Random Rim Jobs

This is my kind of party.  I’ve been to Kinky Salon and Club Kiss, sure, but I’ve certainly never seen anything like this at those parties.  However, I attended a party in a private residence that was a lot of fun.

The host of the party pre-interviewed every attendee.  He accepted only male/female couples or women from their 20s to 40 years of age.  At the interviews he told the potential guests that most of the people were straight but many of the women were “situationally bisexual” at his parties.  He prided himself on putting together a good party with people who had chemistry.

I arrived a little late, as the host lived out in the Richmond.  I was introduced to the other guests whom had already arrived.  There were a few couples and the host, and then me.  One couple was about my age.  The guy was hot and came across as cocky.  I would find out why months later at another party – he had a huge cock.  His woman didn’t say much.

Another couple was hippie-like.  They lived on a farm in Santa Rosa, in Sonoma County.  I had lived in Santa Rosa when I was a kid.  The woman was tiny and had hairy armpits.  She was like a little natural fairy.  She was the first one to bring out sex toys.  Her guy had a beard and long hair.  She was in her early 20s, he was in his mid-30s.  We talked about their age difference and how it meant nothing because they were working.  They seemed like a very happy couple.

One couple was older, well into their 40s.  They told us for her birthday they had engaged the services of a pro at a brothel in Nevada.  They said it was absolutely worth the thousands of dollars they spent and it was one of the best sexual experiences they had had.  She was very thin and quite sickly.  He was bigger and British, or Scottish, or something like that.  They were the first to go into the bedroom and begin to fuck.

There was a couple in their early 20s.  She was more experienced in these sorts of events than he.  He had a sweet, young face.  The kind of sweet and young boy face that makes me swoon.  She was the one who got the action started in the living room by going up to only the women and rubbing up on them while saying, in a sexy, breathy voice, “I just wanna make you feel good.”  I wanted her to make me feel really good.

We began to make out.  But we weren’t ready for an audience just yet, and the living room was very well lit.  She led me into the back bedroom.  We left the door open and we kept the lights off.  We went over to the bed.  She continued to rub me all over.  We continued to kiss.  It was fucking glorious.  Only I wished she had wanted me to touch her, but she wanted to devote all of her energy to making me feel good.  I liked it.

She whispered in my ear.  She asked me if it would be ok for her boyfriend to go down on me while she she played with my breasts.  Yeah, I think that’d be ok.  Very ok.  She went to get her boyfriend.  I rubbed my pussy over my clothes.  He came in.  He looked very shy.  I love me a shy boy.  It makes me feel dirty and pervy.  He and I kissed.  He was so hesitant – but he was doing it.  He was kissing me tentatively.

He talked to his girlfriend.  She told me that there was a change of plan, that he was going to continue to kiss me, and play with my tits, and she was going to go down on me.  That was fine with me.  Whatever these two wanted to do was fine with me.

By this time some of the other people joined us in the bedroom.  Our host turned on a string of red lights and some music.  I think it was Gotan Project.  The boy continued to be very needy.  He brought out something very maternal in me.  Kind of creepy, but being maternal turns me on sometimes.

Eventually the young couple left.  The hippies and I, along with the host, were on the bed.  We talked for a while.  The hippie chick pulled out her bag of toys.  She had a double dildo, and a strap-on harness with an average-sized cock in it.  I was not well-versed in harnesses.  I had worn one only once, for Israel, at that point in my life.  I asked her if she wore it.  I asked her what she did when she wore it.

She said she liked to fuck with it, and that she fucked her boyfriend’s ass with it.  Yes!  That was so fucking hot.

[To be continued ….]

I swear.  True story.

11:27am

I think my hair has forgotten how it’s supposed to dry ’cause it keeps parting in the middle.  That’s not good.  Did Henry call me last night?  No.  Not unless I slept through the phone ringing.  I don’t think so ’cause I answered when Laura called.  He must have been tired – of me.  I don’t know what to wear to work.  I still can’t wear a regular bra ’cause my shoulders still hurt.  I don’t know if Beth got my stuff and I don’t know if Laura’s going to give me a ride home tonight.  But I only have enough money to get to work not back also.  So I have to have a ride.  All dressed now – I look like a geek but I”m dressed.  I can’t get this damn bracelet/cockring off my wrist.  Now that I don’t want it on, I don’t want it on.  I can breathe alright now.  Thanks to the drugs K.C. got for me.  I’m almost out of toilet paper and I’m afraid I won’t remember to steal some.  Maybe Laura can help me remember.  I don’t know though ’cause she forgot the presents for Shilo.  Where is my friendly neighborhood mail carrier?  I want my mail.  My neighbor – the one in Apartment D, which is actually a house, comes home every day for lunch.

[Continued from "Correctional Officer, Part 6."]

Once it was clear the Ex and I were breaking up, he told me that he had cheated on me.  I didn’t care.  I cheated on him more times than he knew.  More times than he now knows.  Telling him would have only served to hurt him.  I think the reason he told me he cheated was to try to hurt me.  But he didn’t get it.  He didn’t get me.  I didn’t care that he fucked someone else, and I didn’t think he should have cared that I fucked someone else.  I asked for details because I thought it was more interesting than anything.

Interesting because I never suspected he cheated on me.  When he told me when and how of his cheating, it made sense.  He had gone on a mountain bike ride with a group he found on Craig’s List or some such thing.  I encouraged him to use the mountain bike that pretty much just took up space in our apartment.  He was gone the whole day.  I went out with some friends that night.  He was supposed meet up with us but I couldn’t reach him.  I figured he was somewhere in the mountains where cell reception was spotty.  He eventually came home very late.

He told me that after the bike ride the group smoked some seriously strong hash.  So strong that he didn’t feel like he could drive.  He opted to sleep off the high in the car.

At the time the Ex and I had sex usually at least once a week.  It had been longer than that when I requested a romp.  He declined.  I asked what was wrong that he didn’t want to have sex and he told me that he was no longer attracted to me because I had gained weight.  I cried, and went for a walk.

Fast forward to August 2007 when he told me the truth.  The truth was that he fucked one of the other mountain bikers and the condom broke.  He freaked out about the condom breaking and went to get STI tests.  When he was awaiting the test results he didn’t want to have sex with me just in case he had contracted something.  Sure, that was nice of him.  However, his method of avoiding sex with me was downright mean.

Even after we were friends and I explained to him why it was so mean to say that to me, he didn’t get it.  He will probably go to his grave thinking the ends – avoiding the possibility of exposing me to an STI – justified the means – telling me he found me unattractive.  He will go to his grave wrong.

He was also wrong to call Correctional Officer’s wife.  Apparently, along with going through my email, the Ex also went through my cell phone bill and called any number he didn’t recognize.  He figured out that one of the numbers belonged to CO.  The Ex claimed he wanted to talk to CO, probably in some sort of macho posturing, “Stay away from my woman” bullshit, but a woman answered the phone.

The Ex later claimed that he felt it was his responsibility to tell her that her husband had fucked me so she could get tested.  My ex-husband was unusually paranoid about STIs.  In an illogical and stupid way.  Because if I was clean and only fucking him, and he was clean, then how could I have given anything to a guy who, until he fucked me, was monogamous with his wife, who was supposedly only fucking him?  So it was the Ex’s fault that I was called a fucking whore by the wife of the guy  with whom I’d had one awkward go.

I was angry at the Ex for making that call, because it was unnecessary and only served to fuck up yet another relationship.  This is another thing about which the Ex and I will never agree.  He thought I was overly concerned for CO and his marriage.  Truth be told, I had no clue what was going on with CO’s marriage because after the one call where he hung up I thought it best to cut off contact.  I was concerned about my friend, CO, not the guy I fucked, CO.

However, I had no one to talk to about any of the shit that was going on in my life.  Because I was so fucking horrible as to fuck someone not my husband, all – yes, ALL – of our supposedly mutual friends cut me off.  The Ex was supposedly some sort of saint – unless you were married to him.  The one friend who would be on my side I wasn’t allowed to talk to for fear of fucking up his marriage along with my own.

The Ex was so dumb as to tell me he hoped me and CO would be happy together.  Really?  He thought I’d move to that shit town where CO lived and he and I would live happily ever after with his kid?  The Ex clearly didn’t know me at all.  I don’t have to be in love to fuck.  I don’t even have to like the person.  But the Ex thought I wanted to break up for a relationship with CO.  What an idiot.

I did see Correctional Officer again ….

[To be continued, obviously.]

I swear.  True story.

Fucking so many different people allows me to be so many different people. I am a different me with each of them.  But I’m also not phony with any of them; I’m me, just a different me.

Sometimes it’s odd when they meet each other, but I need to get over that feeling since I live in San Francisco where everyone has fucked everyone else.

With some people I’m a top, with others I’m a bottom.  With some people I’m both a top and a bottom.  Some people spank me.  Some people slap me.  Some people fuck my ass.  I fuck some ass.  I lick ass.  My ass gets licked.  I bury my face in pussy.  I sit on faces.  Sometimes it’s gentle, sometimes it’s rough.  Some people thrill me with their conversation.  Some people bore me.  Some look good.  Some look really good.  Some look so good I’m shocked they want to have sex with me.  Some cocks I suck.  Most cocks I suck.  Some cocks go down my throat.  Some come goes down my throat.  Some come goes on my face.  Some come goes on my tits.  Some come I use as lube.  Some people fist me.  Some people I fist.  Some people tie me up.  Some people I tie up.

The possibilities are nearly endless.  Sure, there are commonalities, because I’m always there, but because of the other people I’m allowed to sexually express myself in a variety of ways.

It depends on my mood and the vibe I get off the other person, or persons.  I’ve had great sex with some people and downright shitty sex with others.  The shitty sex generally occurred with people who can’t get over themselves in some way.  People who aren’t comfortable in their bodies or who are ashamed of their desires or who don’t have confidence in their skills tend to be not all that much fun in bed.  Sex isn’t a serious thing; mistakes are ok and laughing is encouraged.

Sometimes I have orgasms, sometimes I don’t.  Sometimes they have orgasms, sometimes they don’t.  Not having an orgasm isn’t the end of the world, though I am particularly proud of myself when I elicit an orgasm from a body, mine or someone else’s.  Different kinds of orgasms are just amazing to me.  The ones that make me scream.  The ones that make me cry.  The ones that make me laugh.  The ones that make me feel mean.  The ones that make me feel tired.  The ones that make me feel powerful.  The ones that make me feel smug.  The ones that make me grateful to be alive.  The ones that make me forget I am alive.  The ones that make me repeatedly thank the person who helped me achieve them.

Each person gets a different me.  Each person who fucks me more than once gets a different me each time.  It’s like roulette – good luck.

I swear.  True story.

Laura came by for a visit.  I knew she would.  Now she’s gonna go work out.  I can’t because I don’t have my damn membership card with me.  I found my neighbor’s paycheck stub.  I’ll have to return it.  Maybe in their mailbox.  For some reason I don’t want to talk to them.  Why am I afraid of people?  That’s not good if I want to travel a lot.  I’ll probably do so alone and since I don’t like being alone I should meet people but I’m afraid of them.  Not good.  I’m tired but Henry hasn’t called me yet.  He most likely won’t.  I should just go to sleep.  God, I wish I had a life.  I have an idea:  Henry brings the keys over himself tonight and surprises me.  He knows I like surprises and he would be so happy that I would be so happy that I would be so happy to get my stuff back that he would kiss me.  Why doesn’t he kiss me?

[Continued from guest writer Dick Cramden's "The Ride."]

We entered through the revolving door and made our way across the mostly empty lobby to the elevators. An elevator car was waiting. We walked inside, and to my disappointment another woman entered with us. I pushed 14 for my floor, and the woman pushed nine.

We couldn’t make it beyond two before our passion got the better of us. Soon we were entwined with each other again. I found a spot, just behind your earlobe which elicited from you a throaty moan. My eyes opened as you did, and I caught the stare of our unintended audience of one. She was enthralled by our antics and visibly moved. She was unconsciously moving her hand down the front of her breast, her nipples now fully erect under her blouse. The car suddenly stopped at nine, and broke her spell. She hesitated for a moment, then stepped out of the car. She paused and turned for one last look. You were stroking my erection through my pants, and you smiled at her and wished her a good night. The doors closed.

I pushed you back against the back wall of the car, a ran my hand up your thigh to your damp panties. The extent of your dampness surprised and delighted me. I slipped my thumb underneath, and moved it over your swollen wet lips. You moaned again, and our tongues once more played in each others’ mouths.

The fourteenth floor came upon us quickly, and we made our quick exit. The short walk down the hall to my room seemed exceedingly long. I opened the door and we walked in, leaving the lights off.

In anticipation that the night might bring us both back here, I had placed a few candles on the dresser. I lit them and turned to see you bathed in the soft candle light. My god, you were exquisite.

We moved toward each other slowly, the light of the candles adding a new element of romance to what was just moments before simple raw desire.

Our lips met again, tenderly this time. Our hands explored each other, softly this time. But it didn’t take long for the fires to be stoked within us again. Soon we were undressing each other. When I removed your blouse, I was immediately taken by the sight of your exposed soft skin. It glowed in the candle light, and I bent to kiss you between your breasts as I slipped a hand behind you and unhooked your bra. Your breasts were magnificent, and I could not explain why you had not shown them off more. One less button would have delighted all onlookers as they caught a glimpse of those mounds, so perfectly shaped, so supple.

I knelt before you and took a nipple into my mouth as my hands slowly caressed your silk clad calves and thighs, then up to your bare skin and finally to your ass. Thong panties. How delightful.

I alternately kissed and sucked each of your breasts and nipples, then kissed my way down your stomach, playing with your navel. I unzipped you skirt and let it fall around your feet. I buried my face into your crotch and tasted you through your panties, breathing out hot air between your legs.

I turned you slightly and pushed you onto your back on the bed, holding your sexy legs, feeling the silk against my naked chest. I stood up, and carefully unhooked your garter. Then I threaded the straps through your panties, and expertly reattached them to the stockings. Then slowly I pulled your panties down.

In the light from the candles behind me, I could see how slick your excitement had made your sweet pussy. My heart beat strongly in my chest, and I could hear it pounding in my ears, as I knelt between you legs, coming face to face with your bare sex.

Your hand greeted the back of my head as my tongue made its first slow glide up between your lips, capturing your sweet nectar which coated my tongue. The taste was ambrosia, and I almost came right then myself. I lifted your legs and placed your feet, still clad in pumps, onto my shoulders.

I licked and nibbled at your thighs, and brushed my face lightly over your hair, taking in your aroma. Teasing you with only occasional touches of tongue where you wanted it most. You tried to lure me in by spreading your lips with your hands, exposing your clit for easy licking, but I was not ready yet to please you that way. I didn’t want you to come, not just yet. I wanted you to experience the heights of ecstasy. And that meant taking our time.

I traced the edges of your lips with the tip of my tongue. Sucking a lip into my mouth on occasion, just to hear your moans. I used the tip of my tongue to firmly trace the outside folds of your sweet, sweet pussy. Over and over I would move my tongue gingerly around your puss, carefully avoiding your clit and the entrance to your canal. Your hips would buck up in futile attempts to increase the pressure of my oral ministrations. But I moved my head up with your hips each time.

Finally, I parted your lips with the tip of my tongue, making an upward pass towards your clit. I almost skipped touching your clit, but I wanted to see how you’d react. Was this the right time to begin to send you over the edge?

Your body told me it was. As my tongue passed over your swollen bud, your body instantly twitched and writhed as you were stabbed by the sensation of pure pleasure. A moan, sounding almost like the word “yes” escaped your throat.

I licked up between your lips again. Another gentle flick over your clit. Another wild reaction. Another moan. I licked my way up again. Another gentle flick. Your hips were now beyond your control. Moans left your mouth with every breath you let out.

Your hands return to splay your lips again. Your clit exposed most invitingly to me once again. Slowly I made circle around the tip of your clit with the tip of my tongue. Small circles, very slow circles and very, very lightly. You returned one hand to the back of my head and tried to pull me closer. But I know that being patient helps build the intensity of your orgasm. I need this one to be special, for you and for me.

I know your pussy is craving more attention, so I bring my hands between your legs to assist me in pleasuring you. I poke my finger into your vagina. It’s so wet, and your hips instantly respond, and your pussy seems to actually swallow it into you. I did not expect to move into you so fast, but when your moans turned into sexual grunts of pleasure, how could I stop? I couldn’t.

Another finger joined the first. Sliding two fingers into your sopping hole was easy. And we soon found a “fucking” rhythm that pumped my fingers in and out of you as your hips bucked down and up against my had. I controlled the speed with the tip of my tongue, still playing with your clit in the same torturous way.

I didn’t know how you would react to this next move. But I thought I would try. I paused pleasing your clit, only for an instant in order to wet the fingers on my other hand with my saliva. Then my tongue returned to you.

I took the fore finger of my free hand and pressed the tip lightly into the pucker of your ass. Your moan gave me my answer. I left my finger where it was, letting the bucking of your hips slowly maneuver it inside you, until it was just passed a knuckle deep.

Now I was going out of my mind. My lips finally encircled your tender bud, and sucked on it, swirling my tongue around it as I did. Now we were like a machine. My sucking your clit seemed to guide your hips which helped me slide my fingers in and out of your gushing hole as I wriggled another finger in your tight ass.

My head slowly bobbed up and down, and I could feel myself deviating from my own plan, picking up the tempo. To keep from losing all control, I occasionally stopped to blow a stream of cool air over your clit, or to flick it with the tip of my tongue again.

But control was fleeting, and soon I was pressing hard, with broad strokes with the flat of my tongue onto your clit. Your arms began to flail about you and your body began to writhe. Your hips began bucking faster and harder, and the pumping of my hand turned into fucking. I twisted my fingers around inside you as I fucked you faster and faster. I would stroke and massage up along the wall inside your hot pussy, and as I did your moans of “oh god” grew louder and louder.

Your legs were moving, grazing my back with the heels of your shoes. My own hips were bucking madly now, and I wanted to plunge myself into your … but that would have to wait.

Your occasional moaning became one long moan. Then it turned into a scream as your body began to tremble and shake. Your legs began to twitch and your thighs closed around my head. Your climax was beginning, and I kept a soft yet firm and steady pressure on your clit as I sucked on it, trying to extend it, making it last as long as possible. I counted the seconds in my head. One, two, “oh my god,” three, four, “ohhhh,” five, six, “oh god yes.” I looked up to see your hands pinching and twisting your nipples. Seven, eight, “yes, mmmmm, yessss,” nine, ten, “oh god, oh my god,” eleven, twelve, “mmmmm ohhhhh,” thirteen, fourteen, “ahhhhhh god, yessss,” fifteen, sixteen. I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want to turn the pleasure into discomfort or pain, so I slowly began easing off of you. I watched you for a few more moments as you continued to writhe and twitch, shaking your head back and forth, your arms stretched out over your head, playing with your hair. Then settling down, to just heavy breathing. And a big smile.

Our night is just beginning ….

[To be continued.]

This is another photo I’ve stolen from someone’s Tumblr.  No clue whose.  Sorry.  But it makes me want to eat a cupcake.  And ass.  A cupcake out of an ass.  Yum!