J Lee: A Gift

Posted on June 16, 2009

Y’all are welcome to submit tidbits for posting here on Random Rim Jobs.  Just email me:  shazamsf@sbcglobal.net.

Way back when J. Lee wrote this for me.  Fun.  I’m so lucky.

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He sat down at his desk, staring at the blank computer screen once again. Every time he had done this familiar routine in the past week, he’d enacted that other familiar routine: procrastination. Surfed the Web, checked email a few dozen times, got up from his chair to make a bite to eat, or take a piss… anything to avoid that well-known feeling.

It wasn’t writer’s block exactly. He had been coursing with ideas throughout the week, but for some reason the words stopped flowing as soon as he sat down to write. He knew he just needed an access point; he decided to just start writing, document the doubts and the evasions and the…

Only now his cat was bothering him. “Jesus Christ, what else?” he’d asked as the feline yowled and bumped against his legs. Then he chuckled. She had told him that her cat was a little pervert; “so her pussy’s perverted… what a surprise…” He threw some food in the cat’s dish and sat back down to continue.

Still nothing. He looked out the window and bit his lower lip. Maybe he should start there, with the lip… she was a mouth person after all… he shook his head. It was getting dusky outside, so he decided it was his last chance to go for a jog in the park up the hill without breaking his ankle.

He got back just as it was getting truly dark. He had walked past a family of deer in the middle of the street, which he took as a good omen. There was magic in the air; all he had to do was find to a way to unleash it.

The phone rang. “Fuck, it’s probably my mom,” he thought to himself. But it wasn’t; it was an ex-girlfriend. “Huh,” he though. “Maybe I can use this…” He knew that she would like his ex, she was tall and slim and beautiful, with a bright smile and full lips… and he knew they both liked girls, too, which wasn’t necessarily important in fantasyland but still would make it easier to play with… but no. He didn’t want to use up all his ammunition on this story; he had to save something for later, something to build up to. This one could be simple, a single scene even. He just had to write it.

“Start with what you know about her,” he thought. Okay. He knew she had an office with a door, and a big plate glass window that faced the support staff. He pictured his own office, back in Seattle, with a big window in the door, and the times he’d brought girls there at night or on weekends to fuck. There had been no reason to use the office in those situations, of course, but they still almost invariably had. Something about being in that familiar space, bending a girl over the desk he sat at every day… he could use this…

He started writing. “We’re at your office on a Saturday evening.” He started fondling his cock through his running shorts as he envisioned the scene. His head was already beginning to cloud a little, which always happened when he became aroused. He shook his head and continued.

You’re sitting in your chair, and I’m kneeling in front of you. You have one leg thrown over the arm of the chair and the other is pressing into the ground. Your skirt is bunched up at the waist and your panties are around your ankle. I had initially just moved them to the side, holding them with one hand as I licked your pussy, flicked the tip of your clit with my tongue until it was huge and red, stuck two fingers in your quim and stroked the inside of your wet cunt.

I moved forward quickly, pressing my salty mouth against yours and sucking greedily on your tongue. You fumbled with your panties, trying to pull them off but your fingers kept slipping off the waist as I fingered your clit. The crotch of your panties was soaked, and the back of your skirt was becoming wet, as well. You stood up quickly and put your hands on my shoulders, pushing me away. My eyes were unfocused and my breath came in gulps. You rested your head on my chest and inhaled deeply. You stepped lightly out of your skirt and underwear, looked up at my face, and smiled.

You were still wearing your blouse, but it was only half buttoned; as you’d fumbled in your purse for the keycard to unlock the office, I’d stood behind you, my throbbing cock pressed into your ass and my hands under your shirt. My left hand reached through the gap where I’d unbuttoned your blouse, and I had your right breast cupped in my palm. I rolled your nipple between my thumb and forefinger.

Now you started to take off your shirt, but I stopped you; I liked the idea of fucking a clothed woman, it gave it a sense of urgency and suspense, as if we might get caught at any minute. You smiled again, and put the fingers of your left hand in my mouth. I ran my tongue along the edge of your forefinger and bit lightly on its tip.

With your right hand you had been steadily removing my pants. First the belt; then the button; finally the zipper. My pants fell around my ankles and you lowered yourself to your knees. You kept your fingers in my mouth, and I held your hand lightly as I sucked on your fingers. With my other hand I ran my fingers through your hair and brushed it back so I could see your face.

My erection strained against my boxers and you worked it out of the fly with your mouth. You held it at the base firmly and put your mouth over the fat head. You ran your tongue around the tip, licking the spot underneath where the vein rolled up the shaft. I groaned slowly and fought the urge to move my hips.

You had taken your fingers from my mouth and now held my ass with your hand. You pulled me into you as you pumped onto my cock, and your eyes lifted to watch my reaction. My head had lolled to one side, and my breath came in shallow gasps. Your hand moved from my ass to your pussy and you rubbed your clit quickly between two fingers. You moaned as I pulled your hair back in a ponytail and began to gyrate my hips.

“Stop… you have to stop…” I mumbled, and then I stepped back quickly and my penis flipped upwards. You ran your middle finger along the corner of your mouth and laughed.

“What’s the matter, baby? Can’t keep up with me?”

My eyes suddenly cleared, widened and flashed green. I shook my head and smiled. The look made you nervous… but only slightly. I stuck my thumb in your mouth and caressed your lower lip.

“You are a bad, bad girl, aren’t you? I think you need a spanking.”

I pulled you to your feet and kicked the office chair out of the way; it spun as it rolled backwards. I turned you around and rested my hand, lightly but firmly, on the back of your neck. You bent over your desk.

* * * * * * *
He took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. There it was. Nothing too extreme, of course, but that was the point. A first chapter. It was a solid foundation, on which many things could be built. Many possible directions to explore. He cupped the tip of his penis in his palm and pulled lightly on his balls as he reread the story.

Pasting it into a blank email message, he hit send and went to call his ex-girlfriend back.

Pointers for Guys Engaging in Casual Sex, No. 6

Posted on June 15, 2009

Some of y’all have just never encountered a casual sex “relationship” and don’t know how to conduct yourselves.  Or you just did it wrong.  I’m here to help, my lovelies.

  • Spending the night is optional.  Whether to actually sleep with your host after you’ve “slept” together is a mutual decision.  If she invites you and you want to stay, do so with morning sex in mind.  If she does not offer, don’t fall asleep considering yourself invited–that’s overstaying your welcome, and the morning will definitely be an uncomfortable mess of awkwardness.  If you ask and she says no–for whatever reason–be gracious and leave, thanking her for a fun fuck on the way out.  Should she request your presence in her sleeping chamber, but you don’t want to stay, it is fine to thank her and leave–no need for lame-ass excuses.
  • If things are uncomfortable beyond repair, get the fuck out.  No need to explain yourself beyond, “I’ve got to go.”  A woman will assume she’s done something wrong, but better to avoid a fight–or some other encounter that ensures mutual bad feelings–than to have an argument reminiscent of an “If you really cared about me … ” discussion.
  • Keep in contact with her.  A phone call, email, text, tweet, Facebook message, Craig’s List post, or smoke signal letting her know you had a great time is just nice.  She may have postulated that you had a good time when you shot your wad on her face, but it’s still nice to hear/read that the person whose asshole you licked enjoyed it.  Be specific in stating what you enjoyed.  For example, a text that reads, “Good fuck” may or may not be sufficient.  Try, “My favorite part was seeing your ass bouncing on my cock” and see if she doesn’t invite you back for more.

Yep, more to come ….

I swear.  True Story.

Blow Job No. 1

Posted on June 14, 2009

Friend of Random Rim Jobs, Ryan, wrote this lovely tidbit for me.  You can find out more about him:  http://ryansporn.tumblr.com/.

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Here is the story of my first homosexual experience. It also serves as a bit of a lesson that lying is bad, even Online.

I had posted an ad on Craig’s List Casual Encounters that was totally honest.  It said I had just gotten divorced, was bi-curious, and interested in meeting a guy who would let me suck him.  I wanted to start with that experience and then see how things went from there.  My thinking was that guys like blow jobs and are generally selfish, so it would be a great way to start.

I started trading e-mails with a few guys, most of them of course were sort of crude jerks (they were guys after all) but I remember one guy seemed nice and he was actually pretty close to me (geographically), so I figured it would be good.  He said he also was not very experienced with other guys and that he would be fine if we started with just a brief oral encounter for the first time.  As we chatted back and forth about stuff he also sent me a picture (he claimed it was him and his nephew, a little kid of about 4, which was freaky).

What he didn’t realize was that he had responded to another, earlier, similar ad I had posted.  His response to my prior ad included the same e-mail content and everything, even the same cock picture, but that time he’d included a face pic, which didn’t match what he’d just sent me with the “nephew.”  The cock was consistent and it did look nice and it was difficult to tell the size in the close-up picture; he told me it was 7″ and thick.  (This is a whole other issue about cock size–so many guys are obsessed with it, but I’ve noticed most girls really don’t seem to give a shit.  I’ve measured my own, 6″, which seems less than what guys seem to think is good, but no woman has ever complained, even some who were brutally honest about other issues.)

So things were obviously a little weird with this guy.  He seemed nice, but these little odd things and inconsistencies were there.  Anyway I decided to meet up with him.  He said he had a girlfriend who didn’t know anything he was doing, and for obvious reasons I didn’t want to host him, so we agreed to meet in his Suburban in a parking lot of an vacant store.  I also told him I was a little short on time, planning to have an out in case things were odd.

Ends up that was a good plan.  When I got there he was totally like the picture with his nephew, so that was at least good, I would be REALLY worried about a guy who sent out such an odd pic that wasn’t even really of him.

He had just wanted to pretty much get down to business, which I figured would be ok for my first time.  So I got in his surprisingly spacious Suburban.  He led me as I took a hold of his sweats and pushed them down to reveal …

NOT THE SAME FUCKING COCK!

I mean seriously, WHAT THE FUCK?!  Twice he sent me a picture of some other dude’s cock.  On top of that he was small–shorter and a bit thinner than myself and I’d never call my cock thick.  I wouldn’t have minded his size, except he’d told me differently and therefore he’d lied, again.  What I don’t get is what he was thinking when he told me.  I mean did he think I wouldn’t notice he was like half as big as he’d said he was?  I still don’t get it.

To this day I don’t know why I didn’t just get the fuck out of Dodge right then; maybe because I’ve never really been that great at saying no to people.  Anyway, I proceeded to suck him off and actually despite all the crap involved with the experience I did really like it.

He was a little rough with me which I didn’t like, mostly just because it was him doing it.  He came pretty quickly, and when he did he pulled out and shot into my mouth as he stroked himself, which was a bit disappointing; I had wanted to feel him pulse inside my mouth.

As he was getting his pants on he started talking about how much he’d like to see my ass and asked if I had any panties I could wear for him and if I’d ever be interested in perhaps giving a try to bottoming.  I was really noncommittal to everything and made sure to remind him that I was in a rush and had to be going (thank God I had thought to mention that earlier).  As he drove away I was really happy I’d gotten there early and parked a little way away near some other cars so he couldn’t tell which car was mine.

Since then I’ve gotten some e-mails from him.  He seemed pretty desperate at first, but as I continue to not respond he seems to have gotten the hint.  I see his Suburban driving in the neighborhood every now and then and I can’t help but think to myself, “What a stupid little shit!” every time I see it.  The irony is if he’d just been honest with me we most likely could have had some great repeat fun together.  The location was great and I was pretty inexperienced with guys and would have likely just stayed with one I knew already.  But he fucked it all up be being stupid enough to lie to me.  I really just don’t see the point.

So, that was my first homosexual experience and it was when I knew I was bi for sure; when even an idiot like that was enjoyable to suck off I knew I must actually like sucking cocks a lot.

Perfection

Posted on June 13, 2009

It was so perfect; it was too perfect.  I can barely believe it actually happened.  And it happened to me.  Wow.  Oh.  My.  Fucking.  God.

It was better than I’d hoped because it wasn’t easy.  It wasn’t easy at all.  Though I hope I didn’t goad him into it, and I don’t think I did, despite everything.

I want to fuck him.  I want to make him cry.  And he’ll be so fucking beautiful when he does.

The whole time walking back from Dolores Park I wanted to get on my knees and have him fuck the shit out of my mouth.  Just good and hard and let himself go;  not worry about my feelings or whether it was feminist of him, to just fuck my face, hard.  He would feel so free.

And I want to suck his cock.  I want to suck and suck and lick and lick and suck and smell and nuzzle and taste and feel and bury my face and lick all over and rub my face everywhere.  I want to do it long enough so he goes from being tense because I’m doing it and not being able to relax because he thinks I won’t want him to come to just letting go and realizing there’s nothing he can do that would make me stop, that I’m going to keep my mouth all over his cock F-O-R-E-V-E-R.  And I will.  I want to taste every bit.  I want to take it in, to swallow it down.  He’ll smell like HIM.

At the bus stop was the most perfect thing ever.  EVER.  I was just stroking the backside of his thigh with my right hand.  I can still feel it.  Just slow and easy.  Earlier at the park I’d had my right hand under his shirt; I could feel his soft sweet skin.  That skin makes me want to cry.  I would brush my face all over it.  He’s younger than I thought.  He just turned 22.  Wow.  Oh, wow.  Fuck, I wish I didn’t know that because that makes me want him more.

He’s afraid.  He kept saying things about hurting others.  I’ve got so much more life; I’m so much more jaded that he can’t hurt me.  He’s so sweet and vulnerable I want to take care of him.  And that maternal thing is such a fucking turn-on.

So at the bus stop I was stroking the back of his leg.  And he had his left arm around my shoulders, and it was no big deal.  Until it was.  His hand went from my arm to my left breast.  And there was no denying it was on purpose.  My breathing changed.  It was fucking happening.

When he went out with me with Isis much earlier I had blurted out that I wanted to kiss him.  He said, “Please don’t.”  That, of course, felt like a rejection.  I was quiet all the way back to my place.  I told him not to worry, that I would be fine.  And we were fine.

Then I found the poem “Hello, my name is …” labels in his bag and I said we HAD to go out to put them up.  He and a friend had started a street art project where they wrote out an epic poem on “Hello, my name is …” labels and they put them up all over town.  Only he and the friend weren’t so friendly any longer.  He needed to finish the project and I wanted to help.  We left my place, putting up labels with poem bits along the way.  We fucked ‘em up quite a bit; we didn’t necessarily put them in the correct order.

We bought some pear cider and the guys in the liquor store said something in Arabic (?) that sounded suggestive to both of us.  We had a great time being artist/vandals.  The whole time I gave him shit for rejecting me, but in a nice way I hope.

Then in the park we were lying (laying?) on the walkway and there was a nice breeze and I was touching that skin and he was talking about having trouble with the sex/emotion connection.  He just doesn’t know.  He doesn’t trust himself or me.  Mostly himself.

He touched my left breast at the bus stop.  And it felt so fucking good.  There’s something about knowing that a guy is clumsy and awkward that’s so fucking hot.  Because I know he has the desire.  He WANTS to be a dirty, dirty boy.  Just as he began touching my breast the 14 Mission bus showed up from the south.  I reminded him he had to catch that bus.

And he leaned down and kissed me.  We kissed.  We kissed.  It was just too fucking perfect.  We had to tear away from each other so he could catch the bus.  I walked home.  I was giddy the whole way.  I kept thinking about how wet I’d be when I got home.

Perfect.

I swear.  True story.

Kaikyaku Kani: A Fantasy

Posted on June 12, 2009

This is what I was thinking of when I masturbated the other day.  I was able to come despite suffering from a cold and severe back pain.

kani

I want my calves bound to my thighs so my legs are wide open.  I want to be on the edge of a bed or a table so a man with a nice huge cock can stand up and pound my pussy and my ass at his whim.  Or it could be a woman with a big dildo strapped into her harness; I’ve not had enough experience with women and strap-ons for this to be something that pops into my head unbidden, but the image is certainly not unwelcome.

I want his cock to slide into my ass.  Slow and easy, working its way up to fast and hard.  Then he should slow down again, as he slips his fingers into my pussy.  He’ll be using lots of lube so everything will slither into me without effort.

His cock will be in my ass as he slips one, then two, then three fingers into my pussy.  He’ll be slowly pushing his rod into and out of my ass while at the same time his fingers reach up and massage that special spot inside my cunt.

Then, I want his whole hand inside me and his cock in my ass; to be completely and utterly full.  And I can’t do a thing because I’m tied up all pretty.

I swear.  True (fantasy) story.

The Ice Cream Shop: A Fantasy (pt 2) (via @utcm)

Posted on June 11, 2009

[Continued from Under the Crimson Moon, "The Ice Cream Shop:  A Fantasy (pt 1) (via @ShazamSF).]

I stuffed the slip of paper into my pocket and helped the girl down off the counter. Her long, straight, brunette hair hung down, obscuring her face; it wasn’t long enough to hide her full, firm breasts, though. I led the anonymous girl over to an empty table, away from the three other patrons. She bent forward over the table and I sat down in the chair facing her bare ass.

I was still inexplicably erect, and it didn’t feel like it was going to subside any time soon, so I decided to make the most of the situation. I stood and opened my shorts. They fell immediately to the floor, leaving me to stand with my tented boxers in plain view of the other customers. Only the cute girl glanced over. Once she looked away, I pushed my boxers down, causing my growing erection to spring free.

Her legs were spread but I pushed them together, bringing her hips a little higher. Taking my dick in hand, I drew the head along her slit, coating it in her arousal and whatever saliva was left from the girl before me. I took a moment to stroke her pussy without penetrating her. She squirmed and writhed on the table every time I pushed against her clit, and each time the cute girl looked over. Once I was nice and hard, I spread her open as much as I could and popped the head into her clenching cunt.

Now, I’m not exactly what you’d call “well-hung,” but nor am I small. I’m pretty average. But poised at this girl’s opening, her small, tight body made my cock look huge. I could see her gripping the edge of the table with white knuckles as I pushed into her.

I wasn’t even halfway in before the clerk came over with a bucket of vanilla in one hand and a bottle of Hershey’s syrup in the other. The scoop rode in the pocket of his apron. He set the syrup and ice cream down on the table next to me and peeled the lid off the bucket. He dug out the first scoop and stepped to my table.

“Actually,” I said before he could put the scoop in the small of the girl’s back. “Could you put them here?” I drew a circle with my finger on the highest point of the girl’s ass, about two inches in front of where my penis penetrated her.

The girl had developed a light sheen of sweat, and when the scoop of frozen cream hit her hot skin, she flinched and almost jerked off my shaft. I held her hips tight as I leaned into her; she couldn’t go anywhere.

The ice cream began to melt immediately. One rivulet drew a line to the small of her back, while another traced a path between her ass cheeks and down onto the base of my shaft. I let a little more run down before filling her completely. As our bodies came together, the ice cream collected in the pool created by her ass and my trimmed pubes.

The second scoop joined the first and they managed to stay put. The clerk left the scooper in the craters left in the bucket, and retrieved the chocolate syrup.

“Hang on,” I said, just as he was about to pour the syrup on top of the ice cream. I drew my shaft out until the head was all that remained inside her and let the ice cream melt a bit more. I slid into her slowly again, more easily this time, and pushed some of the melted vanilla cream into her vagina. The girl writhed and bucked against my plunging cock, but I held her still. I throbbed deep inside her, flexing into the conflicting cold and hot.

Buried deep inside her, I picked up one of the ice cream scoops with my hand, fondled it like a bar of soap, and carefully put it back. With a tilt of my hips, I pulled out of the girl’s cunt and gripped my dick with the hand covered in ice cream.

“Right here,” I told the clerk, gesturing to the shaft in my hand. It felt so cold, like it was freezing my penis solid. It was almost painful; I couldn’t feel the syrup as he squeezed it onto my shaft.

“Leave it,” I groaned as I began to push my cold cock into the girl’s hot pussy. The conflicting sensations were overwhelming; I had to stop halfway in so I wouldn’t come too early.

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The story continues.  Go to under the crimson moon for more.

Army Guy Visit: A Fantasy

Posted on June 10, 2009

I had been thinking about how cool it’d be if he came to visit me.  Since I’ve learned my lesson letting guys stay here without first meeting them in person, he’d have plans to stay elsewhere but come visit me.

We’d walk the dog.  I’d show him the great views.  One particular stairway would be great–stairs up to a landing with a clearing and garden with a bench.

I would be able to see Isis running around while he and I sit on the bench.  That would be when we finally kiss–since I’d be Chatty Cathy all along and not shutting up long enough for anything.  So we’d kiss.  And I’d want to suck his cock right there–to get on my knees between his legs and just suck and suck and lick and feel the smooth skin of his cock.  But I wouldn’t since we’d be outside where houses would be facing the clearing.

We’d continue our walk, the whole time thinking about being naked all over each other.

It will have been a while since he’d gone down on a woman–and he loves it.  It’s been a while since someone’s gone down on me properly.  I would love for someone to take his time and know he was completely enjoying himself.

After the walk we’d hang out at my place.  We’d shower, him downstairs, me upstairs, and hang out talking, listening to music, drinking, noshing.  Then the friend he’d be staying with would show up to pick him up (too late for BART maybe, or friend was here anyway).

His friend would be cute.  He’d smell good.  He’d have a drink or two.  Army Guy and I would continue to keep drinking.

I would love to see the negotiation between the two straight guys contemplating a threesome.  Wow, that’s so fucking hot.

Since Army Guy and I have already kissed (and maybe fucked by this point), we begin ….

I swear.  True (fantasy) story.