The real-life adventures of a girl who is willing to try just about anything.

pussy

Being bisexual

Today is Bi Visibility Day. I am proudly bisexual (pansexual, really). This is why gay rights are so important to me. I am currently in a long term relationship with a man that I love dearly, but could have just as easily been a woman with whom I’d fallen in love. I’ve loved many women (and men) in my past. Bi Visibility Day is a thing because so many of us happen to be in seemingly heterosexual relationships that we “pass” or “blend,” that we’re considered invisible. We are often occused of availing ourselves of heterosexual privelege because of that. I shed my supposed invisibility and make my voice heard to fight proudly for rights for myself and all of my LGBT brothers and sisters. (copied today from my “normal” or “vanilla” everyday Facebook under my real name)

This post has been sitting in my Drafts folder for a long time now, waiting to be written. Today is the perfect day to finally dust it off, polish it up, and publish it!
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Sinful Sunday – On the couch

Last night, Roland and I ordered some pizza and wing, then spent a relaxing evening on the couch watching TNG starting with the first episode on Netflix. (That’s Star Trek: The Next Generation for those of you less geekily-inclined, which I know isn’t very many of you.) He and I haven’t been able to spend very much time together lately for various reasons, so it was good to just be in each other’s company. After we watched a few episodes, we got the chance to really connect with each other again.
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My Princess Angel

I originally wrote this last March for my LiveJournal account. It was originally titled, “I’ve got to get emo for just a minute,” hence the opening line. It has been edited to include more intimate content and an update at the end.
Because I just felt a really big crack in my heart. I just got a friend request on Facebook from someone who’s been on my mind A LOT lately. Almost nonstop. Because her birthday is Friday. Not only is her birthday Friday, our BIG DAY is rapidly approaching. What is the BIG DAY? It’s a day in June of this year—the day her son graduates from high school. What is so special about that day? It’s the day that I’m supposed to kidnap her from her current life and whisk her away and she and I ride off into the sunset to live happily ever after. A sweet, naive dream written a long time ago by a sweet, naive, lovesick girl.
She is my Princess Angel. The one who set the bar for all who followed. She is the one with whom I learned that is absolutely possible to love and be completely satisfied with another woman. She is the one with whom I learned passion. And heart-breaking sacrifice.

I met her a few months shy of my 21st birthday. We worked together at a pancake house that was open 24 hours on Friday and Saturday nights. The rest of the week it was open until 2am. Except for Sundays. On Sundays we closed at midnight, just in time for us girls to get off work and head to the bar down the street for some late happy hour drinks. She and I were friendly in a co-worker way. I actually didn’t really like her when I first met her because I thought she was kind of snotty. But she was gorgeous. Naturally-red hair, freckles scattered liberally over milky-white skin, and eyes a color that make you want to lounge on an island in the Caribbean with a piña colada.
One Sunday night that could have been any other Sunday night with the girls, I had stepped away from our table to throw some darts with another girl. I’d left my drink at the table so after I finished my turn, I went back to get it. When I walked up to the table I was just in time to hear the question, “Have you ever been with another girl?” Since I’d arrived at that moment, I was queried by the lovely redhead herself.
Not having heard the rest of the conversation about whether it was “ew, gross!” or “so totally hot!” and not being nearly so bold and fearless as I am now (I wasn’t even old enough to drink in that bar legally), I demurred with a “no comment.” Grinning like I’d just fallen into her neatly-laid trap, she sprung on me. “Ah ha! I’ve got you!” Right away I flipped the question back to her. She donned a coy expression and mirrored my response, “No comment.” Having grown suddenly shy, I somehow managed to extricate myself from the conversation and headed back to the dart boards to finish my game.
I would imagine that there was more verbal sparring between us and drunken flirting, but I don’t remember much of the rest of the time at the bar that night. I also don’t remember under what excuse we were able to get away from the other girls. Amazingly enough, I don’t even remember our first kiss. I think it was probably quick and stolen at some point in the ladies’ room when we happened to find ourselves alone.
However, I do remember the first time we fucked. It was the first time either of us had ever had sex with a woman. We’d both fooled around with girls before, explored our sexuality a bit, so to speak, but had never gone “all the way.”
Looking for a place with privacy, we ended up going to this church at the back of a nearby industrial park. It’s where we sometimes went with the girls to get high after we’d left the bar. There were picnic tables behind the church and we were sitting on one of those, me on the tabletop with my legs dangling off the end as I had a habit of doing and her on the bench as one should sit.
It started so typically, with a massage. It was the easiest, most comfortable way for us to get to what we really wanted to do: touch each other. She’d said that her shoulders hurt so of course I offered my hands. She stood up and moved between my legs, turning her back toward me. Once my hands were on her, they only remained at her shoulders for a short time before they ventured further. When I reached down into the front of her halfway-unbuttoned shirt to squeeze her breasts and find her nipples, she turned around and her lips met mine.
That kiss lit a furnace of desire in me. For months, I had been fantasizing about being with a woman. Every time I went down on my boyfriend, I did my best to imagine what it would be like to be licking pussy instead. Under those circumstances, it’s incredible that I didn’t just strip her and throw her down right there. As it was, I slid off the table, unbuttoned her shirt the rest of the way and covered her neck, chest, and breast with kisses.
It wasn’t long before I’d spun her around, boosted her up to the table and lifted her long uniform skirt while she leaned back to allow me access and give herself over to me. I removed her pantyhose and underwear, releasing the absolutely intoxicating scent of her dripping cunt. A natural redhead, the carpet did in fact match the drapes, as they say. Her red pubic hair was neither thick nor sparse, but curled toward her wet slit. I hesitated not a moment before diving in to pure heaven.
Since then I have likened the taste of her pussy to strawberries and cream but that is obviously more of an associative comparison due to her luscious red hair and milky white skin. I noticed right away that she tasted different than I do, tangier, but in no way unpleasant. I lapped her juices and tongued her clit until she begged me to stop. I don’t know how many times I made her cum, but it was more than a few. I could’ve continued all night, but as we didn’t get out there until after the bar closed at 2am, we could only guess at how late it was. We were both expected at our respective homes and didn’t want to have to do too much explaining.
She took a moment to catch her breath and then we were kissing again. When we broke apart she asked me if I was sure I hadn’t done that before. I assured her that I had not, but I would swear that to this day she doesn’t believe me. Finally we parted ways.
That first time was amazing and a whole new world opened up for me—and us— that night.
The months that followed are a blur of frenzied, drunken sex in no-tell motels, parked cars, bathrooms, wherever we could devour each other. Sunday-after-work girls’ nights were quickly complemented with nights of our own. As many as we could steal together. We both had boyfriends and neither of them knew about our illicit affair.
Although truth be told, I did most of the devouring. In all of the time that we were together, I think she went down on me a total of three times. But that was exactly as I wished it to be. I ate her pussy like a demon possessed, usually resulting in desperate pleas for mercy. One night in particular that I’ll never forget, we were at our favorite cheap, seedy, no-tell motel and the room was completely trashed by the time we were done. The sheets had been ripped from the bed, the mattress was askew, the pillows tossed to the far corners of the room, and the headboard ripped out of the wall. You know how they bolt headboard to the wall in places like that? How they’re not attached to the bed at all? She pulled it completely out of the wall, bolts and all. That was the night I licked her asshole for the first time, as I recall. I still have the motel key from the room that night.
She would beg me to stop, just for a moment, just to let her catch her breath. I would come up for air only long enough to grin at her wickedly. “You know better than to ask me that.” She was never strong enough to push me off because her cunt was to me as spinach was to Popeye. She would struggle and she would fight, but I always won.
It was only supposed to be mutual sexploration. Before we knew it, it had morphed into so much more. It was bound to happen, considering the exciting, intimate bond we’d formed. We were both miserable in our relationships with our men, but she was tied to hers by a child. My boyfriend eventually found out and made the fatal mistake of asking me to choose. Of course, there was no choice. I left him and started sleeping on her couch. It made things so much easier for us for a while because her man worked late nights. We had a few rather scary VERY close calls, one of which resulted of her sneaking into bed in the early morning only after his alarm clock had started to go off, under the guise that she’d had to use the bathroom.
We talked all the time about telling him, bringing him into it. We weren’t dishonest people, we didn’t enjoy hiding things. So one night at the bar where it all began, we pulled the thread that would eventually unravel us. Over margaritas, I played the evil seductress and she played the coy one. “You know how it’s always been my fantasy to be with another woman…”
In all of our planning, she and I had never made any ground rules. We didn’t have a clue what we were doing. We never really thought about exactly how far we wanted things to go. And as a result, they went too far. Her angry, hurt words will echo in my head forever: “I can’t believe you fucked her. You said you wouldn’t fuck her.” I’ll never know if she was more upset that he fucked me or that I fucked him. But what was a guy to do, caught between two hot, young women? Not to mention the fact that he had the largest cock I had ever seen at that time.
It didn’t end immediately, but in a lot of ways it might as well have. By this time, I was completely consumed with my love for her and I couldn’t hide from it any longer. All of our friends/co-workers knew, but the most important people did not. I had been sleeping on their couch for months. Additionally, I had quit the restaurant and was working in a bar with her parents: her dad was the manager, her mom was the service bartender, and I was one of the cocktail waitresses. It was a powder-keg situation that could explode at any minute. The pressure just became too much for me to bear.
I may have forgotten many things over the years, but I will never forget the night I broke her heart. I explained to her how much I loved her and that it was impossible for me to contain. I had to end it. The pain in her eyes spilled down her cheeks in the parking lot of our favorite nightclub. “You knew this is how it would be,” she cried. She got me back a few months later when she brought her new girlfriend into the bar where I worked.
After some time passed, we were able to have a bittersweet friendship. Her man finally got his act together and they got married. I’ve never in my life been surrounded by so many warm, supportive people as I was that day. Both of my hands were held and there were comforting arms and smiles. I stayed strong for her. I could have stopped that wedding, there’s no question, but I would not have won her by doing so. I think it goes without saying that I got obliterated at her reception.
Over the years, we’ve kept in touch here and there. Some times more than others, usually in fits and spurts. We’ve had a tryst or three. Once was a weekend out of town, when we fucked so loudly that the people in the room next door banged on the wall and told us to keep it down. At 5am on a Saturday morning. Did they have to go to fucking work or something? The last of which was a threesome with me, her, and Roland after he and I had been dating for about a year. He remains the only boyfriend with whom I ever shared her.
I always promised her that we’d be together one day. That one day, I’d steal her away. I put a definite time on it long ago: when her son graduated high school, because then he would be old enough to understand and he wouldn’t need her quite as much. He’d be a man. His 18th birthday is April 11th. I don’t have his exact date of graduation, but it’s approximately the first week of June. Every time she and I spoke, this eventuality was discussed and we looked forward to it.
Every relationship I have been in for the last 10 years has kept this in consideration. My partner has always known that there would come a time when I would have my Princess Angel again. He/she could make room for us all to be together, or he/she could step aside. I even told her husband once or twice that I was going to steal her away someday (he’d been told about our relationship at last many years ago because they were swingers for a time).
The last few years our contact has been infrequent at best. As of right now, other than that friend request tonight (which did not come with a personal note or email, nor was its acceptance followed by a wall post), I have not spoken to her in at least a year. It may have even been two. She lives less than 4 miles from my house. I only know 1 other person who lives closer to me than she does, and it’s probably by less than a tenth of a mile. For many years, I called on all major holidays, but most especially on Valentine’s Day and her birthday. Many times I would visit and gift her with a dozen roses for VD and a birdhouse (she was a collector) for her birthday. I stopped calling a long time ago, because my messages were no longer returned.
As the BIG DAY approaches, I’ve thought about her a lot. All of the promises that I made as a young woman who believed that anything in the world was possible. None of those were realistic and I know that now. She and I are so very different, I don’t even know that we would have any common ground. I say that, but in many ways I couldn’t be any more different than the man with whom I am madly in love.
I can’t help but wonder now if any efforts will be made on her part to take us beyond FB friends. Will I settle for wishing her generic birthday greetings on her wall? I guess I have 48 hours to decide.
Update:

I did post on her Wall for her birthday and she on mine 6 days later. And I did finally chat with her a few times. During one of our last chats, right before her son’s graduation last year, she told me about how she and her husband had decided to get a divorce back in January. The papers had been drawn up and filed. They only needed to be signed. But then they had a long talk. They had been together since their mid-teens, over 20 years. It had been a long, rocky road, but they’d made it somehow. They decided that they didn’t want to be alone. That they didn’t want to have to start over. So they dedicated themselves to their marriage in a way that they never had before. The last time I talked to her was at least 6 months ago, but probably even longer ago than that. She said they were happier than they had ever been. I sincerely wished her all the best.
She and I are still friends on Facebook and as a result I have discovered that this post is unintentionally very timely. Her status update for today: Today I have been married to the GREATEST husband in the world for 14 years! I love you babe! Can’t wait for the next 14! 🙂
Fourteen years ago today was one of the hardest days of my life, but I don’t regret it one bit.
Happy anniversary, my Princess Angel. I wish for you all of the happiness you deserve. I will always love you. And should you ever find your way to my doorstep again, I will never turn you away.

My defective pussy

You’ve seen the pictures. You’ve heard the audio. Some of you have even seen the video. I’d bet that you have no idea that my pussy is broken and just doesn’t work right. As a whole, it’s a good one. It gets wet, has a decent look about it, and gives me orgasms that you wouldn’t believe. But in comparison to some, I definitely feel defective.

My pussy can’t cum from penetration alone. My pussy can’t cum without direct clitoral stimulation. My pussy can’t readily have multiple orgasms. My pussy doesn’t squirt, it gushes. I know that none of these things are huge faults. But they are things that make me love my pussy just a little bit (and sometimes a lot) less than I should.


Roland and I have an amazing sex life. Easily the best, most satisfying sex in my entire life. Before him, it never mattered to me that I couldn’t climax from cock alone. I didn’t care because I just like to fuck and sometimes that’s all I want to do: just fuck. Orgasms have never been particularly easy for me. They’ve always involved work. But it was never an issue because I just liked to have sex for the sake of sex. However, there’s something about his cock that makes me want to cum. No, it makes me NEED to cum. I’ve never felt that with anyone else before. He just hits that spot. And sometimes, it seems like I’m almost there, that it’s just beyond my fingertips. I focus and concentrate on that feeling alone. I do everything within my power to will an orgasm to fruition, but so far it has been in vain.

I would not necessarily say it’s hard for me to get off. I prefer to say that I’m very specific. Under the right circumstances, I bring myself to climax in under 2 minutes. That’s usually with a vibrator but sometimes I can do it with my fingers alone. However, that involves direct, focused stimulation of my clit. It doesn’t necessarily have to be hard and/or fast. Sometimes it can be slow and gentle-like. But there must not be ANY deviations and it must be relentless. If I should allow my attention to stray, or if I try to change it up a bit, there goes my 2-minute window.

And this is where it gets tricky. Because after that point, the more stimulated I get, the harder it can be for me to cum. What a farce, right? This is the biggest problem if I want to have an orgasm while having sex. I don’t know about you guys, but when I have sex, there are LOTS of different things going on. Even in the missionary position, it’s never just repetition of the same thing over and over. This all makes for great sex, but makes it difficult to cum. Like I said, I have to work at it.

Depending on the situation, sometimes I’ll try to use my fingers on my clit while he’s fucking me. Sometimes it will even work. Usually, though, I am so hot and in the moment that I get way overeager and overstimulate myself. Which leads to frustration and makes me just want to cry. Roland tells me all the time to just calm down and relax. He’s never in any hurry and can last as long as I want him to. Even if he never admits it, I know it has to frustrate him a bit, too. More often than not, I just skip trying to play with my clit and go directly for my vibrator which is usually good and quick. If I’ve played with my clit first and gave up in frustration before reaching for the vibrator, then it’s still going to take lots of focus and work. Most of the time at that point, to help me along Roland will stop any thrusting and either just hold still or squeeze my nipples. He understands what an issue the over stimulation is, and the nipple pain is a different enough sensation that it can override that.

The trade off for all of this work is that the harder I work for my orgasm, the bigger it is and the longer it lasts. It’s still really good if I cum fast and easy, but it goes away fast and easy, too. When I’ve had to work really hard, I will probably have been alternating between holding my breath and hyperventilating. I don’t do it on purpose but it essentially gives me all the effects that one gets from breath play. I’m just doing it myself instead of being choked out by my partner. The result is that afterward I have full-body quakes/aftershocks that can last strongly for 5-10 minutes. I’ve had aftershocks as long as 20 minutes afterward also, albeit small ones.

Because I have to work so hard for my orgasms, even one more after that big one is next to impossible. In most cases, I am so sensitive all over my whole body that I don’t want to be touched at all. It’s like torture to me. I would probably have to be completely tied down and restrained if someone wanted to make me climax again immediately. Oh, and I had better be gagged also, because there is NO chance of me being quiet at that point!

When I have these big, hard-won orgasms, I almost always gush. Often I can gush beforehand if I get myself worked up enough, because an orgasm isn’t required to make it happen. And I can gush more than once and sometimes gush even more after I’ve cum. It can be very wet and messy. But on very few occasions has it been anything concentrated enough to be considered a squirt, in my opinion. That’s what I consider squirting, a concentrated stream akin to urinating. That’s usually what I see in porn, anyway. Mine is just a sudden huge deluge of wetness. But if it’s a matter of muscle control, I might try to see if I can learn to make it a stream.

Anything else you wanna know about my pussy? You can hit me up on Formspring. 🙂

Delectable Diva – finale

(If you’re behind, you want to go here for part one, here for part two, and here for part three)

We parted ways with Jane and headed to our vehicles. For the sake of time and just so I could be near her, I offered to ride with her in her truck rather than have her follow me and Roland in my car. The ride back to my house passed by in a flash as we do not live far from downtown where the club is located.

Upon entering our house, I was overcome by sudden shyness. Although we all had the same thing on our minds, sometimes it is incredibly hard for me to make the first move. I turned on some music and poured a glass of wine for myself and her, while Roland had a beer. She removed her shawl and sat in Roland’s computer chair, he sat on the fireplace hearth, and I sat on the floor a few feet from her. The atmosphere was slightly nervous and tense.

Not long had passed before I took a deep breath, threw back my wine, and crawled the short distance to her. I leaned up on my knees so that she and I were almost at eye level and I kissed her. That one kiss was all it took to break the ice and release our passions. Our lips locked and our arms encircled each other. We kissed long and deeply before coming up for air. I released her lips, tilted my head and leaned in further to blow lightly in her ear while gently taking her earlobe with my teeth. She shivered and sighed, beginning to melt against me as I lightly kissed, licked and nibbled down her neck from her ear to her collarbone to her chest.

What I wanted then was her lovely breasts. I wanted to caress and suck and bite. But first I had to free them from their exquisite bondage. I pulled Diva to her feet, only allowing my lips to leave her skin for long enough to remove her corset and skirt and mine. Then we stood, clasped together, breasts to breasts, mouth to mouth, with my hand entwined in her hair. I pulled away from her lips and honed in on her neck, one hand still in her hair while the other cupped her breast, causing her to moan. I captured her nipple with my fingers and gave it a few gentle tugs, gradually getting rougher as I gauged her response. She gasped and her moans grew louder, indicating that she enjoyed it.

I needed to have her at that moment. All of her. I took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom. At the foot of the bed I kissed her again briefly and then pushed her down on the bed, not roughly but not gently either. As soon as she was reclined on the bed, I crawled on top of her, all but devouring her lips, her neck, her chest, her breasts. I was intoxicated by the light scent of her flesh. Her giggles and gasps and moans and sighs fueled my fire. I tasted every square inch of exposed skin and also nibbled and nipped my way down her stockinged legs.

Each time I grew close to the still-concealed fragrant warmth between her legs, I could barely contain myself. However, after I was assured that my Diva was fully warmed up, I stood up and slid off her panties. I was immediately assailed by her delicious aroma. I leaned forward and gave her dripping cunt a light blow, just to watch her body shiver. Then I teasingly dragged my finger through her wetness, barely parting her lips. A long slow sigh escaped her lips. I could hold back no longer.

I moved my head down between her legs within my tongue’s reach of her pussy and inhaled deeply. Every nerve in my body was dancing and the only thing that existed in the universe in that moment was her. I slowly extended my tongue, grazing her with the very tip. I slid myself forward an inch or two and gave out a second lick, and then a third, each more urgent than the last. Finally I moved close enough to fully lap her pussy from the bottom of her slit to the tip of her clit. Her whole body moved as if a wave. Once I gave her that first real lick, it was all over. I was lost in her and her pleasure was all that mattered.

It wasn’t long before her body started to shake all over as she approached her first orgasm. Her movements were so violent that they could almost be taken for a mild seizure. I knew the feeling well as this is also how I react to to the abundance of so many pleasurable sensations. With a wry smile Roland said to me, “Don’t kill her!” I replied with a wicked little laugh, but our beautiful Diva reassured us both by looking at me with pleading eyes and said, “Don’t stop!!” Little did she know that there were NO worries of that anytime soon!

She had been lying at the foot of the bed with me on my knees between her legs, but it became uncomfortable after a bit. I raised my head and motioned for her to move further up the bed. While she adjusted, I stripped off my panties as well. Once she was repositioned, I climbed onto the bed and moved in again. I placed my hands on her thighs, spread her legs wide, and leaned in to continue.

I was up on my knees with my ass in the air and my face buried in her pussy. This was too much for Roland to resist so he took this opportunity to move in behind me and began fingering my cunt. I was so turned on by my own actions that when he touched me it was as if he had electricity in his fingers. He barely grazed my throbbing clit and my whole body spasmed. I moaned loudly with her clit in my mouth, causing her hips to buck up at me. It was a daisy chain of pleasure. His ardent attention to my clit made me pull away from her reflexively as I was overcome by the sensations. As amazing as he knew it felt to me, he could tell that it was too distracting for me to be played with while I was pleasuring her. He backed off and lay down on the bed next to us so he could just watch.

I wish I had the words to describe how delectable her juices were to me. How heavenly her aroma. I simply could not get enough, and not only because I’d been in a bit of a pussy drought. Every woman tastes different, every pussy is unique. And in my experience, they have all been wonderfully delicious. However, my Diva was something special. At the risk of stumbling into overworn cliches, she was as sweet nectar and ambrosia on my tongue.

All time was lost as I had her writhing and moaning while I lashed and lapped at her with my eager tongue. Her cries of pleasure interspersed with occasional giggles fed my frenzy and unleashed the monster I become when I am between a woman’s legs. My fingers teased and probed, pressing ever deeper. Her orgasms caused her to clench my hand so hard I thought my bones would break. At last I gave into her pleas for mercy, for just a chance to catch her breath. Somehow they penetrated into my fog. Reluctantly, I pulled away from her clit.

I slowly made my way up the bed so that I was again on top of her, taking in her blissed-out expression and her flushed face. I grinned wickedly and licked her lips. The only words she could manage were, “Wow, oh fuck, wow.” I stilled her attempts at speech with a long, lingering kiss, after which I fell to the bed beside her. I trailed my fingertips over her lightly, watching as gooseflesh appeared and she shivered almost convulsively.

It was at this time that I remembered my poor, darling Roland. After his earlier participation, he had faded so quietly into the background, allowing my greedy domination of our Diva. I knew he liked watching me in action and I could see in his grin that he had especially enjoyed tonight’s display. Knowing it was now his turn, I said to him, “I really think what she needs right now is your magnificent cock.” Looking down to to her for agreement, she bit her lip and nodded her head.

He was already undressed and to be ready all he had to do was roll on a condom from the tin on the bedside table. His cock was standing at attention and the condom went on quickly. I lifted up her shoulder and moved to sit behind her so that she was between my legs. Being that she is a feisty one, I grabbed both of her arms and pinned her to my lap. I leaned down for another kiss and searched her eyes for any sign of non-consent. It was no surprise that I found none although she’d only had a very short rest.

With his prick leading the way, he climbed onto the bed and parted her legs, which she had closed and stretched out. Pushing her thighs back and opening her legs into a V, he moved between her legs and deftly entered her. Her body tensed and she uttered a low moan. He only pressed in about halfway, as he is longer than average and most cannot take him all at once right away. Watching his cock sliding into her, knowing exactly how those first few moments feel, also made me moan as if it were me.

Almost gently at first he swung back his hips so that his cock almost left her pussy, leaving in only the tip. Then he brought his hips forward again, going just a little bit deeper this time. She shuddered and moaned again, the previously-fading flush returning to her cheeks. With each thrust, he stepped up the pace and the depth to which he delved. Finally he attained a smooth rhythm and was pounding her pussy almost with the same vigor that he pounds mine. He had not yet begun to fuck her as hard as he fucks me, but I could sense his growing excitement. She was about to get his all.

I took turns watching his face, his cock, and her face. My eyes couldn’t stay in any one spot for too long as I wanted to be able to soak it all in. Although he and I have been with many women together, this was a vantage point I’d never experienced. In many ways, it felt as if he was fucking me through her and I wanted him to really give it to her. Now that I wasn’t submerged in her myself, this is what it was all about for me. I gave him a slight nod of encouragement and he really got into the swing of it.

Because I knew she liked to feel as if she was being restrained, liked to pretend that there was a fight, I pulled her arms back tighter. She responded by trying to pull them away. I savagely pressed my lips against hers and snatched her lip up with my teeth. She whimpered and sighed, melting back into my lap.

Roland lifted her stockinged legs and pulled them against his chest, allowing the smooth fabric to briefly rub against his cheek because stockings are a big fetish for him. She responded by lifting up her hips to meet his increasing thrusts. I could tell by his ruddy cheeks that his climax would be soon. She was thrashing beneath him, indicating that she would be cumming soon as well.

He had been giving her his full length for some time now and she could not contain her cries, which were a divine mix of agony and ecstasy. Finally her whole body seized up in a paroxysm of exploding pleasure. She cried out loudly. As soon as her orgasm was evident, Roland’s face contorted, he gnashed his teeth and came himself. With every wave that overtook him, he thrust hard into her again and again she screamed. If I could climax from such things, I would have as well.

Once Roland’s convulsions had subsided, he eased himself out of her pulsing cunt, taking care not to tear or lose the filled condom. He briefly excused himself to the restroom to remove it and quickly clean up, then returned to us and collapse on the bed. I lifted her up again and slid down to snuggle up beside her. She beamed up at me and Roland. Her satisfaction caused her face to glow. Her eyes danced even brighter than before and her smile dazzled me.

By this time, it was very late, or early in the morning depending on your perspective, so we could only bask in the wonderful glory of our time together. The sun would be rising in just over 2 hours. Our darling Diva had to take leave of us. Roland and I got up to help her gather her clothes, which had been strewn about. She had planned ahead by bringing comfy clothes to wear home, rather than putting herself back into her clubwear.

While she dressed, we all exchanged promises to keep in touch after she returned home to Berlin the day after next. There was no doubt about the bond that had been forged over the course of the week and had been sealed that evening. At last it was time for her to go. She kissed us both sweetly and disappeared into the pre-dawn darkness.

Sinful Sunday – On the way home

I’m so behind on all of my blogging, but hopefully I’ll be caught up soon. I can’t miss out on Sinful Sunday, though!

This picture was taken this past Monday when we were driving home from Orlando. Sitting on my tender bruised tushy and reliving my first trip to the dungeon on Saturday night over and over in my mind made me unbelievably horny. Adding fuel to the fire were thoughts of all of the possibilities now that our relationship has added a new dynamic. I still get all swoony. I could not keep my hands off my pussy. I also could not get off, no matter how hard I tried. But it didn’t stop me from trying! 😉

My poor, abused clitty

Posted in participation with Sinful Sunday, hosted by Molly’s Daily Kiss.
Click below to see who else has their hands in their pants this Sunday.

Sinful Sunday – First pink

I wanted to get posted early this time, so I am digging up another one from my archives. This was going to be posted last week but… uh… something better presented itself, hehe. In the same vein of the week before last, I’m giving you another first.

My first pussy shots, taken April 29, 1999.

(I wanted to do a click-through, but I’m not as cool as some of you others, hehe)

Posted in participation with Sinful Sunday, hosted at Molly’s Daily Kiss.
Click to see who else is in the pink this Sunday. 😉

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