Wanted: Pleasant Soreness, Again.

In a previous email sent Thursday to me OM inquired as to whether or not I’d be home Friday night.  The answer was an affirmative.  And he asked “I can eat your pussy too if you would like?”  That was another affirmative answer, along w/ a however.  I told him I’m shy, I can’t make first moves.  He said that wouldn’t be a problem.  So Thursday night I was lucky enough to be able to get to sleep at a decent time, but I remained nervous and anxious thru out the night and into Friday….All the way until he was here.   And then I was okay, but a little nervous wondering if he’d actually want to go thru w/ it.

He did I found out about an hour or so after he was here.  But prior to that,  we were bullshitting.  Except he finally told me when he came to think of me in a sexual nature.  He said it’s because I spoke of sex w/ him.  I was a little shocked, because well – - – we talked about sex often . . . And at work, at that.   I guess he never really thought that I wouldn’t mind doing things of a sexual nature w/ him.   I guess our talks of sex had to be one on one, w/ nobody else around for him to grasp that  what I was always saying to him, was something I’d like to do w/ him.  (Don’t know if that made sense, but it does to me, I suppose.)  So anyways.  We talked about our sexual conversations and he clarified for me that he meant for him traditional sex was too emotionally/feelings involved for him.  (I’m wondering if the only sex he ever had was when he was in relationships?)  So he understands me, that I can have sex w/out getting attached.  

So the lights are blazing as we’re sitting around the table and he finally realizes that the light above is flickering and has been for quite some time.  So I turn it off and proceed to turn on the other light I always use.  He stands up and just walks around for a minute and then looks at me as I’m about to sit back down and he grabs my hand.   He says, “Well, since I have to make the  first move, I’m doing it.”  Ok……………*Internal screaming here*  He walked me into my bedroom, said the light coming from the living room was enough to see by and told me to take off my clothes.  I did that, he took off some of  his.  Told me to prop myself up on the bed…. He gets on the bed w/ me.  I spread my legs and the next thing I know his fingers are spreading my pussy lips.   Then I feel his tongue. 

And what a nice fucking tongue he has!  And such nice fucking fingers too!  And a dirty mouth!  All quite wonderful things!   And I even happen to like his cock.  Altho, I didn’t really get to suck on it, nor did I get to touch it the way I really want to.  But I did get to suck on his balls and swallow his come. 

I don’t really know exactly how long he was eating and fingering me but  I do know it was for over an hour and a half.  And my pussy knows it too because I have that slightly sore feeling down there.  And every time I feel that slightly sore feeling, I smile.  

He said he’d be back the next day and he’d bring along a vibrator.  He never called but I did get an email giving his excuse of having to take his daughter somewhere and then picking her up.  He didn’t say when he’d be able to come over next.  I get the feeling he won’t be over again and I’m not heartbroken or upset about it.  In fact, I kind of feel that’s how it was going to be anyways.   I don’t think I mind.  I had my fun, not complete fun, but I got to find out what it feels like to run my fingers thru his hair.  What his mouth feels like on my pussy and my legs.  What his cock looks like and his come tastes like.  I guess I got almost everything I was lusting after.  So in a way, I’ m satisfied. 

Why Beg?

It’s like a downward spiral.  And . . . I want to go downdowndown.  Today, I’ve looked at pictures that were taken back in 2003 of OM.  And all I can do is laugh.  Not hilariously.  Just laugh.  It’s so funny to think that I’m crushing, lusting hard after someone who I use to find irritatingly …. just argh!

But last night, I learned I suck at begging. 

He said he wanted to do a few things to me.  And I’m all for. . . ALL FOR . . . what he was getting at, but then I asked him if I could suck his dick.  I asked him if he wanted me to beg for it.   Totally the wrong thing to say.  Men are all for women begging.   Pleading.   I made a sad, pathetic attempt.   I  sent the email off w/ a shake of my head.  I was so ashamed.  Open mouth, insert foot.  Not cock, but foot. 

 . . . I suck at begging.  I’ve got no talent for it.  No real reason to do it.  I don’t find begging for anything. . . anything at all. . . worth it.  If a person won’t tell me something they don’t want to tell me, why would I beg?  If I won’t harass a person to tell me what they got me for Christmas, why should I beg?   Nothing is worth begging for.  Not even to suck a guy’s dick.

If I want to do that. . . . I will. 

Dear Lord in Heaven, I’m Going to Hell

I asked a random question of the One I Crave because I knew he’d give me the answer I wanted, and also because he’s not the jealous sort.  Is it wrong to want to fuck a married man, who is a co-worker and old enough to be my dad?   His answer: If it feels good, do it!  Amen! (<—that’s mine!)

So for the past weekend and a half, the Older Man (OM) and I have been emailing each other at our home addresses.  Sometimes we’re spot on and can get a few emails to each other in an hour.  Other times, we miss each other and it’s here and there, kinda frustrating.  I usually want a response back quickly to what I have to say.  I want immediate gratification.  But I’m willing to wait, because sometimes it’s nice to have a smile on my face at random hours of the day because of him. 

It’s strange to be emailing him at his home.  Especially since he has to share the computer w/ his wife and daughter.   I kinda wish he’d get a messenger service, it would be so much easier to talk to him then.  But do I really want it to be that easy?  I keep thinking bad things would happen then.  His wife would get that feeling and put a spy ware thingy on the computer. . . I just don’t need that.

But at the same time, I keep thinking that maybe that link I gave him to give to his wife is making her think.  Making her think of: polyamory.  Because well, they did go to Jamacia.  And she was doing some looking, that I hear.  And it was permissible.  Too bad he didn’t tell me if he actually let her participate, cuz that would make everything that’s been going on for the past week and a half so much easier on me.  Especially last night’s conversation. 

Two hours just to pretty much say in way too many words: I want to fuck you!  The only thing actually keeping me from taking him serious is the fact that fucking was never alluded to.  Fucking, the word, was never used. It was just plain tongue lashings, ass spanking, and some hair pulling.   And he managed to slip in there (no pun intended)  that he has (had) a hard dick.

Yes, I mentioned that touching a hard dick makes my pussy do the tingle.  Granted the one and only time that ever happened was w/ the One I Crave. But he didn’t need to know that.  But I did mention that kissing, having my fingers sucked on, and my neck being bitten has that same effect. . . Too bad he just latched onto the one that has only happened once.  But my god.  I see in pink neon flashing lights: “Wellll, I have a hard dick…:-)”  Blink Blink Blinkity Blink.   And I get a huge grin on my face.  How could I not?   

Today at work. . . The first time we talked in the morning, my face was burning. Bright red.  (Like he was telling me last night how my ass would be.)   My god, I was embarrassed.  Then as the day progressed, I got better.  I could look him in the eye and we could hold our usual conversations.  But we did mention some things spoken about last night.  And I put on my little smirk of, “If only.”

I feel guilty.  I feel like I should be going to hell.  But at the same time, I’m going to hell w/ a smile on my face.  Even if the fucking never happens, well, I’ll still be smiling cuz this is all great.  I just can’t believe he’s doing this.  His wife at home.  His daughter  sleeping.   (Oh and that random midafternoon email.)  And yet, I don’t feel guilty.  I’ve done it before.  I’ve fucked other married men.  No care or thought towards his  family.  My only concern was having a dick inside me.   And . . . . I’m not the one who’s cheating.  I guess that’s how I can rationalize this. 

So maybe, just maybe. . . .