Random Rim Jobs

This looks downright fun – both to watch and do.  A threesome with these two would be a lot of fun, too.  Her breasts look like they’d feel fabulous.  Her plain white panties and socks make her look sweet and innocent, but that thick cock in her pussy, not so much.  I don’t care what his face looks like because what I can see of him is just fine.  I love that they had to fuck so badly that he only had time to get his dick out and she didn’t have time to take those practical panties off.

I swear.  True (fantasy) story.

What I like about my particular lover who, ah, drinks tea, is that we’ve known each other for years and he lives not far; he’s always around, and he’s a great cook. His lovers put up drywall and tend to the yard, and he cooks.

I’m often just over at his place talking about some programming language or math or something and having a bit to eat. Or, I’m walking into the kitchen to see what he’s stirring, he turns a hug into his tongue down my throat, his hands on my ass, and my feet off the ground (he’s stronger than I). This takes me by surprise, but I can get his shirt off very quickly and push him against the counter when I have that kind of cue. Last time he did this he simply took my hand and led me upstairs where he proceeded to fuck me until I couldn’t see any more. He has a gorgeous cock and comes in a flash if I suck on his nipples, but he won’t let me – he holds that off, delays me until he gets me off…we battle over our agenda of getting the other to come first.

It’s rather cute. He’s from the south. Can turn on a great accent.

[This lovely bit was from a guest writer who sought me out, but not to be a guest writer here.  Nonetheless, this tidbit got me wet and I had to ask his permission to please let me share with y'all.  I wouldn't mind watching, not at all.]

I taught acting and musical theater for in Korea for three years. Mostly to kids, but one of my classes, twice a week, was an adult class for Koreans – mostly in their mid-twenties – who spoke various degrees of English. It was the first week of December and I was going to take my class of five out to dinner and drinks after class. That same day, two new students – a guy and a girl – signed up for the class.  They were friends, but not too close.  The girl spoke more English than the guy; both were talented, had good voices, and looked like they could be cast in soap operas.

After class, we all walked to the local Korean BBQ restaurant; the two new students had been invited to join. Along the way, I started chatting up the new girl, whom, I was starting to realize, had a pretty large rack under that tight sweater of hers.  She revealed to me that she LOVED to drink soju, and got drunk every night.

And, low and behold, by then end of the night, we were all drunk and ready to go.  The group went its separate ways.  I asked the girl if I could walk her to the bus stop. She said, “Absolutely,” (well, “Absorutetry,”) and we walked to the nearest one. It was cold and rainy, and as we faced each other, I asked if I could keep her warm.  She said ok and I slipped my hands around her, under her sweater in the back, feeling her soft skin and her bra. Boldly, as I talked to her about random shit, my hands slowly moved from under her shirt in the back, to under her shirt in the front. I started squeezing her breasts, neither one acknowledging what I was doing until finally, I grabbed her and kissed her.

As we kissed, her hips kept grinding against mine. I knew the people around at the bus stop were starting to watch. I whispered in her ear, “Let’s go somewhere private,” but all she could do was moan her affirmation and nod her head while she kissed me.  I pulled her by the hand and we went back to the main street. I knew exactly where we were going. I took her to Black Angus, which was below street level and had stairs leading down to the entrance.

We walked down the stairs and sat on a bench in front of the closed Black Angus.  People above on the street were still walking and talking, with us in a dark corner, just steps away. I sat on the bench, unzipped my pants, pulled it out and she pulled her pants down.  She turned around and sat on my lap with her back to me.  As I slipped inside her, she bounced up and down on my cock, moaning as she rode me.

A picked her up and put her on the bench, kneeling in front of me.  I stood behind her.  I took her hair in my hand and gave her ass a few nice slaps and started pounding her from behind.  She moaned and took it and didn’t mind as I pushed her face into the wall, her cheek pressed up against it as I kept nailing her.

Since we hadn’t had the foresight to use protection, when it was time to cum, there was nothing else to do, but pull out and finish on her face.

I took her back to the bus stop, sent her home and went back to my apartment for a well-deserved night of sleep.

Back when I used Craig’s List, I used it a lot.  I both placed ads and responded to ads.  One to which I responded was placed by a couple who wanted a lady to participate in threesomes with them.  Actually, I responded to several such ads.  This couple, however, I actually fucked.

The guy and I exchanged emails.  He told me they were a professional couple.  They all say they’re a “professional” couple.  Frankly, I don’t give a shit what the people I fuck do for a living, but in the Online casual sex world “professional” seems to mean “not creepy.”  Or at least that’s what it’s supposed to mean.

I don’t know if this couple was creepy per se, but I certainly didn’t see them do anything professional.  In the emails I exchanged with the guy he said their only rule was that his penis could not go into my vagina.  Other things could go into my vagina, and all sorts of things could go into my mouth, but him fucking me was off-limits.  I don’t recall us discussing anal sex at all prior to our first meeting.

Our first meeting wasn’t planned.  I was home alone late one night when I received an email from the guy.  He requested my presence that night.  They lived relatively close and he assured me that my cab fare would be covered.  Usually it’s best to meet in public first to see if there’s chemistry, but I’d gotten a decent vibe from the guy via email and, well, I was horny and up for an adventure.

I got dressed and called a cab.  I was a tad worried when I arrived at the address he had given me, since it was definitely not a house or apartment building.  But there was a man waiting out front, and he paid the cabbie, so I assumed he was the guy.  He was tall and blond with some facial hair.

He let me in their place, which had been converted from a less residential use.  It was dimly lit but I could tell the place had some serious square footage.  While San Francisco isn’t quite like Manhattan, real estate is definitely pricey, so a big place is unusual.

We walked to the back of the building where there was a living room area set up.  I sat on the couch, which was facing a rather large television, which was not on, and a curtain.  While I still sat on the couch he went through the curtain.  I heard that he was talking, but not what he was saying.  I figured he was talking to her, but wasn’t at all sure.

Eventually, he bid me behind the curtain.  Beyond the curtain was a “bedroom.”  The bedroom had a large office area with a very large, multi-winged desk.  He and I sat at the desk while he said all the things we’d do to her.  I heard not a peep from her, and began to wonder if “she” existed.  But then I peeked over and sure enough, there was a woman bound spread-eagle to the bed.

We made our way over to the bed.  He kept up a constant chatter about what was going on.  After all, she couldn’t see so he had to keep her updated.

He directed me to do various things to her.  I was fine; I follow direction well and I was having fun.  I licked her pussy.  I fingered her pussy.  I sucked his cock.  I watched him fuck her.  I do so like watching couples fuck.

The whole time she made clear she was enjoying herself.  She didn’t talk, but she did moan.  He interpreted.  He assured me that she liked what was going on.  I, too, liked what was happening.  We continued with our ministrations, focusing mostly on her pussy, as there it was open for us.

I did whatever he told me.  I licked.  I sucked.  I fingered.  Then he grabbed my wrist.  He whispered in my ear that he wanted to fist her but that his hands were too big.  He said my hands were just the right size.

I swear.  True story.

[To be continued, of course.]

I was asked on Formspring if I would ever bukkake.  I suppose.  It seems like it’d be a lot of work to try to get things coordinated, but sure, I’d have a few guys come on my face, or wherever.  I like come on me.  It’s fun to turn my face up and shut my eyes and wait patiently for it to hit my face.  It’s fun that every load feels unique.

Yeah, I’d bukkake.

I swear.  True story.

[Continued from "Slave Auditions, Part 3."]

It was a long, exhausting day of slave tryouts.  It was also a lot of fun.  So much fun that after Cutey left there was more fucking.

We conducted all of our slave “business” through my email.  During the week I received several emails from potential slaves to whom we’d sent the “You Lose” emails, as well as emails from those who did actually show up who wanted to come back for more.  Most of them did.

Glasses told us he had driven all the way from Petaluma.  Nineteen told us he was fine with us filming him.  Cutey said – in German – that she wanted to be our pet.  All around very flattering, and hot.

In addition, I received several emails from potential slaves whom had not been scheduled for our initial auditions.  I decided to add another set of auditions the following Saturday.  Once again I told them what time to be at my place.  I had five scheduled until one asked, “After I clean, can the three of us fuck?”  Uh, no, and our original ad made it clear that the potential slaves would not be able to fuck us.  So we had four half-hour auditions scheduled.

Once again the Viking made a delicious brunch of scrambled eggs and crêpes.  It was delicious.  As there were only four potential slaves scheduled, and the previous week proved the flake factor was quite high, I figured no one would show up.  But we had a nice brunch, it’s always nice to see Sugar, and Saturdays are good, lazy days.

We ate.  We waited.  The first potential slave flaked.  Not much of a surprise.  Then the phone rang, signaling someone at the front door.  Yay!  Sugar and I were ready.

I opened my front door and saw a very young guy coming down the hall.  Very young.  So young that I asked for his identification.  He had recently turned 21.  So adorable.  He was a little guy – probably 5′5″ and cute as a button.

Right away I put him to work cleaning my downstairs bathroom’s tub.  I used that shower/tub regularly when I had the former roommates and I still hadn’t cleaned it proper since I started using the upstairs bathroom for personal hygiene.  I brought him cleaning supplies.  Sugar told him to take off his pants.  Then, every few minutes, Sugar went in the bathroom and spanked him with my riding crop.  She’s so cute when she gets toppy.

We dubbed him 21.  When he was done in the bathroom we had him do some dishes.  He kept leaving the water running longer than he should have, and he seemed to think that his hands were an effective cleaning tool even though there were dish scrubbies.  And though I pointed out the compost bucket to him multiple times he didn’t seem to grasp the concept of compost.  Even though he lived in Berkeley.

But we were having fun, he was cute, and no other potential slaves were showing up to relieve him.  He stayed and I continued to give him tasks to do around the kitchen.

We ran out of wine.  I wanted vodka.  I was about to leave for the store when Sugar suggested we have the Viking go to leave us alone with 21.  The Viking left.  In his absence we asked 21 to show us his cock.  He did.  I certainly hope he was a grower.

The Viking returned with vodka and several mangoes.  He then juiced the mangoes in his fancy, super-powerful juicer, mixed the juice with the vodka, and served it over ice.  Yum!  Mango juice and vodka is one of my favorite drinks, ever.

We asked 21 how many girls – because he thinks of women as girls at his tender age – he’d had relations with.  Two.  TWO!  So fucking cute!  Sugar pointed out that if he fucked us that he could double his number immediately.  Sugar is a dirty girl who wants to corrupt young, sweet 21-year-old boys.  Which just makes me want to fuck her more.

I suppose 21 forgot that the ad that brought him to my place indicated that one of the potential rewards for doing a good job was to hear Sugar and I fuck each other because at one point he asked, “Do you two sex each other?”  What?  We each determined the other was a woman on our first meeting; continuing to sex each other is not necessary.  We most definitely have sex with each other, and we informed him of such.  Silly boy.

We eventually allowed 21 to have some of the yummy vodka concoction, and we finally sent him on his way.  I saw him to the door and told him we’d let him know if we wanted him back.  He did a pretty shitty job of cleaning.

No other potential slaves showed up – we were one for four for that day.

Sugar and I then watched Jon Stewart being interviewed on the O’Reilly Factor.  We were both turned on by how fucking smart John Stewart is and how lame Bill O’Reilley is.  We barely got through the interview; we had to stop it a couple of times to make out.  Kissing Sugar is so much fun.

Then we went up to the bedroom.  The bedroom I share with the Viking.  The Viking, however, had work to do so he stayed downstairs.  Downstairs in a loft apartment where the bedroom has no door or fourth wall.  When she and I began fucking he assured us he did not mind.  She and I have good sex.  Good, loud, hot, dirty sex.

Then, after Sugar left, the Viking fucked me.  I’m certainly lucky.

Out of six total potential slaves, we’re definitely having two of them back, 19 and Cutey.  We may invite Glasses back since he was the best cleaner.

I swear.  True story.

so it looked like (forgive me please) he was fucking that guitar like there was no tomorrow. I was very turned on and not because I was stoned ’cause I wasn’t.

I have cookies in the oven – they’re for Laura so she’ll bring me toilet paper.

After they played, Beth went right up to Maury to hug him so I went right to Henry – but I didn’t hug him. I asked if he wanted his jacket back but he didn’t. I asked if he had fun and he said he was kind of bored and did he look it. I told him I liked the way he looked. I figure I’ll tell him how sexy he is later in our relationship. I don’t want to totally freak him out. Or maybe I should be direct – he did say he liked that. Well, we’ll see what happens. While the next band was playing we all had to wait around cause they were using our guys’ equipment (not their personal equipment though). We sat around the tail of Henry’s truck and got stoned and talked. Bill was still hyped after singing so he was loud and funny and of course I laughed loud and gross. I don’t like it when I’m loud, that’s why I cover my mouth and try to stifle my laugh. I also don’t look too hot when I laugh cause I smile too big or my mouth opens. Henry was saying how cold he was but he still didn’t want his jacket back. So finally he asked if I wanted to “sit in the truck and listen to music.” Hell yes. We were in there talking and stuff. People kept coming up to the window to talk to him so we didn’t really get to the point where I scooted a little bit closer and kissed him. But oh well. Then, when everyone was ready to go, Beth tried to say she couldn’t give me a ride home so Henry would’ve had to. But I didn’t want to impose and he didn’t offer and he was burned out. So we went home. Not even a good bye kiss or anything. Oh well, next time for sure. And I believe he was thinking about kissing me ’cause he asked me if my mouth “tasted like shit” (from the pot) and in the truck he kept saying how dry his mouth was. We each had a Lifesaver which did help the ol’ cottonmouth problem but that’s when he started having everyone ask him lame questions. Then when he finally had to go help load the stuff back into his truck he kept looking at me as he was getting out and with a cute look on his face. Oh and he kept bending over – first time in his back room right in the front of me – to expose his cute little butt. He had on faded jeans with holes in them (not, as I had at first suspected, strategically placed by him) with black spandex tight-type things underneath and a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. And the only reason he had his shirt unbuttoned enough for me to see his chest was ’cause he was hot from the coke. Or did I already put that? I wish my memory wasn’t so bad. Too much pot’ll do it to ya. This all started when I said he bent over – he had a cute LITTLE butt and nice skinny legs. But not skinny bad ’cause they are very cute in shorts, skinny good – they look good n pants and all the time.  While he was playing I started thinking about running my hands up and down his legs and sliping my hand into one of the holes that was on the back of his upper-right thigh.

I like the smell of wet cement.  Then we were driving home, I was really stoned and I was thinking about being in Henry’s truck with him and giving him head while he’s driving.  Only thing is, I was thinking about it in extreme detail.  Wow, I’m amazed even at myself.

For a while I didn’t like, or didn’t think I liked guys but I like Henry and he’s a guy so I must like guys.  The thought of him driving that big truck and being all powerful really turns me on.  I like masculinity.  But I still like girls cause I look and want to touch them.  Maybe it’s just the person I like male or female.

I think I’m gonna steal a big flood light from work to put in my brown lamp on the floor so it will be realy bright in here.

I mean whomever I happen to like, be it male or female, I find things attractive, sexy and appealing about them.  I was saying this to Laura and she said, “Suzanne, you’re bisexual.”  Just like that, matter-of-factly, and everything.  Why can’t I just be normal though?  Oh well, it’ll never happen.  D.J. told me when I was 14, I think, that I would always live an alternate lifestyle, be it with a male or female or by myself.

My hair falls out a lot – there’s hair all over my damn house – room.

Now that I have the time and energy (sort of) to make stuffed shells, I should.  But I don’t feel like it.

Wonder who’s gonna get impatient first?  He wanted to kiss me last night but didn’t.  I want him to kiss me.  I don’t want to make the first moves.  For some reason, with boys, I always have to be the first.  Does something about me scare on intimidate them?  So I act nervous, that’s normal, isn’t it?  One time when I was sitting on the hood of Beth’s car and he was leaning up against the side right next to me, he turned his head and I noticed out of the corner of my eye so I turned and asked, “What?!” like I always do.  He was all, “I didn’t say anything.”  Maybe he was going to kiss me – maybe not.  Who knows but he and he’ll never tell.

Could I please have me two hot guys to do this in front of me?  Please?  Any volunteers?  While I wouldn’t mind if the guys would only let me watch, I would really, really like it if they would also let me participate.  I would be more than happy if I weren’t the center of attention.  After all, I’ve participated in threesomes where I wasn’t the focus, and while I didn’t have fun that first time if I knew what was expected of me I would certainly not overstep my bounds.

However, I’d be even happier if they’d let me suck their cocks.  Just a bit.  And bite those nipples.  Oooh, and lick those asses.  I could certainly have a lot of fun with these two.

Really, I would dig quite a bit participating in something like this.  Anyone?  Contact me at shazamsf@sbcglobal.net.

I swear.  True story.

I had my first threesome with two guys. I was 18.  Or maybe 17.  Either way, it was when I lived in my first apartment alone, a very small studio.

My boyfriend at the time had finally admitted to me that he found men attractive. Actually, after months of me teasing him he finally acquiesced.  I knew he liked guys, I just knew it.

I’m of the opinion that everyone is a little bisexual, pansexual, whatever; everyone likes cock and pussy to a degree.  My boyfriend at the time was certainly no exception.  He liked guys but had all sorts of shame and guilt about it.  I hope I showed him that he needn’t be ashamed about being attracted to someone of the same gender.  I was openly bisexual, I told him my mother was an out lesbian, and I had plenty of friends who were gay and/or bi.

One such friend was a bisexual guy with whom I had fooled around previously.  As soon as a broached the subject of a threesome he was in.

My boyfriend, on the other hand, had to be talked into it.  He was so fucking far into the closet that he was very secretive and constantly scared of being “discovered.”  I assured him that the person I had in mind was cool and that he didn’t know anyone my boyfriend knew.  I also assured him that he was his type.  My boyfriend had admitted he had a crush on his neighbor, a blond-haired, blue-eyed, and – to me – white trash-looking guy.  My bisexual boy was blond and blue, but not white trashy.

After much cajoling my boyfriend agreed.  But then we had the scheduling issues.  One of the most difficult things with threesomes is coordinating the schedules of not two but three people.

Finally, the day of the threesome came.  My boyfriend still lived with his mother and the bisexual guy had a roommate so it was agreed that we’d have our threesome at my place.  My very tiny place.  Really, it must’ve been about 200 square feet.  Maybe.  The “kitchen” was a corner of the room with a sink and counter, tiny freestanding stove, and college-sized refrigerator.  There was also a walk-in closet and a bathroom that wasn’t large enough to accommodate a bathtub, just a shower.  I paid $395 per month including utilities.  Ahh, the good old days.

The furniture in the apartment/room, other than the stove and refrigerator, consisted of a dining table that served as a tv stand and a desk, three dining chairs, two stacked orange crates that served as a entertainment center – meaning they held my CDs and “stereo,” a boombox – and bookshelf, and a queen-sized futon that was always in bed position.  I was a slob at the time so most of the time my floor was covered in dirty clothes, magazines, and other household detritus.  At the time I was not the type to clean up for company.  It was my first apartment on my own and no one was telling me what to do so I did whatever the fuck I wanted.

The three of us sat on my bed.  It was awkward.  So my boyfriend pulled out the pot.  He smoked a lot of pot.  A lot.  It was rare that he wasn’t high.  The three of us smoked pot.  It was still awkward.

Finally I did what I had to do – I kissed the bisexual guy.  This was the first of many sexual instances in my life where I knew if I didn’t just fucking go for it that nothing would happen.  Sometimes I like it, sometimes I resent it.

Then I kissed my boyfriend.  Then I kissed the bisexual guy.  It was fun.  I definitely liked going back and forth between the two men, noting the contrasts between their kissing styles.

Eventually they kissed each other.  And then they forgot about me.  Really.  From then on I was completely and totally ignored.  Ignored.

They kissed.  They got naked.  They sucked each others’ cocks.  Their bodies writhed.  I read a magazine.  As we were in my apartment and I had no car I had little else to do.  As my apartment was so tiny I had little else to go.

I sat on one side of the bed reading my magazine while they went at it.  I wasn’t even fascinated enough to watch.  I was bored.  And annoyed.  And irritated.  How fucking rude of them not to include me in the threesome that I set up?!

Eventually they finished.  I’m pretty sure they didn’t fuck, but they definitely sucked.  I have no clue if either or both of them came.  I didn’t care.

I never saw the bisexual guy again.  My boyfriend and I continued to go out, and thereafter were friendly, for some time.  My first threesome was most definitely a disaster.

I swear.  True story.

I recently had a very good first date. Very good.

We found each other through OkCupid.  I had seen his photos and thought he was cute.  One might think that I only go out with guys from OkCupid who I think are cute, but that is not the case.  If the guy seems interesting I’ll go out with him.  Looks are not all that important, and guys can grow on me if they’re cool, and good in bed.

We met at Cassanova, a divey Mission bar complete with velvet paintings of nude curvy women with big hair.  I was a little early but my date was already there.  We recognized each other immediately so there was none of that awkwardness of introducing ourselves.  I found us a seat on one of the several couches in the bar and he got us drinks.

The conversation was good.  As is my wont we talked about sex.  He had gone to Kinky Salon the night before, I had fucked a hot chick.  We talked about handcuffs; we talked about gun play.  He put both in the same category; I did not, as gun play is way more dangerous, and requires way more trust than simply being handcuffed.  But we agreed that they are both absolute turn-ons.

After a couple of drinks we crossed the street and had sushi.  Our waitress was curt with us, and didn’t much appreciate that my date wanted to order a sashimi combination, as it wasn’t on the menu.  We had sashimi, California roll, and spider roll along with some very tasty sake.

We then walked to his place.  He assured me he had more alcohol there.  And he did.  He had a bar, complete with crystal booze decanters.  He also just happened to have handcuffs, red ones.

He put the handcuffs on me, which I liked very much.  I liked ‘em so much when he offered to take them off so I could make myself a drink I declined.  My hands were cuffed in front of me so I made myself a drink with the handcuffs on.

We fucked.  I sucked.  He fucked my ass.  He had a lovely uncircumcised cock and the smoothest cock head I’ve ever had the pleasure to put in my mouth.  I don’t remember the exact order of the fucking, or if we fucked while I was cuffed, but I do remember him fucking me while I was tied up.

Tied up?  Yes, tied up.  At one point he appeared with rope and manhandled me into a hogtie.  It was so fucking hot.  I especially liked the feeling of the rope being pulled through as he was tying me up.  He got me into a hogtie and left me there.  Very nice.

He didn’t fuck me while I was hogtied.  He fucked me after he did a bit of rope adjusting so my feet were free and my hands were bound in front of me.  I was very much fascinated by the rope around my wrists.  It was so pretty I stared it most of the time.

He offered to pay for a cab but I felt like walking home.  It was raining but I had an umbrella.  It was a pleasant walk in the rain.  I probably should not have made the walk though, as it was well after 2am and I was quite drunk.

I was also still horny.  So when I got home I made my new roommate fist me.  Frustratingly, he refused to fuck me.

The next day I received the following message on OkCupid:

Hi There,

Thanks for coming out last night, and I’m glad you got home ok!

[Shazam's Date]

I really don’t know what the fuck to make of the message.  Did he have as good a time as I did?  Does he want to see me again?  I really hate this part.  I can only fuck things up at this point – by being too eager.

Whether he or someone else does it, I most certainly want to be tied up again.

I swear.  True story.