Random Rim Jobs

12:05 pm

Waking up thinking about Amy and the whole situation.  Maybe I’m just taking what I can get.  I think I’d do the same thing if she was a guy though.  I really don’t think it makes a difference but I’m just having trouble.  I think I’m mad because I still like guys and it seems for some reason that I think I have to change my whole way of thinking.  But I still want to be with guys, have babies, be affectionate in public.  Oh, I feel like calling Amy but I can’t.  Now I have to cut down a Christmas tree.  Now I’m getting–

2:52 pm

Mom and Chris went to get a tree and decorate it at Chris’s house.  I didn’t want to go ’cause right now I’d rather stew in my self pity for a while.  I just have to think about love and live in general.  anyway, back to when I want into work last night.  Jureee said hello and was sort of laughing about something funny and I tried to motion for her to say hello to Erica for me just in case she was mad at me.  But then right when I was at the door Erica said my name and I believe she was smiling.  (I don’t know ’cause I didn’t have my glasses on.)  I hope so because I don’t want her to be mad.  I don’t want anyone to be mad at me.  Amy does this thing with her teeth–she nibbles at my lover lip–oh my got, just thinking about it I get heightened sensation in my groin and my legs tingle.  Considering I’m very non-committal about stuff, I don’t want to be so excited about her that when she’s not even around I go crazy.  She said the only reason she and Erica were doing anything was because Erica likes her and says she loves her.  But I’ve also talked to Erica and she doesn’t want to lose either Amy nor Juree.  And she thinks she’s so bad but she (Erica) just is having problems with being a little immature and thinking about the future.  DJ saw the picture I have of her and asked how old she was.  She thinks she’s cute.  And she said she looks and acts like a baby bull dyke.  Wonder if I should tell Erica that.  I doubt very much if she would appreciate it.  She is great looking–she has perfect skin, a great nose, pretty clear blue eyes, good high cheek bones.  Well, anyway, maybe I’m obsessed.

5:40 pm

DJ understands me and doesn’t think I’m at all bad.  Which makes me feel great because all those people who think I’m not doing what I’m supposed to be doing are just being judgmental and do not comprehend me in the least.  I don’t want to tell Amy how I feel cause she would rather not “be” with Erica right now but doesn’t have the heart to stop it and also is enjoying the physical part too much.  She’ll probably just feel with me the same way–that she doesn’t want to hurt me and her body’s getting benefits anyway.  So I’ll probably end up alone–I think that’s what I’m scared of the most.  Being alone (even though I am quite a bit) and no one at all to turn to is far from fun.  I try to just do the sex part but that ends up disastrous and when I do the emotional part I think the sex will ruin it.  So perhaps this two weeks [Christmas vacation] is good for me. But I just don’t want to miss anything.  I’m always afraid I’m going to miss the fun.  What if the three of them decide to have an open relationship–I’ll com back and be an intruder.  I was last to get involved with this little thing so maybe they’ll just want to get rid of me.  I don’t want to be by myself without any friends.  Breathing heavy, no control.  Want to find out exactly how everything works.  I want to know what I will do and why, after just a kiss, I get so worked up.

11:11 pm.

I’m watching some movie about gay guys.  It’s quite interesting.  [My sister (NOT my step-sister)] is a scummy bg mouth.  She told Mom in front of some other eople that I’m no longer a virgin and that I got stoned with her.  So now Mom thinks she can go off telling me not to do other durgs and to use protection and crap like that.  Well, I don’t know if I should kill [my sister] or just tell her off.  Drugs–I’ll do what I want whn it’s available to me.  Juree was syaing something about getting some ‘shrooms and I’d do acid if I had someplace safe to do it.  Safe meaning no parents, plently of time to be up and down, etc.  And as for sex, well if I have sex in the near future, I hae a strange feeligni tht it iwll be with a girl.  that way I won’t have to worry about getting pregnant and I just have to ask Juree about the people she’s had sex with because she’s had sex with Erica who’s had sex with Amy who I will most likeley have sex with.  Especially if I cant keep my mind off of a very short time I spent with her.  So anyway, I don’t tell [my sister] stuff or do stuff with her so she can tell other people about it.  That isn’t very nice.  I wonder if she told Dad and Step-Mom too.  She probably thinks I’m the one who told them her house was a mess but if I’m told not to tell, I don’t tell.  Oh well, I’m just not going to tell her crap.  I hope Juree comes down here and calls me so we can talk.  I admit I’d like something to  happen but if she does call and we see each other I won’t try anything cause she is being really good and trying really hard.  She’s had her chances with me, Amy, and another friend she spent the weekend with but she hasn’t taken up with any of us.  So I’m just really proud that she has said that’s what she wants to do and has done it.  Erica isn’t really doing anything wrong either because she would only think of being faithful to please Juree.  So she never actually agreed to it an din being unfaithful she’s not really being irresponsible.  The only thing I don’t agree with is being dishonest.  I dont know how they can handle being around Juree acting like nothing is going on.  I wanted (not had) to tell Juree about Erica and me kissing because I would have just felt so guilty, I wouldn’t have been able to talk to her normally.  So I told her because it was my business to do so.  But it wasn’t and isn’t my business to tell Juree about Amy and Erica.  So I just have to tell as little as possible and act like I don’t know anyting.  I always want sex–because that’s closeness.  I think that’s why Erica wants it too–because she thinks it’s love.  Of course hormones do play a role somewhere, I think, I’m not sure.

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So adorable how little I’ve changed.  I’m taking that as a positive.

She was straddling his lap and had her hand on the back of his neck. She loved that part of him; neither was quite sure why. He was sucking on her lower lip as she stroked his head. He unsnapped her bra and released her full breasts. He pulled her shirt up and kissed her nipples, holding her tits up with his hands as he sucked and bit lightly.

She lead him by the hand upstairs to her bed. They were fumbling with each others’ pants like freshman and kissing each other at the same time. Her perverted cat sat at the foot of the bed and watched.

She pulled his cock out of his pants, stroked it and stared up at him. He closed his eyes and put his head back on the pillow while running his hand through her hair. She smiled, and then suddenly went down on him, holding the base of his cock in her hand while she bobbed up and down. He moaned quietly and his hips began to move involuntarily.

He stopped her just in time; he wanted to come, but not yet. He pulled her up to him and kissed her hungrily. She sucked on his lower lip and rested her hand on his chest.

He looked at her through narrowed eyes and smiled. He moved out from under her and softly but firmly pressed her face-down into the bed. Starting at her neck, he slowly worked his way down her back, kissing her shoulder blades, the small of her back, her supple ass. She had her hands on the pillow, on either side of her head, which was turned to one side. Her eyes were closed.

Quickly, before she could even tell what he was doing, he had spread her ass apart and his tongue found its way deep into her asshole. He licked and flicked his tongue against her. Two fingers probed deeply into her cunt and she grew wetter and wetter with each stroke.

She moaned and writhed beneath his tongue and hands, and her legs opening wider and wider as he moved deeper and deeper into her ass and cunt, both loosening and loosening as he stroked her. She moved back into him and held him by the head, forcing him even deeper inside her. His breathing became shallow as his erection became harder and harder.

He suddenly moved upwards, kissing and licking her mouth as she strained her neck sideways to bite his tongue and kiss his lips. They were beyond words, communicating simply by thrusting and lust.

Then he was inside her. He held her hips in his hands as he pumped into her pussy. He had one foot on the bed beside her knee and pulled her against his throbbing cock over and over again. He forced himself to slow down, to regulate his breathing, forced himself into deliberate control… he wanted to cum, needed to, but not yet. He had other things in mind.

While he fucked her, he continued to work on her asshole, first with his fingers, and then with his thumb. He could feel his cock throbbing against his thumb as both pumped deeper and deeper into her, and he could feel her body respond more and more completely as he moved in her. He slowed his hips gradually, and then pulled out completely. She was still moving, unable to catch her breath completely.

to be continued…

__________________________________________________________

I’ve not gotten the rest of this story, so don’t hold your collective breath, folks.

DJ and I were talking about how different I am.  So now she knows and told me to slow down and try to find out how I feel.  I don’t know how the hell I feel.  I know what my body likes.  When the kisses get deep enought I jsut have to have more.  I start breathing heavy and my heart gets going and I want it to get deeper, but it can’t.  I want it to feel even better.  But I also want it all for myself.  I’m so selfish–I haven’t learned to give and get pleasure from their pleasure.  So I get worekd up easily, no matter what sex the other person.  A kiss form a guy and a kiss from a girl are exactly the same.  You’re supposed to shut your eyes when you kiss anyway, right?  Every time I kiss someone I seem to melt and just let them do whatever they want.  Just one kiss from Erica and I felt it and even thoughtit.  Of having someone have control over me.  Of thinking that it can’t end because then I won’t feel it anymore.  And I was standing then.  With Amy I was sitting down and could lean back on the counter.  I like to be on the bottom yet grabbng and holding on to make sure they don’t leave me.  I want to talk to Amy right now but for some reason I don’t think her parents would appreciate a call at 2:24 am from me saying I’ve just got to talk to their daughter because I want to know what’s going to develop in our relationship.  Also what added to the excitementn was the buildup.  In econ we were giving each other looks, I gave her the “fuck me” picture, we went into the [school] darkroom, we both wanted to and we could tell.  I still find myself looking at guys in a sexual way, I think.  I don’t know.

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If you’re keeping track, within a couple of days I had kissed both Erica and Amy, two of the three girls I knew of who would even entertain the idea of kissing girls.  There are more to come.  Finding these 20-year-old diaries has provided me with a lot of (mildly, but wildly at the time) naughty material.

12/14/89, 5th Period

Might as well give up the good ol’ math test.  I’m doing horribly and I’ll have to do something next semester to get myself more credits.

There is nothing wrong.  Wonder how long she wanted to do that.  I guess I’ve wanted to for a while.  I might as well with everyone.  I hate this class.  I am tired of smelling Mr. Massey’s b.o., it’s not very becoming.  I just don’t know what I should do.  It’s a tragedy to see the dream is over.  And I never will forget the day we met, girl I’m gonna miss you.  Math analysis is quite stupid.  No matter what, I can’t be normal.  If I’m going alright I have to do something to screw it up.  I can never talk to anyone, not even [my step-sister] now because they will think I’m a weirdo.  I can imagine telling my life skills [peer counseling] class that yesterday I kissed a girl and liked it.  What would they say then?  I believe a majority of them would shit purple Twinkies.  Then, after the mess was cleaned up they would treat me like more of a freak than they already do and then think I was disgusting and “unnatural” and boy, would that be some juicy gossip to tell your boyfriend during climax.  I’ve already heard that Erica and I were gay.  And that’s work gossip that I heard at school.  Mr. Massey’s looking at me but I refuse to feel guilty for not doing my test.  But then maybe he’s looking at my exposed thigh.  “Everyone likes Suzanne.”  Guys, girls, cats, dogs.  Everyone but herself who is quite confused about what the fuck is going on with my life right now.  Second semester I can do speech and debate.  Within an entire semester I should be able to get at least 2 1/2 credits.  At least I hope so.  I know no matter what I do, my mommy will still love me.  So I guess I’ll just go down there [to live in Southern California].  Quotable quotes by Carl Massey, math teacher, varsity basketball coach extraordinaire:  “I’ll spell ‘B’ the same way I spell ‘F.T.’”  Amy knows–Erica told her.  So she (Amy) asked me how it was.  I told her the truth–not great but not terrible.  The first kiss is always the fighting kiss though–have to get used to each other.  I’m not in conflict because I know it’s not wrong for me.  Why does it have to be so hard for me?

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By the way, I graduated from high school a full year early, despite the fact that I purposely failed math analysis.  The above was hand written in pencil on the backside of a test, which was just a photo copy of page 217 of our text book.  I know I understood the stuff at one time, but now even the non-Greek looks Greek to me.

Each trigonometric relation has an inverse relation that can be restricted to define a function.

arcsine = {(x, y) | x = sin y}

arccosine = {x, y) | x = cos y}

arctangent = {(x, y) | x = tan y}

Arcsine = {(x, y) | y = arcsin x, – π/2 ≤ y ≤ π/2}

Arccosine = {(x, y) | y = arccos x, 0 ≤ y≤ π}

Arctangent = {(x, y) | y = arctan x, – π/2 < y < π/2}

What the fuck?!  The more I look at this, maybe these were the formulae we were allowed to use for the test, not the actual test.  That’s how much I’ve forgotten.

I swear.  True story.

I’ve picked a winner of the “A Pussy By Any Other Name” contest.  As indicated in the call for comments, I was most interested in the reasoning behind the love for the particular euphemisms.

Since I made it clear that I would determine the winner on my own and for arbitrary reasons, I decided I could be completely frivolous.

There were five front-runners.  At least one I didn’t choose because she’s a close friend of my sister.  I love my sister, and it’s obvious she has excellent taste in ladies, but until I meet this friend in person (Pride is coming up and I do have room at my place–HINT), I don’t feel confident about passing on a dirty photo.

One lady has confirmed she’s coming to town for some sexy fun times.  Really, since she’ll be seeing me in person, should I bother giving her a “free” preview and depriving someone else?  Yeah, didn’t think so.

Another lady has claimed she’ll come to San Francisco (with her boyfriend, yay!) before the end of the year so I don’t see that I should give her a reason not to come visit.

So it was down to two.  I made my final decision on sexiness and grammar:  the person in second place didn’t use the proper there/their/they’re.  There is a reason I have a tag, “words count.”  It’s because words have specific meanings, about which I care very much.

The winner:

Sometimes simple is the way to go. I like the term “it” for both cock and cunt (those being my preferred terms during the sex act or acts); proper usage: “grab it,” “suck it,” or “I can’t fucking wait to taste it.” I also tend to drift off before even getting to a word for the pussy, as in “god damn, i love pounding this fucking…” Language often fails us, and this failure is often more evocative than anything we could come up with.

There’s also “wet,” or “that wet,” which is probably just operating on the same idea.

That’s just fucking sexy.

Thank you all for participating.  It’s certainly been titillating making my final decision.

My next contest will involve euphemisms for the butt and the butt hole.  I’ll let y’all know when that fun experiment runs.  In the mean time, please keep reading and thinking.

Also, if you really want to see a dirty pic of me without winning a contest, click that donate button and see if it’s enough to get you on my good side (he he).

I swear.  True story.

I met DJ when I was eight.  She was one of my mother’s many lovers, but the only one with whom I am still in contact.  Having the absolute conviction that she loves me unconditionally has helped me through life.  My sixteenth year was a particularly hard one:  I lost my virginity, I had my first “real” relationship, and I moved out on my own.  DJ gave me her unique counsel.

_______________________________________________________

Suzanne, a person of sixteen years.  Lived half socially unacceptable, half nuclear.  Caucasian in body, defineless in spirit.  A doubter of self, a watcher of others, a question mark the base of her emotion.  Filled with wonder at the meaning of it all.  Surely she cant’ be the only one who won’t catch the ball, and just what makes the masses play day after day?

How can she be expected to understand the contrary ways of a world not of her design?  A giant in a dwarf’s playground.  Naive or clean slate do not capture her essence; it isn’t what she knows but what she is.  So sweet and infinite in depth.  A willingness and openness, a burden gift from a god not yet of her understanding.  Forever blessed with the vision of light and dark.

Going against the American grain, she did not ask to be different, nor did she choose, picking between a personal right or wrong is not a defiant action; it is what makes each one of us uniquely ourselves.

The more she sees, the more she learns, bombarded into confusion.  Rules and puzzle pieces fly her way and from behind her daze she continues to wonder, “Just what the hell is this all about?”  Her survival listens to the faint self knowledge that she’s okay, but unable to turn down the volume of voices that say she’s not.

My “Nanner,” sixteen years in age, with all this vast feeling within her.  Sensations that reach beyond her physical being.  No words in the English language to describe it.  She is not what she appears, this body only interferes, if only this were a spirit world, she’d understand then.

Sweet one so young, you need to know, not in your throat but down in your soul.  You’ve learned your lessons well, but a lesson in life is not the lesson of life.  It takes time.  Be aware of your torso, the sensations here are your “soul,” for lack of a better word that might be “window.”  From here comes your personal strength, your essence and conscience, it isn’t a Rubic’s Cube.  The answers will come to you, don’t look so hard, it will only cause you frustration.  You can’t miss your answers, they’ll come to you along the path you take, or the path that takes you.  Relax as best you can; a generation blossoms between the ages of thirty and forty.

Experience what you know to be 90% safe, look both ways before crossing the street and know beyond knowing that I love you!

We agreed to meet at Dolores Park.  I’d learned my lesson long before that people who post ads on Craig’s List are often flakes so I always prepare for no one to show up.  I often take Isis to Dolores Park anyway, so if she didn’t show the day wouldn’t be wasted.

I had responded to her ad in the Casual Encounters w4w section.  Her ad wasn’t long, but it was more interesting than the usual, “I have a boyfriend and want to explore my naughty bi side.”  She had a bottle of absinthe and wanted to share it, and possibly herself, with an interesting woman.

We met in the park and sat and chit-chatted while Isis ran around a bit.  We discovered we had attended two different schools at the same time, but had no clue the other existed until the meeting in the park.

She was hot.  Very much my type of woman: a bit dykey, thin but curvy, and with small, perky breasts.  She was obviously not wearing a bra that day in the park, and I loved seeing her nipples push up against the fabric of her halter top.

I lost my cell phone in the park that day.  I suspected some people who were sitting near us stole it so I confronted them.  They denied it, but not until after telling me, in Spanish, to suck their collective dick.  I was so proud that I knew that one phrase and told them so.  Despite my lame behavior she seemed to want to spend more time with me.

I walked back to my house with Isis while Ms. Absinthe drove to her place, conveniently located in Noe Valley, to get the bottle of absinthe she had advertised having.  Once at my house she poured us drinks.  Not only did we taste the delicious absinthe, but she gave me a lesson on why it’s drunk diluted with water, and what the clouding is called.  She was preparing to be the bartender at a prohibition-themed party and wanted to be able to do more than just pour so she was practicing on me.  She did an excellent job.

We got along quite well.  She kissed me.  I’m always surprised when a woman whom I find attractive is attracted to me.  It doesn’t come from a self-loathing place; I am simply not my type.

She had great breasts.  They were nice and little and soft with nipples that got hard in the most delicious way when I bit down on them.  I hadn’t done more than kiss a woman in over ten years and was worried about my performance.  She later assured me by email, “Actually, I’d say I had a rather nice fucking.  Thank you very much.”  So fucking cool.

We quickly began to spend all of our free time together.  As neither of us was employed, we had a lot of free time.  Also because neither of us was employed, we didn’t have any damn money to do anything much more than hang out at my house.

We watched “the L Word” together.  Cliché I know, but I watched the show anyway, not just because I was seeing a woman.

We cooked at my place several times a week.  She made me corned beef and cabbage, which I’d only had once before.  Together we made and froze what seemed like a gross of won tons.  We made a yummy gnocchi with meat sauce, all from scratch.  I made my beef short ribs and mashed potatoes for her brother when he was in town.  She took me to restaurants I’d never been before and was impressed when I liked chicken feet and all the pig parts.

Things became intense very quickly.  We had great sex.

Just a few weeks after we met, we took a trip to Orr Hot Springs.  Ms. Absinthe had a Mini Cooper and loved to drive.  She liked that I had no problem with her taking the windy roads of Mendocino County at a nice clip.  I thought it was sexy that she was a good driver.  Orr was really nice.  We stayed overnight in the yurt just outside the front gate.  There were private rooms with huge claw-foot tubs big enough for two.  The water was hot and mineral-rich.  From the main pool of the “resort” we could see daffodils in bloom all over the surrounding hillsides.

Before too long our relationship went from fun and light to Ms. Absinthe asking  “where we stand.”  I made it clear that I didn’t want a “real” relationship, and that there was NO way I was going to be monogamous, but that I really did dig her scene.

We continued to have hot, hot sex.  We took a couple of trips to Good Vibrations on Valencia to get supplies, including lube and gloves.  It had never occurred to me to have sex with gloves before Ms. Absinthe introduced the idea.  I now buy boxes of medical-grade nitrile gloves for use during sexy times.  They’re a whole lot of fun all lubed up.  Great for fisting.

Ms. Absinthe was the first person who fisted me.  And I was the first person she fisted.  They were intensely intimate experiences for both of us.  She wrote me a poem on the subject:

On your couch

I kiss your mouth
and slowly breathe you in.
Your teeth, lightly gnash against my skin.
You begin to tweak and twist my nipples until I gasp,
I find my way between your legs
grinding my hand onto your wet pussy
back and forth, up and down,
finally pressing in.
You bite harder, I push deeper.
My clenched fist
inside your cunt;
I can barely move.
You’re so fucking tight, and so fucking hot.
Your walls clamp down around my hand
I just want to punch right through.
Thrusting your pelvis higher; you’re telling me to fuck you harder, to fuck you faster,
to fuck you forever.
Your body undulating to your own rhythm,
I’m entranced by the sway of your hips, lulling me closer.
I can’t keep my eyes off your twisting shape.
Now I’m on top of you.
But I can’t get any deeper,
I can only fuck you desperately, fuck you faster.

Our sex life was not a problem. One of our trips to Good Vibrations resulted in the purchase of Tristan Taormino‘s  The Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women 2nd Edition.  We read it together and utilized some of its many tips when we incorporated anal play into our sex.

As our sex life together was developing we discussed strap-ons.  Neither of us had any experience using a harness, but we were willing to try.  Further discussions resulted in us agreeing that she would pick out the harness that she felt most comfortable using, and I would pick out the big, thick cock with which I wanted her to fuck me.

We went to Good Vibrations … and chickened out.  The Good Vibrations on Valencia had roughly 15 feet of wall space devoted to various harnesses and the implements that can be put in them.  Here we were, two well-educated, adult, sex-positive women who really wanted to expand their sex lives, but even we were intimidated.

Because while Good Vibrations has an open, non-judgmental environment it does not have any privacy.  Ms. Absinthe would have had to try on any harnesses out there on the store floor; and I would have had to pick out a number of dildos for her to try on with each harness out there in the open.  We were not ashamed in any way of what we wanted to do, but not being ashamed does not equal wanting everyone in a store knowing what we’re planning on doing in private.

Nonetheless, our sex continued to evolve, and continued to be good.  Our relationship, however, wasn’t so good.

Ms. Absinthe kept wanting to talk about our feelings and what we wanted from each other.  I just wanted to hang out and have fun.  I was still trying to figure out what it meant to be a divorced woman in her mid-30s.  I was getting used to being single, but I wasn’t yet divorced.  Neither I nor the Ex had even bothered to file for divorce yet, though it was clear we would not be trying to reconcile.

Only Ms. Absinthe didn’t believe that the Ex and I weren’t trying to reunite.  Ms. Absinthe and the Ex met, and got along pretty well.  I think because she saw that he and I were civil (we had animals to co-parent after all) that that meant we should get back together.  She didn’t seem to believe me when I assured her there was no way he and I would ever get back together even if we were friendly with each other.

The words I said to Ms. Absinthe didn’t seem to get through to her.  She appeared to think I was being dishonest, or just wasn’t admitting everything to her.  However, I was nothing if not brutally honest.  Despite my assertions that I don’t make pronouncements lightly, she just didn’t seem to believe me when I said the Ex and I would never get together again and that I had no interest in being in a monogamous relationship.

To that end, I continued to fuck men when I could, and it was during this time I had the threesome with Mr. Zip and the 21-year-old booze hound.  I told Ms. Absinthe exactly what I was planning on doing that night and suggested she stay at her own place.  She opted to stay at my place, and was still up at 5am when I got home.  That was definitely troublesome.

Things were going bad, and fast.  She was at my place all the time, and I value my alone time, more than the average person, I think.  I began doing what I did when the Ex and I were living together and I needed to be alone in a loft apartment–I used ear buds and listened to podcasts whether home alone or not.  Pretty rude behavior when one has a house guest, but being at my house constantly was also rather rude of Ms. Absinthe.

She became needy, and our sex went from hot to me turning her down as often as I could get away with without generating a discussion.  I was a fucking bitch to her most of the time.  I really am shitty at breaking up when I know the relationship should end.  So I do the chickenshit move of cheating (on the Ex) or in some other way making the prospect of being with me miserable.  No, I am not proud of myself.

The last time we saw each other Ms. Absinthe picked up toothpaste she had left at my place after a trip to Costco.  She texted me a birthday wish soon thereafter.  My emails requesting friendship went unanswered.

I swear.  True story.