Random Rim Jobs

[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.

[Continued from "Bed for Four (Part 1)."]

The Brit and I chatted for a bit.  She asked if, perhaps, she could get another guy to join us, if I could host.  She had been in my place, she knew very well that I had it to myself that night.  I said I could host but I didn’t want to guarantee sex with just anyone.  She assured me the guy she had in mind was cute, that he had a big cock, and that he was a good fuck.

Mrs. Vet and her date took off.  They had been making out like teenagers and needed to continue their fun in a less public place.  That left the Vet, the Brit, and I to our own devices.

We went across the street to get some pizza.  While waiting for the food, we saw the acquaintance who had spoken at the Make-Out Room.  The Vet and I talked to her while the Brit met the new guy out front.  I had told the Vet some inside information about the acquaintance before we left my place.  I had not made it clear that the information was inside information, but I still didn’t think the Vet would tell the subject of said information that he knew the information.  Out of my earshot, though, that is exactly what the Vet did.

I was embarrassed that I looked like a gossip, especially considering the information I had was, according to the acquaintance, not accurate.  It was interesting to know that there were most definitely two sides to the story, and chances are the “truth” was somewhere in between.

We got our pizza and our foursome gathered on the sidewalk.  The Brit was right, the guy was cute.  The four of us stopped at a liquor store for provisions – vodka and soda for me, and gin and tonic for the Brit and the Irish.  The guy the Brit had join us was Irish.  Two people with sexy accents for sexy times?  Yes, please.

After some pizza and drinks the four of us made our way to my bedroom.  Then, because we all knew why we were there, we were naked and our bodies were writhing about each other.

It was a good combination of people for a foursome.  The Brit and I are both of curvy figure. Both the Vet and the Irish both had nice thick cocks.  It’s always good when there aren’t huge discrepancies amongst the naked bodies.  I had a foursome that I would not qualify as a success, partially because the guys’ cocks were of vastly different size.  I spent a lot of time in that threesome avoiding the guy with the tiny cock because I didn’t want it in me.

Not so with the Vet and the Irish.  They both had lovely cocks that I wanted in my pussy and in my mouth.  With the aid of the boxes of condoms I keep on either side of the bed, there was penis-in-vagina fucking.  There was cock sucking.  There was pussy licking.  There was watching.  The Vet likes to watch. 

When I’m in a fuck mood I can be pretty rough and like it pretty rough.  Both the Vet and the Irish throttled me whilst fucking me.  I like the feeling of getting my pussy pounded while feeling a bit lightheaded.  The Vet is often surprised he can be as rough with me as he can, but I can take a lot.

And because I can take a lot I sometimes forget that not everyone can – or wants to.  I’m a biter.  I like to bite as hard as I like to be bitten.  When I’m in the bitey mood it really is rather difficult to get me not to bite.  I left both the Brit and the Vet with bite-induced bruises.  The Brit has since told the Vet that she’d like to have another group situation so long as I promise not to bite.

Along with biting I also swallow.  I was lucky enough to get to swallow two loads of come – one from each of the gentlemen – that night.

Generally, my mouth was pretty busy.  I licked the Brit’s pussy.  I don’t get to lick enough pussy in my life.  I need to do something about that.

My mouth also found its way to the Vet’s ass when he was fucking the Brit.  That’s one of my specialties in group situations:  licking man ass while his cock is otherwise engaged.

The Brit and the Irish left, leaving the Vet and I to fuck once more before falling asleep.  The Vet left in the morning, but not until after taking Isis out.  He’s quite the gentleman.

I swear.  True story.

[Continued from "Thailand, Revisited, Reworked (Part 2)."]

I’m not sure when I had to report to work the first time, but I know I had some time to meet up with my friend, Darren.  I had met Darren the summer before.  He was an Melbournian tram driver who had moved to Bangkok and started a restaurant.  When I first met him I challenged his qualifications for restaurant-running and he had assured me that he was no more qualified than the next guy who loved food.

I fell in love.  Darren was charming and generous and fun.  He was also fabulously gay.  His Australian accent wasn’t too annoying; he didn’t call everyone “mate” and he didn’t sound like a guy from an Australian tourist board commercial.  The Ex and I had enjoyed Darren’s company – and his restaurant – on many occasions.

So when I arrived in Bangkok in the summer of 2001 I went to Darren’s restaurant soon after settling into my new home.  His restaurant called, I kid you not, Eat Me, was also his home.  Architecturally, the building was cool.  It was poured concrete with modern, square lines.  It had black-paned, swing out windows and French doors that opened out to a balcony that took up the entire front of the building’s second floor.

On the balcony there was outdoor furniture where it was pleasant to sit at night, provided mosquitoes didn’t like you too much.  My ankles seemed to be irresistible to the particular species of mosquito that flew around Eat Me, but I still sat on that balcony night after night.  It was nice, especially after the restaurant closed and Darren sat with us, drinking limoncello, or chocolate vodka – which he made by mixing melted chocolate with vodka – or any number of mixed drinks.  Oftentimes the mosquito population wasn’t quite as annoying when I was full of booze and there were geckos on the building’s walls, barking and eating.

Darren greeted me heartily.  It was that second summer in Thailand that Darren and I became very close.  Soon, we began going to gyms together.  Gyms, plural, because we’d purchase day passes at gyms all over the city.  We’d check in, go to our separate locker rooms to change, work out together, and then go to our separate locker rooms.  In my locker room I’d usually get naked so I could sit and relax in the sauna.  I love saunas.  Darren would similarly get naked and go to the sauna, but he didn’t just relax.  We didn’t talk details, but I got the very distinct impression that he more often than not hooked up with random strangers in the locker room.  We both left the gyms very refreshed.

With letting Darren know I was in town out of the way, I met up with another friend, Mickey.  I had also met Mickey the summer before.  He was an American law school student who was in the same study abroad program.  Actually, he had practiced law for years, and was returning for an LL.M. with an international law concentration.  After the summer program in 2000, Mickey completed his LL.M. at Golden Gate University School of Law, where Jesús happened to be getting his law degree.  A Master of Laws takes only one school year so after he finished up his schooling in San Francisco, he returned to Bangkok.

By the time I arrived in Bangkok, Mickey was well-ensconced in an apartment with his boyfriend, a Thai man-boy many years Mickey’s junior.  He was many years my junior and Mickey was significantly older than I.  Mickey was so old he had worked as an extra on early episodes of “Happy Days” which began the year after I was born.

On the second day I was in Bangkok I visited Mickey at his apartment, which was in a high rise.  I met his boyfriend, who seemed to do little more than sit around the apartment.  He was happy to meet me because I was someone other than Mickey.  The boyfriend had moved from his little town to Bangkok to be with Mickey and had few, if any, friends in the city, which was understandably huge and scary to him.

I was itching to go out and so was the boyfriend.  We’ll call him Ait.  Thais tend to have long names that they shorten to very easy to pronounce nicknames.  Their nicknames can change throughout their lives and they can have multiple nicknames at any given time, depending on their relationships.  A parent could call someone one name and her friends could call her something completely different.  This name fluidity doesn’t seem to make Thais uncomfortable; it would me.

So the day I met Ait, we went out to a club.  We drank.  We danced.  We drank.  We drank.  And then we ended up back in my new apartment fucking.

I had promised the Ex many, many times that I would not fuck anyone when I was in Bangkok without him.  It was my second night in the city and I was fucking my friend’s boyfriend.  My friend, who was silly in love with his boyfriend.

I felt pretty shitty.  But not nearly as shitty as I felt when Ait asked me if all foreign women’s pussies were as big as mine.  Thais are not known for their tact.  Actually, it’s just that they don’t think saying out loud what is obvious is tacky like us Westerners.  I was nice enough not to say that the reason my pussy felt so big was because it was a pussy, not Mickey’s ass, and because his dick was small.

I figured it was inevitable that I’d fuck when I was in Bangkok without my husband looking over my shoulder so it was a good thing I got that first fuck out of the way on my second day in the country.

That left me the rest of the summer for fucking.  And a few other things.

[To be continued.]

I swear.  True story.

[Continued from "Jade's Vacation (Part 4)."]

At first Jade was just taking. She was on her hands and knees with Teal licking between her thighs. She felt Teal’s fingers on her hard nipples and she felt her squeezing her tits, too. Jade loved having her tits kneaded and having her pussy licked at the same time; the combination always made her gush quickly. Now with a woman doing it, she couldn’t even breathe. She gasped and groaned as her pussy sprinkled gold. She was in a lust frenzy as she panted for her orgasm to overflow.

“AAAAAHHHHH,” she howled as Teal pushed a dainty fingertip into her snug anal accordion. She bucked wildly as the fingertip found its way inside her opening and began throbbing to the same tempo her cunt was getting tongue fucked.

The orgasm was so wet Teal nearly drowned as she guzzled hungrily. She flattened her tongue out and pressed Jade’s clit firmly as she vibrated her mouth on the heated button. More come gushed from Jade and she dipped her head down and buried her screams into Teal’s parted slot.

Teal’s clit was engorged; it was protruding and thick like one of Jade’s nipples. Jade began sucking it, nursing it, mouthing it, like it was a little cock. Bobbing her head up and down and feverishly licking and lapping and reaching inside Teal’s fuck tunnel, Jade gathered more of her come and reached deep to feel the cushion of Teal’s aching G spot.

As Jade polished the cushion inside Teal, she felt the convulsion coming in her body. Teal was writhing wildly now, squirming and nearly bouncing Jade off of the top of her. Jade grinned wickedly as she watched in the mirror. She saw the effect she was having on Teal by using her pussy this way, saw Jason’s hard meat being pumped by his strong hands, and saw her own come soaking Teal’s face and tits.

“AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW DAMN. FUCK, I LOVE TO COME!” she growled wickedly as if the virgin Jade had just been posessed by some cock- and cunt-hungry demon.

Jason grinned at that sound and rose up behind Jade and pressed his aching cock into the snug wetness of her simmering cunt. He felt Teal begin to lap his balls and tease his asshole too as she guzzled the frothing jizz from Jade.

As his load spewed inside Jade, Teal released her last orgasm into Jade’s hungry mouth. Jade delved Teal’s ass with her tongue and lapped every drop of the woman’s cum from her thighs. She released more of her own honey onto Jason’s prick and into Teal’s lips. She shivered and ached as she felt them both begin to subside from their aggressive actions.

As she glanced at her two spent lovers, Jade felt the tingling ache between her legs begin to burn like fire. She knew she needed more.  She wanted more.  She had to have more

.

As Jade stepped out onto the balcony she quickly looked down below for the other couple. To her pleasure they were there sitting nude and inviting. Jade reached into her frothing slit and gathered some of her blended sauce and let it drizzle down from her fingers onto the man’s nude cock below.

As he looked up and smiled, the woman leaned over and licked it off of his perking cock. Jade smiled as she saw the woman motion for her to join them.

“I will be back in a couple hours, guys,” she chirped as she slipped through the doorway toward the stairs.

“Teal, Jason loves to have his ass played with when you are sucking his cock,” she advised as she watched the puzzled look appear on Jason’s face. “And Jason, if you come in Teal anywhere … don’t let her clean up.  I will get it when I get back,” she continued as she cupped her fingers over her seeping slot to keep the rest of her treasured gathering inside until the other couple had a chance to sample it.

[That's the end.  This Jade chick seems pretty fun.]

Before the Dyke March, the Viking and I walked over to Dolores Park to ogle the ladies.  When we were on the way I texted my high school ex-girlfriend, Erica.  (You might recognize her name from my diary entries from the early 1990s.)  She had texted me the day before letting me know she’d be in town for LGBT Pride.  We went to high school east of Sacramento at Oak Ridge High School in El Dorado Hills, California.

She assured me that she contacted me because she wanted to see me.  Nonetheless, I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t contact me after I let her know I was at Dolores Park.  The Viking and I walked around the park doing some serious people watching and finally lie down in the sun.  It felt so nice to have the sun shining on our faces whilst the breeze was blowing over our skin.

I had wanted to see the truffle guy.  I assured the Viking – on several occasions – that the truffle guy had some very tasty, and potent, truffles.  I kept telling him that the truffle guy had copper vessels that shined in the sun.  We have been to Dolores Park on numerous occasions, all without seeing the truffle guy.  I haven’t seen the truffle guy in ages, years.

But when we were lying on the grass I saw a guy who had an army green messenger bag with a “Magic Brownies” sign on it.  I called him over by saying, “Hey, brownie guy, over here!”  The Viking and I shared half a brownie.  We decided we wanted to have dinner at Dosa.

Dosa, however, wasn’t open until 5:30, so we walked to the Latin American Club and had margaritas.  Latin American Club’s margaritas are delicious and large (just like the best cocks).  On the way back to Dosa, my phone rang.  My ring tone right now has a guy saying, “Shut up and fuck him.”  I laugh nearly every time I hear it.

It was Erica.  She said her phone didn’t have service until just then.  I hear service in San Francisco is shitty, though I rarely have any trouble at all.  We were off to dinner; she was off to do dykey things.  She said she’d contact me after some other events she was attending.

Dinner was delicious, though they didn’t have the specific things I wanted, these round shells that can be individually made by the diner to taste wonderfully spiced.  Everything we did have at Dosa was tasty.  We may go back for brunch, when the shell things will be served.

This is the Dyke March Lego person.  She is a militant lesbian.  She has long hair because she thinks doing nothing but putting her hair in a ponytail is the easiest way to take care of it.  She is a “larger” gal.  She goes to Ren Faires.  She’s a LARPer.  She would have been at Dolores Park today wearing something a little too tight, a little too revealing.  But we wouldn’t have messed with her because of her extremely large axe.  (The Lego thing will make more sense after reading June 21, 2010‘s post.)

I swear.  True story.

[Continued from "Chicago: June 18, 2010."]

I’m used to Isis waking me up very early, about 6am, so I tend to wake up at that time no matter what.  Before I had a chance to go back to sleep, the Viking and I were cuddling.  And then it was hot because I was silly enough to have packed flannel pj’s.  I took off my pj’s not as in invitation for sex, but so I could go back to sleep more comfortably.  The Viking, however, had a different idea.  Once he got going, things felt really good and I couldn’t think of any reason to stop him.

We went back to sleep for a while.  We purposely didn’t put down the window shades for fear we’d sleep too late, so when the Viking woke me up, again feeling amorous, I knew by the light coming in the window it was close to time for us to get out of bed anyway.  But not before the Viking and I endeavored to give me a very nice orgasm.

We finally got up still pretty early and took the train to Lincoln Park.  We went to the Bourgeois Pig for breakfast.  I had very delicious French toast and an iced coffee.  I’m not a big coffee drinker.  Back when I worked at an office, I’d get a fancy, sweet, milk-laden coffee drink around 10:30am, just to stay awake.  Very, very rarely I’d have more than one coffee in a day.  Since I’ve not worked in an office in a while, I’ve not had much coffee at all.

After breakfast we walked around the neighborhood a bit, through a park where there were dogs and families, and then to a farmers market.  The neighborhood was cute, perhaps a little too cute; I need some grit in a neighborhood.  The farmers market was in the parking lot of a school, and had a reasonable variety of vendors.  Staying in a hotel and eating out for every meal, I was missing fresh produce.  We bought some tomatoes, some peaches, and some strawberries.  The peaches were especially tasty.

Then the Viking and I walked around, checking out the neighborhood.  It was a hot and humid day, as would be expected in mid-June in the Midwest.  I had sunscreened, but I still insisted we walk on the shady side of the street when we could.  We did a lot of walking.  It was all flat, so it was easy.  We walked up into Lakeview, mostly because I wanted to see some blatant homosexual behavior in Boystown.

I’ve lived in San Francisco for ten years.  I like that same-sex couples are comfortable to publicly display affection, and I can’t live in any city in which that isn’t the case.  We didn’t see any grab-ass, but we did see manly salons and a poster for a transsexual beauty pageant.  Good enough.

I also couldn’t live in a city that didn’t have cool graffiti.  On our walk on Saturday I saw this nice tidbit.  It wasn’t until recently that I noticed cool graffiti at all.  That is thanks to my friend Ramona, with whom I’d be walking around in San Francisco only to have her stop and take pictures of scribblings I’d previously not noticed.  There is some cool graffiti out there, and Chicago is no exception.

We walked around the neighborhood looking for places where the Viking could replace his recently departed belt.  One shop was too hip for his purposes; there were brightly colored and studded belts, no dress belts.  Finally, we settled on Marshall’s.  When we walked in, I realized I’d not been to a Marshall’s in probably over ten years, and at the most five times in my life.

The Viking got a good belt at Marshall’s and then we walked back outside into the heat.  I’ve done Southeast Asia in the summer, and I’ve done non-coastal California in the summer; I can do the heat.  But I really did want a drink, a nice, cold drink.

We saw a place that claimed to serve terrific margaritas, but I wasn’t really into having alcohol yet.  Mark your calendars, people.  So we went to a Starbucks where I ordered a “Caramel Frappuccino Blended Coffee,” which is apparently what they’re called now.  I remember when they were just Frappuccinos, but the cashier called out not only “Frappuccino” but also “Blended Coffee” as if that was really important.

We walked to the train and returned to the hotel where we showered and changed for dinner.  We had planned an early dinner so we had time to go to the architectural tour on the Chicago River at dusk.  It was once we were in our room that I began feeling weird.  I was shaky.  My stomach made some very audible gurgles.  Hmm.

I realized that two coffees in one day was way too many for me.  I was spazzing out due to too much caffeine.  The Viking suggested we leave for dinner early so we had time to walk around, which might help alleviate my feelings of restlessness.  We took a cab to West Loop where we walked around and saw the French Market at the Metra Station.  I love a city that encourages public transportation.

We walked in the direction of our dinner destination, past the Batcolumn.  There are few monuments in the world that aren’t phallic, and a giant bat sticking straight up is certainly phallic.

It was still very early for dinner, but we could see a street fair in the distance.  It was the usual street fair with loud music by mediocre local bands, local food vendors, and vendors of silly things like severely over-bedazzled novelty tank tops.  We got some chips and guacamole, which was pretty tasty.  (That’s saying a lot, as I’ve won a guacamole  contest.)

While we ate our chips and guacamole we saw a wild bunny.  It was a little, hoppy, rabbit apparently scared by all the activity.  A dog chased it as far as it could considering the constraint of its leash.

We also saw that we were near the Oprah Store.  I didn’t even know there was an Oprah Store.  I have no interest in ever going to the Oprah Store.  And I’m certainly not going to watch a live taping of the Oprah Show.  I don’t like Oprah and I don’t give a shit about sports.  I certainly hope Chicago has other things to offer.

We went to a fine sushi dinner, which I wasn’t able to fully appreciate because the coffee was doing a number on me.  I was shaking and my stomach was flopping about.  Not pleasant.

We were scheduled to go to the architectural river tour, but with how I felt there was no way I would be ok on a boat.  So after a trip to the drug store, we ended up spending the evening in our hotel room.  The Viking was very nice and took very good care of me, including getting me a Subway sandwich around midnight.

Don’t worry, we had fun the next day.  [To be continued.]

I swear.  True story.