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MICGG: No love without freedom‚ No freedom without love
11 Years Ago
dickinson69: freedom
12 Years Ago
Lox: I love sexual explusion and freedom
12 Years Ago
Lox: I love sexual explusion and freedom
12 Years Ago
Southwater289: Love getting naked and feel instead freedom. Not pretentious when making contact with another naked male. Love to share thoughts and body with person of similar age‚ often.
11 Years Ago
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11 Years Ago
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11 Years Ago
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6 Years Ago
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6 Years Ago
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2 Years Ago
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1 Year Ago
truckingmf: Seeking young hot women all across USA. I travel all over constantly and I want to meet up w girls from all over that either just love sex needing to make money wanna fulfill a fantasy or whatever the case is message me and let’s set up something. Maybe u always wanted to have sex in big rig well u can w me. Maybe u like to role play and wanna pretend to be the hooker at truckstop and have me buy you. Maybe you college girl just needs make extra to get by. Also I have a couple vids I’d like made and if you bored and wanna do what I’m looking for I’d pay ya for em. I looking to fulfill every single fantasy I can imagine and also help do yours too. Maybe your guy that likes to watch his woman fucked by another man ok I do that to. Maybe u always wanted to squirt well I’ve not met girl yet I couldn’t make her squirt.
5 Years Ago
truckingmf: Seeking young hot women all across USA. I travel all over constantly and I want to meet up w girls from all over that either just love sex needing to make money wanna fulfill a fantasy or whatever the case is message me and let’s set up something. Maybe u always wanted to have sex in big rig well u can w me. Maybe u like to role play and wanna pretend to be the hooker at truckstop and have me buy you. Maybe you college girl just needs make extra to get by. Also I have a couple vids I’d like made and if you bored and wanna do what I’m looking for I’d pay ya for em. I looking to fulfill every single fantasy I can imagine and also help do yours too. Maybe your guy that likes to watch his woman fucked by another man ok I do that to. Maybe u always wanted to squirt well I’ve not met girl yet I couldn’t make her squirt. Best way reach me is 2544583911 or truckingmf@gmail.com
5 Years Ago
Delsex4u: Im from USA Looking for hot sex overseas
55 Years Ago
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10 Years Ago
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1 Year Ago
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13 Years Ago
peterboy: hey I'm in Nixa MO‚ USA‚ and am a virgin :) Hit me up for an energetic young guy! I'm athletic‚ so I can most likely keep up with you girls ;) I'm straight. And I'm 5'6" and I'm a gentleman
12 Years Ago
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11 Years Ago
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11 Years Ago

Sex Classifieds in Freedom NY USA

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freedom Male · United Kingdom. This is the member profile for freedom
Post by MICGG No love without freedom‚ No freedom without love
The secret to good sex for a woman is, all in the mind The secret to good sex for a woman is, all in the mind · General · The simple secret to a threesome, is Let The man sit there, and talk to the woman as she's sitting in the chair talking to me, well I'm drinking or cum twice. And then blindfold her and put her on her knees, and have her rubber her clits, so many girls have suck my 9-in cock and c** and c** because for a woman, she will be well taken care of satisfied when she knows that satisfaction is right here before her blindfolded, rubbing her clit again, open her mouth, and then when I'm talking to her and her mouth is wide open, I put my cock right in the back of her mouth her throat, I say close your lips, I want you to come with my cock right in your mouth. It happens all the time, the ladies come hard why because I hold her head still and she focuses and my cocks right in her mouth, and she will start to know like all ladies when they come 15 times, it is the cock they treasure, it is the cock, when I'm talking to her, it is the cock that I will put her doggy style harass in the air, looking in a mirror driving herself and slowly the tip of my cock right down to my balls I'll see it, and she will know I knocked the bottom right out of that ass. I was slowly start stroking her, and I look at her husband, and I'll say she is going to come so hard, cuz I know what to do, and then I'll start. Slowly slowly I want her to tell me speed it up get harder, then I'll know I always know I hold her down tight and I always knock that bottom out of that ass and they come and come, and I'll keep going I'll say I want you to cum until I say you're done. She never does this to her husband but she will do that to me, I will go around I put her on her knees I want her to look at me, and I want her to ask me, please I want to clean it off, and we'll talk, I'll say all night you're going to have this this is for you, so now open your mouth and look at your husband. I'll stick it in the back of her throat and hold her head and start Stroker, I will say rub your clit rub your clit they always do they start coming and cumming, that is what I like they lose themselves, because it's all in the mind she will rub herself and I stroke her harder and harder harder and harder and when she comes I'm going to bury my cock right down the Walls and hold her head when she comes. She will come hard because now she with her unreal sex it's all devoted to my cock 9 in. It's no hurry we'll take her to bed and her husband will be overhead sticking his cock right down her throat and holding her legs, and I'll just be stroking her stroker that should be rubbed her clit and we'll talk the husband of me. And then I'll put my cock right up to the balls, and I say husband just a little suck your head, and we'll be still, I want you to rub your clit, I want you to feel what it's like to be full and come. I want you to appreciate when you're cuming or cocks and you. All the time she would come quick they always do she would come and come, then I would say to the husband can you help me, can you pull her legs up over her shoulders, I want you to rub your clit, I want you and your husband to see me take you like you want to be, he would be holding her slowly I put her right to the balls, grab your crack I start stroking and stroking I want to talk to her to me do you like it, she loves you husband cuz it's not many people that will let their wives be free, and love so much that they would let her do that. So that's why I'm going to start stroking her hard faster and faster and faster and faster and when she's about ready to come I'll stop. again and I'll stop and she will be like they all are crazy, I wanted to talk to me and she would say I like that cock you are right, I come and come because I see it the thickness and it's for me, I just about worship it, that's what I want, hot stroker a stroker I will stroke her hard and she be screaming I said hold her legs down, and she would try not to come anymore but he going to have her legs down tonight Stroker and Stroker, you see you're going to stop coming when my cock says they're going to stop. She likes that, I go around to the front I want the husband to hold her behind the neck, he would open her mouth and I slowly sink it right down the balls she never did that before, every time they know it happens they worship it, they swallow it they want it all. The husband will say she never did that before, that's what threesomes are for the best the most extreme orgasms that you could not do to yourself. And she'd be in the chair relaxing and she'd have a dildo up her ass and vibrator and she would be putting on a show for us. I don't want you to be a raunchy as you can be a w**** tonight that's what I want, because when you come we're going to reward you, I want you to ask your husband can you f****** in the ass while he's f****** me the p**** I want you to ask it. Cuz you know you're going to come, we'll take care of you I'll be down in her p**** and he'll be up in her ass and she be coming she would come he be Stroker her, you know something can I take your place, because I think she wants this,. He would be on the floor of her p**** I would get her ass in the air I'd be standing up I was thinking right down in my balls, I think you're too soft husband I'm going to start stroking her right now I'm going to use her I'm going to f*** her ass and knock her bottom out, and she's not going to be able to do anything about it, I would be just about violent, he never saw her get f*** like that and she would be cumming and common and I would say that's it because when I'm done, your husband is going to be up your p**** and then he's going to see you suck my cock right down my balls, she would still be coming and she come again she loves it something about knowing she's going to come and come because the secret is the Mind Games and then all of a sudden she would say do whatever you want because she would lose herself they always do. I I slowly but my cock right there in my balls I would hold her head I want her to look at me then I start stroking her right down her throat pain I say rub your clit I want to rub your clit and she will get off they always do, I say whenever you're coming you tell me because take a breath I'm sick of it right down in my balls when you're coming and you look at me. I want you to concentrate on my cock when you're coming and her husband would be looking up because she's never done that before. I pull out let her take her breath and push right back in. She'll be done coming I pulled out her mouth would be dripping saliva running down her throat chin, that's exactly what I want a girl that that sucks my cock and comes not even rubbing her clit, saliva running out of her mouth because she wants to swallow she can't get enough, the husband will see her, oh that's what you thought she she like me I told her she was coming, the husband would start getting soft so I pull her off of her him and I stick her mouth right down to the balls and hold her, I could just be still, I know what I'm doing rub your clit don't have any hands on his cock I stand up and just slowly push it right down her ass, he would get hard a little bit he likes that just don't say a word nothing just like that cock rub your clit after three or four orgasms right girls you come and come. I just stroke her and stroke her Stroker and have fun and use her, and she be coming and she used my cock, if she didn't come fast enough I reached down and rub her clit rubber clip, and hold her so she came. I want them to have vibrators and dildos, would have his balls in your mouth her legs up, and then I start vibrating her clit Stroker and Stroker and stroker I'd say don't bite down on those calls, do you just relax and come and I'll take care of the rest a stroker three fingers four fingers and she comes so hard she would shoot, I say are you biting his balls, he has her leg so she couldn't move I just keep making her come and come that's a girl that's a girl just stay still, I said you would come but I didn't say when you stop. Now she stays still I don't want her to talk did she ever have a sister ass and he said no way I start Stroker and Stroker and she start moving and moving I hold her down with a vibrator I just take her, because that's what it's about coming fantasies and sometimes being held still so you can't have any control and someone else take it over. She would come and come now I want her to suck him off, he's just about ready to come I would ask him can I stroke it off right in your tongue, he never did that before he said yeah, she'll be rubbed her clit because that's all she has to do rub her clit and have come running in her mouth and she likes it she come. I struck him off that is it close your mouth I push her head right down to the balls swallow it. I did this once and I'll do it again because she's a good girl I'll take her in the shower, I have a hard on I stick it right up her ass and stop and I said just wait suck his cock I want you to rub your clit, slowly my cock will go down and go down and then I said now you can come now start pissing right in your ass she wouldn't know what's going on they'll be running down her legs and she would come, I know you have no problem doing this cuz the cock is a thing you need. Now this cock is pissing her ass and she will come hard they always do when you have them in the right State of Mind there you go I pulled out put our knees again I say stick out your tongue I put the head of my cock on her tongue the husband will be looking at cuz all of a sudden I start squirting her mouth a little bit I hold her head still, that's what I want everything about this cock you like. Put your lips over the head of my cock and swallow it. Now I'm going to push it down in my balls and you start going to start stroking it right up again. I've had ladies work on my cock for hours they loved it. Cuz when they know they get it up they come and come suck it up they know they're going to get it right in the ass and they're going to come hard, because if you really had the mindset all night the p**** or the ass it doesn't matter you're going to come it's just about the cock. It's the Mind Game to talk to them and it's fine the things they would do at 7:00 at night don't do at 10:00 at night with no problem because that was always in them but now you gave him the freedom to have sex anytime Anyway You Want It, the more w**** you are with sex the better it is. At the end of the night for 2 hours before I leave like my wife and stuff does she loves to suck cock, I talked to the husband and I have her on my stomach and she be stuck in my cock for an hour half hour 2 hours it doesn't matter for her it's a pleasure and for her and made her come 15 times. Good sex once in awhile not every time is having a cock that isn't about you and making you come having a mindset the cock it is all there is and actually you come because what I hold you down it's stick it right up your ass, and just take over to rub your clit, you going to like it, whether you aren't sure or not, I know I'll just take over they always do when they knock the bottom of that ass and they start coming four or five times it's over. The things they wouldn't do by 2 hours when I pull it out of her ass see what I have no problem put my cock down her mouth no problem cuz it's all about the cock. However when I start it's always about her call me or down make her come and talking to her that it's all about her, and then it's all about her now slowly it's all about concentrating, and wanting my cock anywhere I want. Oh well I'm an old man I haven't been with a woman for years, I remember the day
Before A Midsummer Night's Dream Before A Midsummer Night's Dream · Interracial Love · Memories are important to me, specifically the good ones. I would concur that it's the small things one does during their lifetime that are going to be the most impactful on them when they go back to cherish. In my 25 years, I've tried to make as many of these little moments for myself as possible. I hope to continue doing so. As I circumvent the cobwebs and flip the grimy pages in the convolution that is my brain, I still recall a balmy Friday afternoon during the summer of '14. There have been many days around here where the climate could make it feel exactly like so. Though reiterating: The minutiae of details which were taking place during that day are what I think a person can treasure the most. Even if specifics become lost, they may blend and be a larger whole after a time. Speaking for myself, I now see the sun shining on that day more than I'd cared to notice then. I turned 19 that May. My self-confidence had been improving along with what amount was already there from the time I'd graduated from high school. I did so with the Class of 2012. I was on a tight leash that was loosened by my parents for the remaining year of my minority. They removed the leash when I became an adult by law the year later. I had finally escaped the austerity enforced in my orthodox household during my upbringing, and in lieu, set out with the intention to experience and to make myself happy. To think less of what was expected of me by those who play God, and more of my perennial passions. I'd recognized my flaws. I've never stated to anyone that I'm a good person. Never. But I felt that helping other people would be helping me; what else can we do? I pondered on a medical field or social work — and a steady source of income, of course. I knew this was going to be a tremendous undertaking, but I was adamant when I set my mind to something important to me. I'd been told so by teachers — people of authority outside the homestead. A university accepted me. It required a distanced move several hours away. I would have to do this on my own without support or enthusiasm from my family. Yes, I was frightened; I don't blame myself. But this was what it took — to overcome my dread and doubt while bearing in mind my goals, which I purposely left petty and superfluous so they would be feasible to complete and not damage me from unexpected failure to fulfill them. By my pragmatic, if not sardonic philosophies by default, expecting good things to happen in this world's rocky landscape leads to disappointment in many cases. Maybe then I wasn't aware of this factuality, but I am now. I recognize. I stop to think about those without. The body I am in, the innocent lusts I have, the blessings bestowed to me by God are all good things, so long as I humble myself and take heed to what I know to be right. They will not be denied by me, rejected by me, or taken for granted, as often as I can remind myself. As contradictory and ironic as the following account will seem, I'm only human, none of which is perfect, all of which is pardoned. II I always knew what the passions and lusts aforementioned were. They seemed like untapped and beautiful things that escaped my domineering nature of cynicism and restraint. Even early on in my childhood, I was inquisitive; whatever was there had always been a part of me. I could not, or rather, was forbidden to act on any carnal urges — rightfully so, since I was only a child. Yet, with all the boundaries and restrictions and doctrines of what is “Right” and what is “Wrong” firmly implanted, there was exposure to so many sexual contexts and innuendos, nonetheless — not only that but other discretions that a young girl should not be allowed to eavesdrop on. I was being informed well before my sanctioned time by three older siblings and made fully aware of how things plied. My brothers had no capacity for complex emotions such as concepts of morality or guilt — a typical encounter for me then. They did not care. They brought their rambunctious peers for visits while Dad would work around the clock, Mom would drink her gin and tonic, and I'd impinge on their misdeeds. Why did my dad ignore me? It bothered me more than he knew and would affect me down the trail. Why did my mom harbor such an indefensible hatred towards me? Was there something in me that she saw in herself, or was it merely me, having been the “accidental” fourth? The two live-in grandparents, who were Dad's parents, just made everything that much more awkward and unbearable. Why go into it? No more time should be wasted dwelling on any of them; the less, the better. I could not breathe in that household. In any case, it wasn't much different around my contemporaries. Only, I'd be the one to refute classmates' naive banter and false notions by having known it all in advance when sat down in sex-ed, courtesy of three dick-headed and repugnant siblings with age and primacy on their side. It was a stark contrast when compared to the ridicule I would languish in the home, having not known jack shit when gunned down by a belligerent firstborn, ten years older than me. Sex is so ubiquitous that it's just impossible to avoid anymore — if it ever was possible to avoid it — especially with my level of drive. In one way or another, everything will pertain to it unless a prude, which I am certainly not. I was innately fascinated by it. I asked harmless questions. Why did my bros have to be so mean about it? I'm not having any self-pity here; this is only an explanation of what life was like during my childhood and growing up in my family — a veritable psychiatric field day. My clusterfuck of a house demanded a 1955 mindset, regardless of whatever was going on behind closed doors. Mommy and Daddy never sat me down for a tête-à-tête about birds and the bees, or anything else for that matter. My parents and grandparents would force their lectures on love but never practiced it themselves or set an example. And I mean the sum of what love's supposed to be like, what I understood it should be like, not just the sexual elements that intrigued me the most. This hypocrisy angered me. What the fuck was this? Love — it is all I wanted to feel but was unable to receive it by any means there. After all that the abstinence had cost me through puberty, I planned to change things for myself by finding love elsewhere, and I would demand nothing in return for it. III Work was almost out on that sunny day sometime in June. I'd been interning in several hospitals and facilities while I studied for a planned degree in pharmacology. As the end of my stint approached, I thought more of my plans for that nightfall and how to pull them off to perfection. These non-sequitur thoughts were unsuited for any run-of-the-mill and holier-than-thou work ethic. They flew around with the rest of the hustle and bustle incessantly going on up there that I would do anything, short of opting out, to mitigate. They made me fidget in my seat, causing my muscles to tense and my breathing to fluctuate. To only exacerbate my uneasiness and anxiety, an inbound text message had arrived from my newfound friend, Naomi. I don't recall precise words, but I'd guess something along the fringes of, “Are you going out for scalps later?” Over the years I've known her, she'd often refer to my newly acquired boons as “scalps,” or in another form of acrimony which — coming from how endearing and friendly she was — would still put it lighter than I was in my behavior towards most of those poor kids. I was coming out from an inferno of juvenile years that were indeed affecting both me and my surroundings. I regret it now; I do. I've hurt; yes, I have. Naomi's perspectives and definitions of propriety were different from mine — ones I frequently envied. I'd met her for the first time in January of that year. She'd been a neighbor when I decided to get out of the dorm and rent something instead. I was still 18 then, and she had six years on me at her 24. From my first impression, she did not seem to carry any hint of whatever constitutes a Child left in her at all. She was self-governing, incorrigible in her mold, and who she distinguished herself as — no one would be changing her mind. I admired those aspects and sensed genuine wisdom in this chick. Naomi quickly became a close friend to me, as I'd moved hours from my home and knew no one in this sprawling and daunting megalopolis beforehand. She saw my electrons and only confuted them with her more overbearing protons. I learned that it was only futility to be anything other than happy and amiable around her. I grew up with antonyms of joy. She had an overwhelming ardor I'd not spent ample time with before. I eventually opened up to her about my past. My kitsch is considered old-school, old-fashioned, and I have no problem with that. In an age of social media, I may have — or I may not have — a different definition than bulks do of what a friend is and who gets placed on the 'Friends List.' It's a close circle, and in effect, a small list that is pretty damn important to me. I consider Naomi to be one of the people on said list. I mention her extensively because she became a pillar that supported my happiness. Her impeccable judgment regarding getting the most out of what this life had to reward me was never questioned or depreciated. I was indebted to her. By that point, I had possessed what the forms of those rewards were continually able to come in, allusive pun intended. I was already being made aware of the effortless perfection in which my soul resided. I made efforts anyhow — if only to maintain my temple. I went out of the way to run miles every day during the week. I was only continuing what I'd been doing as a form of escapism since junior high. I had myself conditioned to the point of feeling like I could keep on figuratively running away from my troubles in perpetuity. I loved it like an addiction — “Runner's High,” they call it. It made me feel sexy. People — suspected to be in the same frame of mind as me, e.g., 'on the hunt' — would look at me as I went past them in my own made world, where the cosmos centered around the area where the middle of my foot would connect to the asphalt. I caught many gotten glances from the corners of my eyes, which I consider dark and intimidating. If I did lock my formidable gaze with the odd pedestrian on my cool-down period, nine out of ten times, I'd cause them to glance off in another direction as swiftly as they could. Any place that didn't involve the prerequisite set of balls it takes to meet my peep, continue inwards, and break my barriers. However, the tenth time consisted of those sure enough of themselves to take a plunge and brave a journey into my complex irides intent to burn away any veil in theirs. Destinations varied. I would arrive home to my leased residence in a cold sweat and dampened clothes to undress for a hot shower in a ritualistic manner. The release from the confinements of my sports bra only made me feel like I could breathe the more so. As I poured out of the nylon stitching, my breasts would instantaneously settle back into their rightful perky place and be permitted to jut from my chest in freedom, just as God had intended for Eve's to do so before the Fall. I shimmied myself out of what thin fabrics remained on the lower portion of my framework — hips and all that is divine between my legs were revealed to me, reminding me of my luck again. I knew what I saw in the mirror's reflection; I was not blind to a familiar sight. I eyed my curves and contours and the landing strip I regularly like to rock on my mound. It was abundantly clear what I was beholding: I was the quintessential woman who could have anything she fancied. It was entirely my choice to ditch the conviction and despair I suffered through adolescence and enjoy being in my niche instead. What a hedonist I was. I would undo the knotted bun resting atop my head to let my blackened hair fall past my shoulders and onto my skin. I could detect a familiar and intoxicating fragrance in each of the strands. The moisture and scent from having pounded on the pavement not long before would also be in the air. It would mix with lingering aromas from whatever perfumes I'd sprayed in it from that morn. They joined with the traces of shampoo and conditioner from the previous night. The amalgamation became a tang of raw Sexual Energy that cannot be withstood or further described without the risk of raving. A lot can happen in a bathroom before a shower. In times like 'in front of the mirror after a run,' I feel an aura surrounding me. I see myself in my purest and most vulnerable form as my damp and weighted tresses brushed against tender bits. Naked and battling with an abiding lust, found in spiritual sectors that cannot be labeled by anatomy, I would do things to myself in front of these mirrors — I'd been doing so in secrecy for quite a while. I would explore places, touch parts, and imagine my empty spaces made occupied by things I was, in my infancy, only able to catch glimpses and then lose sight of, left to have them in my dreams. Later on, I would see them but never be allowed to feel them in my presence. These dreams became increasingly vivid. But by that summer in '14, the need for imagination and improvisation was no longer necessary. I had felt the sensation of a cock pressing into my flesh and was able to say so. Even if a phantom in my time of solitude, I oft feel nerves on zones inside me where I want the head to bear the brunt of its punishment most of all and induce the climacteric point of no return. In these moments, I cast aside whatever piety and temperance I have over myself and realize how bad I need fucked. My cock craving would arrive in times as such — the times that were so commonly encountered during weeks consisting of long days with nil opportunity to sate my needs and cause the build-up and frustration to become that much more acute. These times called for me to do something about it. They bring me back to the Friday reminisced on, the reply to my friend's question, and whatever lucky guy — the emblematic scalp — would get his chance to serve as this completion for me as the five days of absence waned, and the weekend drew nearer. IV I replied to Naomi; asked her if she knew where I could go to make this happen. She had lived in the City all her life and was a social animal. It amazed me how she could throw names and addresses at me at the drop of a hat — any place where something was going down. It wasn't long after that when she told me, “Go here,” gave me the deets and coordinates, and wished me well. I planned to brave it alone that night since I was working some distance from home. More and more routinely, I found myself still out, waking up in strangers' beds and being gone even well into the next day. It was becoming a custom for me to be prepared for this to happen. I would keep clothes in my car, influenced by whatever vogue was going on; lots of clothes. I kept stocked on survival essentials, too, i.e., food and drink — mainly trail mixes and bottled water. I had plenty of cosmetic and hygienic supplies to maintain my beauty and preserve my health. I could do work while sitting in the car if obligated. If I needed sleep, it was trivial enough to recline the seat. I was able to be out and about more by these means. Staying or fleeing a scene was all contingent upon how it was and the vibes I was feeling. After I got out of the job, I went to find the park I'd been using to run laps during that week. Though, today, I would run only to a point where I'd not work up so much fatigue and make a sweaty mess of myself — which, with my stamina, took some work. From what I remember, it was supposed to be an open house slated for six o'clock or so — a later part of the evening. It would be no more than a fifteen-minute drive from where I was. I had plenty of time. Also, I liked to show up late at these things. Exercising was not only delightful to me but my way of cleansing the deed through its health benefits. It was my absolution from whatever substances and sordid activities I would undoubtedly be indulging in. During those years, I spent time playing dress-up in my vehicle. I'd strip out of my work attire and into sports gear for my runs. Then I would return and swap back into something suitable for whatever I'd be doing after that. In many instances, I would be within plain view as I was changing in the car. In retrospect, I'm surprised I don't need neck surgery as a result of how much surveying I was doing while I switched outfits to see if I was being ogled at by some perv. I told myself nobody saw me making a nouveau riche bimbo out of herself, but maybe I was, in my subconscious, wishing someone had. Perhaps someone did see me once or twice, but that's another story. My black Honda Accord was like a home for me, pillow in the back and all. If push came to shove, I kenned I could always go to my car and nap there in safety. Unless close, there was no reason for me to drive back home. I could be spending that time doing something productive or heading towards something that made me feel good instead. I was being taught different things now; to love myself and cease in the denial of loving it. I wasted none of what coupled youth and adulthood instigated. At 19, I was milking these advocations for everything they were worth, although I never wavered from my own beliefs; my Faith. Love is at the center of it; the rest is redundant to me. With that in mind, I arrived back after I had concluded my jog. I always felt carefree and sensuous after the fact, being glad it was done and feeling much healthier. I threw something on and freshened up. I wanted myself as flaunted and sultry as possible, sparing no expense or giving any pretense as to what I would be looking for at this shindig. I made sure not to hold back on Chanel and L'Oréal and make my hair as liberated, salacious, and untamed as possible. I swallowed whatever lurking fret there was and brushed aside whatever bullshit second thoughts I had, then ignited the engine to hear the radio blasting A Sky Full of Stars by Coldplay. I remember it. V It was dusk when I got there. I parked a reasonable distance away on the curb and walked to the address Naomi gave me. A driveway went up for a bit that led me to a two-story home that looked to be an upper-middle-class sort of place. There was activity going on. Lots of people were there; I was not counting. The age group appeared anywhere between their teens like me, into their early thirties. I could walk right in and assimilate myself without anyone noticing, and I was all right with that. I figured most of it was going on in the backyard. There was a lot of landscaping around the front and a fence, so I had to go through the front door to get there, which was wide open. It seemed warm and stuffy when I stepped in, especially for the intermingling Latin blood running hot in my veins. The lights were down; I recall candlelight. I remember the usual smells of food and spirits. The familiar odor of marijuana was also in the air. I was 19 and very much underage, doing something I knew was not allowed, as if I was going to let that deter me. A blond-haired mistress I did not know walked up and hugged me. She said some indistinct things I don't remember now. She might have been the owner of the house since she was a bit older. Whoever she was, she looked to be well on her way, like she had taken something. I wasn't sure what was going on yet. I could not hear her, either. It was loud in there, enough to make a girl go deaf with the proper soundtrack going. People were yelling over each other as the typical EDM and pop music blasted on a stereo system. Music is at the epicenter of a good party. There have to be good tunes to have a good party, in my opinion. Of course, I did not expect to hear anything underground, abrasive, or hardcore, like a gabber at their rave or mosher in their pit. But the night was young, and so was I. At 19, a bit of what I knew was passed vicariously through the older folks I was becoming acquainted with — my friend Naomi was one of them. And her being 24, a sophisticated and diverse individual, they only got older from there. She was regularly around people in their thirties and upwards, back to when parties were happening in the '00s, '90s, and '80s. I hear they were tumultuous times, and Naomi had been exposing me to those capable of saying they were there. The only way to be there was to be there. They carried no smartphones back then, nor did they need them. Technology did not matter since it did not exist. It was the memory and the moment, nothing more. Whatever knowledge was in my academics and studies did nada for me while I was subject to those circumstances. What many of them attained was my definition of wisdom — having lived on Earth longer than me. Which is to say, they had witnessed more of what reality is and felt more pain than I had. The years they'd spent listening and partaking, as I was doing, had paid off. I could not compete with any of it, but she let me in on their private jokes, notwithstanding, and involved me in their antics as often as we were around each other. When I went to events with Nomi and whoever else she had along, there was no question about how confident I was. It meant a great deal to have her as a friend and to be able to call her one. As all this was happening, she confided with me just as much as I was confiding in her. With all that emotion and proximity, not to mention her talents in temptation, she began touching me and welcomed me to touch her, too. Lots of frivolous hugs were going on, but then they became more compelling. I did not know if she was manipulating me into something — if she was, it was working. She had the advantage of seniority and being the Cooler Cucumber than me, not to mention having a charisma that I lacked. She deadlocked me in my eyes all the time — a powerful thing to me. It reached the point when she trapped me on my lonesome one day, got me to open my mouth, and let her stick her tongue in it. It ended with her leading me by the hand and both of us on her bed, fucking one another. She pulled this off even amid my sobriety and having had considered myself a very straight female before then. Wow. Kudos to me, more power to her. Naomi became the first woman I was intimate with — she opened that gateway for me, broke that boundary and taboo. She was breaking lots of those not long after that. Things I never imagined myself doing began taking place, and I was doing them; things were taking me, more ambiguous puns intended. As time went on, she felt more like companionship and someone I could place my trust in and lower my guard around. It has remained as such to this day. VI Since I was alone at this particular event on that night, I wanted to be cautious. I was being analyzed head to toe by strangers left and right. I felt their eyes already peeling my duds off. During a warm night in June, there was not much clothing on me, to begin with — all my prominent features were out on display for them. I had done this on my own before and was discovering what worked for me, albeit tentatively. I needed to find a spot to settle in to get my bearings, with a drink in my hand that would put me on the path to enough of a buzz of courage to make a move on someone — or allow them to make theirs. A year farther down the highway, I might have done something insane and not thought twice, but I did not want to overdo anything here this evening. I was on my own, which is already taking a risk — too serious of one for my better part of judgment then. I found an unoccupied piece of patio furniture outside in the backyard. It was more spacious and less constricting than being inside the sweltering domicile. More air and fewer clusters of crowds brushing into my Safe Zone allowed me to relax and contemplate. People were in their groups and cliques and saturated in their confidences for reasons obvious to anyone. In that sort of environment, being ingratiated within a group makes a state of mind different from when unescorted. I felt withdrawn and homesick at this function that night, to be sure, drinking alcohol in my teens and prone to rash decisions. I had to remain vigilant and keep my wits about me. This garden party had been carrying on for a while now. I saw people dancing, fornicating, and rambling incoherently across the yard from what looked to be drug use, alleged to be ecstasy. I saw a surreptitious group of males, the type known all too well to me by then. I assumed they were selling — my assumption proved correct after time spent sitting with my drink and policing them. Club drugs were still out of my depth then, and taking something like MDMA — or taking any substance for that matter — without someone to trust nearby leads to bad decision-making and potential catastrophe. It's a wonderful way to wreck your entire life in an instant — and be left with the sickening hindsight of, “Why did I have to do it? I could have Just Said No. Everything would be fine right now if I had.” Thoughts such as those make me think of what is taken for granted, not to mention my health. With what I was doing for a better amount of six years, it is a miracle I am even alive and not in a coma or dead. Which is worse, the former or the latter? There would be no fucking way I would be taking anything on that night, let alone pay anything out of pocket for whatever insalubrious garbage it may have been cut with. I was searching around for someone who appeared to be in a comparable situation as me: they were at this festivity to get laid and bust their nut — no cons, illegalities, or ODs attached. Nothing wrong with a little lovin'. I had been there for at least half an hour now. I recall having a Dark and Stormy — a drink I have thoroughly enjoyed over the years. I doubt the rum was anything from a top shelf, but volume is volume. Speaking of volume, since the time I'd strolled through the home, the music was getting better. Maybe they'd replaced whoever was doing the DJing with someone who knew their shit — a connoisseur who viewed music as an art form, as I did. It sounded to be deep-cuts of minimal techno, vocal trance, et cetera. Echoes of numerous, unknown artists and tracks that someone could quite easily only ever lay ears on once during a lifespan and then never hear again. Hearing the unheard has always been a big deal to me. I thrive for a moment where I will hear something to fall in love with — or take offense from. As cruel as it seems to say to anybody sober, genres such as techno and trance will only sound better while rolling on uppers or while bombed out of their gourds on herb — or, in my case, that eve, floating on alcohol. But please permit me to be a hoity-toity, high and mighty, la-di-da ball-buster by repudiating what was literally just said: Don't do drugs; don't even drink hard liquor. It's the smart thing to do. VII I remember attempting a conversation with a couple of passersby if you could call it a conversation. Most of what they were mumbling to me about was idiosyncratic gibberish. Obviously Zonked. I told them, delivered as a fait accompli, what I was here for — my thirst needed to be quenched by some sort of personified punch after the stressors of my existence throughout that week, hither. While I continued to sip my beverage and soak in the sounds, I looked for a suitable other to aid me in accomplishing this feat. It would be an extreme responsibility for them. Most of the guys I saw there thought themselves larger than life, and justly so, I guess. They had girls with them already. It's possible actual relationships were going on, e.g., boyfriend and girlfriend. Most looked thunderous and hyper. Always something to say. They frolicked in their esteem. Were I to walk up to these characters or them to me, dictation would be on their terms. They could easily cast me aside and find someone looking nearly as good as I was that night, and I was looking severely good at 19; it would be untenable to deny or just plain mean to tell a Missy otherwise. I was getting tons of inspections, lonely and abandoned as I was. Time was running out for me to choose, and the alcohol was in effect. VIII I saw one of the smaller assemblages that looked to be more phlegmatic than the norm. They casually conversed and gave no evidence of having any terminal impairment. From a stone's throw away from my location, they looked like respectable working-class — blasé and hospitable; no flamboyance. One guy was the odd man out. He had no Lady on his arm, as the other two Gentlemen did. He looked to be a real Somebody. I would say he was in his upper twenties. His physique looked active, rugged, and undemanding — a type I loved to tempt. His hair was dark, dense, and wavy — enough of it to run my fingers through to feel good about myself. He had maintained facial hair, but not too maintained. He seemed rough around the edges, with nothing tapered or outstanding. His clothing — a distinctly recollected dark and drab T-shirt and tarnished denim jeans — fit loosely enough for comfort and snug enough to show off his sculpt — one that looked lean with a fatally underestimated power behind it. Hell yeah, I'd tap that! I was eyeing him up and down, gorgeous as I was, and he saw me doing it. He was participating in a chat with his buddies and their dates while he was more and more glancing over at me, sitting on my own, trying to pretend like he was not affected. I wondered if they were talking about me — it looked like they were touching on something. From what I was observing, he seemed to have a reserved opinion of himself. His friends appeared that way, too. There was no complacency or delusion present. I was stricken to carry myself with the same decorum in ordinary cases, but I was horny and infatuated with myself at the minute, not to mention Sloshed. I thought the man was looking at me and assuming right away that there would be no bet in hell of scoring a nasty summit of a number like me on that night. Too modest for his own good. Or was I wrong? Was I too conceited and haughty for my own good? I wondered what kind of beast of a Cock was skulking behind the excess seen in his weathered jeans like it was some predator waiting in ambush. Each seam and tear in those pants he bore so eloquently were more than likely earned by his merit at whatever tedious daily grind he had, rather than been pre-installed at purchase merely to resemble liveliness. As I continued studying him, I felt my mouth salivate. My breath began to elevate. My muscles were contracting, and I was fidgeting in my chair like I'd been doing at work earlier. What charm lay bare and void betwixt my thighs was going from moist to damp, damp to wet, and throbbing with each heartbeat. Steamy thoughts were going on in my fucked up and dirty head. I queried how much I could get away with here — Niña Loca, arguing with the Voices. The hand that did not contain a plastic cup involuntarily traveled down to paw at the soft Hill found in my shorts. I oftentimes do this with the knuckles bearing inward — really, there is no control over it. Then I felt my face begin to tingle and my mouth abruptly dry. I took another swig of 40 as if that would alleviate the dryness in the long run. My chest became tight, and my heart began to pulsate with even greater intensity — so much more that I felt it shocking my body from root to stem. My adrenaline was kicking in — something I still needed to get used to feeling. I wanted this dude to put his brawny hands all over me and force me to moan for him as he fucks me to climax. Oh, God, how I needed it. I wasn't going to wait around for it to happen. I got up and took concealed, stumbled strides athwart the grass and over to him. IX He grew taller as I neared — at least a head's higher than my 5'5''. Oh yeah, this fella was interested, so was I. Definitely a Smash. Something was trying to click here. His eyes lit up a bit, deep and complex as they were, like mine. Still, he did not turn them away from me to stare at his feet or act like he didn't know what was happening. I sensed he had assurance in himself, whether he cared to concede to it or not. As I landed my sights on the more intricate of his features, it became clear why he did. He was indeed much older than I, more into his early thirties. This was not some boy as green as the ground I stood on; it was a full-fledged Man. With the age comes the experience, as I was going to find out about later on. A man's age advantage over me also stirs my more discreet and frailer of psychological quirks — the lack of a Father Figure. Where I was invisible to my dad, I had found an adjacent alternative, who did appreciate me and lavished me in sensuality, furthermore. I'm a believer in Occam's razor — that the Quickest Avenue is probably going to be the right one to go down. Short and sweet; no meandering BS or trying out new techniques. I asked him if he was with someone. He took my meaning, shook his dear head in a neutral expression, and told me No. We shared the same policy, apparently — candid, concise, and straight to business; this is not like the movies. I asked if I could be with him. He said Yes — just like that. I went up to meet his chest, albeit hesitant from the slight jolted shock to my nervous system when I realized he was more seasoned than I had anticipated. But he extended a sinewy arm to give me signs I had nothing to fear from him. An indefinable surge of warmth went over me. Feelings of Happiness and Acceptance flooded inside as I hugged my body closer. I was on his left; I remember it. He put his arm around me. He was a rock-solid Bull. I wanted to put my arm around him, too. When I did, it felt like trying to hug a bronze statue out of Ancient Rome. I felt out of my body so often during these escapades. It was something surreal like a déjà vu or feeling like I'd reached the pinnacle of a precipice, one where reality only existed inside my mind and falling off the ledge would turn it into a black nihility, like before being born into a soul. I wished to rest my head on him and shut my eyes, then open them to see if I'd wake up someplace else — I didn't want to wake up; I wanted to go nowhere else but 'Here' and 'Now.' He had a scent of cologne that merged with a nostalgic hint of tobacco that I grew up around in a family of smokers; casual, and chain. His conferees were, as I inferred: Around their late twenties and precisely the kinds of laid-back folks that I could correlate to and mellow out with. One might even label it esoteric — no conformity, only themselves. There was an introduction. We exchanged our names — of which now I cannot recall. Mine was Melanie, and it is appalling that I cannot remember the name of my new boyfriend as I write in the present tense. His pals seemed tranquil and only spoke about as much as need be. They continued having a conversation about something that I draw blanks on now. I think it was work-related. I gathered they were co-workers. What was running through my mind was who I had my arm around. My hand and its fingers lightly traced the finer details and digits of his spine. They went up to the lower parts of his neck to brush his hairline. I was touching him with greater zeal and affection at an alarming rate of attrition. He was considering it, and I could see it. Who knew I had it in me? I had to raise my head to meet his height. My eyes were looking up and to his. Even if he turned away for a moment to those he was already familiar with, as if to equivocate my presence, I did not falter — my sight remained on him. This technique was not just for him to enjoy but also was a means for me to read him — to try my damnedest to discern what kind of man this was. What kind of secrets did I need to know about, hmm? Eye contact. It's important to me. I wanted to trust this stranger enough to give him Carte Blanche and let him have total Dominion over me and all that could be his. Capriciousness had nothing to do with the decision I had made — and despite my inebriation, while crossing over the lawn, I knew what I was doing here. It was the End Game in mind — for me to have my brains Fucked out in earnest and their gray matter suspended in Orgasmic Euphoria. Such has always been my Vice. The rest is impertinent; diversions or tactics to lead me to it. When they met my soft skin, I recalled the grain of his hands calloused and stalwart, like a man's hands should feel. As I expected, this was an active human being with a firm grip on a very clingy gal who coveted to get a lot more of her parts gripped on before the roosters had a chance to crow at sun-up. What I did not expect was how much this buckaroo knew what he was doing. It leads me to believe that this is why I still retain the night, even over six blurry years later, where I would find myself in similar predicaments during every week's end. X I finished my Juice and nonchalantly tossed the obligatory Red Solo Cup elsewhere, scattering the condensed ice cubes and soggy rum-soaked lime wedge amongst the turf. A Party will be a Party, and this one was not mine. A proper Fucking Mess — “Fucking” in verb form — for the host/hostess to clean up after all's said and done is, in consolidated fact, a Given. I now had both of my lovely hands vacant and available to touch him, as my inborn omnipotence concerning these libidinous affairs deemed fit. I edged myself from his side and into his front, though not all the way. Of course, this rose his attention; why would it not? No dialogue was going on between us, and I was quite all right with that. The Music played. The Multitudes in the yard carried on hooping and hollering like not a thing was transpiring between He and Me. My hands were running up and down along his sides and anywhere else stimulating they could conquer. I have been told countless times in so many ways about what it is like to feel my reception and bona fide sentiment via my touch. I did not grab the Bulge I wanted so desperately to have in my clutches, quite yet. It's crucial not to overstep bounds, initially. I needed to wait for that moment, a critical one. I had a Good Vibe going on here; high hopes; this was most certainly a Catch. He “wasn't most guys,” and for once in a blue-fucking-moon in the Sky, this Truth was held to be self-evident. I wanted him to have it, this luscious body in its entirety. He did not have to prove a thing to a girl endeavoring to cultivate herself. I finally got him to focus on Me, Me, Me, and fuck all else — the narcissistic wench that I was. In that instant, I banked on the Accolade to take place — the bit where this man took over for me and granted me something in return; quid pro quo. And he did. First Base! He had been a downplayed professional, touching me in all the right places with all the right amounts of pressure applied. His friends were very polite, and I don't even remember when they shifted elsewhere to give us our privacy. The only thing I remember was how fast I was being pulled into his body from a forceful tug on my Butt and my lips meeting his. I felt my boobs flattened on his torso in their usual somatic fashion — always a treat. My eyes closed, and what was subtlety on both our parts quickly turned to passion. I had no choice in this anymore. I was being manhandled and forced to submission by this Tank, made to feel like a Woman. My forearms went around his Hull and my fingers through his hair — any place I could nudge and turn on. All the while, he is doing the same things to me. Inside, I am growing aroused beyond words — driven to moan and whisper indiscretions and Freudian slips I would only utter from my authentic pleasure. My emotional state, psyche, and soul were being taken back to childhood — dismissal then, embrace now. They should be signals to this man — to any man — of how much I was getting into this. I was 'F4M/DTF/NSA,' unequivocally. He had taken his Big Bat and hit the Baseball well into the outfield, if not a home run, so he rounded to Second Base without the obligation to halt on the first plate. The heat and waves from his approval and endorsement enveloped me. I was standing on tippy-toes and then felt a drag in the small of my back by a stern and assertive hand. I was as closely knit to his body as allowable with our clothes still on. My kisses grew more adventurous and liberal, of which happy campers have told me are as great as my touch. My tongue was doing its handiwork; he impressed me with his. He was pulling up my leg to rest against his midsection as if to lift me from the ground and spare me my encumbrance. I'll admit, it was tough being Me sometimes. He had his other hand grabbing into my tight Ass in the interim — a lot of Ass to grab into. Courtesy of a South-American heritage, the Brazilian Butt Lift came with the Package. As he did this, it caused everything so tender and bewitching to the commonfolk to stretch apart and shoot waves of exhilaration through me, from the top of my pointy hat, to where I sit on a broomstick, to the tips of my toes. I like it when my backside is played with and violated by a stronger counterpart, 'tis true. I emphasize: With all that is Corporeal, simultaneously existing with all that is Conceptual, the pleasure I feel from this is Incommunicable. I felt another brutish hand betwixt my pregnable legs and its fingers pressing into fertile valleys below the pubic bone. He knew precisely where my Clit was, even with my dungarees obstructing it. We — being me and Her — were assuredly in trouble. Giving this Paragon of Masculinity no sign of refusal and every incentive to take this to another level, I immediately placed my hand on the Bump of unmentionables in his slacks. I was, dying then and there to have it rammed inside me — through any choice of an entrance — to placate my yearning. I felt how hard it was and only wondered of its potential size when I had it out to put my hands on it. It felt disconcertingly Huge. Too huge for captivity. I aimed to be the girl to release it for good. XI I do not know how long we were making out. What could have been minutes seemed like hours to me? Or is it the other way around? My guy and I were standing out in public, and this shit was getting Real. He was going under my skimpy little summertime top and touching my bare, prohibited flesh by that point. I wanted him to take it off. I didn't stand a possibility to surmount to this; he would just triumph in one way or another. He could put me over a desk, stick his Dick in my Ass and fuck the reading glasses off me, and there would not be a goddamned thing I could do to prevent it. I knew it. Despite all that Respect I had for myself, I was ready to accept being got and fucked back into my place on the Hierarchy — fucked out of the Feminist Mindset that liked to creep up on me. And him being a Hunk and having it all rock-hard in his pants because of me only validated my Role and gave me that much more esteem — I accorded him his hard-on. He was digging me. On the Ortho-Novum, or whatever I was taking at the time, there was no cause for us to be concerned about unplanned cherubs should things come to that. We were ready for this to happen. My areolae diminished, nipples coagulated. I felt numb from the cocktail in my system. What a lousy feeling sometimes. Contrary to what's said about alcohol warming the blood, the opposite is true — it reduces body temperature. I was getting cold. Finally, my boo gave me an interval to be able to tell him that I “really wanted to be alone with him” — more than likely in those selfsame words, or fewer — implying that I needed him to fuck me. He understood. This guy was exceptional, incredible. Most talk too much, but he was of few words. He explained to me, in brevity, that he lived only a five-minute stroll from the house party and asked me if I wanted to go there with him. I answered, “Yes," with as much sincerity and solemnity as I could muster from my drunken state. He put his arm around me, said some hazy farewells and valedictions to his associates, and lead me from the property. XII The eve had turned late, at least according to whatever Pecksniffian condescender declared that 'when the sun is down, then it should be deemed by us as such.' I didn't know the exact time, but as long as I'd lived with Time, it had to have been at least after 23:00. It was a peaceful walk, lit by the scattered lamps on the road and the city's glow and hum. Not a lot was spoken between him and me, though I remember trading compliments and informing him of how much I was looking forward to this. We were enchanted by each other in the ambiance of the midnight that warded off the distant sounds of commerce, transit, and day-in-day-out hustle-bustle. My other half had a sturdy arm around my curvy waistline, and a steady palm on my belly — my more supple touch sought to rouse him on his back while he did so. I was on his left side; I reckon it's the instinctive side of an alpha male for me to choose. It made me feel great; these fluttery butterflies in my head with his hold down there. I strived to stay as flirty and lewd as I could with my hookup. But mayhaps a more magical side of me gave a more devoted sort of touch to him, as plausible while in motion, as we neared wherever he lived. Maybe my caring touch hoped to sustain the comfort and warmth we had already shared at the gathering together. Perhaps it hoped to obtain more. I can get a bit melancholy while on the sauce; it is a depressant, after all. I remember my touch carrying a gravity. Was my fling feeling it like it was? Nah, probably not. Regardless, my swooning and blushing from this tall and mysterious drifter, leading me to be fucked, may have evoked some facepalming drama. He had his arm around my waist. His hand pressed into my womb; it possibly jerked a tear in the corner of my eye or two. Maybe a little one. I can become very emotional when my guard is down like it was there; is that so bad? I get this fucking longing to gratify another entity and receive something in return from it. It is kind of difficult to explain. Most of my frequented types did not give me this in return. I wanted to exploit some form of compromise — a chunk that was taken out of their armor by means I would hope to overhear during pillow talk, highs, trips, or something. I aspire to get a hard-ass such as this one with my arm wrapped around to open themselves up to me; make me feel meaningful, if not indispensable to them. Maybe then I would repay them by letting them see me open up — let them have a taste of what really flows through my heart. Though I would find myself in similar situations shortly in the future, most of the liquor was subsiding by then; I only downed the one cup at the gala — granted, a large cup. The temperature had fallen, and I was freezing. I remember shivering and trembling, my teeth gritting, but this could have been from the looming plans. I will confess, I was slightly anxious since I knew what was coming. I was in this sexy rascal's grasp and heading with him towards the fabricated and murk unventured. It did not matter; it was a beneficial kind of worry, more of a therapeutic dilemma, or being in labor before childbirth — the kind that made me feel like a lady. I had to have been looking good — my heavy eyeliner to lose himself in; my myriad of long sable hair abound for him to stir and sway. He was treating me well. He had respect for me, and I knew he would not hurt me. I was fucking ready for this. XIII We'd reached our destination. I had deduced — all while keeping up with the tradition of oohing and awing over the immaterial and mundane on our way over — that the structure was a lesser idyllic sight, fixed closer to the street. It was more of a bungalow, with less of a yard in front — a bit of a far cry from the dazzling, bourgeois casa we'd trekked from in the minutes that felt like ages ago. But if it's Moolah I'm after, then they don't know me at all. He took me around to the rear of the dwelling to unlock a door. The backyard was more spacious, only as I recall from the low level of visibility, it being past my bedtime. No moment was wasted going inside. He closed the doorway. I heard the keys clank as they hit the kitchen counter. It was dim, save for a small tinted light seen in his living room — he had left it as such for us: dark. The curtains were closed. I heard a radio on low; 88.1, a jazz station — maybe to dissuade intruders? Or had he been planning something here all along? What space was there appeared to be well-kept, as if he wasn't home a lot — or when he was, he had a needy bombshell clinging to him as he did on this night. It had this atmosphere of order and neatness — that of an industrial and regulated one — a well-disciplined fellow. Though, it felt like a cozy and homey place to me, too. I was only judging all of this in a brief instance because he turned to confront me. I gawked at him with a minor trace of hesitancy, as if I could not believe this was happening to me right now. He took me in his arms, and I melted into a fervent kiss. XIV You get out of me what you put into me. Most of the plights that I braved with men were pseudo and superficial. There was no real thought of affection from them. But this seemed offbeat. I was feeling it — the vibe and the passion. He was giving me everything he had while still being vertical with clothes on his person, and he was fucking good at it. I don't know how long we were fondling one another or how we were veering towards the living room floor. As we did so, I understood that pieces of our clothing no longer wanted to be a part of the equation. I had my Beau's shirt off before we hit the rug. An effortless quintessence of a man was on top of me, giving it up to me, and I back to him. My top was still on, likely thinly sown and suggestive. I must confess I had not been wearing a bra since that eventide when I left work. It is my habit to ditch a bra from my soma at any opportune respite I can get. I have claustrophobia, and they are so fucking choking and uncomfortable. And, yeah, what was underneath the required conduct and expectation for people to have raiment on their persona in Society was probably blatantly visible to the public, too — i.e., my voluptuous 30Ds. But why should I have to wear a bra on such a nefarious night? He already knew it, of course. His hands were well up into my shirt and directly applied to all that is magnificent back at the party. He had not seen them unfiltered yet, however. We were still kissing; necking; feeling each other up — making love with each other. Does this not seem like it could want to go on for an eternity? My toned legs were wrapping around his back and pulling him in. I hugged him as close to me as I could. He touched me all over, was rubbing his hand on my shorts, right where I like it. Arousing noises were being born by me through concupiscence and pleasure. He stopped a moment, said nothing, only looked at me — my mood dazed and bewildered; my hair a scintillating and frantic mess, as he edged my top over my boobs. He paused another sec, and his eyes went wide. Nevertheless, he did not comment, and neither did I. Our facial expressions were our conversation. Maybe I would be getting another kind of 'facial' pretty soon. I looked at him and gave half a smirk with a feigned exhalation through my nose. He seized the meaning that I wanted this to proceed. He smooched me all over my upstairs and became enraptured by the visage of my exquisite knockers handcrafted by God. I closed my eyes and felt hot inside as he did so, never ceasing to convey my profound affections to him. He was traveling further downstairs in his affections towards me. My scantily sported top, a fluorescent orange insert brand name as I hark back to, had been discarded — flung across the pad. Both of us still had our pants on, obscuring the most sacred and sought-after regions. His was all I was musing about; what kind of monstrosity would I have to tussle with here? I could only feel it confined to his pants — what I felt scared me and shortened my breath, made me bite a lip or two. I was so fucking aroused. He was past my navel at this point; his tongue had been in there. My pants, still being equipped, did neither of us any good. It was time. He knew it, and so did I. He slid them down my legs and past my bare feet that draped over his shoulders. I have cute feet and toes, probably painted then. He saw them — before glimpsing at the shaven grandeur farther up, clearly conspicuous behind a decadent thong — and was not opposed to putting any part of me into his trap. He did something like stick me in his mouth, and I did something such as stroke the excess of his penis in his jeans with my other foot if only to entice him — as is my intuition when an apex has my toes at his mercy. His blue jeans were indeed still present, and I would be giving him prompts to take them off in succession with my waxed legs spread for him. He did not succumb. He took his time and it was turning me the fuck on in the meantime. My darling had skipped down several floors. He was now operating from bottom to top, inevitably leading to my delectable vulva and all points between — within and without; protruded and retracted. Would whatever animal that lay hungry in the foliage cause a prolapse when it sprung out to attack me? We — me and my pussy — had to wonder how bad this was going to be. What had we gotten ourselves into this time? It was no tricky task for this specialist to maneuver around my slutty looking band of string and put his mouth on areas and orifices that need no introduction to Mankind. There was no excuse not to know the female anatomy in 2014. Like the rest of his touch, it was an intrinsic gift to him — the right amounts of oscillated pressure applied under my little canopy. All I could think to do was just lay there and deal with it, play with my boobies, bite my lip, look down in amazement and reverence and savor it. This was a man who was not afraid or ashamed to go down on a woman. Evidently, this was about my pleasure, not his. I felt like a queen. He tapped his tongue right into my spot with my hand on his head whilst I was gasping in total awe of this hottie and pleading with him for it to continue and never desist. What more could a girl want? Everything was dripping in secretion, famished to have this panther make a meal out of us. His tongue in my box and on Dr. Grafenberg's spot was positively Awesome — I never use this word lightly. XV At this point, we had me moaning in agony for him, my legs trembling, and nerve endings bestowing euphoric bolts of lightning through my body. I was so fucking close, and yet, he paused. He brought my legs together and ditched the sad excuse of synthetic material that remained on me, leaving me in the nude. I do remember faintly saying to him, in helpless and perplexed excitement, “Let me see it, Daddy,” as if I had to tell this guy how to do his job. I could not help it; I needed it so fucking badly! He took the sides of my arms in both his hands and elevated me from the floor. He didn't have to tell me twice when he stood to his feet. I got on my knees and put my hands on his legs, never forgetting eye contact — laborious as it was, to focus on anything but my prize. My mate had already trod well past the third base by now, and I hadn't even seen it yet — I would not malinger here. It was time for him to head for the home plate — the final sprint. He undid the button and saved the zipper for me. I'd waste no time keeping his briefs on, either. I wanted the shock from this to strike me — though slowly, steadily, and in all profundity, I gripped the tops to slide them down. In exact, shuddered words of, “Oh my God,” as it lept out from behind the final barrier of cloth and fell from its weight, oxygen had been displaced in my lungs and replaced by another wave of an electrical current that detonated in my chest. I could not believe what I was bearing witness to here. Before then, I'd seen in propria persona what constitutes Perfect and Large dicks — these are not terrible items at all. But I had not seen a cock as colossal as his, staring me right in the face as tangible. This dude was Hung. How in Fuck's name was I going to manage this! He put the 'Well' in 'Well Endowed' in every literal and iterated sense. My breath quivered, and all I could think to do next was to put my hands on it — yes, it required them both. I'm on my knees, naked and flushed, before this monument of a man looking down at me. He was petting my head and pampering my brown-black hair, encouraging and inspiring me. Fuck, I was hot. It just behooved me, instinctively, to begin the process of engulfing it. Need I go into copious detail here? I was a prodigy of oral sex — of any sex. The simple translation: I love fucking. I heard his breathing go up and felt his grip begin to tighten. He didn't do anything brutish or obnoxious to me, only tilted his head to the ceiling to enjoy it. This delighted and satisfied me as I proceeded to go down on it further. I couldn't fit its entirety into the back of my throat, as diligent and persevered as I was, so I ran along its sides instead. I glanced up at him and sought his trust in me to put his nuts in my mouth — gently so as not to hurt them. One hand remained to stroke on his cock, the other wrapped around his leg. I closed my eyes and listened to his stifled groans from the fabulous head he was receiving. The erotic redolence of sex was in the air and affecting my anima. I felt both of our raised pulses; my own was crippling me. My heart could not beat any faster than it was; my body was ready to explode like a volcano. I rose from my knees a bit to play with myself. I doubt he noticed me reaching down to rub my pussy and press a finger or two onto my asshole. I continued to suck his dick off and allow as much of it to slide down into my throat as I could. I was so fucking ready for this guy to vanquish us. How were we going to fit this? I trusted him to be helpful and patient; he seemed like such a nice and handsome gent. We were communicating with each other only through our expression; it went without saying. Both of us knew what to do before the moment had arrived. My sweetheart saw me dawdling and hesitating with his circumference still in my yap and gently withdrew. He had his hand brushing the side of my adorable mug and went to a bended knee to lay on the soft carpet. He didn't have to signal me; tell me two times — we had already agreed upon it. It was beautiful and organic. On my way back down to meet him, I gave fellatio for a moment longer, simply to show how much I cared and also to prep it for penetration. Then I settled my hands on his warm and naked hide and laid atop him, my comely profile facing his. My body was swollen in its arousal as I lay pressed against him, everything so sensitive in the slightest movement. My lover put arms around me; I was no longer cold. I was like china, but he was gentle, caring only for my comfort. I wanted to kiss him again for it, and now free in the nude with the thought of his lush cock eagerly waiting in the middle of my titillating legs. My choice. An inexpressible joy that can only be comprehended while feeling the phenomena; two conglomerate bodies becoming a better and fuller whole. I felt like a part of this person. We laced hands, sought fidelity while entwined, and committed ourselves to one another. We withheld nothing. I felt safe; he would not harm me. I only go by my nature when I feel this fierce of a connection with my partner. XVI I don't recall any other specifics of our lovemaking prior to insertion. What I do remember about this night were the length and girth. We were going to have to take this slow; it went without saying as he caressed me, and I gave him whimpers and hints of how nervous I was. I was as ready for it as I would ever be; burning, drenched, and relaxed. His very erect Johnson was still loitering around the entrance to my pussy. No condom was involved — always a gamble, but he seemed like a well-kept enough chap to me. I took his hand in mine and guided it down my back to display my wish. I placed mine on his shaft and carefully prodded its head through my labia and onto my slit to squeeze it in. Yeah, he was enjoying himself. I did not remove my cajoling gaze from him, either. It entailed some parted mouths, some blood-and-tears, some concentrated squints, and mixed cries of anguish and relief, but we slipped the tip in. Every part of my vaginal cavity was screaming, “No, don't do this to me, Mel! It's too big!” But despite her quandaries, this was working out for us. Notwithstanding her bitching and vanity, we'd managed it, hand in hand, side by side; we were in this together now. I began to acclimate to my man's ferocious size and take his cock like it was put on Earth, designed, and tent for my insides. I did my utmost to have as every much of a blazing inch stretching me apart as possible. I dug my fingers into his chest and arched my back, going down on this fucking fire-breathing leviathan as much as I could stomach. Its master and ruler — its Neptune — only laid there with his eyes closed and head on the carpet. He had stopped touching me at that point. Was he just relishing in my depravity and my desperation to make this work? Various “oh gods” and “oh fucks” were forcibly ousted from my vernacular amidst each heavier land onto his column. My tits bounced up and down for his entertainment and viewing pleasure. How great does that sound? Still, he lay there, hands behind his head like nothing was happening, and my determination to win over his heart didn't mean fuck all to him. I felt it striking withering blows to my cervix at that point, and a substantial number of fiery inches remained outdoors. I could not, for the life of me, adjoin his ball sack to my filled gape. I leaned back like I love to do and could not sit down on it all the way. It forced me to remain aloft, quite literally. This man was fucking huge — a cock to contend with a giant's. Enough said. XVII The challenging amount of size was negligible after some minutes of nurtured friction, slower plummets, and repeated grindings. This job was not without its complications. It's not kids' stuff; it's strenuous and taxing — this was not easy work, and Pussy and I were having our work cut out for us. There were pings of discomfort and pleasure, but eventually, I was landing on it in enough of a meticulous rhythm to begin to feel an orgasm in the making of such immense depth and explosive magnitude as I had never felt. Its surface texture just felt so damn fine inside; words cannot tell. My membrane encompassed every pulsing vein and intricacy. Its foreign heat melded with my familiar — it accommodated the ache on the spot where I kept liking it to hit. I was getting comfortable, slicker from the continual reams in and out of my hole. It was getting a lot easier to endure, very rapidly. The explosion, and my trip to it, would not be canceled. His cock was hitting the home plate, and then some. If any pain persisted as it broke through the gates during the relentless siege into my pink, I was ignoring it. It was too good to stop. I had no jurisdiction over myself at this point; it had all switched over to mental. Nothing else was relevant. God, can I get into it. I was getting ready to come all over Daddy's cock, and I was telling him so. He did not need to be apprised by me; he saw me getting close. He no longer just lay dormant but reciprocated with affection, put his hands all over me, and gave me the time of night. The feeling of his acknowledgment, on its own, was enough to send me over the edge, then and there. I tried to hold out for as long as I could. Why? I do not know. Perhaps it was my pride. Maybe I didn't want him seeing how easy I was; or how much I was fancying him. I didn't trust myself enough to let go. It would not matter; he would force the orgasm out of me eventually, by my will or not. Things were getting more vocal on my part; nothing said was being moderated. I have something of a terrible fucking lip, nihilistic as I tend to be. He began to pound into my body as I met with his — a synchronized love dance that has been going on between Man and his woman for quite some ti
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Brutus licking my pussy K9 fun Brutus licking my pussy K9 fun · General · It was a stormy evening and my boyfriend had left for the whole damn weekend. I was to stay home in charge of the dogs. The bitch‚ was in heat and had to be caged‚ every few hours I would swap her for the male in the back-yard‚ and let her have some freedom. I had just put the bitch back in and was watching the male. He was highly charged with sexual energy. I looked up and down Brutus‚ his large‚ black‚ muscular‚ great dane body. My boyfriends words began playing back to me. Something he had said a little while ago‚ that had piqued my curiostity‚ but I had not dared to let on. "I saw a chick at a party getting fucked by a dog‚ and she was loving it!" I was shocked and excited by his words.... how could she do that? And let people see...... "You'd be surprised you might like it too" There were other hints... He's pointed out to me how big and strong brutus' cock looked when he was aroused in our presence. Once or twice after sex I had seen my boyfriend offering his sticky fingers to the big dog‚ who eagerly licked all my pussy juices from his hand. And now right here in this moment‚ I was very quickly‚ catching on to the idea. Whenever I had the house to myself‚ I would shut the doors‚ and find a quiet corner to have a long masturbation session. Things were not good with my boyfriend‚ we hadn't had sex for weeks and things had become tense between us. Inspired by his words‚ and intrigued by the sight of the dogs cock‚ my imagination ran wild. Brutus was a huge beast. Three quarters great dane‚ one quarter mastiff‚ short hair‚ kept lean‚ toned and muscular‚ jet black and shining all over. He was broad with muscular legs‚ a slim waist and a giant head that was as wide as his shoulders. He stood taller than my waist. As a hunting doh he was incredibly obediant and well trained. I had also spent time building a good relationship with him‚ and used several silent hand commands‚ to command his obediance. I trusted him‚ and enjoyed his quiet steady nature. I let him in to the house and commanded him to sit at the foot of my bed. I told him to stay knowing he wouldn't dare move a muscle‚ unless I said otherwise. He relaxed and watched me as I climbed onto the bed and undressed. I propped myself up on pillows so I could gauge his reaction. As my fingers brushed across my clit my excitement grew‚ the big dog was watching intently. and it only took seconds of clit tickling and pinching before my pussy was dripping. I watched as the sweet odour of my pussy drifted into Brutus' nostrils‚ he snorted and started breathing noisily‚ leaning forward to catch more of the sweet scent. I started plunging my fingers into my slick hole‚and watched as long strands of saliva started dripping from brutus lips. He startd hungrily lapping the air and sniffing... He was looking at my cunt and licking his lips‚ drooling as if he had a prime cut t-bone just inches from his nose............ How long would it take‚ I wondered. How long would it be before his animal impulses took over and broke his training? Why hasn't he come to me it looks like he wants to so badly‚ but what will he do to me? I realised no matter how aroused he got he wasn't going to move unless i told him to. I got down on the floor and slowly‚ on all fours backed my wet cunt up towards Brutus face. Nothing. He stayed still. I rolled on my back and gently rubbed my pussy. "Cmon now" I cooed Brutus leaned forward and sniffed my pussy "Good boy!" I coaxed. He gave my pussy a tender little lap with his tounge and drew back‚ waiting.... Oh he thinks he's going to get in trouble! "Good boy‚ good boy who's a good boy" I spread my pussy lips a little and nodded to him. Once more he slashed his tounge across my twat. Oh good boy I panted. He needed no more encouragement and began at once. His huge tongue slashed my clit‚ as he slowly dragged it acoss my puss‚ languishing at the entrance of my tunnel. Alternating from licking my from ass to clit‚ to gently nibbling at my clit. As I startd to loose myself in reckless abanondon he suddenly stopped. He stood over me panting‚ I looked to down to see his large cock protruding about half-way from it's sheath. Suddenly he began licking my erect titties and then my cheeks‚ face‚ mouth‚ lips‚ I let go and opened my mouth his huge furry tongue began lapping at mine‚ and I lapped back enjoying a long doggy kiss with the huge black beast. He barked playfully and nipped my neck and breasts in a fiesty way. And moving lower returned to my breast covering the surface of the entire tit with one swipe of his enormous tongue.He began nibbling my nipple as he had done to my clit‚ but now with a little more force. I was so turned on I didn't even realize‚ but at some point he had become my master and I was under his control. He was super observant to the response in my body‚ every twitch and moan was keenly observed and interpereted by the k9. He returned to my pussy and began again the oral assault on my snatch. First eagerly lapping and gently nipping at my clit and mound. By now I was so wet my juices were dripping onto the floor and as Brutus moved lower his big toungue finally discovered the true source of his desire. He started hungrily lapping at my labia as the tip of his toungue slid‚ just slightly into my hole‚ he started a low quiet growl. Increasing in speed and ferocity his hungry tongue dug down into my pussy hole‚ the wide flat muscle showing it's true strength as it squirmed it's way down to my cervix‚ and the source of the wetness and scent‚ that he was so hungry for. He had now forced his whole tongue inside of me. Slowly but firmly he licked the inside of my pussy‚ tongue fucking me. I begin to moan and he increased the pressure‚ his nose now buried deep in my snatch he strains to slide his giant tongue muscle deep as it can go. It's coiled inside me‚ squirming like a serpent‚ writhing tenderly‚ lovingly stroking every crevace of my cunt‚ every love-button in my body. And when he hits a good spot and I squeal and moan‚ it only serves to excite him into further tongue lashing me. He brings me to several orgasms‚ and then as he's eagerly licking every drop of creamy cum from inside me‚ I get started again‚ which only spurs him on more. His cock is fully extended now‚ bulging and huge I take it in my mouth and he begins humping‚ then suddenly explodes all over me‚ in buckets. Instantly his huge knot grows before me. I can't believe my eyes his cock is throbbing still pumping cum‚ but with every pump it doubles in size until it's the size of a small fist. I touch it and it's rock hard‚ Brutus lays down and I help him clean his cock with my tongue‚ while contemplating the enormous knot I had only just discovered. I played with it until it shrank and then settled in to sleep with Brutus in the bed. About half was through the night I felt him. Nudging my worn out cunt his wet nose rubbing on my clit. His hot breath at the entrance to my love-tunnel. I was so tired and my pussy was raw and tender from hours of licking. But he lightly dragged his wet furry tongue so gently across my nub that I opened my legs as if by reflex. I sighed as he ever so slowly and gently began loving on my clit. It was so gentle‚ a tender rythmic lappping with the tip of his tongue. I felt a charge ripple through me‚ and I fired up. I raised up on my elbows and began giving him whispers of encouragement "You like it Brutus you like my tasty little pussy cat?" "You know just what I want don't you?" "You're a good boy what a GOOD BOY"He responded eagerly> I opened my legs a little wider so he could delve at the entrance to my hole. A little wider and he was dipping his tongue inside. It was like honey to him‚ his tongue wanted to scavange every drop of my sweet pussy nectar. Wider again and now I was fully spead eagle‚ I used my fingers to spread my inner labia‚ giving him full unhindered access to the depths of my pussy- hole. He let out a grunt and his tongue snaked down into my eager chamber. His rough tongue exploring every millimetre of my vagina walls. I squealed and clenched as it hit my G-spot‚ and Brutus concerntrated his efforts there. Occasionally he would turn his attentions to my clit or asshole‚ for just long enough until my pussy was begging to be filled. I saw he was fully erect again and lusting for the huge bulge I had witnessed earlier‚ I got on all fours‚ with a few pillows for added height. He mounted me four times before he penetrated. Once the huge beasts cock hit home in my slippery hole‚ he began powerful thrusting‚ with his muscular hind-quarters rippling‚ he bore down on my cunt with such force I was afraid. He curved into me and blew an enormous load inside me I pushed back onto his growing bulge trying desperately to keep it inside me. As the massive knot formed it pushed it's way out from my tiny kitty hole throwing the big dog free. We tried a fucking a few more time but never did get to tie that big knot. But 4 years long gone and Brutus was still the best pussy licking I have had in my life I often lay awake dreaming of how that dog used to lick me out so masterfully‚ eagerly‚ carefully‚ perfectly. After that first time I would lay around for hours with that dog just milking my pussy for it's juices‚ for hours‚ he never lost interest. As soon as I removed my panties and signalled him he would lovingly growl me out for hours on end‚
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The Facesitting Bar The Facesitting Bar · BDSM · n the wintery sunlight of the next morning, the thrill of the Facesitting bar seemed like a distance memory. Natalie waited nervously at the park, perched on the wall in her black puffer jacket, blue jeans and trainers. Her nerves jangled as Jake approached, unable to believe what they had done together the night before. "Yes, it really happened," Jake smiled, unwrapping his scarf to reveal the depiction of a female bum padlocked around his neck. "You're still wearing it?" Natalie grinned, she seemed to take it as a compliment. "That's how far my hacksaw got last night," Jake replied, pointing to a slight scratch on one of the heavy steel links. "The key..." she whispered. "...is at your flat, yes I know." Natalie looked younger without the makeup of the day before, and the pop socks, ponytail and freckles gave her air at odds with Jake's memory from the bar. As Jake's attention turned to her jean covered hips, Natalie leaned to the side, lifting one cheek to reveal the crushed teddy bear from the bar. "You left it when we kissed last night," she whispered. "I see you kept it company." Natalie nodded, she could feel herself blushing, at least Jake didn't know that the small bear had spent the night inside her nightie. She rolled her hips back down, flattening the small bear once more. "Fuck, Nat," Jake breathed, his erection caught up in his designer jeans, "That bear seems to act like a voodoo doll." Natalie smiled. If only that had been true last night. She swung her pop socks and trainers innocently against the wall, as both the crushed bear and Jake's mind performed imaginary oral sex beneath her tightly stitched up jeans. "Let's walk," Jake insisted, taking Natalie's slim hand and pulling her to her feet. Their lips came close, but both were unsure what to do. They smiled shyly as Jake rescued the small bear from the wall only to discover that the Natalie had padlocked a small chain around its neck too. "That's cute," Jake laughed. He looked back up at Natalie who was now running a small silver key between her discretely glossed lips. "Is that my key? Jake asked. Natalie grinned provocatively as she dropped the key inside the front of her jeans. "I guess we both need to keep you close," Jake whispered, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her into his body as they kissed. He looked back at the bear with a shake of his head and laughed. Its tiny neck was crushed by the short chain that she had wrapped tightly around three times and padlocked in place. "You're a dangerous woman, Natalie." "He tried to resist me," she replied in a breathless whisper. "Did he?" Jake smiled, "And now his key is..." "Gone," she mouthed as she stole the bear from Jake's grip and stuffed it headfirst into the front pocket of her jeans. "Not helpful, Nat," he winced, adjusting his entangled erection while staring distractedly at the padded feet protruding helplessly from Natalie's tight jeans. "Would you like me to tell you what's he's doing in there?" she teased, watching Jake's lips closely in the hope of another kiss. "Stop it Nat!" Natalie just giggled as he took her hand and led her through the park. * Jake and Natalie sat down to eat at the café, but the conversation kept pausing as they watched each other, memories of the night before playing out through their eyes. Jake pulled his stool closer, studying her expression as they kissed. He slid his hand up her leg and squeezed it down between her warm denim covered thighs. "I can't stop thinking about yesterday," he whispered. "There's so much more I could do to you next time," she replied. "And you look so innocent..." She shook her head with waves of blow-dried brown hair, "I'm not." Jake pushed deeper between her thighs until he touched the bear's crush nose that just peeked out from beneath her butt. "I should report you to Amnesty," he whispered, "Bear cruelty." "I'll do a prisoner exchange," Natalie breathed, her glossed lips twitching. "You want to condemn me to being trapped, crushed and pleading for breath?" Jake mouthed the words slowly, watching the effect they were having on her body and her slowly blinking blue eyes. "You'll become part of me..." Natalie could almost feel his warm breath on her naked vagina. "I won't be able to kiss your lips from down there." "Oh yes, you will." Jake kissed her again, a strange confidence was brimming in her lust filled eyes. Her lips were parted and her breathing heavy with soft shrill moans. Natalie raised her eyebrows and trembled as she touched her own lips. "Yeah, I am kind of jealous of the bear," Jake smiled. "He has only one purpose in life," Natalie mouthed, thrusting her hips against the bear. "And that will be my life?" "Until I release you... which I may never do," Natalie could feel her whole body lighting up as she wrapped her hands around Jake's wrist and squeezed her legs together to ensure that Jake's hand couldn't escape from between her thighs. * Jake and Natalie were the first people to arrive at the Facesitting bar. Natalie once again waited until Jake was safely inside and the heavy metal door had clanked closed behind him. She knew he would be waiting for her, the bar having a reputation of persuading guys not to back out from their female serving obligations. The curvy blonde woman again greeted Jake. "Oh, its 'Natalie's guest'," she smiled, her large thighs curving out from beneath a white mini rara skirt only slightly less intimidating that the leather she wore the night before. "It's Jake," Jake replied, hoping her nickname for him might change. "I think it's, Natalie's 'bitch'!" the woman exclaimed, seeing the chain and plaque still firmly padlocked around his neck, "Now why would Natalie be mean enough to keep you in that chain?" "Too busy being wined, dined and spoilt?" Jake suggested. "No. Girls usually like that," the woman replied, "Maybe you didn't give her want she wanted?" "She got what she wanted," Jake smiled smugly. The woman rolled her eyes. Arrogant men didn't always fare too well in her bar, "You know, we have a special box in the bar for unwanted keys," she smiled, taking slipping her hand around Jake's chain, "It's called the bin." Jake climbed into the box, his head tilting slightly forward on the shaped foam, as he waited for the curvy woman to close his lid. Once again, she locked it with the magical key that appeared and disappeared from between her breasts. "Shall I teach you how to serve?" she asked. The voluptuous woman placed one foot either side of his head and rocked her hips to the slow rhythm in her head as she sat down. Her skirt was so short that Jake's face slipped straight beneath it, to be met with her warm satin panties. The room fell quiet as his mumbled words and breath were lost to the world beneath. She slid backward to reveal dazed eyes, "Lick," she whispered. Completely intimidated by her position, he followed her instructions precisely, pushing out his tongue, touching and flicking as she directed. Slower, faster, he followed exactly as the moans above him grew louder and the woman's body trembled until she climaxed. Wow, Natalie hadn't reacted like that and it felt wonderful to be part of such genuine delight. He wanted to look up and enjoy the moment with her, but her large thighs closed on him like a privacy screen. "Honour Natalie like that," she breathed, "and maybe I'll get my chain back." * Jake felt his box move and the lights in the bar shine down into his eyes. Again, he gasped, both thrilled and terrified, totally vulnerable to whoever was waiting for him in the bar. Within seconds everything went black as he was plunged back into the silk and flesh underworld. Natalie's soft curves had a way of sealing in completely as she sunk down lovingly on to his face. "Nat?" he mouthed silently, nothing more than a gentle vibration through her flesh. He was now the bear, effectively an inanimate object until she let him go. She shifted slightly, but only to ease her lingerie to the side so he could slide further between her cheeks. She was teasing him, tensing and releasing her glute muscles, twisting his face into strange shapes. She seemed to now have him where she wanted him, and she relaxed her body to settle down even closer. Finally, she shuffled back and opened her legs a little so see Jake's blinking eyes looked up from between her warm thighs. She leaned forward, long dark hair hanging down over her shiny blue dress. "Do you like my new dress?" she whispered excitedly, "And my new panties..." Jake grinned; her excitement was contagious. "Don't we fit well?" she beamed, "Your nose just there!" The sultry and sensual woman of that morning had bust into life. Jake stretched out his tongue, catching the seam of her white silk lingerie and exploring her shaved crotch inside. He flicked up as the curvy woman had instructed, drawing a cry of delight from Natalie. He repeated his move until Natalie tried to slow her growing arousal by sliding forward and sitting bolt upright on his face. She glanced down at the frantic moans beneath her and lifted herself up break the flesh seal between them, "Sorry," she whispered huskily, sliding back to reveal one of Jake's eyes blinking up between her thighs, "Do that thing you did again..." She spread her legs to let Jake run his tongue across her vagina. She leaned forward to feel his lips against her. Alone in the bar, she pushed herself into him, willing him deeper and closer as she climaxed. Her whole body was on a high, her glutes, her thighs and core muscles gently releasing and floating down to meld with Jake's face. She gently sipped at her cocktail as she tried to stop her body from trembling. She was infatuated by Jake and the amazing high he had given her. She shifted slightly and cracked open her thighs to free his lips. "I can't see you, Nat," Jake panted, again wanting to share the moment with the woman. "Blinded by my beaty," Natalie giggled. She sipped her drink again and waited for a few minutes before exclaiming in a hushed whispered, "Wow, look at that!" "What? Where?" She giggled silently. This was so much fun! * An hour later and Natalie still hadn't moved. She had pulled her dress down over her thighs, leaving Jake inside a hot and sultry cavern. He was desperately trying to obey her command of giving her one thousand kisses, but every time she moved or talked to him, he lost count and had to start again. Natalie wasn't the only one sexually exhausted. Jake's cock was aching from repeated masturbation and his damp tissues did little as he blindly tried to wipe himself clean inside his box. He had to break this woman's spell before he lost control completely. He fumbled to button up his jeans and attempted to reason with the sex bunny on his face. "Natalie?" he panted, fittingly using the full name for the woman who could control his world with just a flick of her hips, "Can I take you to dinner?" "What about the prisoner swap?" she smouldered, "You sacrificed yourself for the bear." "I'll go down on you at the restaurant," Jake pleaded, unable not to touch himself again as he moaned desperately into her immovable body. Natalie pulled back her dress, widened her legs and grinned self-consciously through perfect white teeth, "I just can't stop shaking." "Me too." "I've had too many cocktails." "Let me spoil you some more, Nat." "Can I shower first?" she asked timidly, "I'm a little...wet." She stood up and eased her dress back into place around her glowing thighs. She felt dizzy, steadying herself on the box as she crouched down to kiss him. She wobbled back on to her feet and again pulled the pesky blue fabric back down over her thighs. She hiccupped, giggled and slinked away. * Jake felt his box roll back through the wall and back into the room with the curvy and increasingly amorous blonde. "Natalie's guest," she smiled. "Thanks for the lesson," Jake replied. "So, we have a happy and satisfied Natalie?" she asked. "Oh yeah," Jake replied smugly. "Is that why she's given instructions for you to stay locked up in your box?" "What?" The woman read from her phone, "Natalie box locked. Await further instructions." "What? Why?" Jake cried in disbelief. He pointlessly tried to prise open his lid, stopping only when the short white skirt sat down on the edge of his box. "Natalie wants you to wait for her," the woman whispered, edging closer, her thigh warm against his cheek, "Do you really want to disappoint her?" "Of course not," Jake replied. "Good. Just think how happy she'll be knowing that you've given up your freedom for her." Jake's distracted eyes had already wondered up the woman's curvy legs and up inside her dress, and by the time he realised it was too late. "Naughty," she reprimanded, lifting her skirt, swinging her hips and sitting squarely on his face. * Natalie skipped home and showered. Even the hot water couldn't quell her excitement. She dressed in fresh underwear and then squeezed back into the same short blue dress with the same beads around her neck. She slipped on her black jacket and hurried back to the bar. The street was empty as she knocked on the metal door and was led inside the men's entrance by the blonde woman. Jake stared up, excited to see the only woman with the authority to unlock his box. "Nat, why are you here?" "I thought we could try one of their other services," she replied, stepping with her pantyhose covered legs in an attempt to warm up. "Other services?" Jake asked. The curvy woman appeared with a bunch of keys, "We chain lovers together...
Online sex scene a girls POV please Polls and Questions · Online sex scene a girls POV please · Somewhat new to this world , 100% new to this site & really want a females pov on some things. Like similar sites I’m noticing a ton of cocks with very little box. So I’m curious is the ratio makes many chick s just run for the hills. I saw a post of like a really hot piece of ass & an absolute bottleneck of dudes leapfrogging each other with dick pics in hand one bigger after the next. So ladies.. does that make you wet? Do you then pick a dick out of a hat? Is the dick pick the standard bargening chip , or is it lame as fuck as I suspect. ‘ you would rather a dude sweet talk you until panties become soaked. & then maybe request a pic. It occurs that more ladies would participate if it wasn’t such a swinging dick fest. & not such a traffic jam of cocks. Btw I’m 9 ‘ thick & will spend the weekend face first between your legs until you levitate & explode with euphoria off the bed & making you surrender and have desire be the dirtiest nastiest you ever have been With complete freedom & total comfort & protection to do so. 48 hrs later you will regain the ability to speak in your native language again. So what works better dick pick , or a descriptive intentions or both. ?
Love love love loooovveeee anal sex Love love love loooovveeee anal sex · Anal · I have always enjoyed anal sex since I was 14 all through high school and college, especially college. In college I saw girls with girls for the first time and it was the first time I had ever been there live while other people had sex. Anal blew my mind to watch. I love watching anal even more when am also getting taken anally. I have never had better anal though than when the person giving had also experienced receiving. I did not put two and two together until my third year. I begin asking why some people were so good at it and others were either just ehhh or bad at it. I was surprised to find that the guys who were very good at anal were of course bisexual or gay leaners and all of them took it as well as gave it. Same for the girls. So when I begin dating more seriously It became a criteria for me, if a guy I was dating wouldn't do the same he asked of me then he was not the guy for me. I finally fell head over heels for this guy and when we were getting close to having sex I blurted out, hey – have you ever sucked a cock, or gotten fucked by one? He was like, whhhhhaaaa the heck? I repeated. He asked why the out of left field question? I told him I loved having sex with biguys because they better appreciated cock sucking, cum swallowing, cum kissing and eating, getting one’s ass fucked, and fucking the, AND they were very good at it. He told me he didn’t mind getting played with back there but had never been even fingered or toyed much less what I had blurted. As for the whole cum thing, he said if a girl is willing to suck him off he has no problem whatsoever kissing her afterwards and that he even enjoys eating cream pie if it turns the lady on. So I was getting the sexual vibe from this guy and decided to have at it with him. We sexed it up for a few months with some anal play here and there. Lots of cum play since I also love to suck cock and cum kiss. My man was amazing at eating me out after cumming in me even tonguing me anally on occasion which eventually led to me giving up my glorious ass for him. He was pretty good so I told him I wanted to try him out. A few days later we were showering and I wound up reaming the heck out of him. A few months more and we were full on sexing it up every hole with fingers, toys, and the occasional tonguing. Before we married we had our first three male anal fuckings. He took the entire length of a toy, the 2nd time he took a nice sized wall toy for me, and the third was a rather large toy. I was so proud of him I let him ravage me anally for the next three days. He was getting VERY good now. Grrrrrrrr! On our honeymoon we had two weeks of sex, sex, sex, and more sex, we barely left the room. Later we discovered the staff had sex nicknames doe us and placed bets on how long we’d go through the night each night. They even emptied the rooms next to us since no one wanted to hear us almost nonstop. The few times we were out and about my husband got hit on as much as I did. He is very loud when taking it anally and the men knew he was got for it. I love that he gets so hot for it, as much as I do. So that’s my brief story. I truly still believe that anything a guy wants of a girl he should be willing to do as well with all the enthusiasm he wished of her, what a precedent to set! I know I’d follow my man into anything he wanted to do. A nice gang bang of gorgeous cocks full of loads and loads of lovely cum would be a nice one. Here’s too hoping ….
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