Random Rim Jobs

[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.

I like licking ass.  There’s a good reason I call my site Random Rim Jobs.  I did not think of the name, but as soon as I heard it I knew it was the one for me.  Well, the one for my blog.

Yes, I lick ass.  I have to be in the mood, but if I am I usually take charge and tell my partner to turn over so I can get to his ass.  Or her ass, as the case may be.  Pointer for ass licking:  Your tongue should not be a pointer.  Keep it flat and wide, people.  And no, the ass needn’t be hair free for rim job purposes.  If you’re all that freaked out by naturally occurring body hair you shouldn’t bother having sex … of any kind.

Well, you can have sex with children, but I certainly don’t condone that sort of thing since children cannot consent.  I’m all about safe, sane, and consensual, and you should be, too.  And fucking children is pretty damn creepy.  Don’t do that.  Instead, lick consenting adult ass.

I swear.  True story.

April 15 looms large in the minds of Americans because it’s the last day to file and pay taxes.  I had e-filed and paid both federal and California state taxes the day before so April 15 itself was not a day of panic.

Instead it was a day of fuck.  The day of fuck.

The day of fuck began, as all days truly do, at midnight.  The ‘mate and I had received Liberator’s Wedge and Ramp and were using them for the first time.  The cover of the Ramp already needs to be washed thanks to our April 15 activities.  The Ramp was very helpful when the ‘Mate went down on me.  I could lie back so my pussy and ass were on full display at the top of the ramp.  My legs flipped back to get those pesky things out of the way.  The ‘Mate went to town licking my ass and pussy.

Then, as is my wont, I wanted something in my pussy.  Something big and heavy and hard:  an NJoy Pure Wand a friend had so kindly loaned to me.  The Viking (who is also the ‘Mate) was happy to accommodate me.  He fucked my pussy with the Pure Wand.  Then, because when I’m in a mood like that I want more, more, more, the ‘Mate was nice enough to put his cock in my pussy.  Along with the Pure Wand.

At first he fucked me with his cock and continued to fuck me with the toy.  Then, because the Pure Wand is a really great toy, he realized he could leave it in place without fear that it’d fall out or get in the way.  This allowed him to concentrate on making his cock feel good in my pussy and up against the Pure Wand.  His cock and the Wand were happily cohabitating in my pussy.

Yes, it felt fucking fantastic.  The Wedge and the Ramp have found a place in the bedroom.  They can’t fit in the drawer o’ sex, but they fit nicely next to the dresser in which the drawer o’ sex is located.  And I’m gonna have to get me one of those Pure Wands.  [That Amazon Wish List button does work, folks.]

[To be continued ….]

I swear.  True story.

I knew it was coming. I’m usually right about these things.

First, the number of face-to-face meetings diminished significantly.  We used to see each other just because our paths happened to cross during the day.  And we went on real dates out in public.

We kissed in the galleries of the second floor of the SF MoMA.   That was probably way too romantic for something that was supposed to be casual.  But I’m not completely convinced.  We were into each other; it had been a while since we’d kissed; we were in the museum, in completely empty galleries; he reached up, cupped my face with both hands, and right there in front of a Jackson Pollack kissed me.  Dammit, it was great.

The galleries were completely empty because most of the people who were at the museum on a Saturday morning (I think) were there to see Georgia O’Keeffe and Ansel Adams:  Natural Affinities.  We saw that exhibit, but not before walking through the galleries housing the museum’s permanent collection on rotation.  I tried to show him my favorite painting, but it wasn’t up.  But that didn’t matter because I was so giddy from that kiss.

Then we’d only see each other for sex.  I’d spend the night because it was convenient, but then he couldn’t wait to get me out in the mornings, even on weekends.  I got the hint and got the fuck out of there.

Then he told me that he really liked fucking me.  We had great sex together.  Great.  His cock would hit me in just the right place when we were fucking missionary.  It was hard to look into his eyes because he was so there.

He loved his ass licked.  And I loved to get my face all wet from sucking on his ass.  I loved that I could make him feel so good.

He really dug biting me.  I dug it too.  I’d come away from our time together with bite-sized bruises on the tops of my breasts and the fronts of my shoulders – where he could reach down to bite me when he was fucking me.  He never broke the skin but he grabbed a jaw full of flesh in a way that made me swoon.

I gave him a paint stirrer to use on me.  Paint stirrers make a great sound but don’t hurt that much when making contact with flesh.  He spanked my ass with the stirrer.  And he spanked my pussy.  I especially liked that, but I still think slapping pussy looks stupid in porn.

He’d look so cute walking around in the mornings, naked.  So little and cute.  But with a nice big cock.  It was nice and straight and smooth.  I liked sucking it but never got it down my throat.

He’d fist me.  Which would make me come so fucking hard.  So hard that it scared me.  He just accepted that that’s how I was when I came.  And then I’d need to hide under the covers for a little while.

While we fucked he often told me that I looked good enjoying myself; that he liked that he could see I was enjoying myself.  When he slapped me he said I looked both turned on and surprised.  I knew he was going to slap me, but that he did it so hard, and that it felt so fucking good is what gave me a start.

After the visits dropped off, our only form of communication was text.  We used to talk on the phone – I talked, he listened.

When he told me that the sex was really good, that our sex was really good, I knew that was a kiss-off of sorts.  It sounded like he wanted to assure me that what he was about to do wasn’t because the sex was bad.

Then the canceled dates.  All by text.  Not feeling sexy, want to come watch tv as a consolation prize?  No, I want to fuck.

Then he was sick.  And I think I believe that he truly was sick.  But being sick canceled another date, which gave him more time to think about things.  When I contacted him a couple of times without response I knew that it was over, but I hoped he wouldn’t be the type to just ignore me.

He wasn’t.  He responded that he was rethinking the casual sex thing.  When we met he told me he’d never had casual sex before.  I like being a guy’s first.  At least he’ll remember me.

He’s young – 26.  Twenty-six-year-olds keep breaking my heart.

He didn’t do anything wrong.  But it would have been nice to see him again.  And to have his cock hit that spot again.  And to have him bite me and fist me and spank me and slap me.

I swear.  True story.

I want this shirt so badly.  I’d wear it with pride and probably get a few dates out of the deal.

I just watched a lot of people fuck and suck and come.  And now I’m gonna go to the Vegan’s house and get myself fisted and lick some ass.

I swear.  True story.

The answer to the title’s question is probably not. Hormones. Girly stuff.

I had been skipping my periods with manipulation of my birth control pills. It wasn’t until I finally had a period after three months that I noticed stupid things like my emotions. I swear the fact that I was having a period or that there were hormonal fluctuations had gone by unnoticed for years.

Then I found myself crying, or wanting to cry, for no reason. Or irrationally thinking everyone hated me. (Actually, I think I realistically know that a lot of people don’t like me.) Maybe I didn’t notice because my life had been going pretty well, so my lows weren’t all that low.

Maybe I’ve begun to notice because I have so much fucking time to just think. No one should spend this much time in her own head.

I do think I’m a little nicer to guys I’m fucking now that I know, sort of, that what’s going on in my mind/body isn’t them. Hell, it’s not even me. It’s THE HORMONES.

So now I warn the guys, if I can, that if I cry when I come that it’s not a big deal and that they don’t have to freak out, run away, or turn overly sympathetic. That it just is, and while they feel helpless I feel supremely embarrassed because I truly cannot help myself.

And then I get HORNY. I want to be fucked constantly. ALL the fucking time. In my pussy, up my ass, down my throat.

I need cock to shove its way down my throat. I need my hair pulled–hard, I need my neck bitten–hard, I need to have my breath controlled, I need to bury my face in balls and lick and taste and smell.  I need to lick a nice metallic asshole, bury my face between a nice pair of ass cheeks.  And of course I want.  I want.

I swear.  True story.