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I WILL BE IN THE CLEVELAND AREA FOR TWO WEEKS IN MAY
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Member Posts
OldPeteLuvzWomn: It may interest some of you to know how I stumbled over the usc.
Well‚ I first stumbled over www.experienceproject.com - The Experience Project or EP which is free and brilliant !
There‚ there are accounts of cuckolding‚ so I tried googling‚ "cuckolding wives near Lydney" and here I am :-)
I have editted this a bit for usc‚ but I love words and literature‚ just take from it what interests or excites you.
I shall have to edit it again‚ but I was so excited to find this site‚ that I wanted to get this out asap.
I love women but‚ from a sexual point of view‚ especially younger women who love much older men :-) xx
I have a lovely wife‚ but no sex‚ and I miss IT very‚ very much.
For me‚ sex between 2 lovers can and should be one of the most beautiful things.
I am always hoping that I can find an attractive woman‚ who would value me as a friend and lover. She might be young‚ or not‚ but she should be sexually attractive !
Whilst I go on growing older‚ I hope we can have some beautiful experiences that we shall never forget :-)
A large age difference just adds to the magic.
But‚ my lover should be very‚ very discreet‚ as I should hate to hurt my wife.
As I have said‚ I am seeking a local gf and lover
I am 76‚ fit‚ can be naughty and want to be with the right women‚ for I really do not feel a call to be celibate.
On the other hand‚ I love my wife. She is a very special person and I would never leave her‚ and I certainly don't want to hurt her. It is hard. My mistress/lover/gf would be a wonderful‚ sexual lady‚ who could cover a huge age range‚ who understands the difficulties of me being in a VERY CLOSED marriage. May be she is in the same situation !
I fully understand that‚ on here‚ you are probably not single‚ but you may be much‚ much younger. Whatever‚ or not‚ she may want to move on. But‚ I hope that‚ whilst we are "together"‚ I could give her something that enriches her life.
Peter x
11 Years Ago
Plumber1: Sippy downs
12 Years Ago
0416kiwi1980: Keen to have a quickie and live in wattle downs. Message me
10 Years Ago
cbm66: Life is full of ups and downs!!!
Its up to you,be sour or have fun
3 Years Ago
down4deecause781: Exploration into the vast world of sexual encounters some of wich you can achieve daily and many that can only be experienced by putting oneself out of a buffer zone and going dwn these channels me personally ive got bucket to kick with list of if you will sexapades fantasies etc to full fill and to also be part of a group or page like this to help those longtime deep downs play out well making life long connections along with friends who in the normal world might think less of based on the way someof us think in terms of living out diff sexual preferences and well here i am im easy to get down with and vice verca little on the shy end but once im in the ball park can be really free let loose and hav3 a gd time and am here to first respect the people on this platform
And to just flow down the way and experience it but most of all have fun and enjoy
Feel free 2 message and ask anything and will respond asap
Much love n positive energy to you all
Sri lim quai luu
3 Months Ago
EdibleAnimkal: Livin the dream....? If everybody knew what this shit was really like you would pass. Let me tell you hours everyday in the studio‚ or at rehersal‚ shitty clubs and bars everynightr. Yeah I may look the part but who the hell has the TIME!! I may have 3-4 days a month when we are in the studio and then Im supposed to hook up. Fuck that I sleep‚ just keeping it 100% Whos out there?
56 Years Ago
theveryblyeeyesDK: Wrondering if the are hot girls up for a hot meeting in Santa Monica where I'm staying very close to the pier. Looking for fun saturday 3.May‚ sunday and monday 6.May
11 Years Ago
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3 Years Ago
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3 Years Ago
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stuntrooster: In my younger years I enjoyed the swingers clubs and parties here in Perth I had children with and married a woman from Canada I moved there lived and had sex with the one woman for $20 years the sex was great and almost every day but our relationship came to an end I’m now back here in Perth I have a fairly large hammer and know how to use it when comfortable in my surroundings well any surroundings actually but may need a little refresher coursing Im straight wish to experience again group sex any number one on one me and a female definitely more kitty munchin love it Start there I guess but open to suggestions
2 Years Ago
stuntrooster: In my younger years I enjoyed the swingers clubs and parties here in Perth I had children with and married a woman from Canada I moved there lived and had sex with the one woman for $20 years the sex was great and almost every day but our relationship came to an end I’m now back here in Perth I have a fairly large hammer and know how to use it when comfortable in my surroundings well any surroundings actually but may need a little refresher coursing Im straight wish to experience again group sex any number one on one me and a female definitely more kitty munchin love it Start there I guess but open to suggestions
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May Downs Online Sex QLD AU
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Here is a real sex story....On the farm
Here is a real sex story....On the farm · Romance · You are alone at the farm now‚ you have sent IT packing and I get to visit. I am very happy that you have invited me to spend a few days with you‚ knowing full well this is just a physical thing. But that is no reason for me not to make you feel as good as possible.
You had offered to pick me up in town and get me to the farm‚ but I would rather surprise you. I arrive in town and am able to get directions to your place and am just beside myself as I drive to your place. It is fall‚ and the weather has gotten cold. Even though the temperature is getting cold‚ I am feeling very warm as I approach your farm.
I drive up to your house and am just amazed this is the kind of place I have always dreamed of. But to be honest I am not sure I could handle all the work here unless I was to become a full time farmer. I walked up on the porch and knocked on the door. It is getting to be mid afternoon so I really am not expecting you to be in the house. This is fine because I would love to surprise you out in the barn and it seems that I may get my way. After a while of standing and knocking‚ there is no answer so I try the door. It opens and I call out for you just in case. I do not want to scare you‚ just surprise you. With no answer to my calls‚ I manage to find the kitchen and drop my bags out of the way. But I cannot help but stop and admire this fine house and in some cases wonder how some of my own antiques may fit in here. But‚ I finally get to the back door and can see the stables. I am thinking to my self that I hope you are out there tending to your horses.
I walk toward the stables and am spotted by your dog‚ who does not know what to make of me just yet. I offer him a treat in the hopes he will come to me and not give me away just yet. He barks at me but not very loudly and I am glad that it seems you have not heard his barks or have chosen to ignore him for some reason. He finally calms down and takes the treat from my hand‚ deciding I am not a threat. I pat him on the head and pet him for a moment as I continue to make my way to the stables.
I am able to approach the stables without being found out and am just to the left of the doorway sneaking peeks to see if I can determine where you are or if you are in there at all. I can hear you talking to the horse you are grooming and have also been able to determine the stall you are in. Part of me wants to sneak up behind you‚ slide my arms around your waist and kiss you on the neck. But I am sure the surprise of someone coming up behind you like that may frighten you or cause some other reaction that may result with me being in severe pain. I walk up slowly toward the stall. I am also glad that my presence is not spooking the horses. I am being careful to just be out of your usual field of view and yet hope you will catch a glimpse of me as I approach. I still may startle you‚ but it will not be as bad as me sneaking up behind you. I could not have planned it any better‚ just as I reach the stall doorway‚ you turn and see me. That beautiful smile tells me that you recognize me and are happy to see me. You set down your brush and come over to greet me‚ hugging my neck tightly. I wrap my arms around you and pick you up and at the same time you wrap your legs around me squeezing tight.
After a few minutes of hugging and exchanging a few simple kisses and other pleasant greetings I let you down and you stand next to me. You explain the work that you still have to complete. I ask if I may help you complete your chores. It has been a long time but I think I remember how to groom‚ feed‚ and otherwise take care of a horse. Even though it would be quicker to move on to another horse‚ I would rather stay next to you and groom the horses together. I am very happy when you let me stick by you as I play a little game of being slightly naïve of just how to complete the tasks. While being careful to actually complete the job and keep you happy‚ I do go out of my way to get next to you as often as possible. I brush against you‚ stopping to kiss you on the cheek or neck as I pass by‚ and giving little hugs at every opportunity. The time goes quickly and I am happy to have been able to help you finish your chores and am so happy to be walking back to the house with my arm around your waist. Of course just as I have been doing since I first saw you today‚ I was sneaking looks at your ass and the rest of you as well just taking it all in.
We’re dirty and truth be told neither of us smell like a bed of roses. As we approach the house‚ I explain finally how I got to your place and that I let myself in to put my bags on the floor. Once we are inside the back door and as we remove our coats I grab you pulling you in close and plant a long deep kiss on those sweet lips. As our lips part ways‚ you nuzzle into my chest and I was able t see you smile. It is a great feeling with you standing in front of me with your arms pulled in tight to your chest and you nuzzle in taking in the warmth and safety of my embrace.
After a while‚ you tell me that you had not prepared anything for dinner and that you were not sure what to do. While I would love to watch and help you create something in the kitchen. It has been a long day and I think it would be nice to take this beautiful woman out to dinner and if she wishes we can go raise a little hell at the bar too. So‚ I suggest that we go to town for dinner and possibly more. You are agreeable to this and I think a little relieved that you do not have to do anything other then shower and get ready for a night out. Since I do not know anything about the restaurants‚ bars‚ or anything like that in your area I am completely at your mercy as to where we may go and how well dressed we will need to be.
You help me take my bags to the bedroom and I am very pleased that you have led me straight to your room and not to some guest room. Once in the room‚ my first instinct is to grab you‚ tear your clothes off and just have nasty sweaty sex with you. But I really want this to be special. Besides there will be enough opportunities for just sweaty sex. So I start asking you about where we shall go in town and how I should dress‚ etc. Once all of that is settled‚ I get some clean clothes out of my suit case and lay them on the bed. Then as I turn again thinking where exactly is the bathroom so that I can shower‚ hopefully with you. Suddenly there you are standing in front of me really close wearing nothing but a towel. Holding the top of the towel in place with one hand you reach up with the free hand and grasp my neck as I lean in to kiss you deeply and passionately. Our lips part and I get to stare for a moment into those brown eyes. You give me that little smile as you take my hand and lead me to the bathroom. I close the door behind me as we enter the bathroom. Anticipating what is to come I am already rock hard and a little kiddy with the anticipation.
I turn you around to face me quickly and you lose your grip on the towel. It falls to the floor and I pull you in close‚ so I can feel you close to me. We kiss again‚ and as we part lips this time you step back a little so that you can turn on the shower. I want to just strip down and pull you in there. But that will mean I cannot watch and take in the vision of your body there in front of me. You turn your attention to me and help me remove my clothes. First my shirt‚ and then my pants‚ it is no surprise to you that I have a hard on that is just aching to break free. I step out of my underwear and move over to you just before you step into the shower. You take a hold of my cock and after looking down for a moment you look up into my eyes and give that sweet grin of yours. We then slip into the shower together into the warm water. Your back is to the shower head and the water is running over your body as I hug you close and kiss your neck you lean back letting the water wet your hair. It seems a little like you ignore me for that moment‚ so I move you behind me as I bend forward slightly to wet my hair as well. All of it done playfully‚ you then smack me on the ass as I stand there slightly bent forward. This causes me to stand up and look at you slightly over one shoulder. Now is play time‚ getting the soap I start to massage and soap your body. You keep trying to get the soap from me‚ but I am having way too much fun exploring your body and kiss the parts that are not covered in soap. I stop long enough to lather up my chest and a couple of other spots so that you can let your hands do some wondering as well. It is not long until you have found your way to my cock‚ massaging it and my balls. I get so distracted by what you are doing I stop putting soap on you for a moment. But that ends‚ when you start telling me what you like and want. Oh how I love a woman who can tell me what and how she wants it. That means that I can spend more time actually giving her pleasure rather then trying to figure what she likes and possibly not pleasure at all. We take turns soaping and rinsing each other and as parts of our bodies are cleaned off. They are immediately given some much deserved attention.
I position you under the water and slowly work my way down your body with my tongue and fingers. I stop to pay attention to your nipples‚ taking one in my mouth as I lightly pinch the other. I come back up just long enough for a kiss and then continue my journey. As I reach my knees‚ I first explore your pussy with my fingers as I kiss your stomach and hips. I can feel you getting wet and lose and now I am able to work two fingers into you. I glance up to see that you are enjoying the experience as you part your legs and throw one leg over my shoulder. Now‚ as the water cascades over you I am able to use my tongue on the lips of you pussy. You hips move in and out almost begging me to do more. I am not about to stop now‚ and begin parting those lips with my tongue wanting to get to your clit.
I can tell immediately that I have hit a good spot as you back arches and grasping the back of my head you pull my mouth hard into your pussy. I have no idea what you are hanging onto‚ but you have managed to put both legs over my shoulders giving me better access to that sweet pink pussy. I continue to work you over with my tongue and fingers. It is not long before I am rewarded with the taste of your cum. You then remove your legs from around my neck and shoulders as I rise up to greet you. Eager to taste yourself on my lips you grab me and pull me in for a long kiss while stroking my cock once again. You manage to bring me to the edge of release only to stop just before I do. Oh‚ what a tease and I love it!
Then you work your way down my body and in no time have my cock in your mouth‚ working it over. Again‚ just before I explode you stop. Damn! How do you know just when to stop? You start again this time working your finger between my legs and are massaging my anus. Oh‚ I am sure this time there will be no stopping me. I relax enough for you to work you finger just slightly into me while expertly working over my cock with your mouth and tongue. This time I have built up what I am sure will be a load that will not remain inside of me no matter what. All of sudden you stop and stand up in front of me and I am a little disappointed but at the same time exhilarated because I have never been teased so well. I pull you close kissing you again‚ long and hard‚ breathing like I have just ran a marathon. You wrap your legs around my waist‚ while also wrapping your arms around my neck as you hop up into my arms. I lower you down onto my cock‚ as I push you against the wall of the shower. It takes a few moments but I work my cock deep inside you as you begin to move up and down. Again I am denied my release as you hop off at the last moment. Shit! Are you psychic or something?!
You turn and bend over offering you pussy to me again. Although I am seriously considering hitting that ass as I slap your ass checks repeatedly getting them nice and pink. I grab your hips and pull you in hard‚ plunging my cock into again. I am determined to cum this time and am not letting go till I do. As you begin to finger your clit as I plunge in and out of your pussy I am thinking‚ that I will achieve my goal. I can feel you getting ready to cum and want to pull out and deny you just as you have denied me‚ but I cannot. All at once you cum and I am determined to cum too‚ but you decide to cut your own pleasure short to deny me once again. What do I have to do to be able to cum? Damn!
Suddenly we are rinsing off again and you are out of the shower. I am a little stunned‚ what is going to happen now? Am I supposed to finish my self off or what? I exit the shower with a hard on that is damn near painful now. You quickly towel off although not completely drying yourself. You throw a towel at me and tell me to hurry up as you exit the bathroom and move into the bedroom. If I could I would have just shook the water off like a dog so I could follow you quicker. But I can’t so I towel off while in hot pursuit of that ass I see hurrying toward the bed.
You throw my clothes that were lying on the bed to the floor as you get between the sheets. I follow close behind you and slide up next to you as I look deeply into those eyes and even though I am so focused on your eyes I can see that sweet smile reflected in them. I pull your legs apart and slide between them and once again am buried in your pussy. I start slow‚ varying speed and angle‚ every so often thrusting hard and holding it in place for a slight moment. Then without withdrawing‚ I roll over onto my back pulling you on top of me. I must have hit the right spot as you begin to wildly thrust and ride my cock. You change positions often from lying on my chest to sitting straight up and arching your back. Then you sit hard down as far as you can onto my cock‚ thrusting your hips back and forth‚ you back arches again and you are about to explode. I am pushing in harder and matching your enthusiasm and speed while holding onto your hips again. There is NO way I am stopping this time. All at once we cum at the same time and I feel a rush of your juices washing over my cock and between my legs. You fall down next to me in bed smiling and caressing my chest as I hold you next to me. I cannot believe the feeling I have from being denied so many times only to finish like this. But before I can say anything else‚ apparently you have some unfinished business and you disappear below the sheets and begin to lick my cock and balls clean. I am once again hard and ready for action. This time you simply take my cock in your mouth and reward me by letting me cum again‚ swallowing the entire load.
I reach down and bring you up so that I may kiss you tasting myself too. Now‚ I am truly speechless as you again lay next to me on the bed. Nothing is said for a few moments as we lay there snuggled up together just enjoying the warmth of our bodies next to one another.
After a little while we finally start to talk again and are planning the rest of the night. We exit the bed and begin to dress. But I cannot help myself‚ I must caress you‚ kiss you‚ and other wise touch you.
There is a lot more to this night. But that will have to come in part 2 of this story.
Before A Midsummer Night's Dream
Before A Midsummer Night's Dream · Interracial Love · Memories are important to me, specifically the good ones. I would concur that it's the small things one does during their lifetime that are going to be the most impactful on them when they go back to cherish. In my 25 years, I've tried to make as many of these little moments for myself as possible. I hope to continue doing so.
As I circumvent the cobwebs and flip the grimy pages in the convolution that is my brain, I still recall a balmy Friday afternoon during the summer of '14. There have been many days around here where the climate could make it feel exactly like so. Though reiterating: The minutiae of details which were taking place during that day are what I think a person can treasure the most. Even if specifics become lost, they may blend and be a larger whole after a time. Speaking for myself, I now see the sun shining on that day more than I'd cared to notice then.
I turned 19 that May. My self-confidence had been improving along with what amount was already there from the time I'd graduated from high school. I did so with the Class of 2012. I was on a tight leash that was loosened by my parents for the remaining year of my minority. They removed the leash when I became an adult by law the year later. I had finally escaped the austerity enforced in my orthodox household during my upbringing, and in lieu, set out with the intention to experience and to make myself happy. To think less of what was expected of me by those who play God, and more of my perennial passions. I'd recognized my flaws. I've never stated to anyone that I'm a good person. Never. But I felt that helping other people would be helping me; what else can we do?
I pondered on a medical field or social work — and a steady source of income, of course. I knew this was going to be a tremendous undertaking, but I was adamant when I set my mind to something important to me. I'd been told so by teachers — people of authority outside the homestead. A university accepted me. It required a distanced move several hours away. I would have to do this on my own without support or enthusiasm from my family. Yes, I was frightened; I don't blame myself. But this was what it took — to overcome my dread and doubt while bearing in mind my goals, which I purposely left petty and superfluous so they would be feasible to complete and not damage me from unexpected failure to fulfill them.
By my pragmatic, if not sardonic philosophies by default, expecting good things to happen in this world's rocky landscape leads to disappointment in many cases. Maybe then I wasn't aware of this factuality, but I am now. I recognize. I stop to think about those without. The body I am in, the innocent lusts I have, the blessings bestowed to me by God are all good things, so long as I humble myself and take heed to what I know to be right. They will not be denied by me, rejected by me, or taken for granted, as often as I can remind myself.
As contradictory and ironic as the following account will seem, I'm only human, none of which is perfect, all of which is pardoned.
II
I always knew what the passions and lusts aforementioned were. They seemed like untapped and beautiful things that escaped my domineering nature of cynicism and restraint. Even early on in my childhood, I was inquisitive; whatever was there had always been a part of me. I could not, or rather, was forbidden to act on any carnal urges — rightfully so, since I was only a child. Yet, with all the boundaries and restrictions and doctrines of what is “Right” and what is “Wrong” firmly implanted, there was exposure to so many sexual contexts and innuendos, nonetheless — not only that but other discretions that a young girl should not be allowed to eavesdrop on. I was being informed well before my sanctioned time by three older siblings and made fully aware of how things plied.
My brothers had no capacity for complex emotions such as concepts of morality or guilt — a typical encounter for me then. They did not care. They brought their rambunctious peers for visits while Dad would work around the clock, Mom would drink her gin and tonic, and I'd impinge on their misdeeds. Why did my dad ignore me? It bothered me more than he knew and would affect me down the trail. Why did my mom harbor such an indefensible hatred towards me? Was there something in me that she saw in herself, or was it merely me, having been the “accidental” fourth? The two live-in grandparents, who were Dad's parents, just made everything that much more awkward and unbearable. Why go into it? No more time should be wasted dwelling on any of them; the less, the better. I could not breathe in that household.
In any case, it wasn't much different around my contemporaries. Only, I'd be the one to refute classmates' naive banter and false notions by having known it all in advance when sat down in sex-ed, courtesy of three dick-headed and repugnant siblings with age and primacy on their side. It was a stark contrast when compared to the ridicule I would languish in the home, having not known jack shit when gunned down by a belligerent firstborn, ten years older than me. Sex is so ubiquitous that it's just impossible to avoid anymore — if it ever was possible to avoid it — especially with my level of drive. In one way or another, everything will pertain to it unless a prude, which I am certainly not. I was innately fascinated by it. I asked harmless questions. Why did my bros have to be so mean about it?
I'm not having any self-pity here; this is only an explanation of what life was like during my childhood and growing up in my family — a veritable psychiatric field day. My clusterfuck of a house demanded a 1955 mindset, regardless of whatever was going on behind closed doors. Mommy and Daddy never sat me down for a tête-à-tête about birds and the bees, or anything else for that matter. My parents and grandparents would force their lectures on love but never practiced it themselves or set an example. And I mean the sum of what love's supposed to be like, what I understood it should be like, not just the sexual elements that intrigued me the most.
This hypocrisy angered me. What the fuck was this? Love — it is all I wanted to feel but was unable to receive it by any means there.
After all that the abstinence had cost me through puberty, I planned to change things for myself by finding love elsewhere, and I would demand nothing in return for it.
III
Work was almost out on that sunny day sometime in June. I'd been interning in several hospitals and facilities while I studied for a planned degree in pharmacology. As the end of my stint approached, I thought more of my plans for that nightfall and how to pull them off to perfection. These non-sequitur thoughts were unsuited for any run-of-the-mill and holier-than-thou work ethic. They flew around with the rest of the hustle and bustle incessantly going on up there that I would do anything, short of opting out, to mitigate. They made me fidget in my seat, causing my muscles to tense and my breathing to fluctuate.
To only exacerbate my uneasiness and anxiety, an inbound text message had arrived from my newfound friend, Naomi. I don't recall precise words, but I'd guess something along the fringes of, “Are you going out for scalps later?” Over the years I've known her, she'd often refer to my newly acquired boons as “scalps,” or in another form of acrimony which — coming from how endearing and friendly she was — would still put it lighter than I was in my behavior towards most of those poor kids. I was coming out from an inferno of juvenile years that were indeed affecting both me and my surroundings. I regret it now; I do. I've hurt; yes, I have.
Naomi's perspectives and definitions of propriety were different from mine — ones I frequently envied. I'd met her for the first time in January of that year. She'd been a neighbor when I decided to get out of the dorm and rent something instead. I was still 18 then, and she had six years on me at her 24. From my first impression, she did not seem to carry any hint of whatever constitutes a Child left in her at all. She was self-governing, incorrigible in her mold, and who she distinguished herself as — no one would be changing her mind. I admired those aspects and sensed genuine wisdom in this chick.
Naomi quickly became a close friend to me, as I'd moved hours from my home and knew no one in this sprawling and daunting megalopolis beforehand. She saw my electrons and only confuted them with her more overbearing protons. I learned that it was only futility to be anything other than happy and amiable around her. I grew up with antonyms of joy. She had an overwhelming ardor I'd not spent ample time with before.
I eventually opened up to her about my past. My kitsch is considered old-school, old-fashioned, and I have no problem with that. In an age of social media, I may have — or I may not have — a different definition than bulks do of what a friend is and who gets placed on the 'Friends List.' It's a close circle, and in effect, a small list that is pretty damn important to me. I consider Naomi to be one of the people on said list. I mention her extensively because she became a pillar that supported my happiness. Her impeccable judgment regarding getting the most out of what this life had to reward me was never questioned or depreciated. I was indebted to her.
By that point, I had possessed what the forms of those rewards were continually able to come in, allusive pun intended. I was already being made aware of the effortless perfection in which my soul resided. I made efforts anyhow — if only to maintain my temple. I went out of the way to run miles every day during the week. I was only continuing what I'd been doing as a form of escapism since junior high. I had myself conditioned to the point of feeling like I could keep on figuratively running away from my troubles in perpetuity. I loved it like an addiction — “Runner's High,” they call it. It made me feel sexy.
People — suspected to be in the same frame of mind as me, e.g., 'on the hunt' — would look at me as I went past them in my own made world, where the cosmos centered around the area where the middle of my foot would connect to the asphalt. I caught many gotten glances from the corners of my eyes, which I consider dark and intimidating. If I did lock my formidable gaze with the odd pedestrian on my cool-down period, nine out of ten times, I'd cause them to glance off in another direction as swiftly as they could. Any place that didn't involve the prerequisite set of balls it takes to meet my peep, continue inwards, and break my barriers. However, the tenth time consisted of those sure enough of themselves to take a plunge and brave a journey into my complex irides intent to burn away any veil in theirs. Destinations varied.
I would arrive home to my leased residence in a cold sweat and dampened clothes to undress for a hot shower in a ritualistic manner. The release from the confinements of my sports bra only made me feel like I could breathe the more so. As I poured out of the nylon stitching, my breasts would instantaneously settle back into their rightful perky place and be permitted to jut from my chest in freedom, just as God had intended for Eve's to do so before the Fall.
I shimmied myself out of what thin fabrics remained on the lower portion of my framework — hips and all that is divine between my legs were revealed to me, reminding me of my luck again. I knew what I saw in the mirror's reflection; I was not blind to a familiar sight. I eyed my curves and contours and the landing strip I regularly like to rock on my mound. It was abundantly clear what I was beholding: I was the quintessential woman who could have anything she fancied. It was entirely my choice to ditch the conviction and despair I suffered through adolescence and enjoy being in my niche instead. What a hedonist I was.
I would undo the knotted bun resting atop my head to let my blackened hair fall past my shoulders and onto my skin. I could detect a familiar and intoxicating fragrance in each of the strands. The moisture and scent from having pounded on the pavement not long before would also be in the air. It would mix with lingering aromas from whatever perfumes I'd sprayed in it from that morn. They joined with the traces of shampoo and conditioner from the previous night. The amalgamation became a tang of raw Sexual Energy that cannot be withstood or further described without the risk of raving. A lot can happen in a bathroom before a shower.
In times like 'in front of the mirror after a run,' I feel an aura surrounding me. I see myself in my purest and most vulnerable form as my damp and weighted tresses brushed against tender bits. Naked and battling with an abiding lust, found in spiritual sectors that cannot be labeled by anatomy, I would do things to myself in front of these mirrors — I'd been doing so in secrecy for quite a while. I would explore places, touch parts, and imagine my empty spaces made occupied by things I was, in my infancy, only able to catch glimpses and then lose sight of, left to have them in my dreams. Later on, I would see them but never be allowed to feel them in my presence. These dreams became increasingly vivid.
But by that summer in '14, the need for imagination and improvisation was no longer necessary. I had felt the sensation of a cock pressing into my flesh and was able to say so. Even if a phantom in my time of solitude, I oft feel nerves on zones inside me where I want the head to bear the brunt of its punishment most of all and induce the climacteric point of no return. In these moments, I cast aside whatever piety and temperance I have over myself and realize how bad I need fucked.
My cock craving would arrive in times as such — the times that were so commonly encountered during weeks consisting of long days with nil opportunity to sate my needs and cause the build-up and frustration to become that much more acute. These times called for me to do something about it. They bring me back to the Friday reminisced on, the reply to my friend's question, and whatever lucky guy — the emblematic scalp — would get his chance to serve as this completion for me as the five days of absence waned, and the weekend drew nearer.
IV
I replied to Naomi; asked her if she knew where I could go to make this happen. She had lived in the City all her life and was a social animal. It amazed me how she could throw names and addresses at me at the drop of a hat — any place where something was going down. It wasn't long after that when she told me, “Go here,” gave me the deets and coordinates, and wished me well. I planned to brave it alone that night since I was working some distance from home.
More and more routinely, I found myself still out, waking up in strangers' beds and being gone even well into the next day. It was becoming a custom for me to be prepared for this to happen. I would keep clothes in my car, influenced by whatever vogue was going on; lots of clothes. I kept stocked on survival essentials, too, i.e., food and drink — mainly trail mixes and bottled water. I had plenty of cosmetic and hygienic supplies to maintain my beauty and preserve my health. I could do work while sitting in the car if obligated. If I needed sleep, it was trivial enough to recline the seat. I was able to be out and about more by these means. Staying or fleeing a scene was all contingent upon how it was and the vibes I was feeling.
After I got out of the job, I went to find the park I'd been using to run laps during that week. Though, today, I would run only to a point where I'd not work up so much fatigue and make a sweaty mess of myself — which, with my stamina, took some work. From what I remember, it was supposed to be an open house slated for six o'clock or so — a later part of the evening. It would be no more than a fifteen-minute drive from where I was. I had plenty of time. Also, I liked to show up late at these things. Exercising was not only delightful to me but my way of cleansing the deed through its health benefits. It was my absolution from whatever substances and sordid activities I would undoubtedly be indulging in.
During those years, I spent time playing dress-up in my vehicle. I'd strip out of my work attire and into sports gear for my runs. Then I would return and swap back into something suitable for whatever I'd be doing after that. In many instances, I would be within plain view as I was changing in the car. In retrospect, I'm surprised I don't need neck surgery as a result of how much surveying I was doing while I switched outfits to see if I was being ogled at by some perv. I told myself nobody saw me making a nouveau riche bimbo out of herself, but maybe I was, in my subconscious, wishing someone had. Perhaps someone did see me once or twice, but that's another story.
My black Honda Accord was like a home for me, pillow in the back and all. If push came to shove, I kenned I could always go to my car and nap there in safety. Unless close, there was no reason for me to drive back home. I could be spending that time doing something productive or heading towards something that made me feel good instead. I was being taught different things now; to love myself and cease in the denial of loving it. I wasted none of what coupled youth and adulthood instigated. At 19, I was milking these advocations for everything they were worth, although I never wavered from my own beliefs; my Faith. Love is at the center of it; the rest is redundant to me.
With that in mind, I arrived back after I had concluded my jog. I always felt carefree and sensuous after the fact, being glad it was done and feeling much healthier. I threw something on and freshened up. I wanted myself as flaunted and sultry as possible, sparing no expense or giving any pretense as to what I would be looking for at this shindig. I made sure not to hold back on Chanel and L'Oréal and make my hair as liberated, salacious, and untamed as possible. I swallowed whatever lurking fret there was and brushed aside whatever bullshit second thoughts I had, then ignited the engine to hear the radio blasting A Sky Full of Stars by Coldplay. I remember it.
V
It was dusk when I got there. I parked a reasonable distance away on the curb and walked to the address Naomi gave me. A driveway went up for a bit that led me to a two-story home that looked to be an upper-middle-class sort of place. There was activity going on. Lots of people were there; I was not counting. The age group appeared anywhere between their teens like me, into their early thirties. I could walk right in and assimilate myself without anyone noticing, and I was all right with that. I figured most of it was going on in the backyard. There was a lot of landscaping around the front and a fence, so I had to go through the front door to get there, which was wide open.
It seemed warm and stuffy when I stepped in, especially for the intermingling Latin blood running hot in my veins. The lights were down; I recall candlelight. I remember the usual smells of food and spirits. The familiar odor of marijuana was also in the air. I was 19 and very much underage, doing something I knew was not allowed, as if I was going to let that deter me. A blond-haired mistress I did not know walked up and hugged me. She said some indistinct things I don't remember now. She might have been the owner of the house since she was a bit older. Whoever she was, she looked to be well on her way, like she had taken something. I wasn't sure what was going on yet. I could not hear her, either. It was loud in there, enough to make a girl go deaf with the proper soundtrack going.
People were yelling over each other as the typical EDM and pop music blasted on a stereo system. Music is at the epicenter of a good party. There have to be good tunes to have a good party, in my opinion. Of course, I did not expect to hear anything underground, abrasive, or hardcore, like a gabber at their rave or mosher in their pit. But the night was young, and so was I. At 19, a bit of what I knew was passed vicariously through the older folks I was becoming acquainted with — my friend Naomi was one of them. And her being 24, a sophisticated and diverse individual, they only got older from there. She was regularly around people in their thirties and upwards, back to when parties were happening in the '00s, '90s, and '80s.
I hear they were tumultuous times, and Naomi had been exposing me to those capable of saying they were there. The only way to be there was to be there. They carried no smartphones back then, nor did they need them. Technology did not matter since it did not exist. It was the memory and the moment, nothing more. Whatever knowledge was in my academics and studies did nada for me while I was subject to those circumstances. What many of them attained was my definition of wisdom — having lived on Earth longer than me. Which is to say, they had witnessed more of what reality is and felt more pain than I had. The years they'd spent listening and partaking, as I was doing, had paid off.
I could not compete with any of it, but she let me in on their private jokes, notwithstanding, and involved me in their antics as often as we were around each other. When I went to events with Nomi and whoever else she had along, there was no question about how confident I was. It meant a great deal to have her as a friend and to be able to call her one. As all this was happening, she confided with me just as much as I was confiding in her. With all that emotion and proximity, not to mention her talents in temptation, she began touching me and welcomed me to touch her, too. Lots of frivolous hugs were going on, but then they became more compelling.
I did not know if she was manipulating me into something — if she was, it was working. She had the advantage of seniority and being the Cooler Cucumber than me, not to mention having a charisma that I lacked. She deadlocked me in my eyes all the time — a powerful thing to me. It reached the point when she trapped me on my lonesome one day, got me to open my mouth, and let her stick her tongue in it. It ended with her leading me by the hand and both of us on her bed, fucking one another. She pulled this off even amid my sobriety and having had considered myself a very straight female before then. Wow. Kudos to me, more power to her.
Naomi became the first woman I was intimate with — she opened that gateway for me, broke that boundary and taboo. She was breaking lots of those not long after that. Things I never imagined myself doing began taking place, and I was doing them; things were taking me, more ambiguous puns intended. As time went on, she felt more like companionship and someone I could place my trust in and lower my guard around. It has remained as such to this day.
VI
Since I was alone at this particular event on that night, I wanted to be cautious. I was being analyzed head to toe by strangers left and right. I felt their eyes already peeling my duds off. During a warm night in June, there was not much clothing on me, to begin with — all my prominent features were out on display for them. I had done this on my own before and was discovering what worked for me, albeit tentatively.
I needed to find a spot to settle in to get my bearings, with a drink in my hand that would put me on the path to enough of a buzz of courage to make a move on someone — or allow them to make theirs. A year farther down the highway, I might have done something insane and not thought twice, but I did not want to overdo anything here this evening. I was on my own, which is already taking a risk — too serious of one for my better part of judgment then.
I found an unoccupied piece of patio furniture outside in the backyard. It was more spacious and less constricting than being inside the sweltering domicile. More air and fewer clusters of crowds brushing into my Safe Zone allowed me to relax and contemplate. People were in their groups and cliques and saturated in their confidences for reasons obvious to anyone. In that sort of environment, being ingratiated within a group makes a state of mind different from when unescorted. I felt withdrawn and homesick at this function that night, to be sure, drinking alcohol in my teens and prone to rash decisions. I had to remain vigilant and keep my wits about me.
This garden party had been carrying on for a while now. I saw people dancing, fornicating, and rambling incoherently across the yard from what looked to be drug use, alleged to be ecstasy. I saw a surreptitious group of males, the type known all too well to me by then. I assumed they were selling — my assumption proved correct after time spent sitting with my drink and policing them.
Club drugs were still out of my depth then, and taking something like MDMA — or taking any substance for that matter — without someone to trust nearby leads to bad decision-making and potential catastrophe. It's a wonderful way to wreck your entire life in an instant — and be left with the sickening hindsight of, “Why did I have to do it? I could have Just Said No. Everything would be fine right now if I had.” Thoughts such as those make me think of what is taken for granted, not to mention my health. With what I was doing for a better amount of six years, it is a miracle I am even alive and not in a coma or dead. Which is worse, the former or the latter?
There would be no fucking way I would be taking anything on that night, let alone pay anything out of pocket for whatever insalubrious garbage it may have been cut with. I was searching around for someone who appeared to be in a comparable situation as me: they were at this festivity to get laid and bust their nut — no cons, illegalities, or ODs attached. Nothing wrong with a little lovin'.
I had been there for at least half an hour now. I recall having a Dark and Stormy — a drink I have thoroughly enjoyed over the years. I doubt the rum was anything from a top shelf, but volume is volume. Speaking of volume, since the time I'd strolled through the home, the music was getting better. Maybe they'd replaced whoever was doing the DJing with someone who knew their shit — a connoisseur who viewed music as an art form, as I did. It sounded to be deep-cuts of minimal techno, vocal trance, et cetera. Echoes of numerous, unknown artists and tracks that someone could quite easily only ever lay ears on once during a lifespan and then never hear again.
Hearing the unheard has always been a big deal to me. I thrive for a moment where I will hear something to fall in love with — or take offense from. As cruel as it seems to say to anybody sober, genres such as techno and trance will only sound better while rolling on uppers or while bombed out of their gourds on herb — or, in my case, that eve, floating on alcohol.
But please permit me to be a hoity-toity, high and mighty, la-di-da ball-buster by repudiating what was literally just said: Don't do drugs; don't even drink hard liquor. It's the smart thing to do.
VII
I remember attempting a conversation with a couple of passersby if you could call it a conversation. Most of what they were mumbling to me about was idiosyncratic gibberish. Obviously Zonked. I told them, delivered as a fait accompli, what I was here for — my thirst needed to be quenched by some sort of personified punch after the stressors of my existence throughout that week, hither. While I continued to sip my beverage and soak in the sounds, I looked for a suitable other to aid me in accomplishing this feat. It would be an extreme responsibility for them.
Most of the guys I saw there thought themselves larger than life, and justly so, I guess. They had girls with them already. It's possible actual relationships were going on, e.g., boyfriend and girlfriend. Most looked thunderous and hyper. Always something to say. They frolicked in their esteem.
Were I to walk up to these characters or them to me, dictation would be on their terms. They could easily cast me aside and find someone looking nearly as good as I was that night, and I was looking severely good at 19; it would be untenable to deny or just plain mean to tell a Missy otherwise. I was getting tons of inspections, lonely and abandoned as I was. Time was running out for me to choose, and the alcohol was in effect.
VIII
I saw one of the smaller assemblages that looked to be more phlegmatic than the norm. They casually conversed and gave no evidence of having any terminal impairment. From a stone's throw away from my location, they looked like respectable working-class — blasé and hospitable; no flamboyance. One guy was the odd man out. He had no Lady on his arm, as the other two Gentlemen did. He looked to be a real Somebody.
I would say he was in his upper twenties. His physique looked active, rugged, and undemanding — a type I loved to tempt. His hair was dark, dense, and wavy — enough of it to run my fingers through to feel good about myself. He had maintained facial hair, but not too maintained. He seemed rough around the edges, with nothing tapered or outstanding. His clothing — a distinctly recollected dark and drab T-shirt and tarnished denim jeans — fit loosely enough for comfort and snug enough to show off his sculpt — one that looked lean with a fatally underestimated power behind it. Hell yeah, I'd tap that!
I was eyeing him up and down, gorgeous as I was, and he saw me doing it. He was participating in a chat with his buddies and their dates while he was more and more glancing over at me, sitting on my own, trying to pretend like he was not affected. I wondered if they were talking about me — it looked like they were touching on something. From what I was observing, he seemed to have a reserved opinion of himself. His friends appeared that way, too. There was no complacency or delusion present.
I was stricken to carry myself with the same decorum in ordinary cases, but I was horny and infatuated with myself at the minute, not to mention Sloshed. I thought the man was looking at me and assuming right away that there would be no bet in hell of scoring a nasty summit of a number like me on that night. Too modest for his own good. Or was I wrong? Was I too conceited and haughty for my own good? I wondered what kind of beast of a Cock was skulking behind the excess seen in his weathered jeans like it was some predator waiting in ambush. Each seam and tear in those pants he bore so eloquently were more than likely earned by his merit at whatever tedious daily grind he had, rather than been pre-installed at purchase merely to resemble liveliness.
As I continued studying him, I felt my mouth salivate. My breath began to elevate. My muscles were contracting, and I was fidgeting in my chair like I'd been doing at work earlier. What charm lay bare and void betwixt my thighs was going from moist to damp, damp to wet, and throbbing with each heartbeat. Steamy thoughts were going on in my fucked up and dirty head. I queried how much I could get away with here — Niña Loca, arguing with the Voices. The hand that did not contain a plastic cup involuntarily traveled down to paw at the soft Hill found in my shorts. I oftentimes do this with the knuckles bearing inward — really, there is no control over it. Then I felt my face begin to tingle and my mouth abruptly dry. I took another swig of 40 as if that would alleviate the dryness in the long run.
My chest became tight, and my heart began to pulsate with even greater intensity — so much more that I felt it shocking my body from root to stem. My adrenaline was kicking in — something I still needed to get used to feeling. I wanted this dude to put his brawny hands all over me and force me to moan for him as he fucks me to climax. Oh, God, how I needed it. I wasn't going to wait around for it to happen. I got up and took concealed, stumbled strides athwart the grass and over to him.
IX
He grew taller as I neared — at least a head's higher than my 5'5''. Oh yeah, this fella was interested, so was I. Definitely a Smash. Something was trying to click here. His eyes lit up a bit, deep and complex as they were, like mine. Still, he did not turn them away from me to stare at his feet or act like he didn't know what was happening. I sensed he had assurance in himself, whether he cared to concede to it or not.
As I landed my sights on the more intricate of his features, it became clear why he did. He was indeed much older than I, more into his early thirties. This was not some boy as green as the ground I stood on; it was a full-fledged Man. With the age comes the experience, as I was going to find out about later on. A man's age advantage over me also stirs my more discreet and frailer of psychological quirks — the lack of a Father Figure. Where I was invisible to my dad, I had found an adjacent alternative, who did appreciate me and lavished me in sensuality, furthermore.
I'm a believer in Occam's razor — that the Quickest Avenue is probably going to be the right one to go down. Short and sweet; no meandering BS or trying out new techniques. I asked him if he was with someone. He took my meaning, shook his dear head in a neutral expression, and told me No. We shared the same policy, apparently — candid, concise, and straight to business; this is not like the movies. I asked if I could be with him. He said Yes — just like that. I went up to meet his chest, albeit hesitant from the slight jolted shock to my nervous system when I realized he was more seasoned than I had anticipated. But he extended a sinewy arm to give me signs I had nothing to fear from him.
An indefinable surge of warmth went over me. Feelings of Happiness and Acceptance flooded inside as I hugged my body closer.
I was on his left; I remember it. He put his arm around me. He was a rock-solid Bull. I wanted to put my arm around him, too. When I did, it felt like trying to hug a bronze statue out of Ancient Rome. I felt out of my body so often during these escapades. It was something surreal like a déjà vu or feeling like I'd reached the pinnacle of a precipice, one where reality only existed inside my mind and falling off the ledge would turn it into a black nihility, like before being born into a soul.
I wished to rest my head on him and shut my eyes, then open them to see if I'd wake up someplace else — I didn't want to wake up; I wanted to go nowhere else but 'Here' and 'Now.' He had a scent of cologne that merged with a nostalgic hint of tobacco that I grew up around in a family of smokers; casual, and chain. His conferees were, as I inferred: Around their late twenties and precisely the kinds of laid-back folks that I could correlate to and mellow out with. One might even label it esoteric — no conformity, only themselves.
There was an introduction. We exchanged our names — of which now I cannot recall. Mine was Melanie, and it is appalling that I cannot remember the name of my new boyfriend as I write in the present tense. His pals seemed tranquil and only spoke about as much as need be. They continued having a conversation about something that I draw blanks on now. I think it was work-related. I gathered they were co-workers.
What was running through my mind was who I had my arm around. My hand and its fingers lightly traced the finer details and digits of his spine. They went up to the lower parts of his neck to brush his hairline. I was touching him with greater zeal and affection at an alarming rate of attrition. He was considering it, and I could see it. Who knew I had it in me? I had to raise my head to meet his height. My eyes were looking up and to his. Even if he turned away for a moment to those he was already familiar with, as if to equivocate my presence, I did not falter — my sight remained on him. This technique was not just for him to enjoy but also was a means for me to read him — to try my damnedest to discern what kind of man this was. What kind of secrets did I need to know about, hmm? Eye contact. It's important to me.
I wanted to trust this stranger enough to give him Carte Blanche and let him have total Dominion over me and all that could be his. Capriciousness had nothing to do with the decision I had made — and despite my inebriation, while crossing over the lawn, I knew what I was doing here. It was the End Game in mind — for me to have my brains Fucked out in earnest and their gray matter suspended in Orgasmic Euphoria. Such has always been my Vice. The rest is impertinent; diversions or tactics to lead me to it.
When they met my soft skin, I recalled the grain of his hands calloused and stalwart, like a man's hands should feel. As I expected, this was an active human being with a firm grip on a very clingy gal who coveted to get a lot more of her parts gripped on before the roosters had a chance to crow at sun-up. What I did not expect was how much this buckaroo knew what he was doing. It leads me to believe that this is why I still retain the night, even over six blurry years later, where I would find myself in similar predicaments during every week's end.
X
I finished my Juice and nonchalantly tossed the obligatory Red Solo Cup elsewhere, scattering the condensed ice cubes and soggy rum-soaked lime wedge amongst the turf. A Party will be a Party, and this one was not mine. A proper Fucking Mess — “Fucking” in verb form — for the host/hostess to clean up after all's said and done is, in consolidated fact, a Given. I now had both of my lovely hands vacant and available to touch him, as my inborn omnipotence concerning these libidinous affairs deemed fit.
I edged myself from his side and into his front, though not all the way. Of course, this rose his attention; why would it not? No dialogue was going on between us, and I was quite all right with that. The Music played. The Multitudes in the yard carried on hooping and hollering like not a thing was transpiring between He and Me. My hands were running up and down along his sides and anywhere else stimulating they could conquer. I have been told countless times in so many ways about what it is like to feel my reception and bona fide sentiment via my touch.
I did not grab the Bulge I wanted so desperately to have in my clutches, quite yet. It's crucial not to overstep bounds, initially. I needed to wait for that moment, a critical one. I had a Good Vibe going on here; high hopes; this was most certainly a Catch. He “wasn't most guys,” and for once in a blue-fucking-moon in the Sky, this Truth was held to be self-evident. I wanted him to have it, this luscious body in its entirety. He did not have to prove a thing to a girl endeavoring to cultivate herself. I finally got him to focus on Me, Me, Me, and fuck all else — the narcissistic wench that I was.
In that instant, I banked on the Accolade to take place — the bit where this man took over for me and granted me something in return; quid pro quo. And he did.
First Base! He had been a downplayed professional, touching me in all the right places with all the right amounts of pressure applied. His friends were very polite, and I don't even remember when they shifted elsewhere to give us our privacy. The only thing I remember was how fast I was being pulled into his body from a forceful tug on my Butt and my lips meeting his. I felt my boobs flattened on his torso in their usual somatic fashion — always a treat. My eyes closed, and what was subtlety on both our parts quickly turned to passion. I had no choice in this anymore. I was being manhandled and forced to submission by this Tank, made to feel like a Woman.
My forearms went around his Hull and my fingers through his hair — any place I could nudge and turn on. All the while, he is doing the same things to me. Inside, I am growing aroused beyond words — driven to moan and whisper indiscretions and Freudian slips I would only utter from my authentic pleasure. My emotional state, psyche, and soul were being taken back to childhood — dismissal then, embrace now. They should be signals to this man — to any man — of how much I was getting into this. I was 'F4M/DTF/NSA,' unequivocally.
He had taken his Big Bat and hit the Baseball well into the outfield, if not a home run, so he rounded to Second Base without the obligation to halt on the first plate. The heat and waves from his approval and endorsement enveloped me. I was standing on tippy-toes and then felt a drag in the small of my back by a stern and assertive hand. I was as closely knit to his body as allowable with our clothes still on. My kisses grew more adventurous and liberal, of which happy campers have told me are as great as my touch. My tongue was doing its handiwork; he impressed me with his. He was pulling up my leg to rest against his midsection as if to lift me from the ground and spare me my encumbrance. I'll admit, it was tough being Me sometimes.
He had his other hand grabbing into my tight Ass in the interim — a lot of Ass to grab into. Courtesy of a South-American heritage, the Brazilian Butt Lift came with the Package. As he did this, it caused everything so tender and bewitching to the commonfolk to stretch apart and shoot waves of exhilaration through me, from the top of my pointy hat, to where I sit on a broomstick, to the tips of my toes. I like it when my backside is played with and violated by a stronger counterpart, 'tis true.
I emphasize: With all that is Corporeal, simultaneously existing with all that is Conceptual, the pleasure I feel from this is Incommunicable. I felt another brutish hand betwixt my pregnable legs and its fingers pressing into fertile valleys below the pubic bone. He knew precisely where my Clit was, even with my dungarees obstructing it. We — being me and Her — were assuredly in trouble. Giving this Paragon of Masculinity no sign of refusal and every incentive to take this to another level, I immediately placed my hand on the Bump of unmentionables in his slacks. I was, dying then and there to have it rammed inside me — through any choice of an entrance — to placate my yearning.
I felt how hard it was and only wondered of its potential size when I had it out to put my hands on it. It felt disconcertingly Huge. Too huge for captivity. I aimed to be the girl to release it for good.
XI
I do not know how long we were making out. What could have been minutes seemed like hours to me? Or is it the other way around? My guy and I were standing out in public, and this shit was getting Real. He was going under my skimpy little summertime top and touching my bare, prohibited flesh by that point. I wanted him to take it off. I didn't stand a possibility to surmount to this; he would just triumph in one way or another. He could put me over a desk, stick his Dick in my Ass and fuck the reading glasses off me, and there would not be a goddamned thing I could do to prevent it. I knew it. Despite all that Respect I had for myself, I was ready to accept being got and fucked back into my place on the Hierarchy — fucked out of the Feminist Mindset that liked to creep up on me. And him being a Hunk and having it all rock-hard in his pants because of me only validated my Role and gave me that much more esteem — I accorded him his hard-on.
He was digging me. On the Ortho-Novum, or whatever I was taking at the time, there was no cause for us to be concerned about unplanned cherubs should things come to that. We were ready for this to happen.
My areolae diminished, nipples coagulated. I felt numb from the cocktail in my system. What a lousy feeling sometimes. Contrary to what's said about alcohol warming the blood, the opposite is true — it reduces body temperature. I was getting cold. Finally, my boo gave me an interval to be able to tell him that I “really wanted to be alone with him” — more than likely in those selfsame words, or fewer — implying that I needed him to fuck me. He understood. This guy was exceptional, incredible. Most talk too much, but he was of few words. He explained to me, in brevity, that he lived only a five-minute stroll from the house party and asked me if I wanted to go there with him. I answered, “Yes," with as much sincerity and solemnity as I could muster from my drunken state. He put his arm around me, said some hazy farewells and valedictions to his associates, and lead me from the property.
XII
The eve had turned late, at least according to whatever Pecksniffian condescender declared that 'when the sun is down, then it should be deemed by us as such.' I didn't know the exact time, but as long as I'd lived with Time, it had to have been at least after 23:00. It was a peaceful walk, lit by the scattered lamps on the road and the city's glow and hum. Not a lot was spoken between him and me, though I remember trading compliments and informing him of how much I was looking forward to this.
We were enchanted by each other in the ambiance of the midnight that warded off the distant sounds of commerce, transit, and day-in-day-out hustle-bustle.
My other half had a sturdy arm around my curvy waistline, and a steady palm on my belly — my more supple touch sought to rouse him on his back while he did so. I was on his left side; I reckon it's the instinctive side of an alpha male for me to choose. It made me feel great; these fluttery butterflies in my head with his hold down there. I strived to stay as flirty and lewd as I could with my hookup. But mayhaps a more magical side of me gave a more devoted sort of touch to him, as plausible while in motion, as we neared wherever he lived. Maybe my caring touch hoped to sustain the comfort and warmth we had already shared at the gathering together. Perhaps it hoped to obtain more.
I can get a bit melancholy while on the sauce; it is a depressant, after all. I remember my touch carrying a gravity. Was my fling feeling it like it was? Nah, probably not. Regardless, my swooning and blushing from this tall and mysterious drifter, leading me to be fucked, may have evoked some facepalming drama. He had his arm around my waist. His hand pressed into my womb; it possibly jerked a tear in the corner of my eye or two. Maybe a little one. I can become very emotional when my guard is down like it was there; is that so bad?
I get this fucking longing to gratify another entity and receive something in return from it. It is kind of difficult to explain. Most of my frequented types did not give me this in return. I wanted to exploit some form of compromise — a chunk that was taken out of their armor by means I would hope to overhear during pillow talk, highs, trips, or something. I aspire to get a hard-ass such as this one with my arm wrapped around to open themselves up to me; make me feel meaningful, if not indispensable to them. Maybe then I would repay them by letting them see me open up — let them have a taste of what really flows through my heart.
Though I would find myself in similar situations shortly in the future, most of the liquor was subsiding by then; I only downed the one cup at the gala — granted, a large cup. The temperature had fallen, and I was freezing. I remember shivering and trembling, my teeth gritting, but this could have been from the looming plans. I will confess, I was slightly anxious since I knew what was coming. I was in this sexy rascal's grasp and heading with him towards the fabricated and murk unventured. It did not matter; it was a beneficial kind of worry, more of a therapeutic dilemma, or being in labor before childbirth — the kind that made me feel like a lady. I had to have been looking good — my heavy eyeliner to lose himself in; my myriad of long sable hair abound for him to stir and sway. He was treating me well. He had respect for me, and I knew he would not hurt me. I was fucking ready for this.
XIII
We'd reached our destination. I had deduced — all while keeping up with the tradition of oohing and awing over the immaterial and mundane on our way over — that the structure was a lesser idyllic sight, fixed closer to the street. It was more of a bungalow, with less of a yard in front — a bit of a far cry from the dazzling, bourgeois casa we'd trekked from in the minutes that felt like ages ago. But if it's Moolah I'm after, then they don't know me at all.
He took me around to the rear of the dwelling to unlock a door. The backyard was more spacious, only as I recall from the low level of visibility, it being past my bedtime. No moment was wasted going inside.
He closed the doorway. I heard the keys clank as they hit the kitchen counter. It was dim, save for a small tinted light seen in his living room — he had left it as such for us: dark. The curtains were closed. I heard a radio on low; 88.1, a jazz station — maybe to dissuade intruders? Or had he been planning something here all along? What space was there appeared to be well-kept, as if he wasn't home a lot — or when he was, he had a needy bombshell clinging to him as he did on this night. It had this atmosphere of order and neatness — that of an industrial and regulated one — a well-disciplined fellow. Though, it felt like a cozy and homey place to me, too.
I was only judging all of this in a brief instance because he turned to confront me. I gawked at him with a minor trace of hesitancy, as if I could not believe this was happening to me right now. He took me in his arms, and I melted into a fervent kiss.
XIV
You get out of me what you put into me. Most of the plights that I braved with men were pseudo and superficial. There was no real thought of affection from them. But this seemed offbeat. I was feeling it — the vibe and the passion. He was giving me everything he had while still being vertical with clothes on his person, and he was fucking good at it.
I don't know how long we were fondling one another or how we were veering towards the living room floor. As we did so, I understood that pieces of our clothing no longer wanted to be a part of the equation. I had my Beau's shirt off before we hit the rug. An effortless quintessence of a man was on top of me, giving it up to me, and I back to him. My top was still on, likely thinly sown and suggestive.
I must confess I had not been wearing a bra since that eventide when I left work. It is my habit to ditch a bra from my soma at any opportune respite I can get. I have claustrophobia, and they are so fucking choking and uncomfortable. And, yeah, what was underneath the required conduct and expectation for people to have raiment on their persona in Society was probably blatantly visible to the public, too — i.e., my voluptuous 30Ds. But why should I have to wear a bra on such a nefarious night? He already knew it, of course. His hands were well up into my shirt and directly applied to all that is magnificent back at the party. He had not seen them unfiltered yet, however. We were still kissing; necking; feeling each other up — making love with each other. Does this not seem like it could want to go on for an eternity?
My toned legs were wrapping around his back and pulling him in. I hugged him as close to me as I could. He touched me all over, was rubbing his hand on my shorts, right where I like it. Arousing noises were being born by me through concupiscence and pleasure. He stopped a moment, said nothing, only looked at me — my mood dazed and bewildered; my hair a scintillating and frantic mess, as he edged my top over my boobs. He paused another sec, and his eyes went wide. Nevertheless, he did not comment, and neither did I. Our facial expressions were our conversation. Maybe I would be getting another kind of 'facial' pretty soon. I looked at him and gave half a smirk with a feigned exhalation through my nose. He seized the meaning that I wanted this to proceed.
He smooched me all over my upstairs and became enraptured by the visage of my exquisite knockers handcrafted by God. I closed my eyes and felt hot inside as he did so, never ceasing to convey my profound affections to him. He was traveling further downstairs in his affections towards me. My scantily sported top, a fluorescent orange insert brand name as I hark back to, had been discarded — flung across the pad. Both of us still had our pants on, obscuring the most sacred and sought-after regions. His was all I was musing about; what kind of monstrosity would I have to tussle with here? I could only feel it confined to his pants — what I felt scared me and shortened my breath, made me bite a lip or two. I was so fucking aroused.
He was past my navel at this point; his tongue had been in there. My pants, still being equipped, did neither of us any good. It was time. He knew it, and so did I. He slid them down my legs and past my bare feet that draped over his shoulders. I have cute feet and toes, probably painted then. He saw them — before glimpsing at the shaven grandeur farther up, clearly conspicuous behind a decadent thong — and was not opposed to putting any part of me into his trap.
He did something like stick me in his mouth, and I did something such as stroke the excess of his penis in his jeans with my other foot if only to entice him — as is my intuition when an apex has my toes at his mercy. His blue jeans were indeed still present, and I would be giving him prompts to take them off in succession with my waxed legs spread for him. He did not succumb. He took his time and it was turning me the fuck on in the meantime.
My darling had skipped down several floors. He was now operating from bottom to top, inevitably leading to my delectable vulva and all points between — within and without; protruded and retracted. Would whatever animal that lay hungry in the foliage cause a prolapse when it sprung out to attack me? We — me and my pussy — had to wonder how bad this was going to be. What had we gotten ourselves into this time?
It was no tricky task for this specialist to maneuver around my slutty looking band of string and put his mouth on areas and orifices that need no introduction to Mankind. There was no excuse not to know the female anatomy in 2014. Like the rest of his touch, it was an intrinsic gift to him — the right amounts of oscillated pressure applied under my little canopy. All I could think to do was just lay there and deal with it, play with my boobies, bite my lip, look down in amazement and reverence and savor it.
This was a man who was not afraid or ashamed to go down on a woman. Evidently, this was about my pleasure, not his. I felt like a queen. He tapped his tongue right into my spot with my hand on his head whilst I was gasping in total awe of this hottie and pleading with him for it to continue and never desist. What more could a girl want? Everything was dripping in secretion, famished to have this panther make a meal out of us. His tongue in my box and on Dr. Grafenberg's spot was positively Awesome — I never use this word lightly.
XV
At this point, we had me moaning in agony for him, my legs trembling, and nerve endings bestowing euphoric bolts of lightning through my body. I was so fucking close, and yet, he paused. He brought my legs together and ditched the sad excuse of synthetic material that remained on me, leaving me in the nude. I do remember faintly saying to him, in helpless and perplexed excitement, “Let me see it, Daddy,” as if I had to tell this guy how to do his job. I could not help it; I needed it so fucking badly!
He took the sides of my arms in both his hands and elevated me from the floor. He didn't have to tell me twice when he stood to his feet. I got on my knees and put my hands on his legs, never forgetting eye contact — laborious as it was, to focus on anything but my prize. My mate had already trod well past the third base by now, and I hadn't even seen it yet — I would not malinger here. It was time for him to head for the home plate — the final sprint. He undid the button and saved the zipper for me. I'd waste no time keeping his briefs on, either. I wanted the shock from this to strike me — though slowly, steadily, and in all profundity, I gripped the tops to slide them down.
In exact, shuddered words of, “Oh my God,” as it lept out from behind the final barrier of cloth and fell from its weight, oxygen had been displaced in my lungs and replaced by another wave of an electrical current that detonated in my chest. I could not believe what I was bearing witness to here. Before then, I'd seen in propria persona what constitutes Perfect and Large dicks — these are not terrible items at all. But I had not seen a cock as colossal as his, staring me right in the face as tangible. This dude was Hung. How in Fuck's name was I going to manage this! He put the 'Well' in 'Well Endowed' in every literal and iterated sense.
My breath quivered, and all I could think to do next was to put my hands on it — yes, it required them both. I'm on my knees, naked and flushed, before this monument of a man looking down at me. He was petting my head and pampering my brown-black hair, encouraging and inspiring me. Fuck, I was hot. It just behooved me, instinctively, to begin the process of engulfing it. Need I go into copious detail here? I was a prodigy of oral sex — of any sex. The simple translation: I love fucking.
I heard his breathing go up and felt his grip begin to tighten. He didn't do anything brutish or obnoxious to me, only tilted his head to the ceiling to enjoy it. This delighted and satisfied me as I proceeded to go down on it further. I couldn't fit its entirety into the back of my throat, as diligent and persevered as I was, so I ran along its sides instead. I glanced up at him and sought his trust in me to put his nuts in my mouth — gently so as not to hurt them. One hand remained to stroke on his cock, the other wrapped around his leg. I closed my eyes and listened to his stifled groans from the fabulous head he was receiving. The erotic redolence of sex was in the air and affecting my anima. I felt both of our raised pulses; my own was crippling me. My heart could not beat any faster than it was; my body was ready to explode like a volcano.
I rose from my knees a bit to play with myself. I doubt he noticed me reaching down to rub my pussy and press a finger or two onto my asshole. I continued to suck his dick off and allow as much of it to slide down into my throat as I could. I was so fucking ready for this guy to vanquish us. How were we going to fit this? I trusted him to be helpful and patient; he seemed like such a nice and handsome gent.
We were communicating with each other only through our expression; it went without saying. Both of us knew what to do before the moment had arrived. My sweetheart saw me dawdling and hesitating with his circumference still in my yap and gently withdrew. He had his hand brushing the side of my adorable mug and went to a bended knee to lay on the soft carpet. He didn't have to signal me; tell me two times — we had already agreed upon it. It was beautiful and organic.
On my way back down to meet him, I gave fellatio for a moment longer, simply to show how much I cared and also to prep it for penetration. Then I settled my hands on his warm and naked hide and laid atop him, my comely profile facing his. My body was swollen in its arousal as I lay pressed against him, everything so sensitive in the slightest movement. My lover put arms around me; I was no longer cold. I was like china, but he was gentle, caring only for my comfort. I wanted to kiss him again for it, and now free in the nude with the thought of his lush cock eagerly waiting in the middle of my titillating legs.
My choice. An inexpressible joy that can only be comprehended while feeling the phenomena; two conglomerate bodies becoming a better and fuller whole. I felt like a part of this person. We laced hands, sought fidelity while entwined, and committed ourselves to one another. We withheld nothing. I felt safe; he would not harm me. I only go by my nature when I feel this fierce of a connection with my partner.
XVI
I don't recall any other specifics of our lovemaking prior to insertion. What I do remember about this night were the length and girth. We were going to have to take this slow; it went without saying as he caressed me, and I gave him whimpers and hints of how nervous I was. I was as ready for it as I would ever be; burning, drenched, and relaxed. His very erect Johnson was still loitering around the entrance to my pussy. No condom was involved — always a gamble, but he seemed like a well-kept enough chap to me. I took his hand in mine and guided it down my back to display my wish. I placed mine on his shaft and carefully prodded its head through my labia and onto my slit to squeeze it in.
Yeah, he was enjoying himself. I did not remove my cajoling gaze from him, either. It entailed some parted mouths, some blood-and-tears, some concentrated squints, and mixed cries of anguish and relief, but we slipped the tip in. Every part of my vaginal cavity was screaming, “No, don't do this to me, Mel! It's too big!” But despite her quandaries, this was working out for us. Notwithstanding her bitching and vanity, we'd managed it, hand in hand, side by side; we were in this together now. I began to acclimate to my man's ferocious size and take his cock like it was put on Earth, designed, and tent for my insides.
I did my utmost to have as every much of a blazing inch stretching me apart as possible. I dug my fingers into his chest and arched my back, going down on this fucking fire-breathing leviathan as much as I could stomach. Its master and ruler — its Neptune — only laid there with his eyes closed and head on the carpet. He had stopped touching me at that point. Was he just relishing in my depravity and my desperation to make this work? Various “oh gods” and “oh fucks” were forcibly ousted from my vernacular amidst each heavier land onto his column. My tits bounced up and down for his entertainment and viewing pleasure. How great does that sound?
Still, he lay there, hands behind his head like nothing was happening, and my determination to win over his heart didn't mean fuck all to him. I felt it striking withering blows to my cervix at that point, and a substantial number of fiery inches remained outdoors. I could not, for the life of me, adjoin his ball sack to my filled gape. I leaned back like I love to do and could not sit down on it all the way. It forced me to remain aloft, quite literally. This man was fucking huge — a cock to contend with a giant's. Enough said.
XVII
The challenging amount of size was negligible after some minutes of nurtured friction, slower plummets, and repeated grindings. This job was not without its complications. It's not kids' stuff; it's strenuous and taxing — this was not easy work, and Pussy and I were having our work cut out for us. There were pings of discomfort and pleasure, but eventually, I was landing on it in enough of a meticulous rhythm to begin to feel an orgasm in the making of such immense depth and explosive magnitude as I had never felt.
Its surface texture just felt so damn fine inside; words cannot tell. My membrane encompassed every pulsing vein and intricacy. Its foreign heat melded with my familiar — it accommodated the ache on the spot where I kept liking it to hit. I was getting comfortable, slicker from the continual reams in and out of my hole. It was getting a lot easier to endure, very rapidly.
The explosion, and my trip to it, would not be canceled. His cock was hitting the home plate, and then some. If any pain persisted as it broke through the gates during the relentless siege into my pink, I was ignoring it. It was too good to stop. I had no jurisdiction over myself at this point; it had all switched over to mental. Nothing else was relevant. God, can I get into it. I was getting ready to come all over Daddy's cock, and I was telling him so. He did not need to be apprised by me; he saw me getting close. He no longer just lay dormant but reciprocated with affection, put his hands all over me, and gave me the time of night.
The feeling of his acknowledgment, on its own, was enough to send me over the edge, then and there. I tried to hold out for as long as I could. Why? I do not know. Perhaps it was my pride. Maybe I didn't want him seeing how easy I was; or how much I was fancying him. I didn't trust myself enough to let go. It would not matter; he would force the orgasm out of me eventually, by my will or not.
Things were getting more vocal on my part; nothing said was being moderated. I have something of a terrible fucking lip, nihilistic as I tend to be. He began to pound into my body as I met with his — a synchronized love dance that has been going on between Man and his woman for quite some ti
Anyone have a fantasy like this?
Hard Core Sex · Anyone have a fantasy like this? · So I keep having this recurring fantasy where a woman shows up at my door. It’s often a different woman each time (usually someone I know personally, but occasionally it will be a celebrity or someone I’ve just created in my imagination ). But they show up at my door, it’s never clear what prompts them to come knocking, and they’re not entirely sure why either (I guess an unnecessary detail). I invite her into my very cozy, clean, luxury stylish apartment and invite her to sit. Then I explain why I’ve asked her here:
“I’ve always had a very strong sexual appetite, from an early age. Yet I don’t know why, but for some reason I repressed it, getting so wrapped up in this notion that the first time should be with that perfect, special someone, that one night stands were to be avoided. I don’t know where this heavy moral compass came from, because my family were certainly open minded about sex. No one would have shamed me or disowned for being sexually active outside a committed relationship. Still, I denied myself this experience wanting to save it for that one special person. And maybe that would have been alright. Only, I ended up with someone who is otherwise wonderful, yet seems to have no interest in sex, which leaves me with a lifetime of fantasies, even basic ones that every guy thinks about, going forever unfulfilled. It’s something I struggle with constantly. And that’s where you come in. I am looking for someone who can help me fulfill those many unfulfilled sexual desires, no questions asked. I suppose in archaic terms I’m asking for a sex slave. But that just sounds too, harsh. A slave implies I intend to mistreat you and I have no intention of doing so. Better to call this an Erotic Experiences Consultant. “
I see some apprehension from her. That’s normal and understandable. “But before you say no, and that is your right to do so, I certainly won’t force you to do anything. But before you make your decision, I just ask one thing from you. That you stay through the entire presentation of what this assignment involves so that you get the entire picture of it before you decide to leave or stay. And during this time I promise not to touch you in any way without your explicit permission. “
So she hesitantly agrees to humor me and listen to my proposal. Three full days, 72 hours, during which she is my erotic experience consultant who’s job is to tend to my every pleasure, fantasy, sexual whim. To start putting her mind further at ease, I demonstrate how to leave the apartment should an emergency arise, if she suddenly because frightened and needs to bolt. I show her that the door is normal, there’s no trick lock in it keeping her trapped in. She can leave whenever she wants. There’s one caveat. If she leaves before her end of the agreement has been fulfilled, she stands to forfeit all the income she is poised to receive. (Yes it’s a fantasy, but I like to give it some sense of realism and I don’t think any woman would agree to be some strange guy’s personal sex assistant at all but particularly without substantial pay - and I’m also aware this would likely make it illegal, but again, just a fantasy).
Reassured of her exiting options, I proceed to show her a fully stocked kitchen, including gluten free items, items for vegans, and foods for those with sensitive allergies (I’ve covered my basics) I show her the lounge, my bedroom and what would be her private quarters, complete with her own bathroom.
We then take a seat where I present a contract detailing the services she would be expected to provide, the payment she stands to receive and any actions on both our parts that would render us in violation of the contract. Actions by the consultant that could result in a partial or complete loss of payment include:
*Repeatedly feigning illness to get out of performing certain acts
*Knowingly eating foods that give you gas, constipation or an upset stomach and keeping you from performing
*Acting bored, and uninterested, or worse, disgusted and turned off. No one is claiming this will be the best sex of your life, but since you are being paid quite well, you are expected to at least try and pretend that you are enjoying it. It makes it more fun for the both of us
*spending all your time on your phone. While I want us both to enjoy this, you are hired to do a job. There will be times during the day set aside for personal time when you can use your phone
*Sharing details about this contract, this place, and what we are doing to anyone outside other than the two of us
Then there are the personal questions I must ask you:
*During the course of our time together, you are going to hear lots of sexually graphic language from me?
Does this kind of language make you uncomfortable?
Are you able to have children or are you barren?
* Do you have any allergies?
I am after a specific kind of experience, a feeling, so I will not be wearing condoms. I will be coming inside you a lot, possibly several times days a day over the next 3 days. In your personal quarters I’ve provided you with a weeks supply of contraception. It is sealed and purchased from the local Walgreens (I show the recent as proof of purchase from Walgreens). If you have your own and would rather take that, by all means do so. If I choose to come inside you, then I will come inside you, there is no negotiating, no pulling out, my seed will shoot into you. By signing this contract you acknowledge that I hold no responsibility to provide for you and any potential child should you conceive as a result of our actions. For this reason, I strongly urge that you take your own contraception or use the ones provided.
I have to stress, once you sign this contract, the second you sign it, you give me permission to sexually please myself with your body. The moment you sign, I could bend you over this sofa arms and fuck you from behind, I could simply have you undress for me while I gaze upon your naked body, I may start by fondling your tits, or maybe I’ll take us into the shower to get cleaned up, have you wash and suck my cock, then fuck you.
This contact gives me the right to fuck you anytime, anywhere in any position (within reason) in this apartment. Bent over Looking in the fridge for a drink, I could come up behind you and penetrate you. Watching tv on the couch, I may ask you to randomly suck my cock. Or I may stand in front of you and jerk off until I shoot my load all over your face and tits. I may ask you to wear certain outfits, or nothing at all.
I am asking a lot of you, which is why I am happy to pay you very well. In fact you stand to earn thousands from this job. For instance, swallowing my cum will earn you $1000 dollars each time alone.
And I want you to feel uninhibited too. Which means while we’re fucking, you can say the most filthy, nasty, offensive things. You have cart Blanche to vocalize your deepest darkest morally questionable thoughts and attitudes. Hiding repressed thoughts? Now yours chance to let them out. Deep down are we maybe a little racist? That’s ok, let it out of your system. There’s no judgement here. There are no filters, nothings off limits over the next three days. As long as we do not insult each other directly.
When the three days have ended, and you’ve confirmed receipt of payment. You can go on your way, and we will never speak to each other, hear from or see each other ever again. You are not to speak to anyone about our time together, otherwise you will be in breach of contract. It will be as though these three days never happened.
I offer her the contract and my medical records from a known, respected medical service showing my clean bill of health. (Somehow she has one of her own as well already with her, a little fantasy convenience)
I wait for her to sign watching her, her lips, her eyes and face, the shape of her tits, her shapely hips, eagerly waiting to see what she looks like naked and how she will look, feel and sound when I’m fucking her. Imaging her big tits bouncing with my thrust, her ass spreading as she sits on my cock, the cushion it gives me when I push into her, my cock glistening from her wet mouth having sucked it, her pussy oozing my cum after fucking her hard.
And that’s it? That’s the fantasy. What do you think? Anyone else fantasize about something similar?
Post by OldPeteLuvzWomn
It may interest some of you to know how I stumbled over the usc.
Well‚ I first stumbled over www.experienceproject.com - The Experience Project or EP which is free and brilliant !
There‚ there are accounts of cuckolding‚ so I tried googling‚ "cuckolding wives near Lydney" and here I am :-)
I have editted this a bit for usc‚ but I love words and literature‚ just take from it what interests or excites you.
I shall have to edit it again‚ but I was so excited to find this site‚ that I wanted to get this out asap.
I love women but‚ from a sexual point of view‚ especially younger women who love much older men :-) xx
I have a lovely wife‚ but no sex‚ and I miss IT very‚ very much.
For me‚ sex between 2 lovers can and should be one of the most beautiful things.
I am always hoping that I can find an attractive woman‚ who would value me as a friend and lover. She might be young‚ or not‚ but she should be sexually attractive !
Whilst I go on growing older‚ I hope we can have some beautiful experiences that we shall never forget :-)
A large age difference just adds to the magic.
But‚ my lover should be very‚ very discreet‚ as I should hate to hurt my wife.
As I have said‚ I am seeking a local gf and lover
I am 76‚ fit‚ can be naughty and want to be with the right women‚ for I really do not feel a call to be celibate.
On the other hand‚ I love my wife. She is a very special person and I would never leave her‚ and I certainly don't want to hurt her. It is hard. My mistress/lover/gf would be a wonderful‚ sexual lady‚ who could cover a huge age range‚ who understands the difficulties of me being in a VERY CLOSED marriage. May be she is in the same situation !
I fully understand that‚ on here‚ you are probably not single‚ but you may be much‚ much younger. Whatever‚ or not‚ she may want to move on. But‚ I hope that‚ whilst we are "together"‚ I could give her something that enriches her life.
Peter x
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General Discussions · Staying safe in the sweet rape rendezvous · You may ask how to stay safe when meeting strangers for a sexual encounter‚ staying safe for all parties is not limited to just discreetly being alone with a stranger especially for a rape role play group it may also include providing proof that you had consent to perform the act
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She is 5”9.. brunette… athletic petite body… size D natural boobs
First scenario is to find a female to join us. She must be well kept, athletic build, big boobs, blonde or brunette and bisexual or curious. Age not so important but the closer to 30 ideally the better.. previous group experience would be helpful
Second scenario is to find 1-3 guys to join us. They must be again well kept, athletic build and have average or above penis sizes (no bigger than 11inches though). Previous group/gang experience would be helpful… wife may be open to DP will depend on the time.
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A few weeks back, a beautiful young lady stepped into my office. She was new in town and was needing some directions. I gladly told her that she was actually only a block away which brought an immediate show of ease on her face. She thanked me and headed out the door no different than one would expect. However, about an hour later she walked back through the door smiling and extended her deepest gratitude. She was heading to a job interview that she desperately dreamed of for years growing up. She asked me if I would join her for a celebratory meal. I accepted and we had a great time. Over the last few weeks, it's been your typical new friendship that would normally be headed to a deeper relationship. She's smart and beautiful and would be perfect. But she doesn't know I love getting spun and being an ass whore. Honestly if my cock would get hard I would definitely fuck her but it doesn't. It can't. And I love that too. It's like getting punishment for getting my ass punished. You may think that I could come up with some reasonable explanation but that's not my personality. And yes I know it's fucked up but I have to let her "catch me". Just walking in on me is too cliche. I have thought about her "accidentally" finding some of my videos. But that's an after school special. Finally, it hit me. As I walk her to the door after our next date, an old friend is going to come up with a few other ladies and say "hey, look who it is. Long time no see. Are you still trading ass to get spun out? And I will reply absolutely! I immediately strip naked in the street and get on all fours. I bet it happens so fast, she will actually see the strapon slide on up my ass. Obviously her reaction is unpredictable but I'm sure there will only be a few minutes before I am getting up and in to their vehicle so we can actually go to a residence and then they can all go ahead and gangbang by ass
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***************begin questionaire*****************************************
Age:
Ethnicity:
Location:
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Please list your Fuck Buddy experience(s) below:
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