Random Rim Jobs
I swear. True story.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 ….]
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 ….]
Warren’s “Cheating” (1)
Posted on August 18, 2011[This story was sent to me by a guy I was starting to see back in 2008. We never fucked, but he did listen on the phone to me fucking someone else. He had pet guinea pigs. Yes, he was an adult. Because a lot of time has passed, I feel completely justified in posting this. Yeah, I'm a bad person.]
The first time he caught her cheating, they had only been together for six months. They had been living together in a modest, attractive apartment for three months, and both were so deeply in love that they kept in nearly constant contact with each other. There were many days where the love notes, emails, quick phone calls, and text messages numbered in double-digits. Both felt luxuriously secure in their relationship.
She was in the shower when her lover sent her a text message. She always kept her cell phone on vibrate, and always deep in her purse. She often missed phone calls because she could not hear the phone, which had annoyed him in the past. She had always explained her preference by saying she was bothered by the way people turned to look whenever a cell phone rang. He understood, because that annoyed him, too.
Uncharacteristically, she had left it on the desk earlier that day while she was paying her bills. It rattled so loudly now against the wood that he went across the room and grabbed it not to surveil her, but only to silence it. Her mother called all the time.
It blinked the words, “New Message: Jonathan.” He became overwhelmed by curiosity, his blood pressure rising, and flipped the phone open. To his horror, the words, “cant wait to feel your pussy again sweetie,” were printed across the screen in neat Times New Roman.
She explained that he was just a new guy at work. He was cute, and a little flirting got out of hand. She carefully explained that he was not a threat to their relationship, and that it was a one-time thing. She even added that she regretted it now, since it had hurt him. She apologized profusely, and swore her emotional fidelity constantly for the next several days. He eventually came to realize that she was right – nothing had changed in their relationship – and had all but forgotten the hurt he had felt within a week.
His trust was somewhat damaged, however, and their barrage of love notes and phone calls swelled in intensity. He no longer trusted her at work, and made a point to contact her almost every hour just to keep tabs on her. Although he now had a burning desire to know what she was doing every minute of the day, he felt comforted by the fact that they so easily survived what would have ended so many less-confident relationships. Their sex was more intense than ever due to his masculine drive to outperform any competition, and they slept together every night, curled up comfortably.
He gradually became preoccupied with the idea of her having sex with Jonathan, though he didn’t notice the change in himself for some time. He thought about Jonathan every time they had sex. He thought about Jonathan every time she came home from work more than ten minutes late. He often visualized their bodies intertwined, and eventually began thinking about those images while they made love. After a particularly charged lovemaking session a couple of months since her infidelity, he admitted his preoccupation to her.
“So that’s why you’ve been working so hard in bed lately, is it?” she asked.
“I guess so. I don’t know. I sort of don’t like the idea that I get turned on by the thought of my girlfriend cheating on me, but it drives me crazy.”
“Want me to keep doing it?” she asked, biting her lower lip, smiling slightly.
“Is that some kind of half-joke? That’s not funny,” he said, pursing his lips.
“No honey, I promise, it’s a total joke. I don’t want to hurt you.”
[To be continued ….]
Sweet and Innocent 3
Posted on July 24, 2011[Continued from "Sweet and Innocent 2."]
I would have never guessed that your mouth moved like everyone else. I’m not sure what that has to do with hearing your voice.
Well, I’m assuming it’s yours, Your back is turned, but I believe that tattoo on the arm is the same one that is in one of your profile pics. I think it said something about “That’s my big booty”, and had a big EB on it. I guess I could be wrong again, however.
My voice is a pretty basic voice.
Yep, that’s my ass. I forgot that I had posted the link. That photo is actually how my current partner found me.
Well, it’s very nice.This is my soapbox, so just take it for what it’s worth, and I’ll stop bugging you.
You know I think you’re…ummm…pretty much perfect, and I think you could do so much better for yourself. I think you deserve to be respected, adored, and not treated like a piece of meat. But at the same time, I respect that you’re doing what you want to do. You only live once, right?
I’m sure I’ll still follow your blogs, because I think you’re a great writer, and you just have a way with words. It’s rarely seen, especially from the people on that Cupid site. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.
You do know that sometimes people just want to fuck, right? That both men and women can treat their sexual partners as objects, right? That one can be respected and adored AND have depraved, nasty, dirty sex, right?
So how could I do better for myself? With you? I bet you would want a monogamous commitment from me. Guess what would happen? No matter how great you thought you were giving it to me – and I doubt you’d be able to be as dirty as I need – I’d cheat on you. I’d cheat on you a lot.
What I have right now is a partner who loves me, respects me, adores me, and who fucks me really nasty and dirty like I need it. He, like you, thinks I’m pretty much perfect; I know because he tells me often. He also understands and accepts that I like fucking people other than him. It’s not because he’s lacking in any way, or because there’s something wrong with me, it’s because that’s the way I’m wired.
I still only have one blog that has multiple blog posts. Thank you for liking my writing. Please do keep reading, as I’m sure you’ll find something you find familiar.
That Cupid site? You mean this one, OkCupid? Actually, I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Yes. I do know that some people just want to fuck like wild dogs and beyond. Been there done that many times myself.
No. I didn’t say that you could do better by being with me. I just meant that you could demand better if you so choose. But you’re wired that way, so what can you do? It sounds like you have everything you need. And yes, if I was in a relationship with you, I would want it to be monogamous. Who wouldn’t want you all for themselves?
So how do you stay safe when you meet all these strange guys? What if one ends up being an axe murderer or something?Reading something I find familiar? What? Am I going to see a blog about some loon that thought he could change you into to this monogamous trophy wife?
And you do know that someone has a pretty bad blog about you out there on the net, right?
I just want to make this clear… I’m not some stalker dude, so all you have to do is tell me to get lost, and I’m gone. But if I was able to find you on Facebook, would you friend me? Or would I be sorry that I did?
And I did mean the OKCupid site.
I don’t need to demand better because I have it: I have someone who fucks me really, really well AND not only doesn’t mind that I fuck other people but also gets off on it. I do have everything I need; I’m really fucking happy and I hope he is as well.
Who wouldn’t want me all to themselves? Someone who loved, respected, and understood me, that’s who. Someone who knew that I tried to be monogamous and I failed miserably at it.
I stay safe by being smart. Just like meeting dudes in bars, meeting guys online means you never know for sure. No one ever knows for sure. I meet guys in person in public and asses them. I didn’t always; sometimes I’d have guys come over sight unseen and to fuck me. But I’m really good at sussing people out via email/text/phone before I meet them. For example, I certainly wouldn’t invite you over for a fuck because you wouldn’t appreciate that I’d take you to my bedroom, suck your cock until I HAD to have something in my pussy, and then request you fuck me, hard. Then during said hard fucking I’d likely request that you come on my stomach, tits, or face – it would depend on my mood at the moment.
I’m not saying that my “system” is foolproof, just that it’s worked for me. It’s ridiculous that people (and I’m not saying you’ve done this) think that meeting people via online fora is necessarily less safe than meeting people via other means; no matter what no one knows anything for sure.
You’ll see our verbatim conversation; no need to elaborate.
Yes, I do know that my ex-husband’s then (possibly current)-girlfriend shittily wrote something shitty about me. I also know that in said post she admitted to battering me, and that she libeled me; I wrote all about it (somewhere on Random Rim Jobs but I don’t have the energy to search for my responses right now).
Considering your considerable Google skills I surprised you’ve not yet found my Facebook account. But that’s for actual friends and family. I have no clue if you’d be sorry.
I haven’t heard from him since. I’m not surprised at all.
I swear. True story.
I Do Fuck!
Posted on July 14, 2011I know I’ve not been writing about the fucking lately. That’s because for the most part (more to come on that), I’ve been fucking just one person. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with fucking just one person, but I do think writing again and again about fucking the same person can be boring, and reading about the same sex again and again can be really boring.
Which is absolutely not so say the sex the Viking and I have is boring. It’s anything but. I’m the one with the problem: I lack imagination or the ability to write about something old in a new way. Which isn’t to say the sex the Viking and I have is old.
Fuck, I’ll just refer you to @darkdracie‘s blog post of text messages from the Viking about our sex life. Kind of convoluted, I know.
Have you read it yet? Really, you’re that lazy? It’s just a click. Also, Gracie’s blog is sexy and fun. Way sexier than this one has been lately, which is why I referred you. I’m nice like that.
So now that you’ve read an account of my sex life – an account, by the way, the reading of which made me feel tingly in my bathing suit place – you know that I have some very fun and very dirty sex with the Viking.
Yes, reading it made me feel horny and I had actually done it. Just in case you’re confused, the Viking fucked me the old fashioned way, then he went down on me with his come in my pussy, then he got most of his hand in my pussy while putting his dick in my ass, then I asked for the whole hand in my pussy, then I came from the dick in my ass/fist in my pussy/vibrator on my clit combo, then the Viking came in my ass. I really do make the Viking work quite hard. So far he’s not complaining.
I swear. True story.
