The Only Lips I’ll Kiss

So I wonderingly wondered if women could kiss better than men.  Simply for that fact that I had had it up to here w/ the men in my life or the lackof men in my life.  But I’ve come to the conclusion that I really don’t want to know since my friendships w/ women aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.

Back in the day in my early 20′s my best friend and I had a kiss or two.  Just a meeting of the lips. No tongues involved.  No heavy petting. Nothing quite sexual about it at all.  However I still remember to this day that she had the softest lips mine have ever touched.  I wouldn’t have minded exploring the kissed a little more in depth. 

But that’s neither here nor there.  The lesbian friend I mentioned that  I wouldn’t have minded hooking up w/ would she have been single at that moment has completely turned me off from finding out if I could possibly end up in a relationship w/ a woman.  I may not have had the experience I wanted to, but being her friend was enough for me to go running for the hills.  It was probably that we had just become great friends in a short span of time and I was crushing on her something hardcore for at least a year or two or three before we started conversating that made me think just possibly I could do it.  I could get out of my comfort zone and actually take the next step and actually see a woman as relationship material.   I don’t see it happening anymore.  However I’m not giving up on actually having a lesbian experience. I still have my whole life ahead of me and well …. never say never.  

So I guess until I get up the guts and go for the glory, I’ll remain a great fan of men.  They are something that I could never give up, even if I should stumble upon a woman who doesn’t have the hang-ups women tend to have … being dramatics and all.  I’m just a simple girl wanting a simple guy and possibly a taste of what a woman is.

Virginity Lost . . . Again

As of this past Saturday my non-existant sex life has become null and void.  Altho, I have a feeling it will become quite active again as of the following day.

I had a date.  A date that was suppose to be a mini-golfing extravaganza w/ a friendly wager involved.  However since torrential downpours and poor planning on his part did that activity in, we opted for movie watching.  At my place. 

 No good can come of a man and woman watching a movie where there is a bedroom a few feet away.  Unless you consider awkward getting to know you kisses and even more awkward, “Is he going to fuck me?” questions running thru my head something good.  I suppose in the end, it was good.  Good in the fact that my born-again virgin status has left me for the  time being. 

It started off innocently enough w/ him showing up on my door at about 9:45 in the evening.  He selected a movie of mine to watch since we seemed to have had mixed signals about who was going to be renting a movie.  Popped in the movie and away we went.  It wasn’t like the movie theatres where you yell at a person behind you yacking away about nothing or making those movie going sounds, “oooooh,”  “ahhhhhh,”  “NO! Don’t go in there you fucking idiot!!”  But we only managed to shut up for about 20 minutes of almost 2 hour movie.  The time in between the quiet he spent picking on me.  Or mimmicking me, as he says.  Either way, it was fun and I can’t complain.

After the movie ended the very inevitable, “Are we going to fuck?” resounded thru my head loudly.  Loud enough for me to make the first move and bust out my Bite Me necklace.  I love being bitten, so this helped get his mouth in the right position for kissing me.  We played around w/ that for awhile before I worked our way to my bedroom. 

He had me pushed up against my bed.  My bare breasts in his hands.  His mouth doing torturous things to my neck. My hands stripping him of his shirt. We climbed aboard the bed and he wasted no time in getting my pants off, his fingers up my cunt and his mouth on my clit.  I like a man who goes down on me from the very beginning.  (Altho, I do like a man who’ll eat my pussy like a champ after he’s pumped me till I’m frothing and laps up all the juice he helped to cause.)

After a few raging minutes of me trying unsuccessfully to avoid his mouth and the pleasure he was giving me, he came up for air.  He kissed me.  I do so enjoy tasting myself on a tongue.  I can lick and lap at it all I want w/out fear of feeling like I’m depraved that I want to taste myself.  

I unbuckled his belt.  I freed his cock.  At this time, I learned the man does not own a shaving implement to help control the landscape.  However, I did not let this deter me. I forged on and pushed his pants down his hips.  He then moved to the side and frantically tore his pants and SpongeBob Squarepants boxers off.  I, of course, did the obligatory kissing down his body before I greedily swallowed his cock.  I love the taste of cock.  Especially since I’ve deprived myself of it for so long.  (And have been deprived of it by another.)

I bobbed, I weaved, I swirled.  I sucked, I fucked. I stroked and fondled.  I did everything I remember doing back when I was a blow job giving queen.  I was loving his moans.  His groans of satisfaction.  His, “you’re killing me,” “you’re driving me crazy,” pleasure driven chatter.   I wanted to give it all. I wanted to take it all. 

However my pussy was yelling for attention.  It had been so long feeling that first sure stroke.  And I had minutes to wait.  I don’t know if he needed time to recouperate from the tongue lashing I so richly enjoyed … or if he was as unsure of having sex as I was. 

He spanked my ass. He pulled my hair.  He ran his fingertips down my back.  He bit my neck. He licked my lips.  I turned around and had him spooning me.  I could feel his hard cock trying to search out my pussy.  I arched into him trying to line him up. Hoping upon hope he’d get the picture. 

I turned on my back, placed my leg over his. He thrust his hips and ……… OMG!  He felt so damn good!  I wanted that feeling to stay forever. I love the feeling of having something sliding into me for the first time.  It never gets any better than that.  (Ok, except for that hard driving pounding that only doggy style can give me.) He started fucking me.  And I mean fucking me.  But evidently that wasn’t a good enough position.

He threw my leg over his shoulder and got on his knees.  He fucked me ruthlessly. I was helpless. I loved it.  He laid his weight on top of me. Driving the breath from me as he stroked and ravaged my tight cunt.   I was almost head over heels for this man who was giving what my neglected pussy has been needing for well over a year.   And then he came.

I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted more. I wanted assorted positions. I wanted the thrashing I had been craving for what seems like forever.  I wanted more sweat. I wanted screaming. (Mine, of course.) And pleading, begging.  Some more spanking. A lot more hair pulling. 

But it had been 2 months for him.  I suppose I should cut him a break.  He laid there breathing hard and praising my fellatio skills.  Telling me he’s sorry he didn’t last that long.  I felt way too good.   I’ve heard all this before but coming from him. . . . I’ll take it as it was meant to be: a compliment.

I’ll have to wait to see if this has a to be continued after it.

Friends Oversharing

My one friend, J, who I’ve had for about 7 years, told me that she was in sexual frustration mode.  She wished she could have called off.  She wished she could have at least called late.  Her batteries are running out and she needs more, more, more.

I understand exactly how she feels.  It’s almost the week after my period.  Time to get super sexually frustrated.  Especially since I don’t think I’ll be getting sex any time soon.  Even tho, yes, I’ve had offers.  {And this doesn’t include the pussylicking, vibrating toy fun having my OM has been giving me.  I can’t include that.  It doesn’t involve a man’s cock inside my sopping wet cunt.  Fingers and tongues, toys and props only get me so far…..So far that I’m frustrated even more.}

I digress.  The thing is, it kind of weirded me out that J even alluded to wanting to stay home to masterbate her itch away. That she would have if she didn’t wake up late.   I know she’s a healthy 30-something woman. I get that.  But I’m not exactly comfortable knowing when she does it. I should be grateful she didn’t go into specifics.  

Maybe it’s because we’ve known each other for almost a decade.  Maybe it’s because we’ve shared some of our sexual horror stories.  And maybe it’s because we’re both going thru at least a year’s worth of no sex having.  Or maybe it’s just her?

Back in the day I had this really good friend, a girl.  She had a boyfriend, I had a boyfriend, and the stories would fly between us.  Details, details, details.  I honestly don’t think we ever left anything out.  She even mentioned being able to get herself off if the seam of her pants was in the right position.  How I envy her that!  She told me of toys that were bought, positions that were done, how great it felt to have her pussy licked.  I didn’t mind hearing all this. 

Maybe it’s because that’s the kind of friends we were. . . We talked about sex.  Because we were having sex.  Because we had someone to have sex w/.

However, J doesn’t have a man, I don’t have a man.  I kinda feel icked out about how open she is about telling me she got off in the morning, or wanted to get off in the morning, or the batteries died mid-stroke.  She’s just not the kind of girl to be that open.  She doesn’t even like to be touched.  What does that tell you?!

I guess since she asked about my assignations w/ OM and I gave her the roundabout of me screaming, carrying on, and almost falling off the bed, that telling me her horniness level is off the charts and what she did to ease it, is fairplay.  I don’t know. 

There are some people you share w/ and some people you just don’t!

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. 

For a Smile, A Cuddle

So back in the day I found this guy online because his profile said that he lived in California. . . . and Kansas.  I was giving it some serious late teenage thought that I should go to college at SDSU.  And the whole reasoning behind that is because a guy I thought was gorgeous was going to school there.   (Yeah, not so logical now that I think about it.)  But anyways, I wanted to  find some “friends” out there, see what it’s like and what not.   So I found him.   I started talking to him.  Pretty much saying anything and everything to get him to stay interested in me.  I’m 5’4″,  125lbs, hazel eyes, long dark brown hair.  I am bi.   I can deepthroat.  Etc. Etc. Etc.   Half of which is/were lies.  But it kept him interested.  And it kept him talking to me for 3 years.  On the phone and internet.  One New Year’s he actually spent on the phone w/ me.  We watched the ball drop together.  It was really nice.  We’d talk for hours.  This man became my best friend.  And he was a great best friend.

Anyways, we finally decided that we should meet face to face.  A now or never kind of deal.   So he drove all the way to me from Kansas.  I think it was something like an 18 hour drive.  So, I was going to go to work, leave early, and arrive home sometime after he got there.  I told him to call me when he got in.  Which he did.  I told him to make himself at home.  Take a nap or something.  Which he did.  I came home. Opened my door, walked in, looked to my right.  Low and behold there is the man, sleeping.  Peacefully.  In my bed.  I was kind of afraid to get any closer to him than I was.  Almost afraid it was a dream. Almost afraid of what he was going to think of me.  Maybe I should have just let him sleep forever, which is what I thought for a long time after he left.  

I walk over to my bedroom.  Kneel on the floor by my bed.  And I just stare at him.  Taking in his short dark brown hair.  His long dark eye lashes.  The tone of his skin.  Enjoying the way his shoulders were shaped.  Wondering if I should pull down the blanket and sheet some.  He didn’t have a shirt on.  (I just happened to mention that I love black boxer briefs, and I’d love to just see him in those.)   So I sat there.  I stared some more at him.  I got up.  I sat on the couch wondering if I should wake him up.  I went back to the bedside.  I stared.  I went and smoke a cigarette outside.  I went and stared some more.  Then, I think, I rubbed my fingers along his face.  Down his shoulder and arm.  Gently nudged him.  He woke up.  His eyes were and probably still are breathtaking.  The palest blue eyes you’ve ever seen.  Looking back at me! Oh geez.  I was, of course, in heaven.  Those dark/light contrasts are irresistible.

He said hi sleepily.  I said hi.  He leaned forward.  He gave me a hug.  (He said he’d hug me when he saw me.)  He also gave me a kiss.   And that kiss got a little out of control.  3 years of holding in our lust for each other.  Or at least definitely on my part.  I was actually a little bit in love w/ him.  (Almost thought he was soulmate material. And it was earthshattering when I found out, it just wasn’t meant to be.)   After the hug and kiss it’s all kind of a blur to me, I don’t really remember what all happened after that.  (Ok, other than 1 very memorable fuck.  Quite a few blowjobs.  And a trip to the brewery.)

But I do know for 5 days, 4 nights I had him in my bed, in my life, and in my broken heart.  I couldn’t have been happier, even though I was sad as can be.   It was, of course, all my fault.  Because I lied to him.  I should never have told him that I was model thin.  That was my only downfall.  He forgave me for not being able to deepthroat.  And well, I am sorta kind of bi in the sense that I enjoy looking at women and would love to find out first hand what they taste like, but well. . . . I’ve just never gotten up the nerve to try it.   (I still have time.)

So in the end we parted friends.  Only to talk for a few weeks after.  Then we lost track of each other for a little while.  But I had his work email.  And occassionally we did that.  Then we lost track for even longer.  And just recently I decided I wanted to see how he was doing.  Just to make sure he was still alive.   He’s alive.  And doing well.  Third new job since he graduated college.  Divorced after a 6 month(?) marriage.  No kids, at least none living.  And doing very well w/ his big boy toys.   And I think he said he has some Columbian chick after him, but he doesn’t know if it’s valid interest or greencard motivated. 

Just today he messaged me . . . and keep in mind, this is coming from a guy who couldn’t be w/ me in a relationship because I was not a “fat happy go lucky kind of girl:”

 “O”:  I meant to tell you I love the pics of you in the blue shirt with your hair long and the blonde streaks.  You should smile more often.  Makes me wanna cuddle.

Yeah. . . I don’t know if it’s age or if it’s experience.  Or hell, maybe he just thinks it’s what I want to hear.  But, it made me smile.  And I’m still smiling.