This could be a lot of fun.  I haven't seen a guy in tighty whities in I don't know how long, but on the right guy they could be sexy.  On the wrong guy they could be downright laughable.

There is something about rubbing a cock – or a pussy – through cloth that feels clandestine and dirty.  The most fun is continuing to rub the cock after he came so the material is wet and sticky.  If the guy has a lot of precome – leaky faucets are fun – then the whole handjob would be a nicely moist affair.

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

2:21 A.M.

Henry came over Monday night.  He brought me a flower – a white rose with baby’s breath and all that.  We got high and then for a little bit we just layed [sic] and cuddled.  And then he touched me.  His hands all over me pressing and massaging.  And when he finally got to my breasts.  It felt so good.  So good to have his hands on me exploring my body.  Then we slowed down and rested for a while.  Then he wanted me to take a shower with him but I just couldn’t.  He seemed very irritated as well he should have – I know I would’ve been.  I’m just really shy about my own body and especially about looking at his.  I know I’ll only get over this fear by confronting it but I’m not ready yet.  I’m not even ready to admit my real reason to someone else.  I told him that showering with someone was a really intimate and personal thing and that even though I should be because we had already shared quite a bit, I wasn’t ready.  Which, actually  sort of is true.

So he told me to take off my clothes.  I complied and layed [sic] down on the bed.  I could hear him removing his garments and got excited.  He slid under the covers next to me and pressed his warm, naked body to mind.  His hands explored my body from behind until I turned onto my back so he could have more of me, so I could feel what he had to give me.  His hand found its way between my thighs and dipped into my wetness.  It was a relief to finally have something inside me.

[I haven't given myself over to him completely yet.  I'm afraid to become to dependent on him and he'll grow to resent me.  What's sad is I can see it happening – me suffocating him into running.  But I don't want to, I just get so scared that I'll be alone.  I haven't come with him yet because I think that would mean he's gotten inside me – to my soul – and will know how to hurt me.]

He pushed his fingers deep into my cunt and twisted and turned his and so I could feel his power.  While his fingers were inside me, I reached down to my clit.  Everything was so wet and hot.  He licked at me and then pushed his cock into me.  Oh my god.  I told him to talk to me.  He said he felt so good inside me, that he wanted to get deeper.  I could barely talk but to swear to god I had never felt that way.  And I hadn’t.  Maybe it was the pot but I don’t really care because it felt so damn good.  The whole time I kept thinking about how huge he felt inside me, so big filled me up.  I could have died at that moment a very satisfied woman.  I got the usual pangs to tell him I love him but held out once again.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

I was recently asked this.  By a guy who wants to meet me.  Based on reading Random Rim Jobs.

Men really are clueless.  The worst that could happen?  I could be raped.  I could be killed.  I could be tortured.  I could be maimed.  I could be scared.  I could be terrorized.  There’s a lot that’s not good that could happen to me, and all women, any time we leave the house.  Men seem to easily forget this, if, that is, they ever knew it in the first place.

Men get to walk around in a privileged bubble.  That’s fine.  I don’t mind being a woman, and I don’t want to be a man, but there are some things that women have to think about that don’t even occur to men.  Women have to be always diligent; we cannot relax when we leave our homes.  Some women can’t relax in their homes.

So, guys, don’t ask a woman you want to meet because she writes about sex what the worst thing that could happen is.  It’s pretty fucking bad.  Not for you, but for her.  Think of her and not your cock.

Why would a woman, even if she does write about sex, want to meet you?  Since you now know that she is always concerned that she could be victimized in some way, what can you do to demonstrate you are not the victimizing type?  Just saying you want to meet to see if you want to fuck is not it.

Even if she does write about sex does not mean she wants to have sex with you.  Writing about sex, even as she does, does not indicate she is indiscriminate; one cock is not the same as all others.  Those cocks are attached to people who have brains and thoughts and she likes getting to know a guy she fucks, even if she’s fucking him casually.

Sure, contact me if you think you want to meet me, but have more to say than that.

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

It never feels good to be dumped.  Never.  Even if it’s expected.  Even if one isn’t strictly single.  Even if there’s someone at home who will comfort through the pain.

What I never needed, even when I was depressed due to a number of circumstances (2007 and 2008 really sucked), were complete strangers sympathizing with me.  Hell, I didn’t even want to talk to my friends because I knew my whining was boring as shit.  I didn’t want to hear myself so I couldn’t imagine that anyone else would want to hear me.

Along those same lines, I have never solicited sympathy from Twitter.  The few times I’ve posted something like, “I’m having a really shitty day,” I usually followed it up with, “And I have no interest in being cheered up.”  (Or something like that; I’ve not searched my Twitter stream for accuracy.)  Or, if I did get a, “Buck up, camper,” text, I’d respond with, “That’s how life goes.”  Bitching about what amounts to a pretty good life should not be encouraged.

So getting tweets from the Viking’s girlfriends purporting to feel sorry for my predicament was not welcomed – at all.  I didn’t ask to follow them, nor for them to follow me – the reason we happened to be following each other had to do mostly with my curiosity.  Periodically I’d look at Twitter and I’d see that the Viking had “mentioned” me, and I’d want to know the context of such mentioning.  It came down to the Viking saying really nice things about me and me wanting to know to whom he’d said such things.  Ended up it was to a few chicks he’d had on the line to fuck – a group I’d known about but which I didn’t want to know.

***

Skinny Jeans and I had an appointment.  We had a date and time he was to come over to my place, chit-chat for a bit, and then retire to guest room where we’d have some fun sex.  Our relationship, such as it was, had developed naturally and easily.  We had good conversations, good food, good drinks, and, when it happened, good sex.

We had set the date a couple of weeks prior so the day before I texted him just to confirm.  Since the Viking and I try to be considerate of each other, I wanted to make sure there was a reason for him to be out of the house; if I didn’t have a date he could just stay home.

When I woke up the morning of the planned date I had a message, “I can’t come over today.  I’m seeing someone new and it needs to be exclusive right now.  I definitely always have fun w/you and enjoy yr company.  We should stay in touch, and you shld always feel free to call me to hang out.  xoxo”  No matter how nicely he phrased it, I was still dumped.

Not only were we not going to fuck that day, we weren’t going to fuck ever.  Dammit.  I liked his cock, which was uncircumcised and a good size.  It was fun to suck.

He seemed to have a good time as well and was even nice enough to say he liked my body.  He didn’t freak out when he saw that I had sex toys, which is more than I can say about the Attorney.  I haven’t heard from the Attorney since our night at my place when he couldn’t get it up (but he could come), probably because he was intimidated by the size of my dildos.  Dude didn’t realize that large dildos take the pressure off the guy – he didn’t need to have a big cock because I already had a big dildo.

I decided to stay in bed to wallow in my self pity.  Of course I still had the Viking and if it was just a matter of wanting to get fucked that day, he would have been glad to accommodate me.  But I’m not nonmonogamous because I don’t get enough sex.  It’s more about the variety and having something that’s mine.  Basically, I’m nonmonogamous because I’m selfish.

So I tweeted that getting dumped is heartbreaking and the Viking’s gaggle of girlfriends responded to me.  Just because they’re fucking the Viking or want to fuck the Viking does not mean they need to know me in any capacity.  The Viking and I have found that it’s actually easier if we don’t know the people the other one is fucking.  Neither one of us likes people very much so if we had a policy wherein the other person had veto power over our sex partners, we’d probably be monogamous.

For example, the Viking probably wouldn’t think much of Skinny Jeans who, yes, wears skinny jeans.  And rides a bike.  And lives in Logan Square.  And is in a band.  And has the sideburns and hairstyle reminiscent of a guy who wears skinny jeans while riding a bike through Logan Square to band practice.  But that’s fine, because I like Skinny Jeans.

It’s really sad that I won’t have the opportunity to have more fun with that cock.  The cock that turned out just as good as I had imagined it would be.

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

8:59P.M.

We had a nice time.  I cooked stuffed shells and we also had French bread and salad.  I made a cheesecake but forgot to give any to Henry.  I just had some, however, and it was quite good.  I wasn’t uncomfortable at all, it felt really nice.  He finally brought me my t-shirt – I’m a true fan now.  After we ate, we had sex, and then we cuddled.  It was nice and romantic.  His-uh-well, it wasn’t my imagination, it does go the wrong way.  But who cares, it doesn’t matter to me.  It still works.  And the rest of him has its merits too.  I asked him what purpose I serve for him.  He said, “You keep me sane.”  Oh god, where have I heard that before?  That’s just what I need.  Or actually not what I need ’cause I probably don’t need it but I want it.  So I asked what he likes about me.  He likes the way I think – that I’m so open minded.  And he likes it when I touch him.  I wanted to hear about my looks so I asked if he thought I was a dog.  He told me not to be stupid but sill didn’t give me any compliments though I did like the other ones.  Oh, and he told me that Blanca told him that Bill was scared at first too.  He’s afraid of missing out on his friends.  But I don’t think I ever let on that I wanted to monopolize his time and I said as much.  I told him I’d like to go out more and it doesn’t necessarily have to cost money.  why is it that I always to tell the person I’m having sex with that I love them?  Oh well he called to say good night and I asked what he meant about the sane thing.  I make him feel comfortable; he can be himself around me.  That’s so wonderful.  He does need me.  I forgot to ask him to call me his little girl.  I love his voice and his face.  He looks so cute when he smiles.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

Doesn’t this look like fun?

It does to me, too, but sadly I’m too practical and I think this wouldn’t be sustainable for fucking.  Yes, I see they’re fucking, but I don’t know how many thrusts until one or both of them got too tired or just gave up.  A hammock simply does not provide the leverage necessary for a good fucking.

Nonetheless, this photo is sexy as hell.  When I watch porn I like seeing the in-out-in-out of a cock in a pussy as well as the in-out-in-out of a cock in an ass, and sometimes I can’t tell the difference depending on the angle.  Here, there’s no doubt that the cock is pushing those pussy lips aside so it can get into that pussy.

Of course it’s the angle and focus that totally do it for me with this photo.  The fact that it must have been warm out in order to necessitate a hammock but to also allow outdoor nudity and fucking makes me nostalgic for warmer weather.

At the same time, the fall in Chicago has been really quite nice.  It’s mid-November and it’s snowed once, but only for a few minutes; I wouldn’t have noticed if I didn’t happen to be looking out a window.  There have been some downright gorgeous days that included beautiful multicolored leaves both on the trees and on the ground.

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

This looks nice, doesn’t it?  The satin sheet is tacky but I otherwise don’t have any complaints on this one.  I like that they don’t even look like people, just parts; as if the photo is less about people having sex than the coldness of the room, its furniture, and its walls.

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

[Continued from "Let's Not Bother (3)."]

I informed him that Chicago isn’t very hip or cool.  He responded, of course.

I think it’s a bi thing. I’ve know a few out and out lesbians, even played with one, and they are super nice, but it’s the ones that hate the fact that they love cock that are miserable. Or is it that indecisiveness drives them batty?In the big scheme of things it doesn’t matter at all. Chicago, suburbs, who gives a shit. It just rubbed me the wrong way last night and I guess I’m one of those speak your mind kind of guys. I’m also the kind of guy that would tell you to get on your fucking knees. Isn’t life grand!

If a bisexual woman hated the fact that she loved cock, wouldn’t she just say she’s a lesbian and seek to only attract women?  He thinks this imagined bisexual woman – because it certainly isn’t me – hates men, but loves cock so much that she’s compelled to put herself out on the Internet to attract men.  What.  The.  Fuck.

Bisexual people are no more or less indecisive than heteros or homos.  Everyone can’t fuck absolutely everyone they want to fuck; everyone is indecisive about whom they settle to fuck.  If bisexuals are batty with indecisiveness then so, too, is everyone else.

The rest of the message is … confusing.  I responded that I liked both pussy and cock and was very happy about it.

He responded, “So I wonder if Paul Schaffer picks the musical acts for Letterman?”  Uh, where the fuck did that come from?  Even if he had a place in Chicago I’m still glad we never bothered to meet.

Nor do I think I’ll bother to meet Mr. Positive.  I know it’s not bad to be positive, but an overly sunny disposition can give me the creeps.  Also, the kind of person who pronounces, before we’ve met in person, that we’re going to be good friends.  How the fuck do you know that?!

I was scheduled to meet one half of a couple.  He and I found each other on OkCupid and then instant messaged a bit.  We agreed to meet somewhere where our dogs could meet and play – or ignore each other since Isis tends to be aloof with other dogs.

I had a late start, but I had said we’d meet “after 2pm.”  At 2:16pm he texted me and I let him know where I was, very close to my place and not at all close to the point roughly halfway between our places where we were to meet.

Isis and I walked through Lincoln Park and to the beach since we were to meet the guy and the dog along the beach.  I texted my location at intervals to let him know that we were on our way.  I received no return texts.

It was an unusually hot day.  Fall weather had begun, but that day forgot it was fall.  The sun was hot and strong and walking along the beach there was no shady refuge.  I was hot.  Isis was hot.  Isis got her feet wet in the lake and even drank some lake water but she’s still an old lady with black fur so her tongue was lolling out the side of her mouth.

When I hadn’t received any texts from the guy since the initial one he sent, I decided that Isis and I were on our own.  We made our way from the beach back into Lincoln Park, but not before Isis found a spot barely shaded by a tiny sapling and refused to budge.  I let her cool down a bit and then took her to where there was some real shade and relief from the sun.

Once we were closer to home than to the beach, I finally got a message from the guy telling me it was too hot for his dog so they went home.

I haven’t heard from him since.  I guess he wasn’t all that excited to meet me.

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

[Continued from "Warren's 'Cheating' (9)."]

They came home, stripped off their clothing, and got into bed. They snuggled tightly for a while. He had been resisting the temptation for a while, but it finally got the better of him and he had to speak.

“I don’t want you to have dirty sex with other men, but not me” he said, in an almost guilty tone.

She looked at him, but didn’t say anything. She had made up her mind about it months before, but his anguish was beginning to drain her.

“All guys want their women to do dirty things,” he said, sounding a little too pensive. “I mean, every guy’s fantasy is a woman who loves having sex … like in a porno,” he continued. She realized her silence was an excellent prompt, and waited for him to continue.

“So I don’t think it’s so much that I want to have that kind of sex with you, but I just don’t want to be missing out on seeing you do it,” he finished. He looked at her, gauging her response.

“So … you’d be okay with what I want to do, if only you could see it,” she summarized.

“I think so. I just feel totally left out. It’s one thing for you to be seeing other men and doing the same stuff we do together… but when it’s a totally different experience, I feel like you’re shutting me out.”

“Well, I don’t intend to shut you out,” she admitted. “I just never through you could handle it. I thought you’d start demanding the same kind of sex with me.”

“I won’t,” he offered. “I’ll just watch. I’m totally fascinated with it. I just want to know what you’re doing. It’ll make me feel so much better about it.”

She considered this for a while. “Okay. Alright. I think it might be okay if you watch me sometimes when I’m in one of those moods.”

He smiled broadly. “Really?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” she continued. After a pause, she made a counter-offer. “Except there’s one more thing. I want to make it a deal. You have to give something up if you want to watch me.” She smiled, satisfied with the plan.

He pursed his lips. “Give up … what?” he asked nervously.

“Cumming inside me,” she said quickly.

“What?!” he raged.

“That’s my offer. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too. I’m not completely okay with you invading my privacy, you know. And I deserve privacy. If you want to watch, you need to give me something in return.”

They sat in silence for a minute.

“Well, I can cum anywhere else, right?”

“Anywhere else,” she reassured. “But I want to leave my pussy for other men.”

“Okay. Deal,” he said quickly. He was in a bargaining mood. She had the feeling she could have restricted intercourse entirely, and he would have accepted it. She felt almost a bit ashamed for having considered that idea hot, though. Only a sense of propriety stopped her short.

He was practically jumping on the bed at this point. “Will you show me the whole tape then? Show me your favorite parts?”

“You’re never going to cum inside me again if I show you. You know that, right? I’m serious.” She tried to sound stern, but wasn’t sure if it came across. She meant it entirely, and hoped this decision wouldn’t spark weeks of fighting.

“I understand. I just need to be involved in all parts of your life,” he said, smiling sincerely.
She went into her closet, opened a few shoe storage boxes, and pulled out a number of small videotapes. She loaded the first into the camcorder, breathed a big sigh, and started the tape. She lay back down with him, remote in hand, and proceeded to show him her favorite parts.

Her favorite parts were a double-penetration with two very large men, both of whom came inside her, their cum dripping out in a torrent, a very rough deepthroating by another, and finally four men cumming in her mouth and on her chin in quick succession at the end of the tape.

He found himself searching for words. He had never seen anything so sexy on any pornographic tape, and had no idea she was even physically capable of doing the things he saw her do on the tape. He started to touch himself almost automatically, and she pushed his hand away as she continued to fast-forward from highlight to highlight.

“You’ve been doing this kind of stuff … for how long?”

“For years, honey, long before I met you. Are you okay?”

“I want you,” he said, pulling the covers aside to look at her naked body. He looked back at the screen to see two men working their enormous cocks into her pussy at the same time, and was overwhelmed. He practically pounced on her, and she was happy to receive him.

“I won’t cum in you,” he promised obediently as he entered her.

“Never again,” she reminded him.

“Never again,” he breathed wordlessly. His own orgasm took only seconds due to his delirious arousal, and he obediently pulled out and came all over her tummy.

“Lick it off if you want to see more,” she said suddenly, almost stunned with her own force.

He did so more obediently than she could have imagined any man would, and was happy to lay beside her and hold her afterward.

[That's it, kids.  And since I've not spoken to Warren for years, that's all you'll get.  Of course I am willing to entertain submissions from y'all:  ShazamChi@yahoo.com.]

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

As per usual I had several messages in my OkCupid message inbox.  At least one was probably written by someone with the reading comprehension of a toddler, at least one was probably trying to set up a meeting, and one was from a guy who claimed he didn’t message many women.

He claimed not only in his message to me that he didn’t message many women, and so my profile must have really been special to make him do so, but the text in his profile indicated that it wasn’t his habit to message ladies because he was a busy guy.  He was busy traveling to England, where he grew up so he had a British accent, and Italy, from where his mother’s family hailed so he spoke Italian, going to medical school, and fixing up the house he just bought in Lincoln Park.  Oh, and he loved to cook – Italian, of course, since that was the food his mama fed him.  Did I mention that he was also really cute, 6’6″ tall, and in really good shape?

I suppose I was supposed to feel special because he did take the time and effort to send me a message.  I’m not sure how special I felt, but I did respond by giving him my YIM user name so we could chat some time.  I didn’t bother telling him when I’d be online and changing my YIM status from “invisible” to “available” however, just told him that if he felt like chatting to hit me up and I might respond.

I believe it was a Saturday afternoon that I saw that he has instant messaged me.  I responded.  The conversation began innocently enough and then he asked what so many guys have asked before, “I hope I’m not being to forward, but can I ask you a question?”

That is always followed by a question of the sexual nature.  Always.  He asked if I had ever been with more than one guy at a time.  Yes.  He asked if I had done DP.  Yes.  He asked if I had done DP with “larger” guys.

Here is where I had to have him clarify.  “Larger” could mean a lot, depending on who’s defining it.  Larger is in the hand of the beholder.  “Larger” to him meant 10″.

That’s a lot of dick.

He claimed that he and his friends, two of whom had 10″ penises and none of whom had less than 8″ of cock, were looking for a woman who’d be willing to entertain all of them.  I asked if he has some sort of rule about the penis size of the guys with whom he hung out, and he swore it was just a coincidence.  I responded that I would have to work my way up to taking two 10″ cocks in me, but that I was certainly willing to try.

I was willing to try provided we all had chemistry.  The guys had done the sort of thing together before, he claimed, with a female friend who knew they were all “larger” and who took on the challenge.  Unfortunately, she had moved away a couple of months before.

I said we could meet to see if we got along and then I could meet the other guys.  It was convenient since we were in the same neighborhood.  I also gave him suggestions for finding other ladies willing to entertain the group since it’s always good to cast a wide net.

He asked about my measurements.  When I told him my bra size he said it was hard to believe.  Harder to believe a 34DDDD rack – something for which bras are mass manufactured – or a 10″ cock, something that’s seen mostly in movies?

To be continued ….

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.