Random Rim Jobs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know. I loved it too.”

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

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

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

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

Mostly a true story. I swear.

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 "Chicago:  June 20, 2010."]

It was my last day in Chicago.  The day was bittersweet because the Viking and I would have to part ways.  He was coming home in three days anyway, but we would miss each other nonetheless.  We’re goofy like that.  He’ll get tired of me soon enough.

I decided on the trip that I don’t like king-size beds.  They are way too big for me.  If I’m sleeping in the same bed as someone chances are it’s because I want to share a bed.  A king bed makes it feel like I’m in the bed alone, which is fine, but only when I’m in bed alone.  When I share a bed with someone I want to be able to reach out and actually find a body.  (Preferably a live one.)  I’m not much of a cuddler, but I still want to be able to feel a body if I’m choosing to share a bed.

I packed my suitcase.  We had strewn our clothes about the room, and the toys had been put to use.  It was nice that the Viking was staying in the room so if I forgot anything he could bring it home.  I didn’t forget anything in my huge suitcase.  I was required to overpack because of the size of my suitcase.  The Ex and I had bought a set of luggage before we went to Thailand the first time.  When the Ex moved out he took the smaller pieces and left me the largest piece.  Now, unless it’s just a quick jaunt, the only suitcase I have has to be filled.  For this trip, the rope and toys took up the space, but the bag has to be checked because of the size.

These days the stupid-ass airlines charging for checking even one bag is just bullshit.  When I arrived in our hotel room and opened my suitcase, I noticed the contents had been rearranged; the flogger was on top whereas it had been under my clothes when I packed.  On top of everything was a “NOTIFICATION OF INSPECTION (NOI).”  Apparently if I had any prohibited items they were turned over to the proper authorities.  I’m glad they don’t think sex toys are “Hazardous Materials.”

After packing, the Viking and I went out in search of food and shopping.  We ate at Big Bowl, which apparently prides itself on using seasonal, local produce.  Yay, I don’t have to feel like I’m compromising my inner hippie in the Midwest.  Lunch was really quite good for a somewhat gimmicky (albeit small) chain restaurant.

Then we went shopping.  I’m not a big shopper.  I mostly get annoyed, and when it comes to shopping for intimate apparel, depressed.  The Viking wanted to go bra shopping with me, I think mostly because he wanted to see my boobies in a different setting, but I didn’t want to do that on vacation.  Vacations, after all, are supposed to be fun, not demoralizing.

Chicago has one of just a few of the Lego® stores on earth.  We walked into one of those vertical urban shopping malls and climbed a few escalators.  We knew we were close when in the well of the escalators there were figures made out of Lego blocks.  There was a giant spider and a big rat, made out of Lego bricks.  We went into the store, where there were many, many different sets.  There was also an area where individual blocks could be purchased individually.  While the individual bricks looked pretty, I couldn’t think of what to make with them.  I want to make some fun, funky jewelry with Lego blocks.

The Viking bought me a couple of the sets from the Architecture series. I’m going to have a lot of fun putting these together.  I really like Lego.  I’m a childish nerd.

There were stations where one could put together sets of three Lego people.  Their headgear, heads/faces, torsos, legs, and up to two accessories could be picked individually.  I had an idea considering Pride was coming up, so I got a set of three custom people.

We took our booty back to the room and fit the Lego sets into my luggage.  The Viking escorted me all the way to the airport, which was very much appreciated considering Chicago train stations have stairs, not escalators.  It would have been very difficult for me to carry my heavy-as-shit suitcase.

After the Viking dropped me off I went to my gate.  Luckily, close by was a bar where I had a couple of drinks.  While drinking them I began to play Plants vs. Zombies.  Then, as I entered the gate area I saw someone I know.  Someone I know from San Francisco.  It’s a small, small world.

We talked, but unfortunately we weren’t seated near each other, and the good ol’ days of easily being able to change seats are over.  But my friend texted me before take off and offered to buy me a drink.  Thank you very much.

The entire flight passed very quickly because I was killing zombies the whole time.  Once at home I saw that my baggage had again been inspected.  This time my Hitachi Magic Wand had been left on top of the other suitcase contents.

I had a great time in Chicago.  It’s a nice place to visit.  Would I want to live there?

I swear.  True story.

I think this woman is beautiful.  I love how different she looks in profile versus straight on.  Straight on she doesn’t look like she has a big nose, but she most definitely does.  I’m not even close to this pretty, but my nose has the same issue.  I didn’t know my nose was big and and a bump on the bridge until I accidentally caught my profile’s reflection in a two-mirror situation when I was in sixth grade.  (That’s grade six to you Canadians.)  The bump on my nose is not due to a break; it’s because I’m Native American.  A tiny bit.  Just my nose.  I’m mostly just a lot of Western European.  Really, I’m American.  An American American. Your basic white mutt without any ethnic identity other than being American.

I’m also not even close to having breasts this large.  Those are a couple of very large breasts.  I’ll go so far as to say they’re too large.  That’s a lot of boob to deal with.  I’m really quite glad my breasts aren’t that large.  When I was growing up I was worried my breasts would get huge because my mother has giant boobs.  And then when I began developing pretty early I was afraid they’d never stop growing.  But they did, for the most part.  They still grow as I gain weight, and shrink when I lose weight, but without major fluctuations.

I swear.  True story.

This looks just lovely.  Those are lovely breasts that gravity hasn’t had much of a chance to mistreat.  Not that gravity is a cruel bitch or anything.  But she is.  Always pulling.  Keeping our feet on the ground.  And dragging down our soft bits.

This lovely lady, however, has only had the benefits of gravity so far in her life.  Good for her.  I hope she realizes what she has now, before it’s gone.  Or at least closer to the ground.

All those women who say they posed new when their bodies were looking their best?  Yeah, I get it.  I certainly have never had a nude posing-worthy body, but I wish I knew what I had when I had it.  When I was a size 7 I thought I was fat.  Silly me.  I always thought I was fat, probably because I thought I looked like my mother, who was fat, and because I didn’t look like my sister or my step-sister, who were both very skinny.

While I wish I knew what I had when I had it, I’m glad I have what I have now, even if it’s not perfect.  Not even close to perfect.  I have a funky toenail and flat feet; I miss shaving a few hairs near each ankle bone most of the time; I have a biopsy scar on one calf and a 1990s “tribal” tattoo on the other; I have shitty knees that hurt more when I’m going downhill than up; my thighs are … not slim, but they are strong; I have more body hair than I’d like; my stomach isn’t flat; my hips aren’t small; my breasts aren’t as perky as I’d like; my arms are not well defined; I have a big nose; I have acne; my hair is almost too thick (yes, I know this is one of those complaints for which some will hate me); I require corrective lenses; I grind my teeth.  Not even close to perfect.  But I’m me.

So I’m looking forward to my 37th year.  Happy birthday to me.

I swear.  True story.

[Continued from "First Date (Part 5)" from guest writer Dick Cramden.]

Enough of the torture.  Of you and of me.  It was time.  I changed my tempo slightly and soon you were coming, bucking hard against my hands and face.  Your head twisted from side to side.  Your feet slid off my arms as your legs stiffened, and I could see you pulling at the scarves that fastened you to the bed.

With a slow steady pace of my tongue, I tried to extend your orgasm as long as I could, without allowing your clit to be overcome with sensitivity.

My fingers left you.  My lips left you.  My tongue left you.  And you writhed just a little, catching your breath.

You felt me leave.  For a moment.  A long moment.

When I returned you could feel me over you.

“I want you inside me,” you said.

“Ask nicely,” I said.

“Please, I want you inside me.”

My cock slid all the way in one quick stroke, deep into your pussy.  You gasped, and I kissed you.  Our bodies slid around, slick from the massage oil, only adding to the pleasure.  Try as I might to keep a slow pace, to enjoy the sensation of entering and leaving your pussy with every nerve ending on my cock, I could not.  Instead of the tender slow love making I had fantasized for that night, we were fucking each other with wild abandon.

Suddenly I stopped.

I moved around the bed.

You were panting a little.  Your mouth was open.  And inviting.  I put my cock there and you took it in.  You sucked on my hard cock as I untied the scarves from the bed frame. Free from the restraints, you rolled to one side, took the shaft of my cock in one hand and stroked it as your mouth moved down and up on me.  It was my turn to with pleasure.  I asked you how you liked your taste on my cock, but you didn’t stop to answer. Your other hand gently grabbed my balls and gave them a squeeze.

I pushed myself away from you, and moved behind you.

I lifted you up onto your knees, and pushed your body forward.  With my finger I found your clit again and pleasured it a bit more.

You stretched out your arms and lower body until your breasts and head were flat on the bed and your arms dangling off the edge.  Your ass was raised in the air.  I pushed your legs close together, and then I slid into you.  I held your ass and pumped into you as you moaned with pleasure.

I reached down and grabbed your shoulders to pull you up.  I slid out of you and spread your legs, wide.

You were erect in posture, except for your bent knees.  I slid my knees beneath you and entered you, and you leaned back against me. I pulled off the scarf that was blindfolding you, and you suddenly saw that we were facing a the mirrored double doors of the hotel room’s closet.  You could watch as my cock slid in and out of you.

“I love pleasing you,” I whispered into your ear.

My hands reached around you and grab onto your tits.  In order to keep my balance, I thrust up harder into you.

I could see your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“I am going to come,” I said.

You slid off me, and stroked me from between your legs, and I came.  I came a lot.  And we collapsed into each others’ arms and fell onto the bed, heads on the pillows.  We were still, at least for the moment.

[That's it!  Pretty hot, eh?]

[Continued from Dick Cramden's "First Date (Part 3)."]

Then you heard the sound of a zipper, the sound of fabric moving.  And you could sense that I had returned to the bed.  I was close to you again.  Very close.

Your lips were pursed, slightly open.  You were sexy as hell.

No longer able to wait, I placed the shaft of my wanting cock gently across your lips.  Your tongue caressed me.  Then you turned your head and took me into your mouth, tasting the sweet precome that had been building up and oozing out of me for the longest time.  You could only move your head a little so my hips had to do some of the work too, with slow strokes.  You took me deep into your mouth.  I could feel an orgasm begin to well up inside me.

So I stopped.

You felt me get off the bed.

A moment later, I climbed onto the bed between your legs.

You felt the heat of my body hovering over you.

Then you felt the head of my cock.  It was between your pussy lips, but stopped short from being inside you.

“Do you want me inside you?” I asked.

“Yes,” you moaned.

“Then tell me,” I insisted.

“I want you inside me.”

Your hips raised up, trying to get me to slip into you, but I pulled back, leaving my head at the opening of your hot, wet pussy.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” I asked.

“Yes.  I want you to fuck me,” you moaned.

“Ask nicely.”

“Please fuck me.  Please.  I want you to fuck me.”

I kissed you. Hard.  Full on the lips.  I fucked your mouth with my tongue and you did the same to me.  Then I stopped.  “I will.  Later.”

And I climbed off of you.  I climbed off the bed.

You heard me go into that bag again.

In the candlelight I could see your breathing was heavy.  I wondered if I was crazy.  Why didn’t I have my body wrapped around yours?  Why wasn’t I inside you?

The massage oil was cold when it hit your upper left thigh, making a line down your thigh, over your knee, and down to your foot.  I started to rub it into your skin; massaged the muscles of your slender leg.

Your leg glistened in the light from the candles.  The smell was intoxicating: jasmine, sandalwood, rosewood, ylang-ylang, and lavender aromas filled the air, mixing with the music and the lust already in the room.

I massaged the sole of your foot, nibbling on your toes as I went.

The massage oil next spilled on your tits.  I massaged them thoroughly.  The sensations of supple and slick beneath my hands was amazing.  So was the writhing of your hips as I touched your tits.  So were your soft moans.

From your tits I worked my way to your shoulders.  I could tell you were completely relaxed, as I sensed no tension at all.

I gently started to massage your neck, rubbing my thumbs over your throat.  In a different situation that might have seemed threatening.  But you trusted me completely.

I gave each arm the same rub down I gave your leg.  I sucked on each finger and thumb as I massaged your hands and wrists.

I worked on your tummy and your torso next, letting my hands slide beneath you to coat your back with the oil too.

Finally, I moved on to your right leg ….

[To be continued ….]