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Would you also like to apply for Canadian, US or EU citizenship? Tantric sensual full body masseuse Other Areas, OR (USA) · Men Seeking Women · Women desired to be given 1 free full 2 hour tantric sensual full body massage session. Reawaken sleeping nerves and be shown how blocked Chakras affect our unabated sensation of each on flesh contact. I will use my connection to the universal flows of tantric energy to give your body a complete energy makeover. Learn the depths that this energy flows within all us as I draw this energy up and out of the depths of your very energy center and use that energy to flood your body with endorphins that carry these energies speeding healing, awakening new awareness of your own energy body and through tantric methods learn how your own body is the best instrument and the best medicine to heal the energies within and without. Hunter Hunter · General · Sunshine warms your face as your eyes slowly open. You stretch feeling your heart still racing from the half remembered dream. Stretching in the sensual comfort of the bed you listening to the day you grasp at the wisps of the dream you don't want to get away‚ but the harder you try the more elusive the dream becomes. Now listening to the sounds of morning throughout the house and beyond‚ this day seems different. There's something that you can't quite put your finger on. Oh well‚ you have the whole day off and so much planned to do around here‚ is seems there is never enough time‚ yet today still seems different. All morning it has been with you that feeling that today is different. Your morning has gone by so fast‚ all those chores‚ duties and responsibilities completed in record time. It is only a little after noon and you have accomplished so much‚ you deserve a break. A walk on this beautiful day would be a perfect break from the routine. There is an energy in the air‚ a tension that makes your nerve endings tingle. Maybe a storm is building‚ you close the door and check the sky seeing wispy clouds and wide expances of blue. Time to go to that special place‚ the beautiful clearing in the woods where you can enjoy the day and forget the reality of duties and responsibilities. As you walk the day is pulling you on with that strange energy a power and tension is building and it is having a very interesting effect on you. Everything seems brighter and clearer than just another day. Its warm and the clothes you have on are light and you know that you look good‚ but you aren't going to meet someone so you wonder why exactly you just thought about that. In fact where you were going you would not see anyone‚ your sure that someone else might know the clearing with its luxurious grasses and wild flowers‚ its butterflies and the song birds; yet you had never seen anyone there. Everyone is too busy. As you walk‚ taking your time‚ you can feel the days energy intensify. You become accutly aware you your body‚ it seems like every nerve is standing at attention. You can feel the movement of the soft fabric against your skin‚ the sensuous feeling it gives you brings color to your cheeks. you can feel goose bumps and yet it is a warm day with a light breeze. You are walking quickly‚ not knowing why but wanting more than anything to get there. You feel the movement of you clothes now on your breasts and your nipples are erect soldiers standing at attention‚ which of course makes the feeling of your top and bra that much more exciting. You stroke your hands up your arms feeling the goosebumps and brushing over your breasts you gasp as your arms crossing your chest slide over those tiny soldiers and send‚ what feels like‚ and electric shock of pure sensual animal pleasure all through your body. Now you know this is silly. You enjoy some self love as much as the next person‚ but now you are hurrying through the woods as if you had a date. You could enjoy your time in the playing lights and shadows and maybe you could get your body to calm down until you could go home and release some of this pent up feeling‚ it had been too long. You are just going to have a relaxing walk in the woods and enjoy your special place away from everyone and everything that seems to be intent on pulling you in different directions all day long. The energy of the day continues to climb‚ now along with your nipples sending deliciously sexual feeling of pleasure through your body‚ like waves on a beach‚ the shorts you are waring are putting pressure on a place that is stimulating even more pleasure with each step. The smile on your face brightens the day further and your rebellious body continues its waves of sensual/ sexual pleasure‚ those waves were becoming stronger as if a storm was nearing. By the time you reach the clearing your having to hold back a giggle and gasps of pure pleasure. You'll just sit down in the dappled shade and wait for your overheated body to calm down. The feeling is delicious though‚ energizing‚ pleasure flowing through your whole being‚ not just your body now‚ images in your mind‚ scenes from that dream from early this morning. The dream of bliss‚ excitement‚ heat and passion. Some glimpses of bits and peaces as tantalizing as your body was and needing just as badly to be touched. You give in and sitting there in the grasses all alone stroking first your arms and your face remembering from your dream that faceless man who had driven you wild with desire. His touch burned and his kisses set you ablaze. Now they were his hands not yours‚ those first tentative touches‚ the the stroking‚ and caressing that your whole existence needed right now. The world drops away now and there is only the dream. The days heat‚ energy and tension had led you to this spot at this time just for this. Now your hands moving over your body crave the touch of skin on skin and sliding your top up and pulling up your bra is too confining‚ too uncomfortable. Slipping them off enhanced the excitement and the pure pleasure of this. The passion flowing through you now is pure animal sex‚ your body craves release from the bonds of normality‚ craves excitement and the most passionate embrace. Gasps and moans escape as you explore yourself and the mounting sensations are crowding out all thought. It had not been enough to take off your top now you are naked and the grasses prickely touch is making you even more aroused. A sound nearby ‚ a shadow‚ a man is standing there. The sun through the leaves cast light in your eyes and you know it is just the dream. You reach to him and he comes to you‚ whispering his awe at your beauty. But his words are replaced by a more animal sound as his hands lips and body press against yours. He knows you! His touch just right‚ the caress just perfect‚ each move increasing the pleasure until you are riding on the surf‚ you can hear the waves crashing on the shore. His lips on yours‚ his hands exploring searching finding each pleasure that your body needs to have released. He moves down your body and knows just what you need him to do. There is no hurry to him no rush to get it over and go. He is delving into your mind and letting all of your passions flow forth uninhibited by human concerns‚ only animal passions. Yes‚ yes‚...yes... yess... OH YESSSSSssss‚ Fuck me‚ FUCK ME NOW!! Your fingers curled in his hair as your hips press you against his face‚ tongue‚ lips. The purity of the ecstasy overwhelms you and sweeps you away as the waves of orgasms crash over you. You pull him up over you first noticing how handsome he is‚ you crush your lips to his and guide him into you. This is your dream and he is yours to do with as you wish‚ and right now you wish to have him deep inside you. His movements‚ and rhythm come from you. Your bodies wants‚ needs‚ desire‚and lust driving you wild. After you have peeked several times and several more intense than you imagined possible you feel him explode in you and you tremble at the pleasure. You need to have more and you roll him on his back‚ like a beast on its prey and no prey ever moaned so passionately as you move down to his cock. Stroking‚ kissing‚ teasing until it is a shaft of power you straddle him and take him inside again. You set the rhythm again‚ rocking your hips and pressing just the right way to give yourself the greatest pleasure. He is fully enjoying this too. His eyes burn with passion and lust for you‚ just you. The light plays across his face making it seem you have seen him before‚ but your needs are all your mind and body will think about now and as you ride him you pull first his hands and then his face to your breasts. Sometimes he is gentle‚ and sometimes rough as his sucking draws your nipples between his teeth. Each different nuance simply puts you in orbit. You have never been so consumed‚ nor wanted to consume someone in this way. As you collapse on him as he erupts again‚ you are drained and soooo satisfied. You wake with the light in your eyes‚ stretching and feeling the scratchy grass against your skin. You are dressed you see‚ but you would be‚ it had only been a dream. You‚ especially you‚ would never strip naked and have wild passionate anmial sex outside in the woods. You'd die of embarrassment. Yet the satisfied feeling lingers. The places where the tenderness‚ after heavy sex‚ can be felt were tender. You feel the drying sweat and more on your body and you smile and think‚ what if? You walk home more content than a cat on a warm sunny day and your whole being sings with satisfied pleasure. The few people you pass look at you and smile‚ some wave‚ they all seem as happy as you are. As you get home and head for the shower you stop to look in the mirror‚ you can see why all the people were smiling‚ you are radiant‚ your whole body gives of a glow of health‚ happiness and satisfied lust. Well‚ maybe the last only she could see. It had been a dream after all‚ all of it. Yet the feelings she has of satisfaction and the tenderness of places that... oh that's silly‚ you would never let yourself give in to the passions. As you undress for the shower you find a wild flower tucked in your bra and a leaf that must have accidentally gotten in your panties‚ but it had to have been a dream... Hope you liked it‚ bouncewet Male · Kotara, Australia. being funny have a laugh I have a lot of energy for sex will like to have someone that has a lot of energy for the bed and can make my penis wet everyday I don't chat a lot I like to get straight to action I like to start kissing then start to take womans clothes of still kissing then going on the bed for some exciting sex my favorite position is doggystyle One Strange Night One Strange Night · Non Consent · I have a friend named Anna, who is single and lives alone. She is a normal middle-aged woman, or I thought she was until a few days ago. Then something strange happened. I accidentally found her naked picture online. When I asked her about it, she told me a strange story. I couldn’t believe her story. However, since it was very erotic and interesting, I’m going to write it down the way she said it happened. You can judge whether it’s realistic or made-up for yourselves: One Strange Night Anna was sleeping one night. She heard a voice like a door opening, which woke her up. She was just out of bed, when suddenly a masked stranger entered her room and pointed a gun at her. She was terrified and thought it’s a robbery, but the man shouted something she was not expecting: “Take off everything you are wearing right now!” She was shocked and started begging for mercy. She even told him where her valuables were, but he kept ordering her to strip naked with an angry voice. Anna was very afraid and submitted. She took off everything she was wearing. But to her surprise, the masked man ordered her to tidy her hair and pose for a camera he had brought, which she did. The man took several naked pictures of her. He carefully ordered Anna to pose in certain ways and fix her face expression, as if she was voluntarily posing for a naked picture, and took pictures of her like that. Anna had no idea why he made such demands, but every time she asked what was going on, or begged for mercy, the man pointed his gun at her and ordered her with a terrifying voice, which forced Anna into submission. After the pictures, he ordered Anna to do jumping jacks in front of him. By this point, he had threatened Anna so badly that she had stopped asking questions and begging for mercy, and just did what he asked. She had some overweight which made doing jumping jacks a hard job, but the man ordered her to do it fast and nonstop. She was forced to do it for a long time, maybe 10-15 minutes, during which her whole body was exposed and her large breasts swung in the air. She was losing her breathe and sweating like crazy when the masked man decided that was enough. He ordered Anna to lie on the bed, spread her legs and hold them in the air, exposing her pussy completely. After she did it, he took out something Anna wasn’t expecting at all: A vibrator! He penetrated Anna with the vibrator. She was afraid and crying, but he didn’t care about that and turned on the vibrator. Anna had never used a vibrator in her life (of course, that’s what she says, not what I believe!). The feeling was very strange for her. On one hand she was afraid and felt humiliated, on the other hand, it felt good, eased her pain and made her forget the fear. The man ordered her to moan. Anna began moaning. At first it was a simple submission to an order, but after a minute, the moans became real. Her body was enjoying it against her will. After a few more minutes, she reached an orgasm. Seeing that, the man called her a “juicy fat bitch” and ordered her to sit on her arms and knees on the bed, like a quadruped. She did that and the man grabbed her large breasts and began squeezing them, as if he was milking a cow. He ordered Anna to moo for him. When she refused, he spanked her hard. Anna submitted to his will again, but she needed some more spanking in order to raise her mooing voice to his desired level. She was “milked” like that for several minutes, until his master decided that was enough. He ordered Anna to sit on the bed and masturbate, and also moan and play with her breasts. Anna began following that order and the man started filming Anna like that. After a few minutes, the masked stranger closed her eyes with a piece of cloth and ordered her to continue masturbating while moaning loudly. He said she is not allowed to stop until she reaches another orgasm, after which, he would leave her. Anna, being blinded, blindly did what he asked. She masturbated for a long time. Since she had already reached one orgasm, reaching a second orgasm was harder and more time consuming. During this time, the man said nothing to her. It took her a long time to reach another orgasm. Anna was very tired now. She had used almost all of her energy. She was soaking wet with sweat and her pussy juice. She was waiting for another order, but there was only silence. Maybe it was the result of multiple orgasms, or maybe she was threatened with a gun so much that the threat couldn’t cause any more fear, but at any rate, she was no longer afraid. She asked: “are you done yet you fucking pervert?!” There was no response. Anna felt a little silly. She had done what the man asked her all night long because he had a gun. But a gun shot would have alerted the entire neighborhood. Besides, why would he shoot? Was a “juicy fat bitch” worth it?! She realized that she was submitting to empty threats all night. She removed the piece of cloth from her eyes. It was almost morning and the room was getting lit by sunlight, but there was no one around. The man had left while she was masturbating and moaning loudly for herself. To her surprise, he had left the gun. But upon a closer inspection, Anna realized that the gun she was threatened with all night long was just a plastic toy gun! It took her some time to gather her thoughts. She thought about calling the police, but what could she tell them? There wasn’t even any evidence to prove the story had actually happened. Nothing was stolen. Besides, it was very embarrassing to admit what she had done merely because someone threatened her with a toy gun which didn’t even looked too real! So, she decided to keep everything to herself. Sometime later, one of the naked pictures that man took ended up on porn sites. She looked a little nervous in that picture, but no one could have proved it was taken involuntarily. I accidentally saw it and talked to her about it, and she told me this amazing story as an explanation. Although she showed me a toy gun as a proof, I personally think there is a much simpler explanation: She was lonely, horny and perhaps a little drunk one night. She needed a man, she needed to demonstrate her beauty, so she took the picture and posted it online. To be honest, aside from the nervous look in her face, she actually looks very good in that picture! I believe there is nothing wrong with what she did in any of the scenarios. In the first scenario, I would have done the same if I was threatened with a gun. Besides, considering her good description of the details, her two orgasms and her unwillingness to call the police, I say if someone actually did that to her, he did her a favor! In the second scenario, there is nothing wrong if an adult woman wishes to demonstrate her beauty. There is nothing to be ashamed of in either of these scenarios. I hope you have enjoyed her amazing story. I certainly did. I found it so arousing that I had a little role playing with my man and put myself in that scenario! It was fun. Do you think Anna is telling the truth or something else has happened? The first sex story I wrote for a Woman - Circa 2012. The first sex story I wrote for a Woman - Circa 2012. · Erotic Couplings · It's been just over 3 weeks since we were last naked together but tonight is different as it's the start of many new experiences we were about to share together. We had just returned from dinner on the beach it had been a warm spring night with beautiful wine & food, but it was now time for us to enjoy each other's company more intimately. We return to our room & stand before each other the energy surging between us as I take your head between my hands & kiss you deeply, as you kiss me back the electricity between us is tangible. I take a step back to admire your beauty, it is unmatched & you are, as always stunning & tonight is no exception. You slip your light dress off your shoulders and as it falls to your feet revealing your sexy body framed in bra, suspenders & heels, sans underwear... you give me a wry smile as you watch me surveying every inch of your incredible body until my eyes come to a halt at your waist, fixing on your beautiful exposed petals you know I'm unmatched in how much I love them you run your fingers between them turning & bending at the waist you splay your lips to show off your gorgeous pink butterfly. Turning your head to face me your smile breaks as this time your eyes are pointing directly at my crotch as you see what was a bulging cock swollen beneath my jeans minutes prior now resembled something much more brutal and now struggling to be contained... I move back as you return to face me biting your lower lip your hand reaches for my heat as our lips meet again, I run my hand down your side & boldly but gently slip a finger inside you, I feel your body pause for a second, I remove my finger & bring it up to our mouths & deftly slip it between our lips as we kiss... You taste so good, but I need more... I push you away, undo my belt & drop my jeans to reveal my engorged cock, eyes widened you eagerly reach for it but I spin you around & push you onto the bed, you playfully resist head still turned with eyes fixated on my cock, you want to feel it stretching you. Your hot cunt now glistening, petals swollen in anticipation you slide forward coming to rest your amazing full natural breasts against the bed, arms outstretched. Now semi kneeling I again pause to admire your sex, giving my now rock-hard cock a few pumps. I move in behind & you offer your ass up to me, arching your back. I so badly want to be inside you but first I must taste & feel you with my mouth & tongue. I begin on your sweet little asshole gently kissing & probing it with my tongue, the sweet scent of your pussy grows as I also see your slick sweet sex is now flowing, and I drink you in greedily, your sex the sweetest ever as I continue to lap at the inner of your exquisite protruding petals both slightly parted. I eagerly tongue & lick your sexy asshole, I slip a couple of fingers between your now swollen crimson lips, and as I admire them, you push back, wanting. You've removed your bra, with my free hand I reach to feel your hard nipples it's time to enjoy your sweet pussy, I remove my fingers licking them, savouring your sweet sex before bringing them to your mouth. I take your gorgeous smooth petals in my mouth, tugging on them gently I so love you sexy petals & feeling them swell in my mouth drives me wild. I suck on them with wild abandon and desire of which you'd said previously never ever experienced or witnessed, how much I completely adore your lips. As I alternate between your clit, hole & lips, my face drenched in your sweet sex, my cock now twitching rapidly, the shaft commanding with veins pronounced to the head a crimson hue, it wants its home, and your gorgeous cunt beckons, as part your lips now almost doubled in size, swollen & mirroring the same crimson hue they come to rest on your ass cheeks, your exquisite petals having nearly perfect symmetry now resembling the most beautiful sexual butterfly ever known... You turn to me & kissing deeply, so passionately it's as we are one. You go to unsnap your stocking but I slap your hand away.... There is nothing sexier than fucking you in your sexy heels I think as turn away from me & I move in behind kissing your neck as my cock meets your entrance I feel you relax & for only the fact you know that you're going to get the other piece of yourself & me of mine continuing slowly inside, you let out a few short gasps the thickness increases stretching your tight hot pussy. I run my hands up your torso to meet your big heaving breasts, you cant take it anymore & push yourself all the way onto me, but I can give you some more & run my left hand down to your hip & right up to your throat, gripping you tightly I push that little more into you, flexing my cock inside you. I can almost feel you smiling as you return with attempts to squeeze my cock your overpowered. Now one we begin to move with a synchronicity & wild unbridled abandon neither of us have ever experienced, our bodies entwined pulsating. The fever in which we fuck is unmatched & we both no this. alternating in directions and positions though always connected all with a passion we've never known. My balls were already swollen though now they feel as they’re recharging as I recognise my load building in my shaft is now locked & loaded with my hot pearl seed, eager to erupt. We’re slick, coated in each others sweat & sex. I cannot hold off any longer, sensing this you turn mouthing at me I repositioning slightly my hold on you once firm now gripped you find yourself held it breaks our dance as you find yourself unable to move, held & positioned perfectly at every angle & smiling on inside as you know its time for the ride home and settle in as I begin with deep & long strokes, adjusting the angle every so slightly reading your body to arrive at your sweet spot. And a as quick as your eyes widened at they roll back as the force of my body increases the tempo is steady and you're in the bliss you never knew. Minutes pass and as with my gradual increase in tempo, I now turn up the force harder & deeper than ever before, feeling my quads tighter now against your ass with each stroke you know what's coming, and my once locked loaded unleashes as my seed rips up through my shaft like a freight train, I give two measured overpowered thrusts and park my groin as tight as possible against your ass, I feel your cunt tightening then relaxing slightly in time with my cock flexing as the ropes of my hot seed are buried inside you. But this is not time for bed... and you know this, that was merely round one, the night is still young. XXX Babe, I hope you liked it. I've smashed myself 4 times today... twice whilst writing this xxx. Energy boy Male · United Kingdom. This is the member profile for Energy boy swollen6inch Male · shelbyville, United States of America. 5'10" white‚ average dick‚ work 60+ hrs‚ need goodtimes when available? brown eyes & hair. 250lbs used to be athletic n workout... 4+ yrs ago... regular irish/scottish/dutch/english family origin... like to foreplay‚ use toys‚ slow n steady at first before energy kicks in for a bang finish. i like to relax n smoke afterwards‚ maybe shower n flirt‚ might even go more depends on energy... full of energy Male · United Kingdom. This is the member profile for full of energy Energy Energy ? · ???? Online wank buddies Sex Games · Online wank buddies · Hook up NSA online masturbateing buddies or watch someone get them self off online fun online cam session faces optional - online fun The day I pretended to be a prostitute The day I pretended to be a prostitute · Mature · This story happened about 7 years ago, when I was still married. I was at a bar waiting for a friend. She texted me and apologized because she couldn’t come. So, I just stayed there, alone and sad. I watched all the young and happy people. They were enjoying their lives, while I was stuck in an unhappy marriage. As you probably know from my other stories, I have a thing for much younger men. I kept looking and imagining myself with some of them. I had a few drinks, which perhaps made me a little inattentive of how I was acting. I kept starring and smiling at young men without realizing I was doing it too obvious. I was a fat woman in my late 30s, so that was awkward. Suddenly a young African American man approached me: “So, you are available?” “Huh?” “50 Dollars?” “What?!” “I have a place nearby.” “What are you talking about?!” “Sorry. Never mind.” He went away. I was so distracted that it took me a few seconds to realize what had happened. He had mistaken me for a prostitute! I felt ashamed and noticed that I was acting suggestively without realizing it. All that starring and smiling at much younger men had given him that idea. I was a little ashamed and starred at the table. But I realized there was one good thing about the situation: A young man had found me attractive enough to pay for me. He wasn’t bad looking and reminded me of a good relationship I had with my first boyfriend, who was a nice young African American, in my twenties. I thought about the situation for a few minutes and it became less and less awkward. I was willing to be with him, but not as a prostitute. But I was too shy to simply tell him that. I also had a fantasy about being a sex slave for a strong dominant African American man. I thought perhaps pretending to be a prostitute could create a situation like that. I came to a conclusion: The only way to overcome my shyness and make him act like the man in my fantasy was pretending to be a prostitute! I stood up and went to him: “Okay, let’s go.” “So, you are available?” “Of course.” I was afraid that people may notice what was going on, so I went out of the bar and he followed shortly. “Why did you reject me the first time?” “I was afraid you might be a cop.” He was muscular and had a serious face, so that made sense. We went to his place, which was nearby. I think he realized that I was acting a little strange. I was happy, with a big stupid smile on my face. I haven’t met many prostitutes, but I don’t think they have such a big stupid smile on their faces when they are with their customers. He took me to his bedroom and began undressing. I couldn’t believe what I was about to do. Despite not being happy in my marriage, I had never cheated on my husband, but now I was with a young stranger (perhaps 15 years younger than me) and ready to surrender myself to him. I was lost in my thoughts when he brought me back to senses: “What are you waiting for? Undress!” “Yes sir!” I began to take off my clothes. I revealed my body to him little by little. I was fat, and my face was average looking at best. Therefore, his interest in me excited me and made me feel better about myself. We both striped down to our underwear. He waited for me to continue. I opened my bra. I knew men were interested in my breasts more than anything since I was a teenager. I noticed his erection after seeing my breasts. It was comforting to know that my old breasts could still attract young men. I was a little ashamed to take off my panties, but I just forced myself to do it. He took off his underwear as well. His cock was big and fully erected. I really missed the sight of such a cock which I had fantasized about for years. He asked: “Are you okay with kissing? I’ll pay extra.” I was thrilled to hear that. I remembered what a good kisser my first boyfriend was. I was eager to repeat that experience, so I responded positively. We hugged together and started kissing. I locked my arms around his head and he locked his arms around my waist. It wasn’t purely artificial. We kissed like a boyfriend and girlfriend. He moved his hands down and grabbed my butt cheeks hard. It lasted a minute. After that he asked me to sit on the floor. I sat in front of his big erected cock. He grabbed and bundled my hair. It was a little painful, but as I said, I liked him to dominate me. I opened my mouth and he pushed his cock in it. That was the biggest cock I ever had in my mouth, which scared me a little. I think my eyes widened which probably made my face looked scared and funny. He laughed at me as a result. I started sucking. It was good – both the taste and the feeling. I had not done something like this for so long that I had forgotten how it’s like. In my thoughts, I looked back at my life for a second and regretted that I had deprived myself and the others from such a pleasure. Such a regret gave me even more motivation for making the most out of this situation. I raised my hands and grabbed his butt cheeks, showing my eagerness in sucking his cock. He noticed my eagerness and encouraged me with his words: “That’s it bitch! You should be paying me, not the other way around! Suck that cock! Suck it hard!” He began pumping his cock in my mount as he was talking. He also forced me to move my head back and forward by dragging the bundle of my hair he had in his hand. Sucking turned into throat fucking. This was the first time I was doing it. It was hard but I managed to last. He cummed in my mouth. There was so much cum. I swallowed all of it. I was so distracted that I had even forgot to ask him to wear a condom. But I didn’t care anymore. He asked: “Did you like it?” “Yes.” “Such a horny bitch! I bet you would have followed me without needing any money.” “I would, probably!” “Come here!” He stood me up, turned me around and grabbed me hard from behind. He held me firmly, his left hand grabbed my breast and his right hand went for my pussy. He began fondling my pussy and squeezing my breasts as he kept kissing my neck from behind. He knew exactly how to play with my pussy, even better than myself! I moaned, and my moaning became louder as he increased the speed of his fingers. It had been years since I had such a pleasure. After a few minutes, I reached an orgasm, which came with a scream-like moan. He turned me around and we kissed again, this time it lasted much longer. If someone could see us like that, he probably would have thought that we were a happy couple, and certainly not a prostitute and her customer! He asked me to lay on the bed and began playing with my breasts. He kept squeezing them and sucked my nipples. After a few minutes of playing like that, he put his cock between my breasts and pushed them together, locking his cock in the middle. He started pumping. For me this was more funny than sexual. I laughed a little. He noticed it and said: “Is that funny bitch? Wait till my cock is up again. We’ll see who will be laughing then!” His cock wasn’t fully erected after his first orgasm, but it was getting there, little by little. He sat me on the ground again, threw a condom at me and said: “Hurry up! That’s your job, unless you want me to fuck you bare!” I opened the condom, sucked his cock a little until it was fully erected again, and put the condom on it. He asked me to lay down on the bed while he was standing next to it. He put a pillow behind me, so I could be positioned right. After that, he put my legs on his shoulders and tried to penetrate me. That was certainly the biggest cock I had until then. It was painful. He was probably expecting the widened vagina of an old prostitute, but I was too tight. “Damn! You are too tight. Don’t get many customers?” “Ahhh! I can’t take it!” To his surprise, he noticed that I really couldn’t take it like that. He went to his kitchen, soaked a paper towel with cooking oil and rubbed his cock with it in order to lubricate it. We tried for the second time. This time I was determined to do it. He put the tip of his huge cock on the entrance of my pussy, then slowly pushed it inside. It was still painful, but pleasing for me. He moved it back and forward slowly in order to familiarize himself with my insides and prepare me for pumping. My legs were up on his shoulders and he was squeezing my breasts with his hands. That excited me and I felt my pussy leaking juice, which could have eased things further by lubricating the way for his cock. He slowly increased the speed of his pumping. It was still a little painful but the pleasure was so great that I could hardly feel it. “Yeah! You like my black cock in that tight pussy bitch? I bet you never had anything like it!” “Oooh! It’s great! Fuck me!” “I’m gonna fuck your brains out! I’ll tear that pussy apart!” He was now doing it so fast and powerful that it felt like I’m being fucked by a fuck machine! I started to moan loudly. This was the kind of sex I wanted and had fantasized about it for years. He kept fucking me until I reached my second orgasm and he cummed shortly after. We were both very tired and sweating bad. We fell next to each other. He told me that I was the best whore he had in his life. I asked him why he picked me when he could have picked a young and prettier girl, and more importantly, he was handsome and didn’t need prostitutes for sex at all. He responded that he had a thing for fat white MILFs and I fit perfectly in that category! I admitted that I’m not a prostitute and explained why I had to act like one. We both laughed at the situation. He regretted that he had no energy left for my ass. I told him that I was anally virgin. He insisted on taking that virginity, and I was eager to complete my experiences that night, so I suggested doing it with a cucumber. He soaked a cucumber in cooking oil and fucked my ass with it. I was never a big fan of anal sex, but I enjoyed letting him take my virginity and at least got a general idea of how it’s like. He also spanked me a little before penetrating me with the cucumber. I slept with him that night. We made an arrangement to see each other again. We kept seeing each other for some time and had sex pretty much the same way we had the first time. The sex was great and made me realize what I had missed in my life sexually (not to mention the other and more important aspects of life) and encouraged me to free myself from my miserable marriage, which I did eventually. What started as something like a prostitute - customer relation turned into a wonderful and life changing experience for me and my “customer”. I know I materialized his fantasies and he eventually moved to more serious relationships and got married to a nice girl. I freed myself from my past too and started a new and happy life. Backwards Sex General Sex Advice · Backwards Sex · Last Year my email was becoming a big can of hypnotherapy spam. After receiving 500 or so offer's to become a certified hypnotherapist I decided why not. I paid the $395.00 and I received a password and access to all the online books etc etc. Breezing over the course outline I spotted the section concerning sex modification and I thought okay this will be the be all or end all to my curiosity about hypnosis. How to make her cum in 90 seconds 101a. This method does not require a induction script and is very effective when the female orgasm is very hard to achieve. Step 1. Assume her favorite sexual position doggie style‚ missionary‚ etc. Step 2. Instruct her to begin counting from 100 down to 0. Beginning the count as you are withdrawing your penis 100 . push in‚ 99 pulling out‚ pushing in‚ 98 pulling out she will begin to stumble on her countdown so help her when she does. You will notice that as she nears the 70 count she is making real bad mistakes on her numbers when that happens 1 or 2 deep thrusts will cause her to lose it. In the meantime it has yourself in control like you have never been previously. As soon as she begins to recover switch to another position and then have her start the countdown once again. She will lose it around 79 or 80 this time and you are the man. This cycle will without a bit of exaggeration let you stick it in and out 1‚000 time easily before your decide it is time to blaster off. Enjoy and if you have any type sexual dysfunctions hit me up and chances are I can walk the both if you thru the hang up online by the way those ads bragging about how you can hypnotize any woman or man into submission is bullshit... crepuscularrussian Male · Chestnut Hill, United States of America. 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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