Random Rim Jobs

[Here's another post from a guest writer.  Your writing, too, can be immortalized here on Random Rim Jobs.  Just email me, shazamsf@sbcglobal.net.]

As I was sitting, sipping my dirty martini, smoking a fine cigar, I peered across the table, through the smoke. The candlelight flickering in your eyes and that devious smile gave me that all-too-familiar feeling. Your words were barely audible over the crooning of the jazz singer behind us. I asked you to move closer and you whispered in my ear. As you moved back in your chair, that smile crept across your face again.

Upon completion of our drinks and my stogie, I suggested that we make our leave, to which you quickly agreed. However, instead of heading back to the car, you wanted to walk around, enjoying the cool night air. As we walked, our fingers entwined. We stroked and caressed each other gently and playfully as we walked. With each step, we could feel the energy building between us. It wasn’t long before we cut the walk short and drove back to the house.

As we walked into the house, our lips found each other, and we kissed passionately. After we made it into the bedroom, I lay you on the bed and kissed your ears, neck, chin, and breasts. I then removed your blouse and bra. My mouth enjoyed your body, as I kissed, licked, and nibbled up and down your arms, across your stomach. I traced circles around your nipples, careful not to let my tongue touch them. As I did, your nipples grew hard.

I slowly removed your pants and panties. Again, I kissed, licked, and nibbled up and down your legs. You squirmed with excitement. I placed your hands above your head and told you to leave them there. As I ran my tongue between your soft, velvety folds, I could feel the sheets pulled taut by your hands clutch the sheets.

I put a piece of ice in my mouth and continued to orally please you, tracing the tip of the cube across your engorged clit, causing intense feeling of pleasure to go through your body. My arms wrapped tighter around your thighs. I then sucked on each of your nipples, the warmth of my lips contrasting the the coldness of the ice. After what must have seemed an eternity for you, I arose.

Instead of sliding right in, I teased you a bit. Then with one sudden movement, I entered you completely. An audible gasp filled the room. I took your hands in mine, grasping your wrists, and held them to the bed. Neither of us dared speak a word, as I performed my art. Your eyes told me everything that needed to be said. I fulfilled every request you made.

My fingers gently stroked the sides of your neck, your ears, your cheeks, and your chin before I took hold of your jaw, and moved your head to the side. I then bit your neck. Your body writhed in ecstasy. As you moved closer to climax, your breathing became heavy. I covered your mouth with my hand, as if to quiet you down, and bit harder on your neck. Your body then quaked with orgasmic force. I stayed inside you afterward, your body shivering with aftershocks.

As we lie there in our bliss, stroking each other’s bodies, drawing on each other with our fingertips, running our hands through each other’s hair, we could do nothing but smile.

I’m not much of a lingerie gal.  Relatively recently I received a very nice gift of a bra and pantie set that I like (I picked ‘em out after all.) but otherwise I’m pretty practical.  When fucking someone new it can be a tad embarrassing to show that I wear plain, boring bras and no underwear.

This corset I’d definitely wear.  I’ve only ever been in a corset once.  It was for a Kink.com contest, the picture for which was the reason the Viking and I met.  The reason he sought me out on Twitter and asked me to lunch.  The reason I’m so happy.

I’m not even sure this is lingerie.  It’s sexy as fuck.  It’s edgy.  It’s architectural.  If I was that thin I could see myself parading around in this black ensemble.  It’s not practical in any way whatsoever, but that’s what makes it sexy.

I’m really and honestly not one for frilly, girlie things, but this bra and pantie set is absolutely gorgeous.  I love the pretty bows, the color, and the cut of the panties, all of which are unique and beautiful.

Maybe someday I’ll be able to justify purchases of sexy, impractical, edgy lingerie.

I swear.  True story.

We, or actually I, was talking about Rod Stewart and was looking out loud for a song and Henry said, “Do you think I’m sexy?” and then started singing it and he said, “No, not the song, I was really asking, do you think I’m sexy?”  So I said plain and simple, “Yes.”  And then I sort of changed the subject and I was telling him that I liked it when he sounded athorative [sic.] but I was laughing so now he’s afraid his kids’ll laugh at him.  This is the worst my body has ever looked and it’s only going downhill.  Bodies can and do keep getting worse.  Well, I have a little mini vacation coming.  Good I’m tired of working and I hate my job.  Or do I really?  I don’t like getting bored.  I don’t like putting books away.  I don’t like customers when I don’t like them.  I don’t like Lori.  K.C. makes me depressed – the woman’s never had a boyfriend and I doubt that the thought of a girlfriend has seriously crossed her mind.

Henry said something sexual – about blowing – to me.  It was very funny.  Asked me if I knew how.  I lied and said yes.  It really was a joke that had nothing to do with what you’re thinking.

… You worthless bitch

You fickle shit …

… I’ll still be here as strong as you

and walk away in spite of you …

Bauhaus

I wonder if he actually considered my answer to the sexy question.  If I would have pressed then, he probably would’ve passed it off as a joke.  These rice cakes taste like crap and they’re getting stuck in my teeth.  My little baby is very cute.  I think she’s growing.  With the amount of food she eats she should be.

When I mentioned a group he didn’t know very well, he said, “I’m not really familiar with their stuff.”  How formal and when he says “I don’t really care for it.”  Oh.  I don’t know why things like that get me off but they do.  How each time we get on the phone he does something different.  When he raises his voice.  Whenever he tells me what to do.  When he says my name.  His voice deep slow calm.  Not dumb sounding like he really has nothing to say.  He’s not always saying weeell and uuuh that’s very annoying.  Gosh I really do like him.  But have a just talked myself into it?  If so oh well ’cause I like him now.  A lot.  I think about him and I do get dreamy-eyed ’cause I just want to be in his arms.  Goofy I know.  I want to kiss him for hours.  What does he want from me?  Are we ever going to have sex?  Am I ever going to have sex?  DJ says there are so many that looking back you wonder how you could have looked ahead wondering.  Will that sentence ever make sense?  I want to have a baby and Henry wants to have kids now so he can do stuff with them while he’s still young.  Is that a perfect match or what?  You’d think we went to a computer dating service or something.  I match my sheets.  I like this color.  My eyes are half shut.

[Continued from "Tax Day (Part 1)."]

I put her hand on the button of my jeans and kissed her so she could taste herself on my mouth. I love eating pussy. I wanted to eat more, but we had some fucking to do.

She stepped out of her clothes and kicked off her shoes. She lifted her left leg around me so she could better rub her clit up against my big cock head.

She pushed me back onto her office couch and straddled me. I slid right in and she exhaled deeply. She ground her pussy straight down onto my cock. I looked up and could only see the whites of her eyes.

The warmth and moisture of her pussy was in such contrast to the roughness of my jeans that I almost came immediately. But I didn’t want to come yet; I wanted to fuck for a long time.  The feel of her pussy and her smell was making holding off difficult.

She could feel me throb.  She asked, “Is this ok?”

“Yeah,” I said. “No problems here. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Don’t worry about me.”

“Wait a minute, I need to do something for you.” She slid off me and began using her mouth on me.  With my cock in her mouth she looked up into my eyes.  She didn’t suck, and she didn’t lick;   she made her mouth a perfect place of friction, warmth, and wetness.
She crushed my bulbous cock head in the back of her throat. I began to squirm and tried to get away, but she was cupping and squeezing my balls while mouth fucking me. She had me cornered on the couch.

I was so relaxed and enjoying myself so much that I came in her mouth. I saw flashes of white light as I spewed six or seven squirts of hot come down her throat.  Each spurt was more powerful than the last because she kept her mouth on my cock. The orgasm was powerful and lasted about 30 seconds, so I was amazed that I was still hard as a rock.

The fact that I could still smell her juices on my face was making me crazy. That, and that she said I smelled good.

She climbed back on top of me, getting my cock head deep up inside her and right against her g-spot.  She pushed her clit down hard on my pubic bone. She set the stage for an orgasm that had clitoral and g-spot stimulation. This woman had it all worked out. I kissed her mouth and brushed my fingers along her nipples.

As soon as I playfully licked one of her nipples while rubbing the other with one of my come-y fingers, she said, “Oh baby, I’m coming. No warning. I’m going to come now. You’re going to make me come … oh baby.” Then she convulsed and collapsed in my arms. I guessed she normally could feel her orgasms coming on, but not this time; it hit her like a ton of bricks.

We were both soaking in come. It was a big orgasm by someone who hadn’t been fucked properly since well before Valentine’s Day. The room smelled completely of sex. We both giggled in amazement at the intense sex we’d just had.

With her head resting on my chest, she said,”It’s been a while. And this was so nice.”

“I know. I loved it too.”

We held each other on her office couch, and looked around at our clothes tossed about the room.

We heard a drawer close at one of her assistant’s desks outside her door.

Our eyes popped out, eyelids drawn wide.  Grins appeared just before we covered our mouths.  From behind her hand she said, “Holy shit, do you think she was there the whole time?”

“I have no idea,” I said. “I thought they all went to the post office together.”

Mostly a true story. I swear.

I’ve had sex outside a few times.  Ok, more than a few times.  The roof of my current building is a favorite spot for blow jobs.

I consider blow jobs sex.  (Insert cliched Bill Clinton reference here.)  I consider pussy licking sex.  I consider mutual masturbation sex.

There are two guys n recent memory whom I’ve not fucked, but whom I’ve had sex.  One I’ve been with twice.  The first time I tossed a couple of condoms his way, because I always have condoms.  I jokingly said, “I guess that’s presumptive of me,” to which he didn’t respond other than to not use any condoms because his penis entered neither my pussy nor my ass.  Which is not to say we didn’t have a great time, because we absolutely did.

And that’s why we had a second time.  The second time was a lot of fun, but in a different way.  We didn’t have to do the bother of getting to know each other since we’d already fucked.  When we got back to my place after lunch we went to my room and he fucked me with my njoy Eleven.  That thing kicks ass.

I get a bit – just a bit – of the idea that he’s fascinated by my pussy that will take a lot.  Even if he isn’t, he’s fun, and goes along with the dirty things I do.

I first had sex outside when I was 16.  I was seeing a girl, Erica, about whom I’ve written in my “A Diary Entry” posts.  We fucked in a small cemetery in a field outside our work, a Round Table Pizza in Cameron Park, California.  For whatever reason, the cemetery had been fenced off, and “preserved.”  There were maybe four graves in the “cemetery.”  I can’t imagine that with all the development that must’ve occurred in that area that that cemetery hasn’t been forgotten except by the few of us who fucked there.

When I was around 20 years old, I fucked on the roof of a building and was subsequently caught by one of the building’s security guards.  The building was the Pasadena Civic Auditorium.  The Emmy Awards were held there for a while, including the year I fucked on its roof.

When I was in Bangkok for the second time, I fucked on the roof of my apartment building.  It was hot as fuck so we sought shelter in the rooftop laundry room.  It was still hot, but at least there was a breeze and a view.

I’ve been propositioned on a roof:  There’s something about the fresh air and expansive view that makes a guy want to pull out his cock.

I’ve “lost” my pants on a beach:  There’s something about the fresh air and sound of crashing waves that makes me want to expose my ass, and run to allow the sea air to tickle my clit and tease my pussy. I’ve fucked on a beach, being careful not to let sand get anywhere it could cause irritation and damage.

Right now I have someone “after” me to get it on on my roof.  He and I have fucked plenty, just not on my roof, yet.  Maybe soon ….

When I was in sixth grade I moved in with my father and his family, my sister, my step-mother, step-sister, and step-brother in Palo Cedro, California.  In our back yard was a creek in which, on at a very few occasions, us kids skinny dipped.

There’s a naughtiness to being naked outside.  Having sex outside is not only naughty, but it’s also clean, and fresh, and free.  It’s pure.  Outdoor sex is not dirty, or nasty, or rough, or wrong; it’s natural and right.

I look forward to camping with the Viking at the end of this month.

I swear.  True story.

[Here's a story from a guest writer.  You're welcome to submit a sexy story if you'd like.  Email shazamsf@sbcglobal.net.]

The phone call came at 11:05 pm on tax day. Of course I had waited until the last minute to file my taxes, and in the haste I forgot to sign the return. “Has to be postmarked by midnight,” my accountant said. “My assistant is making one last run to the post office. Get here ASAP and sign them.”

“FUCK. I don’t want to go fucking driving now; I’m half-asleep.”

“Will you just sign my name? Write it lefty …. Hello? Hello? You there?”

Not a good idea to ask your accountant to forge your signature. She hung up. I threw on some jeans and left my hair the way it was.

By the time I got to her office, the bottle had been popped and everyone was looking a little “above the weather” from the champagne. Another tax season over!

“You’re the last one, ya freakin’ slowpoke,” she grinned. ”Sign these bad boys and have a drink.”

Well, ok; I didn’t want to be rude in a room full of women. Her three assistants choked down their champagne like shooters and split for the parking lot, each with a hand truck full of returns.

“Shouldn’t I help them load the …?”

She interrupted me with a big hug. She no doubt needed to be held after having no physical contact working 15-hour days over the last two months. “Well, this is nice,” she said, her arms around my neck and my arms around her waist.

She started to unwind the hug and said in a blush, “Oh, boy. You smell really good.”

Not cologne though. I have a great natural smell. I know it. It turns me on. It certainly wasn’t my hair, but who knows what things turn a woman on.

Her nipples popped out so they were noticeable; I looked right at them. She saw me looking and swallowed hard. I moved in as if for a kiss but stopped just to get close and to see her reaction. She smiled, gave my upper lip a peck, and licked my lips quickly while looking me in the eye. Now she had me; the taste of her saliva made me swell a little. Swelling in tight jeans makes things interesting very quickly.

One rule I’ve adopted: “If she can’t kiss well, she’s going suck in bed.” And I don’t mean oral sex-wise either. I’m talking no sense of being present and being in the moment.

We kissed slowly and gently. I brushed the backs of my fingers over her blouse right across her right nipple, and she let out a big sigh. Touching her there triggered a deep throb in a very special place. The kissing was really hot, and by now all I could think about was how far I could get my tongue and fingers up inside her. She swung the door to her office closed.

Now I had both hands going on her blouse and she was breathing pretty heavily. She grabbed at my crotch and began grinding her hand on me aggressively. Squeezing all of my cock and balls that she could grab through my jeans. The pushing and squeezing was hot, literally. The friction on my now throbbing cock became very intense from rubbing it against the rough denim of my jeans. Did I mention I was commando? Nothing like my solid cock trapped in tight jeans against the denim.

I had one hand tweeking a nipple and the other gabbing at her pussy. She was panting. I decided it was time for her to cool down – in the time it’d take me to take off her clothes.

Naturally, I had to kiss her belly right near her hip and touch her clit area lightly through her slacks as if I was tapping to a song. The staccato was just a foreshadowing of what I was going to do to her with my face. I admired the quality of the fabric of her pants.

Her pussy area was hot. I was salivating. I undid her belt and pulled her pants and thong down to her ankles. I reached my right hand between her legs and pulled her pussy to my face by cupping her ass. Her pussy was a come-y mess. My sense of manners meant I had to clean up; I was responsible for it after all.

I nuzzled my nose on her clit, which was protruding nicely. The stringy come made webs between my face and her gorgeous, perfectly waxed pussy. I submersed my whole face in her wonderfulness. There was come all over my face, hanging off my chin, and up my nose.

I stood up ….

[To be continued.]

This woman’s body is damn near perfect.  I could have a lot of fun with all the parts.  It’d be nice if the owner of that body not only looked good, but was sexy as well.

It’s been a while since I’ve had any lady action, and even longer since I’ve had one-on-one time with a hottie.  This body would satisfy me … for a while.

I swear.  True story.