Random Rim Jobs

I started dropping a lot more hints tonight on the phone. I was/am quite proud of myself. I kept saying how cute he is. Once he asked why. I think he wants to hear a nice compliment – just like I would want when I ask him why he calls me. (I can’t seem to write very well.) But I said that I didn’t know why, he just is. Now, he’s not stupid is he? No. If he doesn’t know by now that I like him then he must be dumb (could he be thinking about me the same way, I hope.) right? So wouldn’t he either stop talking to me so much so I would stay away. I mean, I’m not like his best friend who he has to talk to. He’s not the type to lead a gal on, I don’t think. (I totally lost my train of thought and I don’t think it would be right if I read what I just wrote.) It was so cute that he was very tired to I asked him if he wanted to go and he said no, pretty insistently too, for him anyway. He obviously likes to talk to me. He couldn’t just be calling to be nice for this long. I was thinking that maybe I’ve been heard to read also so he hasn’t known what to do. I have been practicing hiding the way I really feel for years. But once they get out there, there’s no keeping them back. So I’l try not to be so aloof – more down-to-earth. I think things are moving a little more quickly than they have been – now a snail’s pace instead of a stand-still. He has to like me – but I still want him to drop a hint so big that I will know for sure. There’s a bunch of stuff that factors – my imagination, the fact that when Maury (the fuckin’ asshole) asked him about me when we had first met he said he was just thinking of friends. Of course I really don’t think Henry would tell him the truth – he would of just said something to get him off his back. Henry is exactly the type who would say the opposite of what he felt for real. I just want to know for sure even though I must admit that though this is nerve-wracking, it is kind of fun I know that I will, eventually get him. I can see him over here …

I’m often on about the term “fetish” being overused.  So when I say I think I may have a pain fetish that does not mean I like to get spanked occasionally (though I certainly do).

What I mean is that I need pain to come.  Pussy and/or ass pain.

When I masturbate and I’m having “trouble” coming I jam a toy farther into my pussy, so it bangs against the opening to my cervix.  I also think something along the lines of, “I love it when it hurts,” or “Yeah, I need pain.”  Yes, I know these phrases are corny, but I go with whatever works to help me come.

And they do work.  I first noticed that I like my cervix opening pounded just after I had my IUD put in.  Having it put in hurt a whole lot – in a very unsexy way – but it made me aware of that part of my pussy.  I had some cramps for a bit after the IUD was put in, and after they hurt too much they began to feel painful good.  They reminded me of my cunt.

It also reminded me of particularly vigorous fuck sessions.  One that stands out took place in Bangkok, Thailand.  I had returned for a second summer (after “Smooth as Silk“), only this time included with my job was a studio apartment several floors above an auto repair shop.  To access my apartment I had to enter a gate that accessed the shop.  Then I had to walk past several autos, some of which were occupied at night by the shop’s workers.  Finally, I had to climb several flights of stairs, passing one to two units on each of the levels below my apartment.  My apartment, though a studio, occupied the entire top floor of the building.  Well, the apartment and a rather large roof deck took up the top floor of the building.

I, however, rarely went out on the deck because Bangkok in June, July, and/or August is just too fucking hot to spend any significant amount of time away from air conditioning.  The roof deck was not only not air conditioned, but it was in full sun.  The one time I was on the deck for a while was to watch dogs fuck.

I had never seen dogs fuck before, but had heard stories of the act.  I had heard that a dog’s cock gets stuck in a dog’s pussy and that dousing the lovers in cold water helps the act end faster than without the water.  So when I was out on the roof deck looking down at the little street which the auto shop and building faced and saw what was clearly dog foreplay I vowed to stick it out to the end.

He mounted her from behind in classic doggy style.  They did that for a while.  Quite a long while really.  Long enough that I was beginning to get bored watching it.  While they were fucking they walked around on the narrow street quite a bit.  Eventually it was clear she was done and tried to enter the shophouse that was her home.

Dogs in Thailand are kept as pets, but not in the sense that we keep dogs as pets.  Except for the most spoiled lap dogs they are allowed to run free, obviously are not spayed or neutered, and for the most part aren’t taken for veterinarian visits.  Yet they know their boundaries.  So the male dog, when the female dog he was fucking was trying to enter her home, knew he was not allowed into that particular shophouse.

As she tried to enter her home he tried to go elsewhere.  The result of the push-me-pull-you was comical, if sad.  His swollen cock still held them together.  Only he was no longer fucking her in the style of their species; they were attempting to walk in opposite directions with the cock/pussy connection not allowing them to get away from each other.  They were ass-to-ass like scene with Jennifer Connelly at the end of Requiem for a Dream (only in my mind at the time I didn’t make the connection since I’d yet to see the movie).

I was determined to watch the dogs until they could go their separate ways, which they did eventually, after probably ten to fifteen minutes of trying.  Now I’ve seen dogs fucking and I never have to again.

So that summer along with watching dogs fuck I did a lot of fucking myself.  I brought several guys through the auto repair shop, up the stairs, and into my little studio apartment, the focal point of which was the large platform bed surrounded with a wide ledge that did double duty as a night stand, television stand, and shin bruiser.

One of the guys and I fucked particularly vigorously.  We had met the summer before and fucked a lot then, so he knew that I could take – and wanted – a serious pounding.  However, one time there in that studio apartment he pounded me so hard that his cock hit the opening to my cervix repeatedly and with such force that I got severe cramps, more severe than any that had accompanied a period.  So severe that I had to stop fucking and curl up in pain until the cramps subsided.  That kind of pain does not make me come, and actually puts off an orgasm – or any sex at all – for quite some time.  He and I had really good sex and that incident only served to give us a breather until we started up again.

I think we spent the whole day fucking.  We stayed inside where the air conditioner was on at all times.

And then there’s the pain I like in my ass, but that’s another story.

So I think I have a fetish for a little – but not too much – pain.

I swear.  True story.

Well, now it’s 6:07 pm. It took me a while to get writing. Henry is very cute. I told him that he’s not shy and he just sort of said oh. And I told him his arms looked strong and he sort of giggled. I told him that it’s funny when he does that. It’s because I can tell he’s sort of blushing. I told him how many push-ups I do every day and sit-ups too. Perhaps he was impressed, I don’t know. If Laura heard me she’d tell me I sounded too tough. Of course she’s not Henry, is she? As DJ puts it, he must like what he sees, knows now, right? sometimes I’m totally sure he likes me by the things he says and does but then they could be average things that I’m just making a big deal out of. Oh jeez, he probably just likes me like one of his buddies. Can I go cry now? But then I don’t think so ’cause of the way he looks at me. But maybe he does that to everyone. But I don’t think so ’cause I don’t think guys make it a practise, practice making eye contact with each other. But then I could be wrong. What if he gets tired of me? I am the type ot suffocate someone. Shit, what now? Maybe none of this is going to work out. Maybe I’m too far ahead of myself. Maybe we’ll just be fucking friends with no commitment. Maybe he hates me. Maybe he’s never had a real steady girlfriend ’cause that’s the way he likes it. Maybe he thinks girls just drag him down. Maybe he thinks they’re only good to have sex with. Maybe he only gets friendly with girls when he’s horny. But he’s so sweet. Shit, who knows? I wish I did. I can think to the time when I know him totally well and talk about him to Beth and Laura like, “No, he’s busy tonight but we’re going out tomorrow night.” Doesn’t that just sound sweet? Of course it does. To have a normal relationship that I don’t have to keep secret. I want to be able to talk about him to everyone. Like, “Don’t you have a boyfriend?” Yes I do. I just want to say that once. Why do I want to try so hard to be “normal”? I think I deserve a little bit. I’m sure I’ll find some way to “denormalize” it – if “it” ever happens. Which I am almost kind of sure will – I hope.

I want him to get all loosened up late at night. But he doesn’t and he always has “to get going.”

Last year around Christmas I got fucked.

I recall it was Christmas only because I saw the big Christmas tree that’s always set up in Union Square for the holiday.  Only I didn’t see the tree until I was in his suite at the St. Francis.

He had placed an ad on Craig’s List, the content of which is not important.  He wanted to fuck, he had a suite.  At the time I lived alone and preferred to host my fucks, but the suite thing was quite a draw.  I’d never been a room – much less a suite – in the St. Francis and figured it’d be a fun place to fuck.

I wasn’t wrong.  I arrived at the hotel via cab.  He paid for my cab, as a proper gentleman should, and then I walked toward the hotel’s entrance.

Only he directed me around the corner.  I began to get suspicious.  Had he claimed to be staying at the St. Francis only to lure in the ladies?  Where the fuck did he think he was going to take me?  We were in Union Square, where there are always plenty of people, and in my city, where I know how to get around, so I wasn’t that worried, just annoyed.

He told me he wanted to walk.  Uh, ok, but I was wearing heels, something I don’t normally do, and I could only do so much walking.  Then I figured it out:  He wanted to suss me out.  He wanted to make sure I wasn’t a whore, literally, and thought he could figure out whether I was a thief. After we walked around the block we went to his room.

Er, suite.  It was one of the nicest and largest hotel suites in which I had ever been.  Ever.  There was a wet bar.  There was a dining area with a table that sat eight.  There was a living room area with the usual couch and television.  I didn’t see it – yet – but there was also a huge bedroom.  The suite had two bathrooms.  It was fucking nice.

But the suite was nothing compared to the suite’s view, which overlooked Union Square.  It wasn’t until that night that I even realized it was the holiday season.  I don’t like the holidays, and don’t really notice much except when I go to Walgreens or some such store and see all the bullshit Santa crap.  Basically, working retail when I was in my late teens made me realize what stupidity it is, and that everyone is phony when they’re being nice.

So the view was great, but I wasn’t there to look at the view.  He was standing next to one of the several windows that overlooked Union Square, smoking, trying unsuccessfully to blow the smoke out the tiny sliver he was able to open the window.  I asked if I could suck his cock.

I like asking if I can suck a man’s cock.  It makes me feel naughty just saying the words, and I certainly hope it lets him know that I really want to do it, that I want to do it so badly that I’ll ask, and, if necessary, beg.  When he was there by the window I got on my knees, took down his pants, pulled out his cock, and sucked it.

Then we moved to the couch where we fucked.  We also fucked on the Murphy bed, which was in the living room area.  Eventually we fucked on the suite’s actual bed, in the bedroom.

But my favorite place to fuck in the suite was on the dining table.  The table was big and solid and hard – just right for fucking.  The best thing about it being the holidays was looking at the Christmas tree – upside down – as my head hung off the dining table as I was getting my pussy pounded.  The lights were so pretty.

On my way out I stuffed my purse with hotel soap and lotion, so I was a thief (of sorts), which he hadn’t been able to determine from our little jaunt around the block.

I swear.  True story.

[I love getting stuff like this from readers.  I like knowing that I've sparked a sexy memory, or inspired some sexy thoughts or activities.  I gladly accept guest writer submissions at shazamsf@sbcglobal.net.  This one is pretty hot.]

So:

I finally dug down in my stack of open browser tabs to find I still had the “Guns are Sexy” story open, which I had kept to remind myself I wanted to write something about it. I’ve done it (fucked someone with a gun): it was really fucking hot, and I didn’t think I could ever tell that story to anyone, so your post made me want to do so. I suppose this could have been a blog comment, but I didn’t feel like posting it anonymously just to get lectured about safe gun handling practices by some Internet idiot. I suppose if you liked it, we could consider this a submission for anonymous posting/story time, but I won’t flatter myself by thinking that’s a gimme.

It was with my longest-running fuck- and play-partner, who has a serious thing for force and nonconsent. (She’ll do scenes like that, every day, happily.) We’d done rape scenes with threat of violence from fist or knives, but it only took about five minutes from when she found out I had a real gun to ask if we could incorporate it into a scene. I was surprised because I thought she felt the same way about guns that you described, and I expected her to be mildly disapproving, but her eyes had the shining look that said, “I’ve fantasized about this, and it’s really taboo to me, and I didn’t think I’d ever tell anyone about it or ask about making it real.” The conversation itself was nearly worth the price of admission.

She normally fusses and fights a bit at the start of a force scene, but having the gun pointed at her temple dropped her into subspace faster than nearly any other thing I’ve done to her. She even handcuffed herself without complaint, and I can’t complain about not having to pin her down and stop her struggling to cuff her, once in a while. After I’d exposed her tits and ass and pussy (she likes that done slowly, to maximize the humiliation time), I picked the gun back up, and made her fellate it while I toyed with the rest of her. (She had initially suggested not covering it with a condom, but I didn’t think she actually wanted gun oil and cleaner residue in her mouth and pussy, and I didn’t really feel like stripping and cleaning the weapon immediately after the scene to promptly get girljuices and lube out of it.)

The mouthfucking was honestly the trickiest part; we were both fine with leaving her pussy slightly bruised tomorrow if it was a bit too vigorous, but nobody wanted to deal with a chipped tooth or three. It was worth the caution, though, as having it shoved in her mouth dropped her even further down into subspace, and got her so wet that the additional lube for fucking her cunt with the gun was largely unnecessary (but still fun to apply). I got her onto her knees, shoulders on the bed, hands still cuffed in front of her, and started working it into her pussy. I was surprised by how vigorously she could take it, both in the moment and the next day’s internal aches and pains report. Grabbing her hair and pulling her head back slightly while fucking her worked well. I only regret not having a full length mirror nearby in those days so I could throw her on her back and let her watch it slide into her, which I suspect would have sent her over the moon.

I wanted to try fucking her ass with it, but after all of the buildup, I don’t think either of us had the patience to work her up to trying, and something that rigid and hard and large seemed a bridge too far that night, though it’s still on the list to be tried next time. My cock had to pinch-hit in her ass for the gun. She didn’t seem to mind, especially when I offered her the (still-covered) gun to her lips and let her suck her juices and the lube off of it while I was fucking her.

True story.

–M

(The one piece of practical advice I might give: put a small piece of cotton on the front of the gun at the sight, and then put the condom over it. If anything’s going to scrape, scratch, and otherwise annoy and shorten your play, it’s the scraping from the gun sights.)

This is from Toplin and I’m giving it to DJ so I want to write down some of the wittiest lines.

Do you Flog the Bishop?

Do you Paddle the Pickle?

Jerk the Gherkin?

Bang the Banjo

Strangle the Stogie?

Do you visit Mother Thumb and her Four Children?

Play Solo upon a Private Pump Organ?

Are you stigmatized with a Dishonorable Discharge?

Aren’t they lovely?

The movie “Sex and the City” is the last movie I saw in a movie theater. It also also happens to on my television right now.

I hate that the movie made me cry at all, and I hate that the bullshit of the movie made me cry ever.

Sarah Jessica Parker’s character, Carrie Bradshaw, makes me want to punch her in the face.

I need to come some more. I need. I want.

I finally got to suck cock tonight. I want to do so some more. Anyone want to arrange for me to suck his cock in the mean time? I NEED cock deep down my throat.

I just want to be able to suck cock for as long as someone will let me – forever.

I swear. True story.