Reading Marcelle's latest post has made me think about me and E. I basically have a big crush on her right now. It's all daydream stuff, movies playing in my head, unrealistic futures together, you know the sort of thing. I've wanked over her in my thoughts a couple of times, Well..., Why not?
Anyway, big deal, Men have crushes all the time. i'm not sure that women do sooo easily, but what do I know?
But, but, I resolved to make it clear to her that i fancied her. Which I did, last tuesday. I don't want to faff around. And I don't want to faff her around. So she knows. Yeah, she knows, she probably worked it out anyway, would n't be difficult. But it's still up to me to push it to the next level. Before we go to the concert or after? - which is about 5 weeks from now.
What is the next step, people?
How do I progress from newly acquainted mates after a long gap; to fuck buddies or more?
Oh, I answered a couple of craigslist ad's, just to keep fighting on a broad front,as it were. 1 reply so far so we'll see next week.
I can't bring myself to go and get a 'massage'. I want to, but it all seems so...dunno...so unclean somehow.
Did have a seeing to with the missus though, friday night. Bit fraught though, because of our issues. Maybe we're turning a corner. But, you'd have been proud of me, ladies, pulled out at the end, after she'd cum of course, for the classic pop shot spraying all over her tits....mmmm.
Showing posts with label sex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sex. Show all posts
Sunday, 11 November 2007
Tuesday, 9 October 2007
Alex Wandered into Manhattan
I wandered over to the address she had handed to me at our brief lunchtime meet. We had been emailing for a while, and by the happy coincidence of a stateside business trip, we had previously decided we could exchange something more substantial than email.
At lunch, it had seemed right, had felt right. We had n’t touched, apart from double air kisses, the European way, while we had sized each other up. But I had been immediately relaxed in her company and loved the way she had looked and moved, smoothing back her dark shining hair, throwing her head back in unaffected laughter.
I hoped with all my heart that she felt the same way about me.
My nerves did n’t prevent me from playing the English boy. The ironic bemusement; the wonder that being in Manhattan engenders in all non-locals; the gentle sarcasm.
I rang the bell and waited, heart tripping. She had already informed me that there would no one at home apart from her and the cats. The door opened and a dim light spilled out. She was wearing a short dark dress which seemed to shine in the silhouetted light.
I became sure I was in the right place at the right time. . . . .
She remained motionless, then beckoned with an outstretched finger, her face flushed and smiling in welcome. The memory of the dress tricked in the back of my mind …..of course; the PVC number she had abused so readily. It hugged around her body, setting it off to perfection, not too tight but holding her breasts together around the depths of her shadowing, maddening cleavage. I closed the door behind me.
She looks at me, smiling “You are a naughty, naughty boy, Alex.” We stand in her hallway before moving through to her kitchen. I stare at her, not trusting myself to speak. “Come on, English boy, do something” she demands.
I move past her to the opened bottle of wine on the top, pour a mouthful into the empty of the two glasses. Replacing the glass, I finally move, holding her and bending to kiss her blood red mouth. As our lips meet I release the mouthful in my mouth, into hers. She chokes slightly, swallows and breaks away, green eyes flashing.
“Alex, you swine, what do you think you’re doing?” I wait for a slap, but this woman is in control, she grabs my shirt and pushes me down to my knees, crushing my face to her cleavage, holding me, suffocating me into her unyielding vinyl frontage. I gradually ease away and pull her down to me. We both kneel together, knees touching, faces inches apart. I reach to hold her face, with both hands and kiss her deeply, wetly. Time stands still.
“For fuck's sake Alex”, she breaks away, “you sure know how to make a girl comfortable, don’t you?” There’s no anger in her voice, only a detached amusement, a smile flickering beneath the flush. She is so cool, so much in control and so obviously enjoying, savoring, each moment. I am trembling.
She stands up and beckons again. This time, finally, I am ready for her. As she moves into her bedroom, the inner sanctum of her desires, I reach for her and pull her down on top of me, on top of her bed. She draws her leg between mine gently nuzzling her knee up to my crotch. I groan, the pressure of my confined cock building.
I don’t know how long we writhed together on the top of her bed. At some point she had ripped my shirt off while I had pulled down the straps and bodice of her dress, her beautiful breasts springing clear, hard nipples pointing up and out, seeking the heat of my mouth. She had cum, just my leg between hers, my lips gently sucking her breasts, crying out and arching her back , sweat breaking out in her hairline and chest.
I was dizzy with blood pumping into my crotch; she was looking into my eyes. “Go on, Alex, do what you want to, just come back, that’s all”
I nodded and limped into her adjoining bathroom, gasping as I survey her empty wash basket and her clothes strewn on the floor. I fall among them, reveling in her smell.
“Here” her low voice floats through. I am struggling to pull off my jeans and pants, a beautiful pain building in my crotch.
She is standing in the doorway, naked, her left hand working at her pussy, her right hand throwing me a wispy scrap of material. It floats down to cover my face. I inhale the rich, smoky, pungent smell of her cunt as my cock jerks and my hands travel downwards. But she’s kneeling on my legs, one hand working furiously at herself, a deep flush covering her upper body, breasts swinging freely, as she reaches for the head of my cock starting to pump me with her hand, perfect, exquisite pressure and reach. Her body goes rigid and she cries out my name.
Panting, she stops working me and holds my head, looking at me, looking at each other. She moves now between my legs, croons “cum for me, baby, cum for me”. We maintain eye contact as she repeats those beautiful motions, her head lower now, mouth opening, sweat dripping from her face, my orgasm building, but I’m still now, tension sucking out of my body, my cock at the centre of a world of absolute sensation.
She whispers again “cum, baby”. It is rising, seemingly starting from a point deep inside the earth’s crust, channeling through my shoulder blades, shooting down my spine, rising up between my legs, through into my balls, a wave of fluid moving unstoppably towards it’s conclusion.
I try to call her name, but can’t, an agonized rictus preventing speech. She knows, the tightening of my balls, the reflexive twitch. She bends lower, breasts swinging out and up as the first jet of cum shoots up to hit the underside of her jaw. She catches the second spurt in her mouth before bending further to imprison the head of my penis between her bared teeth. I hear screams as I jet a further 3 or 4 spurts into the warmth and wetness of her mouth. She releases me and sucks me deeply into her mouth, taking away all my pain. I realize the screams are coming from my own throat.
Slowly I relax as she topples over and comes to rest beside me on her bathroom floor, amid the contents of her washing basket. Her chin and jaw is sticky with my cum. What she did with the rest I did n’t see…
She turns to me, still smiling, entwining her hands to both of mine.
“Will you fuck me now ?" she says.
At lunch, it had seemed right, had felt right. We had n’t touched, apart from double air kisses, the European way, while we had sized each other up. But I had been immediately relaxed in her company and loved the way she had looked and moved, smoothing back her dark shining hair, throwing her head back in unaffected laughter.
I hoped with all my heart that she felt the same way about me.
My nerves did n’t prevent me from playing the English boy. The ironic bemusement; the wonder that being in Manhattan engenders in all non-locals; the gentle sarcasm.
I rang the bell and waited, heart tripping. She had already informed me that there would no one at home apart from her and the cats. The door opened and a dim light spilled out. She was wearing a short dark dress which seemed to shine in the silhouetted light.
I became sure I was in the right place at the right time. . . . .
She remained motionless, then beckoned with an outstretched finger, her face flushed and smiling in welcome. The memory of the dress tricked in the back of my mind …..of course; the PVC number she had abused so readily. It hugged around her body, setting it off to perfection, not too tight but holding her breasts together around the depths of her shadowing, maddening cleavage. I closed the door behind me.
She looks at me, smiling “You are a naughty, naughty boy, Alex.” We stand in her hallway before moving through to her kitchen. I stare at her, not trusting myself to speak. “Come on, English boy, do something” she demands.
I move past her to the opened bottle of wine on the top, pour a mouthful into the empty of the two glasses. Replacing the glass, I finally move, holding her and bending to kiss her blood red mouth. As our lips meet I release the mouthful in my mouth, into hers. She chokes slightly, swallows and breaks away, green eyes flashing.
“Alex, you swine, what do you think you’re doing?” I wait for a slap, but this woman is in control, she grabs my shirt and pushes me down to my knees, crushing my face to her cleavage, holding me, suffocating me into her unyielding vinyl frontage. I gradually ease away and pull her down to me. We both kneel together, knees touching, faces inches apart. I reach to hold her face, with both hands and kiss her deeply, wetly. Time stands still.
“For fuck's sake Alex”, she breaks away, “you sure know how to make a girl comfortable, don’t you?” There’s no anger in her voice, only a detached amusement, a smile flickering beneath the flush. She is so cool, so much in control and so obviously enjoying, savoring, each moment. I am trembling.
She stands up and beckons again. This time, finally, I am ready for her. As she moves into her bedroom, the inner sanctum of her desires, I reach for her and pull her down on top of me, on top of her bed. She draws her leg between mine gently nuzzling her knee up to my crotch. I groan, the pressure of my confined cock building.
I don’t know how long we writhed together on the top of her bed. At some point she had ripped my shirt off while I had pulled down the straps and bodice of her dress, her beautiful breasts springing clear, hard nipples pointing up and out, seeking the heat of my mouth. She had cum, just my leg between hers, my lips gently sucking her breasts, crying out and arching her back , sweat breaking out in her hairline and chest.
I was dizzy with blood pumping into my crotch; she was looking into my eyes. “Go on, Alex, do what you want to, just come back, that’s all”
I nodded and limped into her adjoining bathroom, gasping as I survey her empty wash basket and her clothes strewn on the floor. I fall among them, reveling in her smell.
“Here” her low voice floats through. I am struggling to pull off my jeans and pants, a beautiful pain building in my crotch.
She is standing in the doorway, naked, her left hand working at her pussy, her right hand throwing me a wispy scrap of material. It floats down to cover my face. I inhale the rich, smoky, pungent smell of her cunt as my cock jerks and my hands travel downwards. But she’s kneeling on my legs, one hand working furiously at herself, a deep flush covering her upper body, breasts swinging freely, as she reaches for the head of my cock starting to pump me with her hand, perfect, exquisite pressure and reach. Her body goes rigid and she cries out my name.
Panting, she stops working me and holds my head, looking at me, looking at each other. She moves now between my legs, croons “cum for me, baby, cum for me”. We maintain eye contact as she repeats those beautiful motions, her head lower now, mouth opening, sweat dripping from her face, my orgasm building, but I’m still now, tension sucking out of my body, my cock at the centre of a world of absolute sensation.
She whispers again “cum, baby”. It is rising, seemingly starting from a point deep inside the earth’s crust, channeling through my shoulder blades, shooting down my spine, rising up between my legs, through into my balls, a wave of fluid moving unstoppably towards it’s conclusion.
I try to call her name, but can’t, an agonized rictus preventing speech. She knows, the tightening of my balls, the reflexive twitch. She bends lower, breasts swinging out and up as the first jet of cum shoots up to hit the underside of her jaw. She catches the second spurt in her mouth before bending further to imprison the head of my penis between her bared teeth. I hear screams as I jet a further 3 or 4 spurts into the warmth and wetness of her mouth. She releases me and sucks me deeply into her mouth, taking away all my pain. I realize the screams are coming from my own throat.
Slowly I relax as she topples over and comes to rest beside me on her bathroom floor, amid the contents of her washing basket. Her chin and jaw is sticky with my cum. What she did with the rest I did n’t see…
She turns to me, still smiling, entwining her hands to both of mine.
“Will you fuck me now ?" she says.
Friday, 27 July 2007
stimulation
I am a 30 something man living in London, so out of tune with his surroundings. I work in the city and commute in from close by like thousands of others converging on their respective work places. I endure and sometimes enjoy my job, maintain a multitude of friendships, have a good relationship with my wife, have a lot of fun with my kids. On the face of it just another normal bloke doing normal stuff.
Underneath the facade lies another person for which the whole basis of my life is sexually driven. It's what wakes me up in the mornings and keeps me up (pun intended) or puts me to sleep at night. It is what makes me decide which side of the road to walk down and where to stand in the Pub. It decides my favourite Pub based on the bar maids. It decides where I sit on the train or tube. I just like being around women whether my friends, most of which are women or people that don't know me. I am not a stalker, follower, starer or anything like that. Far
from being desensitisied from the siren call of sex in advertising, sex in the media, sex in everyday life, the constant views of cleavage. leg and belly on the train, in the office, in the Pubs and restaurants where I go for lunch , or just walking around the city , I find myself constantly stimulated. I am keenly aware of a woman walking past me with say a nice pair of shoes on , or a nice top, or a shapely arse or a lovely cleavage or pretty much anything. I am not saying that I am the only man to do this but feel controlled by it to a large extent, I simply can't help noticing things which arouse me. I state again, it could be almost anything about a woman, I will organise a proper favs list later. These images get saved and added to the vast database inside my head, most of which to be fair get erased quickly but some remain for years.
I am not asking whether this is normal and not asking to be judged. I may later go into detail about particular situations but will see how this develops.
Further background will be provided later.
Underneath the facade lies another person for which the whole basis of my life is sexually driven. It's what wakes me up in the mornings and keeps me up (pun intended) or puts me to sleep at night. It is what makes me decide which side of the road to walk down and where to stand in the Pub. It decides my favourite Pub based on the bar maids. It decides where I sit on the train or tube. I just like being around women whether my friends, most of which are women or people that don't know me. I am not a stalker, follower, starer or anything like that. Far
from being desensitisied from the siren call of sex in advertising, sex in the media, sex in everyday life, the constant views of cleavage. leg and belly on the train, in the office, in the Pubs and restaurants where I go for lunch , or just walking around the city , I find myself constantly stimulated. I am keenly aware of a woman walking past me with say a nice pair of shoes on , or a nice top, or a shapely arse or a lovely cleavage or pretty much anything. I am not saying that I am the only man to do this but feel controlled by it to a large extent, I simply can't help noticing things which arouse me. I state again, it could be almost anything about a woman, I will organise a proper favs list later. These images get saved and added to the vast database inside my head, most of which to be fair get erased quickly but some remain for years.
I am not asking whether this is normal and not asking to be judged. I may later go into detail about particular situations but will see how this develops.
Further background will be provided later.
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