Random Rim Jobs
I swear. True story.Warren’s “Cheating” (8)
Posted on September 13, 2011[Continued from "Warren's 'Cheating' (7)."]
The rest of the week went as he imagined. Each night, every ten minutes, he received another picture or short movie clip. He continued to send text messages and leave her voicemails, sometimes up to a half-dozen times a day, to let her know he was thinking about her. She did not answer the phone or respond to his text messages, but most of the emails he got contained some kind of sweet note, in addition to the very graphic evidence of her continued infidelity. He was anxious to fly home not to stop the barrage of emails (he saved every one permanently to his computer), but simply to actually have a live conversation with her.
She met him at the airport wearing her prettiest dress and an enormous smile. She ran to him, jumped into his arms, and smothered him with kisses. They held each other for several minutes, as if they hadn’t seen each other for years. When she broke their embrace, he asked if she’d accompany him to dinner, and explained that he had made reservations at her favorite restaurant. She squealed with happiness, and the two departed, arm in arm at last.
He had his hopes up that she was going to explain her entire week in excruciating detail, and began goading her as soon as they were in the car.
“So, how was your week baby?”
“Oh, it was good… I missed you. I was kind of bored. You know, just normal work stuff.”
“You couldn’t possibly have been bored, you sent me all that stuff.”
“Well, yeah, but it wasn’t all from this week.”
“Some of it had to have been,” he said, preparing his Detective voice. “We switched those two pictures on the wall about two days before I left, and at least some of the pictures showed them. In fact, I don’t think any of the pictures showed them the way they used to be.”
“Well, okay,” she smiled broadly, “I wasn’t that bored. But I definitely did miss you.”
“Fair enough,” he said triumphantly. “But will you tell me one thing?”
“Maybe,” she said, narrowing her eyes as she smiled.
“How many times … did you?”
“Oh honey, you don’t want to know things like that,” she said, stroking his arm.
“I really do, actually,” he said.
“How many do you think?” she challenged.
“I don’t know, I sometimes couldn’t tell the guys apart. It seemed like at least ten different guys were in different pictures.”
She laughed out loud. “You really scoured those pictures, didn’t you baby?”
“Well, yeah, it’s the only thing I had to do at night.”
“What, you couldn’t go find yourself some tiny little Japanese hooker and relieve yourself?”
“Do you think that’s what I wanted?”
“I don’t know, what did you want?” she asked coyly.
“What I really wanted was to see the entire video tape. You sent me four little pieces from it.”
She just smiled at him.
“So… will I get to see the entire video tape?” he asked hopefully.
She hesitated, but did not stop smiling. “I don’t know,” was all she said. She cocked her head to the side, considering.
“Oh, come on, you let me see some of the best parts of it already,” he said.
“Those weren’t necessarily the best parts, sweetie.”
“Please?” He didn’t know what else to say.
“I’ll think about it,” she said in a sort of authoritarian way.
He decided that pressuring her was not likely to elicit a positive response, so he doubled back and decided to ask more questions.
“How long is the video?” he asked, almost shaking in anticipation of her answer.
“Well… it wasn’t just one video, it was three. And each was pretty much a full tape, ninety minutes.”
He was stunned. He tried to do the math… seven days, four and half hours of video, more than 30 minutes a day on average.
“Wow,” was all he managed to say. “You mean…”
“But honey, you can’t see the tapes,” she said, suddenly seeming to have made up her mind.
“Why not?” he said, aware that it sounded like he was about to whine.
She sighed slightly. “I just prefer to keep them to myself.”
After a few minutes of pained silence, she continued. “The tapes show me doing things I’ve never done with you, and I don’t want you to get any ideas.” She knew this was a bombshell, and she was going to enjoy the aftermath. They were just pulling into the restaurant parking lot, and he was going to have to wait a while to get anything more out of her.
His jaw dropped. “You mean … the clips you sent me were … the tame parts?” He thought back to the video clips, which all had shown her having very savage sex with different men. One had shown her accepting an enormous load of cum in her mouth.
“Well, they certainly weren’t my favorite parts,” she said, opening her car door.
[To be continued ….]
Warren’s “Cheating” (7)
Posted on September 05, 2011[Continued from "Warren's 'Cheating' (6)."]
He was beginning to get tired, and finally realized the evil of her ways: she knew it was nighttime for him. She was going to send one photograph every ten minutes, knowing full well that he would never be able to get to sleep, wanting to wait just a bit longer for the next image. He was thankful to have a bit of jet lag, and decided to wait for the next image. It was a psychological challenge very much like a snooze button.
The next soft ping made his stiff cock ache even more strongly. He opened the email excitedly, clicking several times in the wrong spot before hitting it properly. It turned out to not be an image at all, but a video. His hands began to shake, his heart pounding. Did she send him a video of the entire encounter? That would be like a dream come true – in over a year, he had never even seen a glimpse of her with another man, and that became something like the Holy Grail to him, the ultimate win.
He opened the movie, which played for a second, and stopped. He cursed. All he saw was her face, which filled most of the frame. She was apparently in a doggy-style position of some sort, her arms down in front of her. Her mouth was open, her eyes were closed, and she was moaning – no, screaming. He clicked the play button again – the video was only about one second long, and contained just one powerful stroke from the man presumably but invisibly behind her. He saw her eyes squeezing a little tighter as he presumably filled her completely, heard one gasp escaping from her lips. He played the video over and over again, cursing at it for being only one second long, cursing himself for actually thinking she’d send him a whole video. The sound of his thighs slapping her ass as he finished the stroke dominated the audio track; that and the look of her eyelids tightening slightly were the only clues he had to what she was doing. His imagination was going wild, and he was masturbating almost without intending to do so, touching his penis instinctively with so much pent up sexual frustration. He was about to let himself cum, watching this silly one second video on an endless loop, when the email program pinged once more.
He opened the new email to find another picture of her, this time on her tummy on the bed. Most of her torso and hips were visible, but not her head or legs. There was a very powerful looking man laying with his stomach against her back, his skin a little darker than hers, his cock invisible but surely following the curve of her buttocks, buried deeply in her pussy. He couldn’t resist it anymore, and came buckets all over himself. He mopped it up with his underwear, and decided to go to sleep. He closed the laptop’s screen, but couldn’t bring himself to close the email program first. He knew full well it was going to ping again in about seven minutes, but he couldn’t bear to not hear that ping. He climbed into bed and waited for it. He listened to many more, groaning after each one, fighting with himself to stay in bed, his mind wandering helplessly, trying to guess the content of all the images or clips of video that now awaited him.
He finally fell asleep several hours later, and was grateful that the ping was not loud enough to wake him. It was going to be a very long week.
[To be continued ….]
Warren’s “Cheating” (6)
Posted on September 01, 2011[Continued from "Warren's 'Cheating' (5).]
He arrived in Japan the next Sunday night. He called her cell phone, but got no answer, which was odd. She seemed to always answer her cell phone these days, in a very effective effort to hide her tracks. He sighed. It was the middle of the night in Japan, but still daylight in the US. He set up his laptop computer, connected to the internet, and browsed the web for a while, trying to encourage himself to sleep. His email program emitted a soft ping, indicating a new message.
It was from her; the subject was, “See? I have a heart.”
He opened it, not sure at all what to expect.
There, glowing on his laptop screen, floating silently in the darkened Japanese hotel room, was a very graphic photograph of her pussy, quite obviously soaking wet. He stared at this photograph for a few minutes before noticing the head of a man’s erect penis in the bottom-left part of the picture. Below the photo was a simple caption: “I love you honey!”
He sat back in his chair in amazement, his cock growing hard. He had never, not even once, gotten a glimpse of her with another man. He had gone through periods of pleading, but she always insisted that it was not going to happen. She pretended to be angry at him a few months before for trying to catch her on a hidden camera, and told him she’d never allow him to see her in the act, ever, for the rest of their lives. He was pretty sure she meant it, since she had carefully prevented it for more than a year.
He was just beginning to ponder whether or not she was going to keep her word when the email program emitted another soft ping.
He opened the next email to find another full-color photograph, this one of her mouth, her lips spread wide to accept a cock that had to have been 50% bigger than his own. The photo was zoomed in, cropped so that all he could see was her lips and his shaft. He shuddered, and began to desperately hope she was going to send full-body photographs, showing her in her entirety.
He picked up the phone and called her again. It just rang. While he listened to the grainy rings, he looked at the two emails, and noticed something curious. They had been sent exactly 10 minutes apart, down to the second, in an odd coincidence. She must be there at her computer at this very minute, but she wasn’t answering the phone.
He called a few more times over the next few minutes, and was beginning to feel a little helpless and frightened. Where was she? He didn’t have much time to worry before he heard yet another soft ping. Another color photograph, taken over her head. He could see that she was holding two different cocks, one in each hand. They were large, with an ideal shape. She had no doubt selected them carefully. He began wondering how often she saw these men. He wondered if he had tasted one of these men’s cum in her mouth that morning he kissed her in the shower. He was so entranced with the image that he didn’t notice the caption for a few minutes: “I can’t talk on the phone sweetie.. I’m a little busy :o) I love you!”
He figured it out quickly. She had it all planned out. She wasn’t going to speak to him all week – her only communications were going to be these explicit photographs, sent once every ten minute by some automated program. He didn’t know if these photographs were of previous encounters, stored up for this purpose, or whether they were more or less live images, documenting what she was doing this very day. He assumed that he would probably never know.
[To be continued ….]
(Not so) Winning Opening Lines (Again x 4)
Posted on August 27, 2011I think this may be the last of these. I’m not getting nearly as much interest in my profile as I used to, probably because of my all-caps paragraph telling anyone outside of Chicago not to bother. I probably come off as too bitchy, which is fine with me as it weeds out the weak ones.
Hi, how are you?
hi how are you would like to hang out for a drink
Lincoln park dpu guy here
[That's DePaul University for those of you who don't know. The guy is 20. He's probably one of the drunken DePaul students I hear yelling in the street at 3am. Oh, maybe not since he's not old enough to get into any bars.]
heyy
hi sexy
224-639-2595
[That is the number of "hi sexy," above. He's the one who repeatedly called me a cougar, as if that would be something I'd want to be called. I gave him "773 867 5309" and told him it was Jenny's number. He didn't get it.]
[This charmer didn't message me, but I happened across his profile. First, the hair. Next, the eyeliner. Finally, the oh-so-serious look. All scream, "Dipshit!" But what got me to look at his profile in the first place was his profile name: rapefantasy85. No, there aren't 84 others who wanted the "rapefantasy" name, this guy was born in 1985. Real dipshit material: claims to be interested in women between 23 and 40 but then says no women over 30 should bother messaging him.]
your smile makes my thirsty
hi sexy
[This is the same guy who gave me his phone number, above. He seemed to have forgotten that I gave him a fake number.]
morning
i like the practical mature get to the point remark
with you :)
hey! i am going crazy, i am so into you and i would love to meet!
I enjoyed reading your profile!
Very Beautiful , My name is Rocky , I dig your Hair, for sure, Is your T shirt For real,…………. well I am easy going laid back down to earth , simple but fun , dude,
[Need I point out all the things wrong with this?! I think Rocky may have a head full of rocks. Also, we were only a 49% match so chances are we'd hate each other anyway.]
Great profile. Love the bluntness! You rock!
hi, would love to get on cam with you and have some fun!
hey shazam….YOU are a trip! never read a profile like yours before. good luck to you!
[This one's harmless, I just don't see the point. I don't need an OkCupid cheerleader in the 'burbs.]
Hey, how are you doing?
[Yeah, I'm doing fine, I guess. Does it really matter to a 'tard who can't figure out a better pickup line?]
I only say that bc you’re barricaded.
[I have no fucking clue what this guy meant.]
I swear. True story.
Warren’s “Cheating” (5)
Posted on August 26, 2011[Continued from "Warren's 'Cheating' (4)."]
The two fell into a rather pleasant pattern – she made sure to always leave enough hints about to keep his suspicions up. Whenever he’d become resigned or complacent about her cheating, she’d make sure to leave a phone number with a date and time on the pad beside the phone. She began giving him just enough information to know something was going on, but never enough to fully understand the totality of it. She liked the look in his eyes when he questioned her. She liked the feeling of power it gave her to deny him the information he desperately wanted. She loved the sexual energy it provoked in him just to know that she was doing something without his knowledge.
She was cheating on him regularly, a few times a week, with any of the eight or so men she kept on her list. She felt confident that he had no idea what she was doing or how often she was doing it. He tried all of his tricks in turn. He set up a hidden camera in a pile of laundry in the bedroom, but she noticed the VCR’s record light the night before, and knew exactly what he was doing. Just to rub it in, she invited one of her lovers over for a nooner, took off her panties, and dropped them over the camera lens before proceeding to have a very heated session with him on their bed, allowing him to cum twice inside her. He never mentioned the video tape, though she caught him masturbating to the audio track a few nights later, the screen showing nothing but the out-of-focus red blur of her panties.
Her sexual freedom was unabashed; she was both deeply in love and very promiscuous at the same time, and in truth she had never been happier in her entire life. He learned to discern when she had been playing by the taste and feel of her vagina, although he never knew for sure if his guesses were right. Sometimes he had the feeling that she was fucking other men every single day, and his libido was in constant overdrive, filling her pussy with enormous loads of semen every night in his natural biological urge to compete. With few exceptions, she gave him no information at all about her habits. She liked it that way, and suspected that he enjoyed some aspect of it, also.
Now that the commitment of her primary emotional relationship was guaranteed, she began exploring her sexual horizons. She began arranging for two men to meet her at once, and began learning to please two men simultaneously in the bed she shared with her boyfriend every night. She began to grow so fond of these encounters that she began passing up one-on-one opportunities in order to schedule more threesomes. After about two months, she was exclusively seeing men two at a time, with the exception of two lovers who were so much fun that she continued to see them anytime they were available.
He announced that he had to go on a business trip to Japan for a week. He was very distraught, and said that he had fought long and hard to have someone else go instead. Unfortunately, he was the only one available, and had to go. She asked him why he was so forlorn about it, and he answered “I know what you’re going to do the entire time I’m gone.”
She laughed. “Well, you’re probably right honey, but what does that matter?”
“I don’t know. At least when I’m here I feel like I have some idea of what’s going on. I’ve sort of figured out your habits … I mean, I think. I can usually tell when you’ve been playing, and I like that. I don’t like the idea of being on the other side of the planet and not having any idea what you’re doing,” he said.
“I know what you mean, sweetie,” she said, surprising him. “I like your involvement just the way it is – you know it’s happening, but nothing specific. I like how you’re always trying to figure it out. It wouldn’t be nearly as much fun for me if it weren’t a challenge.”
“So you’re not going to do anything while I’m gone?” he asked, his eyes pleading. “Come on, honey … have a heart, please?”
She laughed gently, nodding at him. “I’ll think about it, baby,” she said.
[To be continued ….]
Warren’s “Cheating” (4)
Posted on August 24, 2011[Continued from "Warren's 'Cheating' (3)."]
He slammed himself through the door of the apartment, aimed himself directly at the charger still sitting on the floor next to the couch, and almost completely crossed the room before noticing the strange noise – the shower. She was still in the apartment, and she was showering again – the second time in so many hours. His pulse quickened as he opened the bathroom door, steam escaping around him, half-expecting to find Jonathan in the shower with her.
She was in front of the mirror, not yet in the shower. She jumped in genuine surprise when he opened the door, then smiled at him. “Oh, hi baby. You scared me. What are you doing here? Did you forget something?”
“Yeah,” he said, “the …. What are you doing here? Why are you taking another shower?”
“Because I need one, that’s why,” she said, as she wiped her face with a tissue. She continued to wipe her face, very gingerly. He took a step closer before realizing with a start that her face was messy with something.
“Do you have cum on your face?” he asked, incredulously, not even believing it was possible. He instinctively started looking around the bathroom for the responsible penis. He peeked out the door, wondering if Jonathan was still in the apartment. “Jonathan?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s cum. No, it wasn’t Jonathan. I need a shower because it feels like there’s a lot more of it inside me,” she said, never turning her face from the mirror. She said it so nonchalantly that he wondered if she expected him to just nod and go back to work.
“There’s more than one guy?” he asked, caught in the sort of disbelief one feels immediately stupid for being caught in. She looked at him with one eyebrow slightly raised, making it clear it wasn’t the sort of question she planned to answer. He took another shot. “So you’ve been doing this in our bed all this time while I was at work? I thought you forgot all about it.”
She took a step toward him, took his hand, and pulled it toward her pussy. He felt how warm and swollen her outer lips were, still wet with a mixture of bodily fluids. She looked him directly in the eye and said softly “I had sex in this apartment with another man as soon as the movers finished, while you were still at work, even before I had sex with you. This is the way I live my life, so rest assured that I’m never going to forget about it, even if you do.” She smiled brightly and kissed him deeply. He could still taste the lingering taste of semen in her mouth, and it aroused him more than anything in his recent memory. She felt his erection through his pants for a moment, squeezing him gently, before announcing that she had better get into the shower and get her butt to work. She hugged him very tightly, and told him she loved him. The soft smile on her face said it all: she really did love him. She meant it.
As much as it amazed him, he was growing more and more confident with the whole situation with each exposure. His girlfriend was totally in control of the situation. She chose her sexual partners discreetly and presumably wisely. Her love for him continued to grow, even though she had been cheating on him for literally almost their entire relationship. He took comfort in the knowledge that he would never know for sure if or when she was cheating; it felt oddly quite satisfying to have it all beyond his control.
[To be continued ….]
Warren’s “Cheating” (3)
Posted on August 22, 2011[Continued from "Warren's 'Cheating' (2)."]
“No. I get to decide how it works. I’ve already decided it,” she said simply. She looked directly in his eyes, without the slightest hint of fear. She was aghast at her own sudden outpouring of attitude. She wanted to break his gaze and look around the room, as if to discover the source of a loud, unexpected noise that only she heard. She trembled slightly, and hoped he didn’t notice.
“I’ll find out what you’re doing anyway,” he said smugly, his face turning a bit sour. He could tap her phone line, bug her computer, follow her to work, put hidden cameras in their bedroom. “You can’t stop me.”
She cracked a smile involuntarily. His stern expression softened for a moment, then he began to grin. The atmosphere in the room felt like that inside a balloon just after being popped. She stood up, confidently striding toward him with small, feminine steps. “You’re right, I can’t stop you,” she said as she straddled him atop the couch. “But you can’t stop me either.” She began kissing his neck. “Besides,” she whispered, “I don’t really think you want to.”
They tore at each others’ clothes wordlessly, until finally he slipped inside her, desperate to feel her body. He started. “I can tell!” he said, with an almost boyish grin. “I can tell you’ve been fucked recently. You’re deeper, a little looser. I can tell. It must have been just a few hours ago, right?”
She began fucking him hard and fast, looking into his eyes. He fought to keep them open as he grasped her butt with both hands. “Right?” he asked again, breathlessly.
“I don’t kiss and tell,” she said. “If you manage to find out what I’m doing … well, good for you,” she cooed, “but I’m not going to tell you anything I don’t want you to know.”
With that, he lifted her off himself, turned her over, and fucked her until she was screaming in pleasure, glimpses of her naked pussy filled with a stranger’s cock appearing in his mind like flashbulbs in the distance. Within minutes, he peaked, filling her pussy with arguably the biggest load he had ever felt himself produce.
He gasped for breath, holding himself over her on his hands, and she began running her fingertips down his neck. “Mmmm,” she sighed, “that’s the third time today I’ve felt that.” His eyes opened, a brief look of alarm visible behind his exhausted lids. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of feeling that.”
Within a few days, everything returned to what seemed normal. She showered him with affection like she always had. Their endless stream of love notes went uninterrupted, and she was home from work every day by six. The novelty of the situation began to fade from his mind. He stopped thinking about this Jonathan fellow, and it seemed to him that she had, also. He got over his preoccupation with her extracurricular activities, and she never mentioned anything. He guessed that she had finally gotten bored with the whole idea, or maybe Jonathan had stopped coming by her cube.
The two woke one bright Tuesday morning and went through their normal morning routine, getting ready for two jobs on different sides of the city. He watched her take her birth control pills from her purse, and couldn’t decide if he was grateful or disappointed that she had forgotten about Jonathan. The two kissed and left for their jobs in two automobiles, exiting onto the freeway in opposite directions. He was almost to his office in the financial district – almost half an hour from their apartment – when he realized he forgot the charger for his laptop computer. Without it, he wouldn’t be able to do any work at all. He stopped at the office briefly to check his voicemail, and began calling clients back on the frustratingly long drive back to the apartment.
[To be continued ….]
