Random Rim Jobs

[This is a submission from a hottie guest writer.  I've met her, she's hot and a whole lotta fun.]

My first threesome came as a surprise. ‘Twas my 25th birthday, to which I was not looking forward given I had been recently abandoned by not only the best sex of my life but also my last great love (two different men, mind you). I still had a few very good friends and, trying to be optimistic, I ventured out to a fave bar to celebrate.

After about two whiskeys, I declared that since it was my birthday, everyone should kiss me. This would be the catalyst that led to my premiere sexual experience with threesomes and with women (but not the last).

A group of firemen from Modesto or some equally central California city were sitting close to our group and conversation began. One took a liking to me and before his group left we took a trip outside and made out for a bit. Thankfully I didn’t really mind voyeurs because a certain couple took a particular interest in our little tongue session. They became even more interested when they saw the fireman’s hand try to go up my skirt, which I deflected in the midst of still keeping the kissing hot. This move turned them on apparently; when they saw me walk back inside the bar without the fireman, they followed.

They stopped me before I got back to my group. They bought me more whiskey and asked me what was going with the fireman. I answered that it was my birthday and I was kissing everybody. So they both kissed me. We went back to the table and conversed while I got drunker (but with whiskey, I rarely get sloppy). Last call came and they invited me back to their place. I excitedly and curiously accepted.

Back at her apartment they showed me around, told me about a new dot com idea they had (something about networking via your sexual partners), introduced me to her cat, and then led me to the bedroom.

Sheepishly, I declared that I was a virgin when it came to women. With a little giggle, my first girl – a beautiful blonde with wonderful breasts and creamy skin – told me to go with my instincts and she would direct me from there. After a little bit of kissing, the whiskey seemed to fully permeate into my bloodstream and stripped away my remaining inhibitions.

I ventured towards her breasts and my happy explorations there made her moan, encouraging me to go farther south. I hesitated for just a moment before I put my tongue on her clit, tasting something indescribable but oh so amazing. I used my fingers to penetrate her pussy while I continued licking her clit and her boyfriend, who had been watching while I popped my “girl cherry,” began to go to work on me. He finally started fucking me from behind while I went to town on his girlfriend. Eventually he got his share of attention but I loved being in the middle of them; getting it from him while giving it to her.

We fell asleep after much orgiastic behavior and when I woke up in the morning and tried to sneak out, I was dragged back to bed for more and given the many orgasms that the whiskey had denied me the night before (the only real negative I get from the malted grains).

I have done a fair amount of memorable bisexual exploring since this experience and hope to do much much more but I would say that my first threesome was the best birthday present to myself ever.

[Continued from "Slave Auditions, Part 2."]

The next potential slave to arrive was young and sweet.  And had an incredible head of hair.  He was very young – just 19 years old.  Sugar claimed she liked older men almost exclusively but she was definitely taken by his apparent innocence.

And it may have been only apparent.  He told us he had been to Power Exchange several times.  Wow, and at such a tender age.  I suppose people are figuring out much younger what they’re into and how to make it happen.  Back when I was 17 I knew I was interested in being tied up and spanked but other than the Society of Janus, which I could not join since I was not yet of age, I had no way of connecting with similarly inclined people.  By the time I was 18 I lost interest in the idea of socializing with the intent to find someone to spank me, and I’m still not too keen on the whole munch thing.

We dubbed our young potential slave Nineteen.  Our nicknames certainly didn’t have to be creative or original, only easy for us to remember.  Nineteen cleaned pretty well and and followed directions well.  By this time Sugar and I had had plenty of mimosas and wine and were certainly embracing the spirit of the day.

We had Nineteen show us his penis.  He was uncircumcised, just the way I like ‘em.  But we didn’t do anything with his dick other than look at it.

Soon thereafter Glasses arrived.  We dubbed him Glasses because he wore very thick ones.  He was very quiet and mousy and out of everyone the best cleaner.  He also took very well to direction.  Sugar and I were well into mistress mode when he arrived.  We had no problem telling him what to do and we had him clean sans pants.

When Glasses was here my neighbor Ruby stopped by to help us assess.  It was a raucous good time.  Ruby didn’t stay long, and we soon dismissed Glasses.

Then Sugar, the Viking, and I went upstairs where the Viking was nice enough to tie up Sugar’s lovely breasts.  She looked quite nice.  The three of us were having a very nice naked time complete with hemp rope when the phone rang.

Ooops!  We forgot we had more potential slaves scheduled.  I threw on my clothes and answered the door while Sugar and the Viking got dressed themselves.

I opened the front door to a vision of loveliness.  Her makeup was perfect.  She wore a bustier with shorty shorts and fishnets.  She carried a large purse.  She was demure, as is appropriate for a lady come to clean.

She started cleaning right away.  She was adorable.  She had a foreign accent and told us she was from Austria.  She was so sweet and cute.  Sugar dubbed her Cutey.  We loved Cutey immediately.  She was very obedient.  She was fun!

I called Ruby and told her to come back, that she would absolutely love our latest potential slave.  Ruby is a drag queen at heart – she barely needs an excuse to get dressed up, and she makes it a point to go to costumed events – she is very theatrical.  I knew she would love Cutey.  In addition, Ruby speaks German, and I thought it’d be fun to listen to Ruby and Cutey talk to each other in Cutey’s native tongue.

The whole time Cutey was cleaning she was also like our girlfriend; it’d be a blast to go to dance clubs with her.  She knew how to put herself together.  She had a great ass.  She was most definitely a girl.

Only of course she was not a biological girl, so when the Viking – who identifies as a straight man – whispered to Ruby that he was conflicted Ruby couldn’t help but chuckle.  Ahh, San Francisco, how we love you for making us question our ideas of gender and sex and sexuality.

Cutey stayed longer than her allotted half hour because the next potential slave flaked.  We were glad since we were having so much fun with her.  We let her have some wine with us and had her sit down and chit-chat; the service portion of the interview was over.  She pulled out her purse, in which she brought some things that she thought might be of use for the tryout.  She had rope – fun! – and she had various anal toys – also fun – and she had a CB-3000.

I would not have known what a CB-3000 was if I hadn’t seen a video of Eve Minax (whom I’ve had the pleasure of meeting and …) on Carnal Nation discussing male chastity devices.  [The video seems to have disappeared from Carnal Nation, but if you can find it, please let me know the link – shazamsf@sbcglobal.net.]  They are fascinating.

Cutey showed us how the CB-3000 worked, but not on her penis.  She wasn’t yet comfortable showing that side of herself.  However, by the time I walked her to the door she certainly didn’t seem to mind when I copped a feel.  We made out a bit and I rubbed up against her cock, which was not very girlie.

Out of fourteen scheduled potential slaves only five showed up.  That means I won the bet I had with the Viking.  The wager?  I got to gloat.  We hadn’t bet anything of substance because we both knew there were few things I would want that he wouldn’t already have done for me if I asked.  But I won.  Ha!

I swear.  True story.

[True story that is not yet done.  The next week we continued our slave auditions.]

Not usually.  I love my pussy.  I love all that it can take.  I love looking down at my own wrist when it’s flexing as my hand thrusts something big into my pussy.

But this cock truly is lovely.  And that angle is nice.  It makes me want to lick and suck and stroke it, for sure.  But it also makes me want to be the cute, skinny guy with the big cock, holding it for all to see.

Actually, the more I look at it the less I want to have it and the more I want to have it.  As in have it inside me.

I’m not much one for penis envy.  Sure, I saw my father’s penis, and my step-brother’s penis, and a family friend’s penis, all by the time I was five.  The family friend and I played doctor, though I spent significantly more time on his ass “taking his temperature” than I did on his penis.

So this cock I want to lick and suck.  And the balls, too.  Finally, I want to get my feet up on either side of this guy and lower my pussy all the way down past his hand.  I wouldn’t really care if he was enjoying himself; I’d be using him as a masturbatory tool.

But I’d still rub my tits in his face and let him play with them and suck on them.  Mostly, though, I’d ride that cock.  Grind my cunt all over that cock.  Reach and rub my clit.  Then I’d put my two middle fingers of my right hand into his mouth so he can taste my pussy and so he can lube up my fingers some more with his sweet breath.

Because he’d have sweet breath.  While riding his cock and rubbing my clit I’d lean forward and kiss him.  He’d be a good kisser.

Then I’d get on my hands on knees in front of him and he’d know to plow as hard as possible into my slick pussy.  While thumbing my ass.  It’d feel lovely.  All the while I’d be rubbing my clit.  He’d pound away at my cunt with that long cock, hitting my cervix for sure, and then I’d feel myself get to that place.

That place where I know I’m going to come.  And I probably yell out something not-to-sexy and vulgar like, “Fuck, YES!” and my pussy would squeeze his cock as I came.

Then I’d feel his cock throb inside me.  I love the feeling of a load of come shooting deep into my pussy.  He’d reach up and pull my hair hard as he thrust really hard into me when he came.

I’d turn back and smile at him as he pulled his dick out of my pussy, and his thumb out of my ass.  Then I’d be on my way.

I swear.  True (fantasy) story.

[Continued from "Alameda Guy (Part 3)."]

A couple of times I went to Alameda Guy’s side of the Bay via BART.  The first time he and his friend picked me up a the Lake Merrit Station so we could begin our evening.  Alameda Guy’s friend was HOT:  Tall and very good-looking, very much out of my league.  Actually, I don’t even play the same game as guys that good-looking.  Normally I’m very nervous around men who look that good, but meeting him with Alameda Guy meant there was absolutely no reason to even attempt to flirt.

The three of us attempted to go to dinner.  The East Bay is pretty sleepy and downtown Oakland just doesn’t have much going on, even on weekends.  The restaurant we wanted to go to wouldn’t let us sit, as it was just 9pm, their closing time.  We settled on a pub that had a live band that made it too loud for reasonable conversation.  We ate and moved on.

We stopped at a liquor store where Alameda Guy bought a case of beer.  I reminded him that I don’t drink beer; he told me the liquor store only had rather cheap brands of vodka and that there would be something better where we were going.  We drove to a mostly industrial area of Oakland and parked.  Then they grabbed the beer and we walked around the corner.

There were a lot of motorcycles.  A lot.  And quite a few people milling about the front of a nondescript storefront.  At the door Alameda Guy paid a cover charge, though I wasn’t altogether sure why.  Inside it was dark and cramped.  To the left there was a band and to the right there was a bar.  Past the bar the narrow room narrowed farther to accommodate two bathrooms on the right.  Beyond the bathrooms there was no door; it appeared that the wall was simply missing.

The missing wall allowed access to the outside, which was a fenced-in area only somewhat larger than the cramped inside space.  Jammed into the “yard” was a fully-ablaze fire pit, beyond which was a boxing ring.  The boxing ring was why we were there.

We were at the East Bay Rats Motorcycle Club’s clubhouse for Fight Night, a Fight Club-style amateur boxing event.  We, however, were mere observers.  We never got too close to the ring, and certainly didn’t participate in the fighting.

These are East Bay Rats hotties at the clubhouse. Yum!

I’m not a big fan of boxing, but maybe that’s because I’ve never seen professional boxing live.  Because that night it was thrilling to see people hit each

other.  Someone would step into the ring where the announcer/referee put out the call for a challenger.  Once there were two willing fighters in the ring the participants would agree on wearing gloves or going bare-knuckle, number of rounds, etc.

Then they’d fight.  The fighters weren’t nearly as graceful as professional boxers I’ve seen on television, but they tried.  They tired easily, they stumbled, they didn’t make contact all that often, but they were in the boxing ring doing their best.  There was one fighter who Alameda Guy said he’d seen several times at the fight nights, and who Alameda Guy had never seen win.  I rooted for him that night, but he once again lost.  I respected that he kept trying.

After there were no more willing fighters the action inside heated up.  There was an amateur strip competition on the bar.  In the bar and on the bar, which had two poles between its surface and the ceiling.

By this time I’d had several vodka and sodas.  I became a fully-participatory audience member.  No, I did not enter the competition.  There were several lovely ladies who did, however.  They even showed us their boobies.  My favorite had some tattoos, thigh-high stockings, nice small breasts, and a big round booty.  She also happened to move the best.  I’m not the only one who thought so because she won the prize of $100 (I think) based on audience applause, including my loud whoops.

After the ladies were dressed the party petered out.  The three of us walked back to the car and Alameda Guy and I were dropped off at his bachelor pad in a converted Victorian on a sweet little street in Alameda.  I assume we fucked and that the fucking was good because fucking with Alameda Guy was always good.

Several months later I would have an encounter with a hot guy who arrived via motorcycle to my house.  He was wearing a leather jacket that had the East Bay Rats logo on the back.  I told him about the fight night I’d been to and because the Bay Area is so small he was there, too.

I swear.  True story.

[I think this is the end of this story.  He disappeared and claimed to always be busy when I contacted him.  Then we finally met for drinks.  I was under the impression is was difficult for him to get away from his kids and work, and that things were tough considering the pending divorce.  Over drinks he told me he was seeing a new woman.  I was happy for him and told him I hoped she was geographically more desirable than me so it was easier for them to get together.  No, she lived in Marin County which is significantly farther away from Alameda than is San Francisco.  He had to cross not one, but two bridges to get to her.  All things being equal, I was more conveniently located.  Obviously all things were not equal.  I told him that he didn't need to bother with the niceties of drinks if he had no interest in me and I left.]

I got the idea to take this test from @SonyaLynn whom I met through Bawdy Storytelling a few months back.  By the way, on January 3, 2010, there will be a cocktail party where you can meet me and others like me at the Unicorn Cocktail Party.  Come meet me and the other unicorns, bring booze (it’s a byob event) that I like – vodka and soda, by the way – and buy raffle tickets to increase your chances of actually getting a date with me and/or the other unicorns.

Today I got my new computer from a very cool, very generous guy.  Once I got it home and went Online I accessed Random Rim Jobs where the following comment to “Pussy!” was submitted:

I’ve been reading this blog for a good 4 months now (i think).. I’ve seen the face pictures you’ve posted, ive seen your tits, and ive seen the hot Twitter avatar you have. You know, the one that says “swallows” and happens to show off a pair of nice tits and a pretty thin waist.

Imagine my surprise when watching real sex on HBO, you looked old and not so hot… kind of goofy….and definitely about 45 pounds heavier than you appeared in the pictures previously shared.

so anyways.. .there IS a point to this comment. I’m being an asshole but not a *complete* asshole.

Do the guys you meet on Craigslist get a picture thats a little more…. truthful/revealing/less flattering than the ones you’ve shared here on the blog prior to actually meeting you?

If not I imagine some of them would be a little disappointed.

Charming, eh?  If I had read this last week, just after I spilled wine on my computer, I probably would have killed myself.  Really.

Now, I just wonder why some assface has so much time on his hands and what he thinks insulting me is going to accomplish.

And since my only response directly to him was to thank him for the material – I’d few ideas on what to post today – I’ve decided to respond to him in a more public forum.

Dear Charles (cman@mailinator.com):

Thank you for reading Random Rim Jobs.  I’m glad you’ve enjoyed what you’ve read and seen so far.  I hope you keep reading, as I do post something new every damn day.

Thank you so much for appreciating my ample breasts and proportionally small waist.  Both can probably be attributed to my mother’s side of the family, though my father doesn’t have any sisters so I don’t know how XX chromosomes would have expressed themselves given the chance.

I’m also glad you watched the episode of “Real Sex” in which I was in a segment.  Best of all, thank you for sharing with me your opinion of me.  There’s nothing a person likes more than to know some asshole she has no interest in meeting thinks she looks old, not so hot, goofy, and overweight.  I’m not quite sure what your intent was other than to make me feel bad.  What a small person you must be.

Assuming what you say is true – that I looked old, not so hot, kind of goofy, and heavier than I appeared in previously disclosed photos – so the fuck what?  I’m not going to go into all the bullshit about the camera adding ten pounds – since by your math I’d still be 35 pounds heavier than I should (?) be – or that the segment was filmed in high definition which clearly doesn’t mix well with either freckles or dark under eye circles, but I do wonder what you would look like in the same situation.

When you look down, or in the mirror, or into the face of someone who is looking at you, do you always like everything you see?  Do you wish this were better, or maybe that?  Do you want more of some things (yeah, I’m talking about cock length and girth here) and less of others (that gut isn’t so sexy, dear)?  Guess what, everyone feels like that.  We are our own worst critics; what you’ve felt the need to share with me is just a portion of the shit I think about myself all the time.

By the way, do you have any photos of yourself for the world to see?  Have you ever been on television?  I would appreciate the opportunity to assess you.  I can’t imagine you’d hold up all that well to scrutiny.

I do tend to post flattering photos of myself, which I think is understandable.  Why would I want to post shitty pictures of me?  I, however, have not posted the photos of myself I find most flattering because those are quite a few years old and do not accurately represent what I now look like.  And/or I make clear that they are particularly good photos of me, as in the second part of the story about Las Vegas.

For example, this is a fucking great photo of me.  I was 26.  I had just returned from my first trip to Thailand (“Smooth as Silk“) where it is hot and the food is good, but served in small portions.  I didn’t realize at the time how thin – for me, as I’ve never been truly thin – I was.  I would never post this photo as an accurate representation of me now.  Because it’s not.

Because I have disappointed guys upon first meeting them. Let me direct you to this which makes that ever so clear.  I’ve also pleasantly surprised men and women.  I know this because they’ve told me, and I’ve no reason to disbelieve them since they’ve told me so both before and after we’ve fucked.

The photo in “Bras” was taken on or after September 25, 2009.  The photo of my tits in the “swallows” t-shirt was taken some time in early 2009 I believe.  I have neither gained nor lost 45 pounds since early June 2009, when the “Real Sex” segment was filmed.

Some people like me, some don’t.  Many who have met me in person do like me, and find me sexy, and hot, and goofy in a good way, and looking probably my age – 36, the fact of which I’ve never hidden.  By the way, I’ll be 37 on May 30, 2010.  I was born in 1973.  I do not try to hide the fact that I have birthdays every fucking year, which you would know if you’d read “Happy Birthday.”

Yesterday I received a text from the woman the encounter of which I wrote about in “Pussy!,” the story to which you’ve commented.  She wants us to be fuck buddies.  I told her that made me very happy.  Her text response to me:

Not sure why you are so surprised.  You’re sexy as hell, very funny – easy to talk to, and great in bed … why wouldn’t I want to repeat?

That’s an opinion that matters, that of a person who has actually met me.

You know how to contact me should you want to prove me wrong in my assumption that you are not a perfect physical specimen.  Your poor writing has already made clear that you are not a perfect intellectual one.

Sincerely,

Suzanne

P.S.:  Cman?  Really?  Lame.

Dammit, he’s right.  I hate being a chickenshit.  But I also shouldn’t have to do all the work.

And I really do think people are playing jokes on me when they say some things, like they want to fuck me, or I should do things on webcam, because who would want to see me?  [This is NOT an invitation for compliments!]

Altar Boy called.  We’d not talked in a while, but it was nice to hear from him.  It had been a period of guys coming out of the wood work.  The nice thing was that the guys who emerged were guys I actually wanted to fuck again.

I met him and his friend out by the taco truck.  Then I took them up to the roof.  As is inevitable with me, the topic of sex came up in some capacity.  I assumed Altar Boy explained to his friend how we knew each other – met through Twitter, fuck – and geared my conversation accordingly.

Then they asked to see my apartment.  Altar Boy had already been in my place, several times, and really, it’s not all that, so I suspected this was some kind of ploy.  My place was a mess; I was embarrassed to have them see it.  Nonetheless, the three of us went to my place.

We were still talking about sex and being generally flirty.  It was a week day so I didn’t know if or when they had to get back to work.

I never said, “Would the two of you like to go upstairs and fuck?”  But neither did either of them say, “Let’s all go upstairs and fuck.”

Every once in a while I play a little game with myself where I don’t say what I want to see if someone else has the balls to say what he wants.  I did it the other day in a bar.  I was alone in a dive bar having a couple of drinks.  A guy sitting two bar stools over was clearly checking me out with the furtive glances of a shy guy.  I looked back and allowed some very obvious lingering glances.  The guy wanted to talk to me.  I wanted to talk to him.  But I decided I would let him move over one stool and begin the conversation.  I left without ever talking to him because he didn’t have the balls to talk to me.

The day in my apartment with Altar Boy and his friend was one of those times when I knew what they wanted, I knew what I would have done, and I decided to let them articulate their desires.  They never did.

Well, not completely.  I saw them to the door.  When they were about to leave they suddenly had the desire to see my tits.  I showed them my tits, but I wasn’t about to suggest any more if they weren’t going to do so.

They left.

Afterwords, I mentally kicked myself for not being ballsy.  But at the same time I didn’t think that I should have to do all the work to get a couple of guys to fuck me in all my holes.  I texted them to come back, but was told that it was too late, that I had choked.  I hadn’t choked, they hadn’t stepped up to the plate, dammit.

The friend texted me a few times, claiming he’d never had anal sex and wanted to give it a try.  I told him that he had make arrangements to make it happen.  He and I still have never had any sort of physical contact, much less sex of any sort.  I’m not holding out much hope.

I swear.  True story.

3:24 pm

Erica’s at Juree’s so that means my sex life is shot to hell. I don’t want to catch anything. She says she’s not going down there because she’s tired of me but isn’t it obvious that she’s rather be with Juree ’cause I’m boring. Yes it is. Well, Amy said the other day that Erica told her she had no desire to have sex with anyone but Juree. Well, I’m so sorry I’m undesireable. Then she told me that she had said that a long time ago when she was being idealistic.  I really want to do something tonight because I don’t like sleeping alone.  If Gene’s at work then I’ll get him to call Sandy and see if she wants to do anything tonight.  She hasn’t called me and that really pisses me off because that means she doesn’t like me and I’m stuck fawning to Erica ’cause there’s no one else.  I really want beth I think she knows cause otherwise why would she tease me so much oh well what can I do it’s not like it’s some guy who I like and I just have to get my butt in gear no this is another girl who probably wouldn’t even go for the idea ’cause she has her reputation to uphold well I’m moving far away and won’t tell a soul.  I promise.  Erica always says I tried defending you blah blah blah she’s going to bad mouth me I just know it she’ll say how fat I am etc. or how gross my skin is or how ugly I am.  I asked her how she would feel if I was doing the same thing to her and she said how we’re not together so she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it but she’d feel like she wasn’t good enough.  I’ve become boring and she’ll just be all the more exciting.  I fell like getting to her 1/2 lover, Amy, and fucking her brains out ’cause she’s a hell of a better kisser anyway.  She made my mind overwhelm with her after one kiss and with Erica it was just eh.  Then when I found out she was overwhelmed with me then I got interested.  Why do I think sex is everything?  Why does erica who feels guilt about sex do it so often?

4:48 pm

I’m very cold.  I put a bra on.  I haven’t worn one in I don’t know how long.  Brent at work got fired.  I liked him, he was weird.  I should brush my teeth.  I wonder where Sam is I like getting to work on time.  Amy told me I should look to revenge and knock dorko’s ego down a few notches.

[Continued from "Holiday Cheer (Part 1)."]

Whiskey Dick showed up at Mary and Jack’s place.  He had been drinking.  CK and I had been drinking.

We chatted.  CK knew already how Whiskey Dick and I had met (Craig’s List, of course) and the nature of our relationship (fucking) and thought it was hilarious to quiz him on various things about me and us.  She seemed to think that because we were fucking and we liked each other that we should be “together,” whatever that meant.

Whiskey Dick and I were very comfortable with our arrangement, though things were a tad strained since he moved to a place not quite so convenient as a block away from my place.

The three of us were having fun.  I’m not sure who suggested it, but we decided to put on some of Mary and Jack’s porn.  We had the porn on in the background and continued to talk.

Porn being what it is, we were all slightly distracted from our conversation.  When the scene onscreen was a poolside threesome with two guys and a woman with the woman on her back, CK asked something along the lines of, “Why do her boobs go to the side like that?”

CK had huge breasts so I was a bit confused as to why she didn’t understand what gravity does to (natural) breasts when supine.  I tried to explain it to her.  She couldn’t comprehend.  She said her breasts didn’t do that when she laid down.  Really?  How could that be?  They’re huge and gravity is a constant force.

Of course Whiskey Dick took this as an opportunity to ask to see her breasts.  I had never seen them before either and was curious as to how they defied the forces of nature.

They did.  While very large – at least a G or H cup – there was little difference between bra-ed and braless regarding location.  Her gigantic breasts were high and firm.  And her pink areolas were the size of those seen on breasts a quarter of the size.  Her nipples were tiny as well.  CK had fucking amazing tits.

I was still a little irritated at CK’s lack of understanding about the plight of gravitational forces on fatty protuberances, but Whiskey Dick had no problem getting past that.  He was in boobie heaven.

He asked if he could touch her breasts.  He asked if he could touch my breasts.  At one point he had one hand on hers, one hand on mine, and both eyes on the porn that was still playing on the television.

Eventually she and I kissed.  We had been friends for years, and I never hid the fact that I was bisexual, but she was pretty uptight about girl-on-girl action, or anyone perceiving her as anything but straight.  I chalked it up to CK’s paranoid father, who CK said would burst in on childhood all-girl slumber parties to make sure there wasn’t any hanky-panky going on.  Apparently his mother was a lesbian and his worst fear was that his daughter would be as well.

So when CK and I kissed I think it was sort of a big deal.  For both of us.

We moved into Mary and Jack’s bedroom.  CK put on a pair of Jack’s pj pants and refused, despite pleading on my and Whiskey Dick’s parts, to take them off, ever.  Without vaginal penetration we had a threesome.

Whiskey Dick wanted to go down on her but she continued to refuse to take off her pants.  What CK did want to do was suck cock.  She was quite an enthusiastic cock sucker.  I recall thinking that she was enjoying herself a lot.

This was before I liked sucking cock so much.  I liked to suck cock, but it didn’t make my pussy wet and tingly like it does now.  This was before I had fully embraced cocksucking as something I enjoy rather than something I do for the guy’s enjoyment.  I believe sucking Whiskey Dick’s cock made CK’s pussy wet and tingly.  Which of course we never found out because of those fucking pj pants.

It was very late/early.  CK went to another bedroom to go to sleep.  I wanted to make sure she was ok and not freaked out by the whole incident.  She seemed ok.

By the time I got back to Whiskey Dick he was asleep in Mary and Jack’s bed and snoring quite loudly.  I woke him and we left.  In the wee hours of the morning the sun was bright and the cabs were scarce.

We walked toward my place while we looked for a cab.  Whiskey Dick could not get the huge grin off his face.  He kept saying, “That was so cool.  I’m so lucky.”  If he didn’t like tits before that night, he certainly did after.

Eventually we made it back to my place where I took care of my dogs.  I told Whiskey Dick he could sleep some at my house so we crawled in bed.

Only we weren’t ready to sleep.  All night long we’d both been denied good, old-fashioned fucking.  We were still horny as fuck.

Whiskey Dick and I generally had really good sex.  That morning he fucked my ass while I had a dildo in my pussy.  I came good and hard after all that build-up.

That might have been the last time I saw Whiskey Dick.

CK made me promise not to tell Mary and Jack what we’d done in their bed.  I kept that promise – for a while.  After CK and I had a falling out and were no longer friends I didn’t feel the need to keep her secrets any longer.  I certainly wasn’t ashamed of what had happened, and I told Mary and Jack something I had done.  I apologized to Mary and Jack for mistreating their bed without their permission.

I swear.  True story.

[This is another submission from a guest writer, @wickedmind on Twitter.]

We are still in the hotel, we drifted of in a solid sleep after yesterday’s ordeal.

You wake up … only to find you can’t move.

Your hands and legs are immobilized and when you open your eyes it’s pitch black darkness.

You panic.  You struggle in your binds.  You scream you’ve had enough.

But nothing else than utter silence remains.

You wonder what’s next as you call my name.  How I love to hear it come from you with that hint of distress in it.

I leave you there on the bed as you hear me (is it me?) rumbling through the room.

An occasional tug on your restraints tell me you have not quite accepted this new situation.

I untie one leg to bind your calf to your thigh.  You struggle.  Ah, you’ve regained some strength.

But only to find that resistance is futile as the other leg experiences the same treatment.

You call my name again and again, asking me what I am doing.

But silence is the answer.

My hands glide over your thighs, to stop right before your pussy.

You really can’t move, other than wiggle your nice behind, but I am in total control now.

Then you feel something soft trace the lines and curves of your body, paying extra attention to your nipples.

They stand erect like nothing else in the world.  The soft thing traces down your belly and starts to brush along your pussy.

The tickling sends jolts of sensations through your body.

You sigh, you fight your restraints.

Ah the beautiful sight of you on display like this gives me a raging hard-on.

I decide to stop playing on your sensory overload.  Suddenly you feel movement next to your head.

Your face turning towards the movement, then you feel a warm thick cock enter your mouth.

And with one gentle but unstoppable thrust it goes in till you feel balls against your face.

Thus begins a silent facefuck.  You can do nothing else but let yourself being used like this.

You feel the cock relentlessly entering and exiting your mouth and throat.

As all of a sudden it stops, you hear a moan and a warm fluid is all over your face.  You try to get some with your tongue as you feel a finger helping you to scoop it in.

Than you hear a whack.  You say no, not that!

But the way your pussy is betraying you.  You must be ashamed for being such a slut.  There is a wet spot on the blankets already from leaking fluids.

You feel soft taps on your thighs.  The taps have a pattern slightly harder each time they hit target and each time a bit more closer to your labia.

You try to escape it with every hit. If you could only see my grin.

Spread wide unable to move cum on your face mmmmmmm.

Then the tapping goes to your tits.  I hear you say ouch when a hit lands directly on the nipple that is invitingly erect.

Only to feel the pain softened with a kiss.  But those do not feel like mine!

Then a slap straight on your pussy.  OUCH!  Again softened by a soft kiss.

You want to ask what is going on but you feel something over your face.

A person.  There are legs on each side of your head.  I see your body tremble.

Then you feel two hands straighten your face and something soft and wet is touching your lips.

Again a slap on your pussy and as you try to release a sound you feel a pussy being pushed on your cumdrenched face.

You have no choice and you have to taste the musklike fluid now leaving its taste on your tongue.

You pussy is leaking more and more as you feel a finger entering your cunt.

Your clit is rubbed by another as you have no other option than to follow the directions given by a soft female voice:  “Lick me.”

You hear sloppy noises from the lower side of your body as a dildo is being put in your ass.

Then you hear a knock on the door.

You hear the door being opened and closed.

Who is it you mumble while licking that pussy.

You hear a belt come loose, a zipper unzip and clothes being taken off.

Now you panic again and say something about not wanting this.

But as I said, you’re in MY control.  A slap on your face brings you back to your task of servicing the pussy presented to you.

All of a sudden you feel a cock enter your pussy and it isn’t mine but it sure does feel familiar.

You hear a Polaroid take pictures.

No, no, pictures.  NO!

But the ravaging on your body continues and the sensory overload is now building an orgasm in your body.

You feel the female body on top of you shake and with an extra flicker of your tongue you feel the liquids pouring from her twat into your mouth.

Meanwhile, the cock still is pounding you.

She leaves your body and your tits are being caressed.  And again a cock!  At your face!

Now you’ll have every hole filled in your body.

And the pace is picked up you have an orgasm like never before while bound and filled to the brim.

You scream like the room is on fire.  Then you feel the two cocks are thickening and the both pull out.

Only to spray their cum allover your body.  The silence is deafening as you lie there and you hear clothes being picked up and the door open and close.

I untie you.

The blindfold is taken off.

And when your eyes are used to the light you see Polaroids laying all around.

On one you see how the maid is sitting her twat on your face and on the other you see how your hubby and I double team your hot body.

With the text written on them, “Enjoy, Hubby.”