figured out ages ago how to give myself orgasms. That I would be a masturbation fiend. No, and no. I didn’t even have my first orgasm until I was twenty, two years after becoming sexually active. I remember my first orgasm very vividly. I had lesbian friends who tried to talk me through orgasms, hetero friends who gave me advice, men who claimed I needed them to hand deliver me orgasms. In reality, I just needed to let go and allow my body to tell me what to do. I needed time. I needed to grow into my sexuality not just possess sexuality. It was a hard earned lesson in listening to the signals of my own body and one that I still keep in mind for all aspects of my life.
My first orgasm was with Jay. I call him the phantom boyfriend nowadays. He was my first true love and my first orgasm. The first person I actually made love to (another good story for sure). I don’t often talk about Jay, but Jay was fantastic. He wasn’t a sexual god, and I’m certainly no sexual goddess. But I loved Jay with every particle of my being. My body was ready for, itching for climax. I was comfortable with myself and had recently learned to love my body and listen to it. It was time.
Jay and I had a hit or miss sex life. We either had sex as often as we could or we bickered and got angry and were too bitter to have makeup sex. This particular night we had been on a good stretch for a while and were in a phase of constant fucking interspersed with some love making. After dinner that night I grabbed him by the crotch of his skinny jeans and felt his cock respond instantly. We headed back to my room because my roommate lived in the library and would be there till ten when it closed. We practically fell through the door trying to get at each other as fast as we could. We were naked immediately but he stopped me from going further. I wanted him inside me but he made me wait and started stroking my clit with his dick. At first I didn’t know how to respond. It felt nice, but it was different and new and slow like making love as we were wont to do, but still headed towards passionate fucking. I started to get so excited with anticipation and realized that I was leaking all over the sheets, his dick, and my clit. We were covered in the stuff. I would have normally felt self-conscious about the amount of fluid but this time I just embraced what my body was doing. I grabbed his cock and started stroking it while I rubbed it against my clit a little harder and faster and in a few minutes I came. I. Came…. Me. The biologically incapable of coming, me… just came. I yelled out in passion and he came all over my hot wet body. We collapsed and hadn’t even had intercourse but were both so fully satisfied that it was all we needed.
From that moment on I could come almost any time I wanted to. I came during foreplay, I came during sex, I came after sex while our bodies were still connected. I’m not great at orgasming in the morning because I don’t have the mental strength to procure one. I just enjoy the sensation of a hard cock sliding in and out of me as a way to start the day so I didn't do much coming in the morning. But once again, that’s another story.
Four years after my first orgasm and six after the beginning of my sexual journey, I still was incapable of producing an orgasm on my own. I could come if I masturbated in front of a partner but not on my own in private. It seemed contrived. Fake. Meaningless. I didn’t like it.
And then the magical day came. I had a play date with my daughter and some friends and their infant daughter. We all went on a hike and my daughter enjoyed it so thoroughly that she didn’t take a nap all morning. When we got back home she was exhausted and immediately fell asleep. I had what I guessed would be about two hours of free time. A few days earlier I had bought a bunch of books, one of which was a book by Penthouse that had a bunch of letters, written by women, about sex. Some were fictional some may not have been but they were sexy. I started reading them and got wet almost immediately. I figured, ‘what the hell, it couldn’t hurt to give it another try.’ As I read I gently and slowly started to touch myself, almost absent mindedly, assuming that my fumbling caresses would lead nowhere. The more I read and touched myself the wetter I got and it dawned on me that I was becoming more excited than I had ever been alone before. I was reading about this woman who had a sex drive that far exceeded that of her partner’s (I could relate) and she subsequently decided to seek out alternate partners to supplement her already active sex life (I could not relate). But as I read more of her passionate hookup with her random stranger and the longing she felt in general as well as for her sexy stranger man I related in a way that was beyond just a sympathy of ideas. I felt her. I came as I read and touched myself.
I was so excited that I just lay there smiling for quite a while and then started reading again. Some other story, some other sexually frustrated woman and came again. I felt empowered and sexy and free. It was glorious and will likely continue to be for some time.
My first orgasm was with Jay. I call him the phantom boyfriend nowadays. He was my first true love and my first orgasm. The first person I actually made love to (another good story for sure). I don’t often talk about Jay, but Jay was fantastic. He wasn’t a sexual god, and I’m certainly no sexual goddess. But I loved Jay with every particle of my being. My body was ready for, itching for climax. I was comfortable with myself and had recently learned to love my body and listen to it. It was time.
Jay and I had a hit or miss sex life. We either had sex as often as we could or we bickered and got angry and were too bitter to have makeup sex. This particular night we had been on a good stretch for a while and were in a phase of constant fucking interspersed with some love making. After dinner that night I grabbed him by the crotch of his skinny jeans and felt his cock respond instantly. We headed back to my room because my roommate lived in the library and would be there till ten when it closed. We practically fell through the door trying to get at each other as fast as we could. We were naked immediately but he stopped me from going further. I wanted him inside me but he made me wait and started stroking my clit with his dick. At first I didn’t know how to respond. It felt nice, but it was different and new and slow like making love as we were wont to do, but still headed towards passionate fucking. I started to get so excited with anticipation and realized that I was leaking all over the sheets, his dick, and my clit. We were covered in the stuff. I would have normally felt self-conscious about the amount of fluid but this time I just embraced what my body was doing. I grabbed his cock and started stroking it while I rubbed it against my clit a little harder and faster and in a few minutes I came. I. Came…. Me. The biologically incapable of coming, me… just came. I yelled out in passion and he came all over my hot wet body. We collapsed and hadn’t even had intercourse but were both so fully satisfied that it was all we needed.
From that moment on I could come almost any time I wanted to. I came during foreplay, I came during sex, I came after sex while our bodies were still connected. I’m not great at orgasming in the morning because I don’t have the mental strength to procure one. I just enjoy the sensation of a hard cock sliding in and out of me as a way to start the day so I didn't do much coming in the morning. But once again, that’s another story.
Four years after my first orgasm and six after the beginning of my sexual journey, I still was incapable of producing an orgasm on my own. I could come if I masturbated in front of a partner but not on my own in private. It seemed contrived. Fake. Meaningless. I didn’t like it.
And then the magical day came. I had a play date with my daughter and some friends and their infant daughter. We all went on a hike and my daughter enjoyed it so thoroughly that she didn’t take a nap all morning. When we got back home she was exhausted and immediately fell asleep. I had what I guessed would be about two hours of free time. A few days earlier I had bought a bunch of books, one of which was a book by Penthouse that had a bunch of letters, written by women, about sex. Some were fictional some may not have been but they were sexy. I started reading them and got wet almost immediately. I figured, ‘what the hell, it couldn’t hurt to give it another try.’ As I read I gently and slowly started to touch myself, almost absent mindedly, assuming that my fumbling caresses would lead nowhere. The more I read and touched myself the wetter I got and it dawned on me that I was becoming more excited than I had ever been alone before. I was reading about this woman who had a sex drive that far exceeded that of her partner’s (I could relate) and she subsequently decided to seek out alternate partners to supplement her already active sex life (I could not relate). But as I read more of her passionate hookup with her random stranger and the longing she felt in general as well as for her sexy stranger man I related in a way that was beyond just a sympathy of ideas. I felt her. I came as I read and touched myself.
I was so excited that I just lay there smiling for quite a while and then started reading again. Some other story, some other sexually frustrated woman and came again. I felt empowered and sexy and free. It was glorious and will likely continue to be for some time.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
For the Love of Cock
I’m just going to admit it. I love cock. I love the way it feels, I love the way it looks. The way it nods its head when its happy. I love them thick and thin, short and long, totally straight or bent to the side just a little. More than anything though, I love giving head. The taste, the smoothness in my mouth, the salty precome, it all feels so good. I moan just from the act of giving head as I get wetter with anticipation. My nipples harden and I try to go as long as I can without touching myself. I love to sixty nine and have my face buried in balls my mouth filled with dick and his face buried in my wetness fingers inside me, throbbing clit and pounding heart shoving his cock deeper into my mouth as I come from sensation overload and as he thrusts deeper down my throat gently vibrating the shaft with my moans of ecstasy. I just love cock.
Friday, August 5, 2011
I didn't know Jack
I met Jack online. In my foray into single motherhood I was nervous meeting men the traditional way and thought if I met them online first they could get to know me as a person rather than see my physical body and think only of sex. I’m not a supermodel. I am an active, thin, average woman with an above average sexuality and a confidence that is probably beyond my years. Men see me and an intelligent one will immediately recognize the sexual urgings barely beneath the surface. I exude sexuality and longing. Anything I may lack physically (boobs) I make up for with passion. I attract men who are intuitive enough to see that. Not many can keep up with my desire but they never fail to try. A for effort in my book.
Jack was a few years older, intelligent, professional, averagely good looking, muscular, interesting. He wore glasses and dressed in an entirely unremarkable manner. More than that though, the first time we met, he looked at me like a beautiful woman. Not physically but in an all-encompassing, hungry for me, longing sort of way. On our first date in a coffee shop we spent four hours talking about life, relationships, sex in any and all forms. Sometime during the conversation a physical need I hadn’t addressed in a long time woke up in me and I needed him. Soon.
We talked on the phone, chatted online, sent e-mails and I made it very clear that I wanted him badly. It wasn’t just the physical. My favorite moment of sex is the after party. Covered in sweat and cum and hair and saliva, tangled up in the sheets and each other like a pile of balled up scraps of paper in the wastebasket. Exhausted and throbbing just lying there after fucking wildly. That is when the real love making begins. Worshiping each other’s bodies for the acts they had just committed. I longed for that with Jack. I was wet all the time and couldn’t get the yearning for him to cease.
Jack was passionate and seemingly sexual. He said that he liked to just dive in head first and have passionate committed relationships. He was also excited by the prospect of intercourse. My kind of guy. I am not emotionally unavailable. I’m not sexually elusive. I’m not inhibited or passive or dishonest or even difficult to read. I am not a mystery. He seemed of the same ilk. It excited me to think of the combustibility of our interactions. It promised to be passionate and explosive and amazing.
Not too much time passed before I decided that if anything were to happen between the two of we would need to know that we were sexually compatible. Additionally, I was going out of my mind and needed a release. I found a babysitter, drove to his place on more or less a whim, against my better judgment. He said there would be no pressure, he just wanted to sleep next to me.
When I got there I probably looked frumpy. I was wearing a plain tank top, a button down flannel shirt, and some jeans. I had on a sexy bra and panties and didn’t bring in any pjs though they were in the car. I was nervous and sat far away from him while I pat his dog that was remarkably sweet and cuddly. He brought me wine and we talked. I moved closer when he got up to get me a second glass. When he came back into the living room with my wine he laughed and said, “I see you’ve moved closer.” That quiet mildly cocky, but totally sexy confidence just kills me. I shyly sat there drinking wine, chatting with him and staring at his crotch every time I got the chance. By this time the wine had kicked in and I was feeling loosened up. I finished my wine and he asked, “would you like another?”
I would have answered him but instead straddled him and started passionately kissing him. I could feel the blood rushing into my genitals and his as his cock pressed against his jeans and mine. Without a break in oral contact, I threw off my flannel and he took that as a signal to stand up, also not missing a beat, and carried me into his bedroom. We feverishly undressed each other and I had a fistful of cock before I could even process where I was.
He had the sort of body that looked like he would have a bit of a belly, but naked his body was hard, masculine and strong. Large upper half, thin toned lower half. Broad shoulders. Scant body hair. Slight musky odor. His cock was hard and rigid, and thicker than I had imagined. It was wonderful. I had hoped for hours of foreplay and coming and anticipation and teasing but I was drenched with excitement and soon he was inside of me. I nearly came the instant he entered me. He threw me on top and I came once and then again a few minutes later. Then he held my hips and had me stop. I tried to keep going and he held my hips in place and then got on top and brushed the hair from my face.
“You’re intense,” he said.
“I really want you.”
I suddenly felt very self-conscious.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“You’re just really intense.”
“What do you mean? Is it a bad thing?”
“I don’t know. I just question your promiscuity.”
My what? Did he really just call me a slut because I’m good in bed? I had never had any complaints before. Where the hell did that even come from? I rolled over in bed and faced the wall. A few tears welled up in my eyes and any wetness seemed to evaporate on the spot. He didn't say anything for a while and then rolled over towards me and put his hand gently on my shoulder. We talked for a while and he said that my intensity just surprised him. He didn't mean what it sounded like he meant. He said that I 'floored' him and then he held me for a long time. After a while started kissing again and eventually worked our way to sex and this time he didn’t stop me. My heart wasn’t in it so I just let my body act on its own and we both came again but it wasn’t the same. I woke up early and we had sex again, this time my parts were a little sore from hard fucking and months of being out of commission. He came, I didn’t and we had an awkward goodbye.
I’d love to say that I sent him an e-mail the next day standing up for myself, told him off, and then went on a date with another man, had passionate raucous animal sex, and then never saw Jack again. I did send him an email, I didn’t tell him off, went on a date with another man who I didn’t even kiss, and then talked to Jack the next day. A few days later I saw him again and we had sex that night and then the next morning. It was much better but still cautious. I really liked Jack, he was kind and quietly confident. His body was unspeakably sexy, he wanted the same things I did in life and he was intelligent. I need a passionate uninhibited man who sees sexual desire and passion as a desirable attribute. Maybe that is him and maybe it isn't. If it isn't him does that man even exist?
Jack was a few years older, intelligent, professional, averagely good looking, muscular, interesting. He wore glasses and dressed in an entirely unremarkable manner. More than that though, the first time we met, he looked at me like a beautiful woman. Not physically but in an all-encompassing, hungry for me, longing sort of way. On our first date in a coffee shop we spent four hours talking about life, relationships, sex in any and all forms. Sometime during the conversation a physical need I hadn’t addressed in a long time woke up in me and I needed him. Soon.
We talked on the phone, chatted online, sent e-mails and I made it very clear that I wanted him badly. It wasn’t just the physical. My favorite moment of sex is the after party. Covered in sweat and cum and hair and saliva, tangled up in the sheets and each other like a pile of balled up scraps of paper in the wastebasket. Exhausted and throbbing just lying there after fucking wildly. That is when the real love making begins. Worshiping each other’s bodies for the acts they had just committed. I longed for that with Jack. I was wet all the time and couldn’t get the yearning for him to cease.
Jack was passionate and seemingly sexual. He said that he liked to just dive in head first and have passionate committed relationships. He was also excited by the prospect of intercourse. My kind of guy. I am not emotionally unavailable. I’m not sexually elusive. I’m not inhibited or passive or dishonest or even difficult to read. I am not a mystery. He seemed of the same ilk. It excited me to think of the combustibility of our interactions. It promised to be passionate and explosive and amazing.
Not too much time passed before I decided that if anything were to happen between the two of we would need to know that we were sexually compatible. Additionally, I was going out of my mind and needed a release. I found a babysitter, drove to his place on more or less a whim, against my better judgment. He said there would be no pressure, he just wanted to sleep next to me.
When I got there I probably looked frumpy. I was wearing a plain tank top, a button down flannel shirt, and some jeans. I had on a sexy bra and panties and didn’t bring in any pjs though they were in the car. I was nervous and sat far away from him while I pat his dog that was remarkably sweet and cuddly. He brought me wine and we talked. I moved closer when he got up to get me a second glass. When he came back into the living room with my wine he laughed and said, “I see you’ve moved closer.” That quiet mildly cocky, but totally sexy confidence just kills me. I shyly sat there drinking wine, chatting with him and staring at his crotch every time I got the chance. By this time the wine had kicked in and I was feeling loosened up. I finished my wine and he asked, “would you like another?”
I would have answered him but instead straddled him and started passionately kissing him. I could feel the blood rushing into my genitals and his as his cock pressed against his jeans and mine. Without a break in oral contact, I threw off my flannel and he took that as a signal to stand up, also not missing a beat, and carried me into his bedroom. We feverishly undressed each other and I had a fistful of cock before I could even process where I was.
He had the sort of body that looked like he would have a bit of a belly, but naked his body was hard, masculine and strong. Large upper half, thin toned lower half. Broad shoulders. Scant body hair. Slight musky odor. His cock was hard and rigid, and thicker than I had imagined. It was wonderful. I had hoped for hours of foreplay and coming and anticipation and teasing but I was drenched with excitement and soon he was inside of me. I nearly came the instant he entered me. He threw me on top and I came once and then again a few minutes later. Then he held my hips and had me stop. I tried to keep going and he held my hips in place and then got on top and brushed the hair from my face.
“You’re intense,” he said.
“I really want you.”
I suddenly felt very self-conscious.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“You’re just really intense.”
“What do you mean? Is it a bad thing?”
“I don’t know. I just question your promiscuity.”
My what? Did he really just call me a slut because I’m good in bed? I had never had any complaints before. Where the hell did that even come from? I rolled over in bed and faced the wall. A few tears welled up in my eyes and any wetness seemed to evaporate on the spot. He didn't say anything for a while and then rolled over towards me and put his hand gently on my shoulder. We talked for a while and he said that my intensity just surprised him. He didn't mean what it sounded like he meant. He said that I 'floored' him and then he held me for a long time. After a while started kissing again and eventually worked our way to sex and this time he didn’t stop me. My heart wasn’t in it so I just let my body act on its own and we both came again but it wasn’t the same. I woke up early and we had sex again, this time my parts were a little sore from hard fucking and months of being out of commission. He came, I didn’t and we had an awkward goodbye.
I’d love to say that I sent him an e-mail the next day standing up for myself, told him off, and then went on a date with another man, had passionate raucous animal sex, and then never saw Jack again. I did send him an email, I didn’t tell him off, went on a date with another man who I didn’t even kiss, and then talked to Jack the next day. A few days later I saw him again and we had sex that night and then the next morning. It was much better but still cautious. I really liked Jack, he was kind and quietly confident. His body was unspeakably sexy, he wanted the same things I did in life and he was intelligent. I need a passionate uninhibited man who sees sexual desire and passion as a desirable attribute. Maybe that is him and maybe it isn't. If it isn't him does that man even exist?
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
And Now for Something Completely Different
I had been using this to post book reviews and to put some of my fiction and poetry into the blogosphere for the past few years. Lately I have been in some sort of extreme sexual overdrive. I've been reading about sex, thinking about sex, not having sex, and more or less going crazy. Some stories in this will be sexual some not. Some of it is autobiographical, some not, but it is all an outlet for the throbbing passion inside of me. I still have the book reviews saved as drafts and can produce one on request, but honestly, who wouldn't rather read about sex?
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