A Man's Guide to Giving Great "Clit"

 A few months ago, when I wrote Stress, Emotional Intimacy and Cunnilingus, I knew that I needed to find a guy to share some cunnilingus tips, for two main reasons: 1)  Many of you need assistance in that area, and 2) Having eaten pussy only a few times in my life, I'm in no position to give advice on this.

So I turned to my good friend SomewhereMan.  Now, I've never experienced his prowess, but I've heard reports that he really knows what he's doing.  Here's his contribution to the cause.

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When Kat asked me for a man's perspective on "going down", I jumped at the chance.  Not too quickly nor too eagerly, of course, but with care and concern.

Most women know they love it when their man (or men) go down on them.  Yet what works best?  How would they recommend a man proceed?  I know how I love my rod getting sucked but I'm not exactly in a position where I can get on my knees or give a hummer from the passenger seat on a long, country drive.

There was once a time where I was convinced that a man who was an expert in oral sex on a woman would never lose that woman.  Well... I've found that isn't true.  But a woman will allow more latitude if her man is complete, sensual and determined to make her cum.

Over and over.

A Man's Guide To Giving Great "Clit".

Watch Porn But Remember The Individual.  This is critical for each guy.  We all want to think that we're Peter North and can dig in with four women at a time.  Even Peter knows that each woman is a little...different.  I look back on my lovers over the past three years.  Some loved having their asshole licked.  Others tightened up as my tongue advanced to that region.  Some wanted the "tongue on clit/two fingers inside" extra value meal.  Others just wanted their clit sucked.  There is no "one style fits all".  

Eye Contact.  I can't stress this enough.  While you're digging in, keep plenty of eye contact with her.  She'll bit her bottom lip and, perhaps, pinch her nipples.  The eye contact is the silent affirmation of her beauty.  Women work hard to look good for us.  They give up rich food.  They do that yoga bullshit.  Eye contact doesn't cost anything but always pays off.

Let Her Know Time Doesn't Matter.  I do have a slight issue when I'm in the "receiving" position.  Out of my natural concern for others, I try not to take too long to climax.  I don't want her having to suck on me for 20 minutes because I don't want her to have a sore throat and busted wrists.  Yet, for a woman that I love (and I've been in "love" through my prowling), I would go down for an hour - or more - if that's what they wanted.  Never sigh while you're licking.  Purr a little bit.  Moan with her.

Thighs Are Your Friends.  Work them gently.  Make her goosebumps pop and her body tingle without even touching the goody box.  This is where a woman finds her peaceful "raft", where the troubles and the stress of her day just melt away like lemon drops.

Make Oral Sex The Main Course.  Don't treat it as foreplay.  Treat it as the main dish.  You'll get the actual sex later and it will be incredibly hot and wet.

Women, by nature, are extremely self-conscious about their bodies.  Many never allow themselves to reach an orgasm out of this worry.  Do whatever you can to make her feel comfortable and the beautiful woman that she is.

The Tension, The Battle

By SomewhereMan

For all of the advice that Kat doles out here and, believe you/me as I write this, it is 99.44% dead-on accurate and true, there is still a bit of ambiguity over how to handle "walking away".

There is PWK and there should be an alternative site called RFP, short for Retiring From Prowling. With Kat as my witness (and confidant), I am trying to walk away.

It is hard.

Not because I'm a sexy man. Not because I am a confident man still plagued with the insecurity or the need for physical passion.

It is because I am trying to keep it together.

Two years ago, I entered this world after years of neglect. Uncertain of what I would find, I enjoyed an emotional, long-distance affair that turned physical before it fizzled. Only her touch, her attention and her desire for me ignited the rocket fuel of male desire within me. I had gone years without being told I was good looking. Years without being thrown onto a bed and having a woman do whatever she wants with me. It was, as if, in that instant, I had left years of being a "pussy male" behind and had, overnight, become the Alpha Male I always wanted to be.

In the despair of the end of the first affair, I reached out to AM. For the ol' timers here, a blog from Riff Dog set out the blueprint for how to succeed on AM with a minimum of mistakes. I delved into AM with the furor of someone learning how to count cards in a casino or study for the LSAT. Within weeks, I had mastered "the game".

Poker players have heard the old saying, "just give me a chip and a chair". For me, it was just give me 20 AM credits and a few hotties within 50 miles and let's get cracking.

This week, I had a bit of out-of-town travel. Lots of time for a man to think. The sheer numbers both made me pump my chest up and also feel ashamed for how reckless I had become. In my two years of prowling, I was truly "active" on AM for about 10 months. In that time, I got nekkid with 12 AM women plus I had two "home grown" affairs where the "I love you"s were exchanged quite often before dumpings that took me months to get over.

One of them I will probably never get over. Home Grown Woman #2 broke my heart and I see it every day. Now she is living with a man 30 years older than I am. Oh... and this old man is also my closest colleague. Our offices are 10 feet apart. He doesn't know (or so I've been told) about the affair but, every time I see the old man in the hours and hours we are in meetings and working on projects, I look at his frail body and am reminded that I wasn't good enough for HGW#2, that I wasn't rich enough, that I didn't meet her standards. It punctures me every day. Every time I watch the old man chug 12 pills throughout the course of the day at the office.

I am just coming off a six-month relationship with a very dynamic woman off AM. We are both influential people in our circles and lead high-profile lives. She also gave me the best sex of my life. Nothing was out of bounds. Yet our affair was very rocky once we got past the third month. Her home became more violent. I once answered a covert email to take her to the hospital after her husband punched her in the eye because she was shaking so badly. So I did it. With love. That's what people do when they care about each other.

I remember Kat writing about how, at that stage of time, an affair really becomes more of a relationship that needs constant nurturing. That means gifts. That means remembering the little things. Last month, her emails trailed off from 15 a day that always mentioned how badly she needed to rip my clothes off to one or two emails a day that could have come from my sister. The three-hour marathon sex encounters were now down to one-hour "appointments" where, once she was finished, the clothes would come back on and I would drive her back to our meeting point.

By this point, it was like I had a second wife who would nag and nitpick me about clothing or if I had an eyebrow out of place. "You know what you should do?" was how far too many sentences from her were starting out.

Amid my paranoia at not getting a straight answer, I went back on AM to "check up" and see where she was. Yup. Same profile from when we met. I know not to expect truth from a fellow prowler and I never tricked myself into thinking that I loved her. Yet the sting still hurt -- even though I was actively looking for a "way out" with her.

After a day of sniping, via e-mail, we met for the "big breakup" in a mall parking lot. She cried a little but, for the most part,this was handled with the same emotional level of calling your car insurance agent and telling him you're not going to renew. I heard the usual "work is so busy and now I feel guilty" line that I had used on other women. Usually when I had a hotter, more adventurous one already lined up.

I am one of the fortunate ones. My family is still intact. Whatever sorrow I feel from the hard breakups is mine and mine alone to deal with. All of the women have, apparently, moved on. I am trying to in my own life as I fill my time with activities that aim to keep me doing good and not self destructing.

Which leads me back to AM. I still have 45 credits left. I am SO good at the AM game. I sent out 5 messages and have had 4 responses, my usual 80-90% response clip. Only, this time, my heart just isn't into it. I've experienced the best of prowling over the past two years. Showers, threesomes, anal exploration, discovering and uncovering my desired level of kink and having it met, spanking, bending beautiful women over soft couches and thrusting them until can't stop farting because they have lost total control. (yes, that is a proud accomplishment).

Only it turned out to be empty. Once the burst is done and the last kiss of an encounter is over, the same thought flies through my head. How do I get rid of her for good? Stay "home" is getting better? How many more times must I keep taking chances that I won't be spotted leaving a hotel or having a beautiful women in the passenger seat of my car in my neighborhood? When does it end?

Prowling does lead to pussy and, eventually, paranoia for the careful ones. For me, though, the paranoia has nearly destroyed all of the peaceful elements of my life. I gotta get a grip.

Be well and be safe, fellow Prowlers.

SWM

The Lingering Trauma of Prowling

By Somewhere Man

The picture taunts me at work. Every day. The beautiful woman that I fell in love with last year is still in my life. Only she isn't. This woman, whom I wrote and wrote about amid the heartache and heartbreak of last fall, now has a prominent spot in my office. Her image is now in a framed photo next to my closest colleague, a man a whole whopping 26 years older than I am. He's old but not to old to be fucking her. But he has a ton of money and, now that her divorce is final, she is single.

Just like the old man.

Because we work together, I see his endless photos as he flies her to California and Florida. The old man looks pretty damn happy and he should be. He's tapping an unspeakably beautiful woman.

Last night, I was at a going away party for a mutual colleague. Old Man and Blonde Hottie are at a side table of this upscale bar. She sits on his aged lap, arms around him, kisses him deep and then she opens her eyes and makes eye contact with me and smiles.

Ouch.

Many days I walk past the framed picture of the smokin' hot, blonde and suddenly-single cougar and think, "damn, how did I lose her to a frail old man with a bad back?". Yet, more and more, I think: "damn, I really dodged a bullet with that crazy whore." Especially as, in the two years since I crossed a line and became a prowler, I have seen it blow up in far too many peoples' faces.

***

Let's see. I've seen hilarious and popular prowling blogs lead to people (men and women) being "outed" and their unaware spouses finding out. I've seen people get busted through Facebook flirting and messaging. Some of these marriages ended in divorce. Some didn't.

I've been lucky. A recent "outing scare" over the winter sent me off-line for good.

So much of writing a blog about this was to show off. To, somehow, validate that a middle-aged guy like me could still score a parade of gorgeous women even as I could not get indifferent and increasingly unattractive wife to even do anything to or with me in bed.

For the last two years, I have found myself in the embrace of a bevy of beauties. Thin waifs who needed to eat a steak. Curvy women fretting over love handles. Women from different ethnic backgrounds but all women who simply wanted what they were missing. The closeness. The feeling of desire.

Now I just wonder how empty it all was... and still is.

It's just been a game.

Yet it was a game that I had freakin' mastered. As a guy on AM, I had hit a point where 90% of the messages I would send out would be answered. If I was able to talk my way into a "face-to-face", I would usually get my desires filled fairly quickly. As I look back on the actual totals, I met with a total of 9 women from AM. That equaled 7 BJs or intercourse, 1 woman who didn't want me and 1 woman I backed away from. It was not because of my dashing and debonair nature.

I would argue it was because I found "the system" to make it work. In fact, by the end of all this, I had become so proficient in "the system" that I had to even make it appear so non-rehearsed and smooth.

I was joking with Kat recently as I was in a bookstore and came across a book in the "Relationships" section that was a 200-page book about picking up women. 200 pages? I can sum it all up in the rest of this post.

For AM Pickups: I will start here as this is now a very common way to hook up. I cannot stress enough how easy it really is here, especially if you live in a major metro area. I live in a mid-size city which means I have to be extremely careful on who I meet or how much I reveal right away. Yet, AM women are "already on second base". At least the ones that are not those "autobots", out to take away all of your credits.

Target Precisely. Avoid the temptation to buy 100 credits and then message 15 women at once. Allow yourself a maximum of 4 messages a week. That's it. When you have an 80-90% response rate (as I do), 4 is the maximum that I can juggle at one time. Decide which 4 "contestants" will be here for this week. Write on a Saturday or a Sunday and see where it goes.

An Authentic Note Helps. This I also cannot stress enough. I'll offer my standard opening line for you guys: "Amid the 577 men who are probably chasing you, I hope you can take the time to learn a little more about me...." And I am off and running. It's a balance of revealing a little more about yourself (but not too much). Ask her three questions about herself. Mine are easy: Why are you here? What do you crave? What drives you crazy? They almost always respond.

No Talk About Sex Until She Talks About Sex. I am 99.44% certain that Kat has covered this. Far too many men send cock shots or talk about how they like to pump from behind with a finger in her ass. Don't do it...even though we are all here for it.

Once you're on the second message from her, then it is time to move her to an email address. Then, after a few days of emailing, move her to Google Voice.

For Non-AM Pickups: Damn, these are tricky. The woman I fell in love with was a "non-AM pickup". Those are nerve-racking, especially as I refuse to ever get involved with anyone in my workplace. I had one of these non-AM pickup situations this week. I'm at a big-box hardware store and the woman who helped me pick out my paint was stunning. Tall, thin, 40ish, black hair, full eyes, great smile. As I leave, I notice she has the wedding ring (perfect as I do not pursue single women), she tells me that she has five kids.

Me: "I hope that you have someone in your life who tells you that you have a superb smile."

Her (shocked): "Wow... actually, I don't. He never tells me. We're in counseling."

Me: "Well (as I scribble), here is my number in case you'd ever like a man to tell you that you have a great smile."

She texted me five minutes later, agreeing to meet me for coffee the next day.

Yet, with the non-AM pickup, it is like an operating room patient that took a bullet to the chest. "The next 24 hours will be critical". A "straight pickup" will probably be filled with doubts and even guilt that she is considering a date. Mrs. Hot Raven-Haired Lady texted me the next day that she was full of guilt and only wanted to be friends. I wrote that I understood and hoped that she kept smiling.

Perhaps she will be back. Perhaps not.

Something, something about the chase.

The First Face-To-Face/Coffee Date: The most important logistic. Do not meet within five miles of either of your houses. It's not a spouse I'm worried about seeing. It's her little friends. It's a coworker. That's what worries me. I always pick a place away from my side of town and, often, at a non-peak hour. That means a coffeehouse at 10 am, 3 pm or 7 pm.

- Smile and Have Her Drink Ready. Find out if she loves mango smoothies and have it ready to go. This also allieviates the issue of standing in a slow-moving coffeehouse line with a woman who is not your wife.

- Have a Plan For The "Hour". Mine is always the same. Let her talk about her day for five minutes to blow off some steam. Answer any questions she has. I delve into one of my three "stock stories" from my past that are hilarious, detailed and self-deprecating. The woman always laughs at the end. Then we transition into what it is what we're doing here, on the edge of an affair.

About 50% of the time, it ends with me trying to walk her to her car. In those situations, I don't lean in for the kiss unless I see that she wants it badly. The other 50% of the time, especially if she has an SUV or a minivan with tented windows and if the date is going well, I recommend that we go sit in her ride. Middle row. In that situation, you'll have her reaching for your belt buckle within 15 minutes. Guaranteed.

Why write all of this? Ego, perhaps. But also because I've found "the system" that works for me. I am a decent looking guy but also one who is curious and listens to what a woman has to say. It's the balance between "alpha" and "beta". I always arrive with a plan (alpha) but I do listen and try and make her feel more comfortable (beta).

I also write this because, for all of the success I've had in tasting this delicious flesh, I also know how badly it can hurt as well. The image of a woman I wanted to be "the love of my life" taunts me in the office every day. I see her kissing that old man and I can't do anything about it. It hurts.

This is a dangerous game we all play.

Be careful.

The Other Side of Prowling - A Guest Post by SomewhereMan

This is the dark side of prowling.  When the dark days stretch on and the ecstasy that marked a lover has now turned into despair when she becomes a "former" lover.

Perhaps it's the holidays that do it.

Perhaps it's the short days, where the sun is a faded purple sky by 5 p.m.

Those glorious summer nights of making love with a forbidden woman who had potential to be "the one" is now replaced with trying not to slip and fall on an icy sidewalk as you walk to get the mail.

This is the life we've chosen.  This is the profession we've chosen.

Prowling.

Not alcohol, which is socially acceptable.  Not gambling, which is now government-approved.

These are affairs.

Fuckin'.

Fornicatin'.

And incredibly fabulous.

I've given up "the life", largely because I have seen the dark side this year.  I've flown too close to the sun.  A while back, I came home to a wife who filled out divorce papers -- all I had to do was sign - as she "caught me".  Well, sort of. 

She caught me "enough".  Enough where I was out of my house for two weeks.  Enough where my kids were wondering "why isn't Daddy here anymore?".  Enough where I was doing the math, trying to figure out how I won't be eating Ramen noodles in a year in some crappy apartment after I send away 60% of my take home pay.

The same weekend of my getting kicked out, my lover dropped me.  Perhaps she, after weeks of asking when *I* would file and we could start a life together, finally became scared enough that it was about to become real.  Perhaps she took a look at me and decided I just wouldn't be as much fun with half my money or living in an apartment for a while.  There is a real quality about affairs that is undeniable -- you may see your partner on a "bad day" but, when you meet in a hotel, a park or (gasp) at the other person's house, it is never a bad day.  It's a sexy encounter, where you're not worried about a sick child, a medical bill, your job.  Certainly not what your spouse thinks.

Each day would turn into possibly even the best sex of your life.

I went into all of this about a year ago, first with an emotional affair and, when that ended, a "manwhore" phase.  Damn that was fun.  Risky.  Guilty feelings tugging all over but undeniably fun.  I turned from a man, ignored and neglected at home by a wife, into a man cruising the aisles of Target, batting eyes with all of the mommies to see who would look back, who would say 'hi', who would even stop their chat, smile and chat.  Some did.  A drug. 

And I was and still am an addict.

Of course, all of this could have been so much easier without the feelings.  Yet they crept in with the final lover of this run.  Have you ever experienced a lover who, even during a "bad day", you look at and, truly believe, "I could make it really work with this person"?  Or "I will never tire of waking up next to this person, even when she is 87 and has dentures"?

I finally did.  I finally met that woman.

I can't even explain the level of comfort and security that brought.

Even as I allowed myself to believe the pillow talk, the promises in the dark, the notes that said, "should we just both file now and get married next year?"  It's so easy to let yourself get caught up in the Fantasyland of a torrid and tantalizing affair.  I certainly did.

Turns out she was just in it for the sex.  At first, so was I but, gradually, I learned to love the entire person. 

The "if only" game starts to come up.  "If only" I hadn't believe her soft words after making love.  "If only" I had the guts to pull the trigger on the divorce.  "If only" I was a little more patient.

Yet when there is a relationship with a "disparity of affection", the clinger (that's me) is at the mercy of the dominator (her).  And it hurts.  You find yourself at the whim of this person through every facet of the relationship.  You're constantly wondering why she shows up, gets naked and rides you like a Brahma Bull but can't send a "sweet dreams" text at the end of the night. 

All until, one day, you're in the shower, depressed that she is gone.  You look at your well-worn body in the mirror and ask, "why did I have to let the feelings get in the way?"

When you are the clinger, nothing works.  You have no power. You ignore her for two weeks but the second she sends a text, you melt and text back, like a puppy that hasn't been fed in a week.  You pour your heart out to her, when she is confused and scared, and that only sends her further away. 

Once the realization that she herself is now prowling hits, it is an ego crusher.  Knowing that richer, more powerful men, some of whom you know casually, are now enjoying the sweet woman who said she wanted to make it forever stabs the soul and pierces the heart.

All because I let the feelings get in the way.

After this, I can't say I have any intention to return to "the life".  At least not physically.  The real silver lining here is that wife and I have reconciled.  All the way.  The sex is now at pre-marital levels, three times a week and she is even into it a bit.  Wife lost a bunch of weight, cooking dinner again (ha!), smiling at me when I walk in the door and, damn, she is lookin' pretty hot now.   

Yet I find it more difficult to pull away from this prowlin' community.  I like you people.  :)  We can be brutally honest in these blogs and forums about what we want, how we are able to live the "double life" and, also, how to protect each other.  There is some amount of honor among thieves in this community and I don't want to give that up.  It's odd, really.  Some of the people I find myself trusting the most are people who can't even be trusted in their own homes. 

However, I know that we all share these secrets of our lives -- secrets that could, easily, destroy everything and anything we have spent years building.

Continued fun and frivolity for all of you.  Just keep those feelings in check.  :)

SomewhereMan

Guest Post: In Praise of a Fast-Thinking Mistress

SomewhereMan had an interesting experience recently, and we are fortunate that he decided to write about it for us. It's amazing how truth is better than fiction, isn't it? Enjoy!

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It's 3 p.m. last week and my workday is about to take a serious jolt.

Here is the texting log.

Mistress:  Hi! What r u up to?  I have to head to the hockey game tonight.  A function that I signed up as part of the group I'm with.
Me: You at a table or in the suites?
Mistress: A suite, I believe.

Uh-oh.  This isn't good.  My wife will also be at the game.  In one of the suites.  We don't live in a gigantic city so our hockey arena only has four suites.

Crap.  Crap.  Crap.

And there's nothing I can really do.  Will today be the day of the Wife-Mistress face-to-face meeting.  I imagine Addison looking at Meredith Grey at the airport, saying, "so you're the slut who is screwing my husband."  I imagine Stalin-Churchill-Roosevelt at Yalta.  I imagine bad, bad things happening.

I'm stuck at work.  Wondering if today will be the big blowup.

I look around the office.  This is going to be an awful day.

Back to the text log.
Me: And which event are you going to?

She writes back that it WILL be the exact same event that my wife has to attend.  That means about 30 people will be in this 15 x 25 room.

Here is the backstory: the mistress and I had been "fully intimate" for two months by this point.  Best sex of my life...without question.  Even to the point where we are both considering leaving our marriages to start a life together.

And it may entirely backfire at a stinkin' hockey game.

The angle here is that wife once found a pic of mistress on one of my email accounts.  She knows what mistress looks like.  It wasn't a racy pic but one that I forgot to delete.  (I know, I know...)

Me: Well, I'm not sure what to tell you.  I'm not going to say 'don't go to this'.  That's not my place.  Any thoughts on this?
Mistress:  I HAVE to go.  I signed up for it.
Mistress (five minutes later): I have an idea.  Will tell you about it later.

Now I'm sweating, flowing with stress, two hours later.  Then I get an email.
From the mistress.

I click on the attachment.

My platinum-blonde girlfriend walks out of her salon... with chestnut brown hair and glasses.

Mistress: Sorry I'm not blonde anymore.
Me: Holy smokes.  How much did that run you?
Mistress: $75
Me: I'll gladly pay that.

Mistress and wife spent an hour in the same room, within a few feet of each other.  Mistress didn't need to offer her "fake name" to wife since mistress tried to avoid eye contact.

Gotta say...I was impressed with the Mistress's quick thinking.

Author's Note: Mistress dumped my prowlin' ass this morning.  Maybe I should've paid her more... :)

The Best Little Half Pill in My World - A Guest Post by SomewhereMan

I called the CVS on Friday, freaking out.

"Yeah, er...um...I had a prescription for Levitra a few months back.  Is it still there?"

After some rustling of papers, I hear the pharmacist say, "yes, we can fill it for up to 12 months."

I sigh in relief.  This may be my last shot at saving Debbie.

"I'll take 3 of the 10mg pills."

"That'll be $62.47.  See you in an hour."

All because I had "fizzled out" with the most beautiful woman I've ever been able to get naked in my 35+ years on the planet.  Two days before, Debbie and I had three hours in a hotel room.  Sure, she came multiple times, thanks to my tongue and hands but, as I was so damn nervous, I couldn't get "hard enough" for what she really wanted.

"I want you inside of me," she begged that day.

Crap!  This again?!?  Back in June, my incident with "Charlotte" (for the dear readers of the blog I destroyed five weeks ago) led to my blogging in the first place.  A "dead dick" pained me greatly.  I lost Charlotte forever because I was too nervous.

And now I was losing Debbie.  She no longer texted me with the words "sexy" or "miss you" or "I want to be with you right now".  Since Wednesday, it had been more on a "friend" level.  I would write something sexual to her and get a "friendly" response...not the "wish I could suck your whole shaft and swallow your cum while looking into your eyes".

She told me that I was more than just a hard cock to her.  She was "into me" for the whole person I was...
only, with my Limp Bizkit on Wednesday, we both knew that wasn't 100% true.

Thus, Friday night, I picked up the Levitra...desperate to "Save Debbie".

*****

While reading over the side effects, I decided for a "self test" on Saturday night.  Wife was asleep.  Kids were long since out. 

I'm on the couch downstairs, watching college football.  (Hey, college football stimulates me, especially when the team I am backing is covering the spread).  I break off a 10mg pill in half for my suggested 5mg dose.

Wait twenty minutes. 

Start touching myself.

I had a missile for a cock within 4 or 5 minutes. 

Without touching it, the "Cock Missile" stayed...full-size... "18 years old with no dick control" (thanks, Eddie Murphy) size. 

Ah, what the hell, I thought, stroking it before hitting a climax during the Colorado-Hawai'i game. 

Best part?  The missile stayed hard... after the climax.

For 14 hours from when I swallowed the "half pill", I had four rock-solid erections.  Of course, my wife - who has no idea about the Levitra - wanted no part of me.

I was ready for Debbie.

I had texted her on Saturday, telling her I had a "surprise" for her and that I thought we would both enjoy it.  We set a date... Wednesday morning.  My house.  I told her I'd need an hour for her to experience it.

On Tuesday, I decided to go shop for this "surprise".  Found a sexy babydoll nightie for her.  That would be her "surprise"...before, hopefully, I'd have a real surprise.

Then a shocking text nearly gave me a heart attack.

"Hey!" Debbie writes.  "I've come some time right now (Tuesday morning).  Can I come over for my present?  Say...30 minutes?"

Holy crap.

I walk out to the secret hiding space where I keep my "now" 2 1/2 Levitra pills.  (empty plastic bag, unmarked). 

After I confirm that I'll see her in a half hour, I gulp down a 5mg half-tablet.  I debate whether to do the full 10.  Nope...stick with the 5.

I know that...as I am in the shower, doing a scrub down, that -- if I'm not hard and "ready for sex", she'll dump me before the afternoon.

THAT is pressure.

I drive to pick up her favorite coffee (that is my trademark whenever we meet -- I hate coffee but she loves it when I listen and pay attention).  All the way, I'm terrified.  Terrified of a Charlotte Redux.  The disappointment of a cock that won't stir, no matter how turned on I am.

Also...there's this.

I never mentioned that I already jerked off two hours before.  Ugh.  That's right.  I "rotated the crops", thinking of Debbie and our scheduled encounter for Wednesday.

Damn.

We meet at our assigned "business park" location as she pulls her ride next to mine. 

Author's Note:  This is another tricky element as I am breaking SO many of Kat's rules here.  Debbie & I go to the same church.  We live in the same neighborhood and, oh yeah, our kids know each other and, yes, we often give each other incredible climaxes in our basements.  At least the church "thing" has been worked out -- it's a megachurch and I go in the right entrance, she goes in the left.  I've "nodded" at her husband before in passing...

In the minutes before she pulls up, I do a "self-test".  I touch my cock to see if the Levitra is kicking in.  A little bit -- not on size but on sensation.  Something is happening in there -- it's not "growing" but it is feeling more sensitive.  Sigh... this is it.

As always, Debbie looks amazing.  White summer dress.  Black top, low-cut in front and sleeveless.  Form fitting.  Her hair is blonde, her skin is bronze from the summer sun.  Debbie is 42 but has a six-pack of abs from working out every single day.

I have no business being with this woman.

Here is why I am also so skittish.  We've been "dating" for two months.  She's dumped me six times -- often out of guilt and ALWAYS by email.  Each morning, when I wake up, I check my email before I check the texts...  If I get an email from her with "no subject"... then I'm getting dumped.  Yet, each time, within 48 hours, she texts me that she misses me...

And the cycle continues.

Yet on this day, Debbie hops into my car, with her awesome smile.  I hand her the deluxe coffee and off we drive.  Three blocks later, we're at my house as I open the garage, closing it immediately after we pull in.

I'm not sure what will happen.  I'm sensing that I am not going to get dumped right "here and now".  She walks inside and I start kissing her.  I can tell from her kiss that, no, I may be dropped tomorrow or by the weekend but...not today.

I walk over to the computer and play Chicago's "Hard Habit to Break", our inside joke of her dumping me about every 10 days.

As I return to kiss her, I'm rock hard. 

Thank you, Levitra.

I deviate from our usual pattern -- of me going down on her for her first climax before I start worrying about myself.  I have the Cock Missile on this fine day.

She reaches down.

"Whoa!" she says.  "Let's take advantage of this!"

Within thirty seconds, our clothes are off... the Trojan is on...and "we're off".

I put her on "all fours" and enter from behind.  I glide into her wet walls... savoring the first thrust...shocked that I'm even here - with a hard, full-size (and even wide) cock.  Not sure the last time I was *this* hard.

As she bucks, swirling her sexy, size 4 hips over my lucky and throbbing cock, I feel a weird sense of calm overtake me.  This is the man I used to be...back when I was a "boy", really...a college kid who would go to sleep six nights a week by having mind-blowing sex with my "law school girlfriend".  EVERY night, I'd go out drinking...and every night...she'd be studying and stressing...and then we'd release it all in her apartment.

This hour with Debbie had the same feeling - the same pawing of joy, of sex, of being close.

Yet I had to temper myself, even as I watched and felt her climax three minutes into me fucking her from behind. 

I wanted to tell this woman everything I felt about her...but I couldn't.  I didn't want to scare her.  She had mentioned, last week, a fear of feelings for me seeping in.  We had "agreed" a month before... no intercourse, no feelings, no strings attached.

Yeah... like we could stick to that.

I had never felt as close to a woman as I did today.. thank you, Levitra. :)

After her peak, I slid off to my side, spooning her, with my still hard cock pumping inside of her.  This went on for another ten minutes of pumping and fucking... then I had her go on top to ride me.

I watched her tan, beautiful body ride my "still hard" cock.  The joy pulsating throughout her body as I guided her to a second climax... with the thumb-on-clit, cock-in-pussy lunch combo.

Then as she collapsed onto me, her blonde hair tickling my cheek, that was the time to look into her eyes and say, "I love you, Debbie"... but I didn't.

I couldn't scare her.  No matter how much I wanted to say it.  :)

All in all, the Levitra-laden cock made it 27 minutes before I finally pulled out for good and she took my "somewhat hard" little guy for a wide blowjob ride before I fired burst...after burst...after burst all over the back of her mouth.

How did I know 27 minutes?  Seven songs on the playlist :)  27 minutes.

One more time, everybody.... "Thank You, Levitra."

As we lay in each other's arms, once I was all cleaned up, we talked a little about the rest of our day.  My index finger dancing about her bare, tan mound where she was all "waxed". 

With a final kiss, she said, "I've got ten minutes before I have to go."

I kissed her again.

"Stay here," I commanded as I opened up her legs.  "You're leaving here with a smile."

And my tongue slid along her clit and inside her pussy lips as I fired up her engine for a final trip to Satisfactiontown.

As I drove her back to her car, we held hands but still lacked the closeness we had enjoyed two weeks before.

Maybe she's getting scared at what's happening between us.  I know I am a little bit as well.

I would move up my "date of escape" to try and make it work with Debbie.  I am that "into her".

In the five hours from when we said goodbye to when I wrote this note, her texts have fallen off.  Very "clinical".  Very much a friend.

Sure, I'll probably get dumped soon...again.

However, I'm fine with it.  At least, unlike Charlotte, it won't be because I had a Limp Bizkit... that's for damn sure.

- SomewhereMan

Where is SomewhereMan?

If you went looking for SomewhereMan's blog in the last couple of day, here's what you saw:

That's because SomewhereMan has decided to kill his blog.  I was very disappointed because I loved reading his blog.  It had everything I look for - great writing, great stories, and steamy sex talk.

However, my buddy SomewhereMan made a decision.  Since a couple of people have asked me about it, I'm publishing SomewhereMan's reasons for his decision. And, as you know, his stuff is always good reading, so enjoy....even if it's a little sad that we won't get to read about his daily escapades anymore.

*****************

I kept running on Tuesday night.

And the answers became more and more clear with each step, as "Throwing It All Away" by Genesis rattled around my skull.  Such a fitting song, given my station in life.

I had to kill the blog.

HAD to.

I trotted six miles on Tuesday, laced with sweat and exhausted.  With each stride, it was time to kill this monster that I had been feeding for a whole six weeks.

That's really it.  Six weeks.

I loved the writing -- adored the level of craftsmanship that I tried to put into the posts, between my experiences and the fantasies. 

A note: Only the dear Kat knows this about me but I am actually a published novelist.  I've had three books "out", nationally, and have written two others that will probably never see the light of day.  Writing is in my blood but in my books, with my name attached, I have to be somewhat muted.  Somewhat discreet.

This forum gave me total control over the person I had become.  I could be honest, biting, sarcastic and petty.  All of the characteristics I cannot be in my "real" life. 

I loved it.

However, once the end of the Charlotte Series hit on July 26, I had gotten all of the angst out.  My ED day in the hotel back in early June led me to Riff Dog's blog -- which then led me to Shackled Kat.

Kat reached out to me, as I was pouring my guts out on Riff Dog's forum.  We've actually become pretty good friends and I know that will continue.  :)  Kat...you rock and you don't scold me too much when I screw up my prowling.

Yet I had hit the real point of diminishing returns with my writing.  I knew that, post-Charlotte, I was going to lose my edge.

The other women (from my story) have had explosive endings but I never was really that into them:

- Angela, 27.  She never got that sarcasm doesn't work in texting.  I'd ask how her day would be going and she's reply.  "Fine" or "Good".  A little help here.  On June 23, she sent me a picture of herself and her husband.  Uh... I know the guy!  He's a cop in my city.  The next day, I broke her off, five days before our planned meeting.  Her words, "That's why I'll never trust again".  Coo-coo.

- Kathy, 41.  After an outstanding five days of emailing and two make-out sessions (she is beautiful, tan and trim), I sent her an email for an "hour-long meeting" proposal.  We live 100 miles apart and I "stack my workday" where I'll be close to her.  I have to drive 80.  She has to drive 20 on one road.  ONE road.  Karen gets lost on this one road.  She is now 20 minutes late.  Then 30.  Then 40.  "I don't know where I'm going!  F*** this!" her angry texts are flowing.  Finally, I say that I have to head back to my city.

"You f*&#! ditched me!  Thanks a lot!  I'm still lost, a##hole!" 

Um, if you're yelling at me now because you got lost on a simple 20-mile-on-one-road trip, what's it going to be when I dump your ass in a few months?  Using that as the background, we agreed to not go any further.  That moment turned her into Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction in my mind.

I've felt this odd, conflicted personality over the past few days.  Not over the prowling.  Isn't that unusual?  The most unusual (hypocritical?) element here is that I'm a church-going Christian.  As in a "reborn" we-do-our-baptisms-by-choice-as-adults-and-not-when-we're-infants-and-have-no-real-say Christian.

Yet I'm at peace with my "side action" because of my home life.  My wife is abusive -- she hits me, on occasion.  Swears at me in front of our young children.  Overall, she is Owen's mom from Throw Momma From The Train (my first post).  Really.  That's no B.S.

Somewhere between mile 3 and 4 on Tuesday night, I truly realized that the blog will only destroy me if I keep it up.  I will get very little true "benefit" from it.  My stress and self-doubt from Charlotte have faded, largely because I was able to get the feelings out.  VERY therapeutic and satisfying to "get it out there".

But, now, the blog can only serve as my guillotine.  If it's discovered, I'll lose more than my marriage -- a marriage I plan to kill within 36 months, anyway.  If it's out there, I'll lose my job, my career, my future... on top of my marriage and my kids.

Guido The Killer Pimp from Risky Business once said, "never f*&^ with a man's livelihood".

Well, I've been f*&^ing with mine plenty.

I've dodged so many bullets since April and, only now, and I truly realizing it.  All of the women I've met have stayed quiet.  None have gone crazy on me, although they could squash me like a grape.

Yet I also won't deny the benefits of my last four months.  My confidence is through the roof.  I walk into a grocery store and can see the eyes of the "pretty mommies" crossing mine.  As I've said, I'm not Bradley Cooper but I do take care of myself.  When the pendulum swings at 40, I know I'll be on the "good side of it".  :)

For that confidence, I simply have to look back at my life the last decade.  Starved for sex.  Treated horribly at home.  Until my A.M. women, it had been nearly a decade since I'd been allowed to go down on a woman.  Seriously!  I'd do it every day if I could.  I've been through domestic hell and have battled through for two purposes: 1) my kids -- as they deserve to have the stable parent "here" and 2) my future finances -- if I go now, I'll get cleaned out.  If I go in two years, I'll be okay.

The threat of exposure is the overriding factor, even more than simply having nothing to say.

I got an email today from someone who said, "interesting.  You aren't worried about getting caught by family but you are by these women".

I guess that's true.

Right now, I have two women (likely one, sadly, more on that in a second) that I am "involved" with.  Keeping them quiet ("in line" is a harsh phrase) is tough enough as it is.  I know the odds are minuscule of them finding out about my blogging but why push it?

Especially when it could tear the other elements of my life down?  I'd fall apart like an old farmhouse in a twister.

That's why I am "out".  Fear of exposure although I suppose that fear is no larger nor greater than it was six weeks ago.  Maybe I'm just being paranoid.  Maybe I'm just getting all of my ducks in a row before the eventual split.  Maybe I cannot stand the thought of my kids coming across the blog one day.

Maybe.  Maybe.  Maybe.

But I had to kill it.

For myself.

:)

More on Confidence - A Guest Post from SomewhereMan

Since it was a conversation with SomewhereMan that inspired my post on Confidence and Attraction, I thought it fitting that I should ask him to share his thoughts on the topic to give you a male perspective on confidence. As always, he's right on point. :-)

******************************

Confidence and men should go together like Captain and Tenille, at least when it comes to attraction and attention from women.

We always hear it from females: "I want a man with a great sense of humor."  That doesn't mean they want Steve Martin with an arrow in his head or Gallagher smashing watermelons.

It really means:  We want a confident man.

A man who can make us laugh.  Listen to us.  Take us from the valleys of our days and guide us to higher ground.

So much of a "confident man" comes from our life outside of the bedroom.  Mastery of whatever is important to us.  Maybe it's work.  Maybe it's being a top-notch father.  Maybe it's the ability to fix a broken down furnace or change the oil in a car.  Whatever it is doesn't really matter but, when a man feels confident, that also transfers into the bedroom.

A confident man is a horny man.

Don't believe it?

If you've ever been with a man who is unemployed or under-employed, how many times does he initiate sex?  Not as much as when he's got a good job.  That's just how we are wired.

Maybe women can compartmentalize in some elements but, for men, if our "real life" is going great, the confidence just follows.

Some "DO's" for men to stay confident.

•  Master Your Life.  You do this and everything falls into place.  I have, by no means, mastered my life, but my career is solid (as it can be in 2011, I suppose) and my parenting skills are above reproach.  Those are the two major elements of my life.  The confidence that gives me resonates off of me, say, when I'm playing with my kids at the pool or even at the grocery store.  I live life with a layer of fun throughout and people notice this. 
• Stand Tall When Walking Into a Room.  Women notice this.  When I walk into a room for a meeting, I'm standing tall, shoulders back, an easy smile for everyone in the room.  I'll make eye contact with a few people right away.  Usually it'll be the CEO, a mid-level manager and, possibly, an attractive female co-worker as I sit down.  Then, for the rest of the meeting, I'll make eye contact with everyone else.  It's not creepy but an "I know I'm what I'm doing" glance.
• Be Ready to Chat.  Maybe this is part of what I do.  I spent my workdays often surrounded by very attractive women.  In other words, I don't work in a Schlitz factory in Milwaukee.  I talk to these women the same way I would talk to sloppy guys with their bellies hanging over their belts.  Beautiful women are used to being fawned over.  Just talk to them like they're people first.  Fawn over them in the bedroom.
• Exercise.  If you can, get out and go running or lift some weights.  Do it for 10 days and your body will look tighter.  This helps with "walking tall" in the world. 

 Now for the DON'Ts.

•  Don't Just Have One Act...Have a "Second Act".  As guys, we are excellent at trying to "close the deal", at the start of a relationship.  Most of us talk a great game but, what happens, after a week when the glow of a new woman is already fading?  Where she can sense your warts and imperfections?  Always keep another layer of confidence "in your back pocket" for those situations.  Perhaps, something else that you haven't mentioned.  If you have a good career and can cook, maybe show off your cooking skills after a week or so.
• Don't Be Desperate.  Women can sense desperation and that will never help with getting them in the place you want them.  Never.  I just got "dumped" today, in fact.  But that's okay.  I knew it was probably going to happen.  Instead of flipping out, I wish her well and don't make a big deal out of it.  A few days ago, I took a different "tact" with her, knowing that she would probably want to break away.  I let her know that I look forward to getting older (unlike her).  Why?  My words: "When I'm 40, I'll have a great career, still have my hair and I take care of myself.  I certainly won't be hurting for options."  I give it a 50/50 shot that this woman reaches out to me this week. 
• Don't Think Talking Will Cure All.  We can all "gab and gab".  However, the real skill comes in listening and using those clues to become closer with a woman.  If you are in e-mail contact with a woman, scribble down what she likes/doesn't, what her family life is like and, my favorite, the best vacation she has ever taken.  Two months ago, I was juggling six women, via email (2 in real life and 4 on the virtual world).  I had a spreadsheet going with likes/dislikes... and, all of them, to a person, were impressed with how I "listened".  :)

*********************

Be sure to visit SomewhereMan's blog, My One Wild Year.

Confidence and Attraction

I was just having a chat with SomewhereMan, and for a brief part of the conversation we were talking about confidence. About 6 months ago, I wrote 10 Things That Really Turn Me On and what was number one on that list?  You guess it! Confidence.

I wrote, "This no joke.  Nothing gets me hotter than a confident man. Just about everything else pales next to confidence. I've met some amazingly good looking men who did nothing for me because they were afraid of their own shadow, and I've met some men who others might not consider as attractive who could twist me around their little fingers because of their confidence."

That statement is still true for me.

Read any of the accounts I've shared in my naughty posts and there is one thing that all of those gentlemen have in common - confidence. Some of the men I've been with have been shorter than they would have liked, or heavier, or balder.  Yes, some have even had smaller than average penises (you remember what I said about penis size, right?). But it was their confidence and intelligence that made them most attractive.  I'm not saying that physical attractiveness doesn't matter.  In fact, SomewhereMan's story about his escapades with Charlotte are a great illustration of a) how physical beauty does not necessarily equal "good catch," no matter how willing s/he is, and b) how sometimes physical attractiveness can blind you to the qualities (or lack of them) that you are really looking for.

And physical attractiveness does not equal "good in bed."  Whoever originally invented that lie should have found a way to make money on every time it has been perpetrated over that last couple of thousands of years. Being good in bed is much more about confidence, attitude, willingness to please, creativity, and skill than it is about beauty.

But I'm not here to slam physical attractiveness.  Oh, no.  I love a good looking man.  In fact, I am glancing over at Adam's most recent HNT on my other monitor as I write this, and imagining the unbelievably hot chest/shoulders/cock and gorgeous face of my webcam buddy. Yeah, they are hot, but it's their confidence (along with several other intangible factors) that have led me to engage them in dialogue (and some in more than dialogue).  That's what makes them more than just  pretty pictures.

Let me give you a few examples of how confidence plays out in a few different situations with some of my favorites:

J - He didn't spend any time asking for critiques of his performance.  There was no, "Did you like that?"  Hell, he knew I liked it and he knew what he liked. He wasn't tentative in bed at all.  He knew what he wanted and he went for it. If it didn't work out, he went for something else.

P - After we had been together once, he didn't act shy about getting together again.  He didn't look down at his feet and shuffle and mumble, "Do you wanna see me again?" he said, "Next Tuesday at noon works for me. You?"

JJ - His confidence impressed me the first time I saw him. He carries himself like someone with a purpose. I remember one time we met in a parking lot and walked into a hotel lobby together, instead of one or the other of us getting there first. He didn't shrink and act like we were doing anything he was ashamed of.  He didn't whisper to the hotel clerk (yes, I've seen that, too).  He was matter-of-fact and confident, like he owned the place. He put an arm around me as we stood there (there were no prying eyes around) and leaned over against me. Mmmm...... that was definitely a panty-dampening few minutes of anticipation. How long do you think it took to get me out of those panties once we were behind closed doors?

M - M announced to me recently that he has decided he's going to reclaim me. Oooo! Meeeeeow! Go for it big boy!

I can already hear the wimpier among you whining, "But how will she know I'm confident until she gets to know me, but you're saying she won't get to know me unless I'm confident.  I don't get it.  Wah wah wah..."

Seriously?

A confident person is unmistakable and definitely stands out from the crowd, even online. It shows in how he walks, how he talks, how he writes, how he interacts...heck, it even shows in how he stands still. You have to believe that you are worthy of someone spending the time to get to know you a little and fuck you before anyone will. It's really that simple.

How do you do that? I know it's difficult, especially if you are in an unhappy relationship where you feel that you have been beaten down for years by someone who tells you, either explicitly or implicitly by how they treat you, that you are not very attractive or that you aren't worth much. You have to pull yourself out of it. You can't allow that person's opinion of you become your opinion of you. That may mean leaving, or it may mean making a decision to change some things in your life to reclaim who you are.

If there are some physical issues affecting your confidence level, take care of them if you can.  If they are features that you cannot change, work on accepting that they are part of what makes you unique, and that the woman or women you are supposed to have will look through those things.

To round this out, here's a brief list of DON'Ts to keep you from screaming that you are not confident enough for a woman (or man) to waste time with:

• Don't whine.  Seriously.  It is so unattractive. If you don't like something, state it in a matter of fact manner.  Little girls whine.
• Don't look down at your feet when you walk or talk. Look straight ahead or in your partner's eyes (but not in that scary, "I'm staring you down" kind of way). That shy little boy act is very cute.....on shy little boys, not on men.
• Don't act embarrassed about your accomplishments (but don't brag too much, either).
• Don't be afraid to close the deal.  She's waiting for you make the move. I was with a great guy once whose company I really enjoyed.  We got together and started talking - in a very private setting, acceptable for...well, you know.  And we talked...and talked....and talked.  I did my part.  I sat close to him.  I rubbed his leg.  I made sure that some body part was touching him lightly at all times.  The signals couldn't have been clearer - not to mention the fact that I'm Kat! For gosh sake, if I let you that close to me (which is quite an accomplishment), you're in! Know what I mean? Anyway, I stopped asking questions.  At one point he said, "What are you thinking?" (Don't you just love that question?  Not!) My answer was, "I'm thinking that I'm not sure if you're ever going to make a move." Of course, he did make a move, and he was great.

Ok, now all of these thoughts are from my perspective (and they are right, of course), but I thought you might also want the perspective of a confident man on projecting confidence, so I asked SomewhereMan to share his thoughts on the topic. Rather than append them here, I'm going to post them separately as a guest post.

His advice is good, and it's written in his easy-to-read style. Don't miss it!

Fantasy Friday by SomewhereMan - Gulf Coast Yacht

Another awesome contribution by SomewhereMan. Be sure to check out his blog!

*********

I always liked to describe a day like this as 'Mississippi Hot'.

"And, please, get me just below the shoulder blades, luv," I begged of you.  "That's where I always seem to get burned."

You laughed and kissed my neck before rubbing a dab of sunscreen on my back.  "Maybe if I wouldn't be ripping your clothes off all the time, we wouldn't have to worry about this.  You nervous?"

"About ripping my clothes off?" I asked, looking into your eyes as the Mississippi sun beat down on us.

She giggled.  "Dork."

At the tip of Bay St. Louis, the breeze off the Gulf of Mexico cut through us. 

I took in another glance at your beauty, as you are in a white t-shirt, without sleeves but with a woman's cut to put your perfect body. You had bought a purple and white bikini but had refused to show it to me until we were in the middle of their rather bold plans for the afternoon.

"And this is where I get to shell out the cash, I see," I said as we approached a marina.  For the low, low price of $575, we would rent a small yacht and spent their afternoon out, on the tip of the Gulf of Mexico, away from people and in-touch with our own desires.

*****

"And, here is how this is gonna work," this mid-twenties young man with a tan the color of a saddle bag instructed.  He kept a bluetooth to my ear, pressing the transmitter.  "We're heading out now.  Follow me."

I was down to my red swimming trunks, plain and with a string up front, different than the aloha prints that I had worn for 15 years.  Amazing what reading GQ again and dating a sexy woman could do for a guy's fashion sense again.  I stole another glance at you, ready to see your new purple and white bikini and, especially, ready to get my hands in there and make your feel incredible. 

Incredibly tingly.

"Some of the ground rules," the guide instructed as we broke away from the harbor.  "I'll get us about a mile off the shore and then get y'all planted out there.  Carl, back 'der in 'da boat will cruise out, pick me up.  You'll have four hours to do whatever you want out here."

He handed me a sheet of paper.

"My cell phone number is on there.  Please stay in touch when it's time for me to come on out and get you.  Program it in there now if you run into any distress."

"Sure thing," I said, trying to sound like I knew what I was doing on a boat.

"Don't mind if I mention this as well, since you're a couple 'n all," the guide said, lifting his sunglasses over his eyes.  "If y'all are gonna be fuckin' in the Gulf, that's cool.  That's why I can charge what we charge to rent a boat for four hours.  Just know that the Coast Guard patrols and they can see almost anything from up to a half-mile away.  Just a heads up."

Fifteen minutes of riding the waves followed, with this guide named Chet helping steer the S.S. Yellowbird to a place where we could have some privacy.  

Yet both of us were preoccupied with the moment Chet would hop onto a speedboat and whisk himself away, so we would have a glorious session of hot lovemaking, bouncing on the waters of the Gulf of Mexico...

An engine-powered boat pulled up along the yacht, just as the waves swayed us gently and Chet shook hands and said my goodbyes, disappearing into the horizon, back to the shore.

You grabbed my hand and held me close, our bodies now glistening, almost like the water off the ocean.

"Where were we again?" I asked, tasting your soft lips and squeezing the small of your back.  I always loved how you felt in my arms.  I told you that you had the perfect body and that I was always so turned on around you.  

You never let me tell you otherwise.  :)

With our eyes closed, the kissing intensified as hands started running all over each other.  Tacky as ever, I wore a t-shirt from a Bail Bonds place back in Iowa.  you ran your hands under my navy t-shirt, under the back where it blared out, 'You Ring, We Spring!', sneaking a steal of my waist and my new, red swim shorts.

I could feel the outline of your new bikini, just screaming to get out.  I slipped a finger or two under the neckline in your white t-shirt, feeling you catch a quick breath at the anticipation of my touch.

"Let's just keep standing up," you suggested, even as a wave nearly made us both stumble. 

"For now," I smiled back.  I looked at the black, shiny Umbro shorts that you wore as a cover, largely to prevent me from seeing this bikini I had fantasized about for weeks.  Now was the time for that to all go away and for me to take in your bold and sexy beauty.

With my hands now running under the white shirt, I lifted the shirt up and finally got a look at your bikini, as I caressed the sides of your breasts.  Mmmmmmm.  White and purple.

Standing on the back of the yacht, I turn you around, cupping your breasts and reaching down to help slip off your black workout shorts, sliding the slick shorts own to your feet.  I glanced up to take in your firm, tight ass, covered only by the bikini bottoms.

As I always had done, I took a long look at you, still shocked that a woman as beautiful, stunning and passionate wanted to spend time with a guy like me.

Wow, I thought.  

Now you are reaching to peel off my clothes, throwing my navy t-shirt into the shaded deck, where my clothes were piling up.  You dig your hands inside my shorts, feeling my muscular butt and giving it a gentle squeeze.

I kissed your neck, slipping a hand inside your hot purple and white top, pinching your right nipple softly.  Touching your breast only made me even harder as your hands were now starting to explore the waistband in my shorts, reaching down to gently touch the trimmed hair that surrounded my ever-growing bulge.

*******

"I want you now," you moaned into my ear, more of a whisper even though we couldn't see a person anywhere near us.  Only fish, waves and sunshine out here.

You stroked my hardening cock, through the red suit as I reached down and tested out your bikini bottoms to see how wet you are.  I guided a willing finger over your love mound, over to discover it was completely bare.  

Nothing.  Not even a tinge of hair.

This stirred my mind.  You had a beautiful, perfect area "down there".  Wanting to see what this was about, my fingers grabbed onto the sides of your bikini - the lovely purple and white, of course - and guided the bikini bottoms to your feet.  I looked up to see you were fully shaved now.

"Just for me?" I asked.

You guided a finger on top of your clit, because she could, and smiled.  "Just wanted to mix it up a little.  You never seem to mind it down there any."

"No, I never do..."

I guided your onto the seated area, which was pretty hot, given the exposure to the sun.  I put my t-shirt down for you to sit on so that your hot little ass wouldn't get all burned.  

Feeling the sun beating down on my shoulders and back, I leaned in to kiss your bare and tasty pussy.  As I expected, it tasted like honey, the grooves and folds of skin like a welcome bounty to my twirling and tickling tongue.  I grabbed your breasts as you unhooked the top of your bikini, putting the top on the back of my neck.

You smelled incredible.  I couldn't describe what the scent was but the combination of your fragrance and your natural scent from being excited drove me wild.

With my tongue running circles on your sensitive clit, I run an index finger...and then two fingers inside of you.  I felt your perfect pussy wrap itself all around my caring and exploring fingers.  your breathing stopped and started at the sensation.

I licked all over your down there, as my fingers slid in and out of your wet pussy.  I licked your clit and then ran a thumb all over it before I moved my tongue further south to lick your ass.  Twisting my head, I made eye contact with you, as you had ditched your sunglasses so you could look back into my eyes.

This was so hot... so hott with two t's.  You bit your bottom lip as we both wished this moment could last forever.

"I want your cock inside of me," you insisted.  "Is it ready?"

"More than ready, luv.  You make me so, so, so hot."

"I can tell," she said, unwrapping my full-size cock from the constraints of the red (and very, very stylish) swim shorts.  

"Let's go up here."  I guided you to the front of the yacht, the spot where there is an open space between the railing.

"A little walk on the wild side.  THIS is bold, my love."

I helped lead your beautiful body to the hot, light part of the boat, your head inching near the edge of the boat.  Your opened your moist legs, ready for my hard cock to enter.

"I can't wait to lick it," you said, "but I'll taste you after you've been inside of me."  You played with your sensitive clit as I stroked myself to reach maximum size.

I guided my throbbing head just inside of your beautiful pussy lips, pushing in slowly but realizing that you were so wet...and tight...and hot.

"OOOOOOHHHHHH," you sighed, taking in every inch, every half-inch, of my dick.

You grabbed at my hips while I held onto your waist, the light waves of the ocean also serving as a guide to sway us.  I looked around for the Coast Guard.

Nope.

Still all alone.  

Thrusting away, now at a faster pace, I lick my thumb and place it on your clit.  Now we both could feel your climax building up.  

I looked down at your perfect body, with me deep inside of you.  My mind was fully locked in on pleasuring you.  No phone calls.  No distractions.  No breakers knocking waves all over the boat.

The buildup was already filling my hard cock.  You started pawing at my ass, scratching it as the passion filled your tight and wet body.

"Don't stop, baby," you yelled.  "Keep rubbing there."

I kept up the pace, feeling your grab at my cock with each thrust.  A perfect fit -- fitting for our perfect lovemaking on this steamy afternoon.

You couldn't hold off any longer as you looked into my eyes, took your hands off my ass and started slapping the front of the boat.  A run of waves only intensified our feelings as the climax - so anticipated for your - enraptured your gorgeous body.

"OOOOOHHHHHHH," you cooed at your moment of sweet release.

I slowed down so you could savor each sensation, every touch.  I leaned down to kiss you, our tongues meshing with passion.

I held you, tight, for another minute, still hard inside of you.  

"Now, your turn to come," you said.  I got up and sat on the same seat that, minutes before, I had pleasured your with my tongue along your welcoming pussy lips.  "I'm ready to ride you."

With my pole just shooting straight up, you said down on my cock, your hands connecting and our eyes locked into each other's eyes...

Now the buildup wouldn't last much longer for me.  You were so beautiful, your pussy bobbing up and down on my cock.  I stole a glance at that -- still blown away that a woman like you wanted to make love to me -- on this boat in the middle of the Gulf.  You reached down to kiss me, driving me crazy and leading me to the brink of my orgasm.

"I'm about to come, luv... in a few seconds," I whispered.

"Let me taste it," you said.

You hopped off my hard cock and dropped to your knees, stroking my cock with one hand and cupping my balls with the other. 

I felt the explosion coming and looked right into your eyes.  Your smile and your eyes said, I love loving you.  Especially at this moment.

Feeling totally comfortable in your arms, I shot my first load way into the Mississippi sky, landing somewhere in the boat.   You covered my exploding cock with your mouth as I emptied out, the come dripping off your lips as we both giggled.

You gave my cock a gentle squeeze and stood up to kiss my lips, our tongues clashing once again after this moment of True Tingly.

"What do you want to do now?" you said.

"We've got three hours left, Beautiful.  Let's take a nap...and do it one more time..."

"You're so sexy.  I'm so lucky."

"No, I'm the lucky one..."

*****

Fantasy Friday - Another HOT Guest Post by SomewhereMan

SomewhereMan has been kind enough to share another amazing story with us for Fantasy Friday. Yes, it's long, but I guarantee you that it's worth every moment of your time, so settle in with your favorite cool drink and enjoy it.


SomewhereMan has also started his own blog! My One Wild Year is his account of his infidelity adventures. Please do yoruself a favor and take a look, then follow.

For now, enjoy this week Fantasy Friday post, set in Banff, Alberta.

********************

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" Kat shouted under the house music thumping, pulsating inside the night club.


Clark shook his head and glared back.  After all, everything he had to say was so damn important.  And always so urgent that she needed to hear it.


Actually, the fact that the beautiful Kat always listened and always cared was why he was so attracted to her.  Sure, her body was compatible with his and their lovemaking was always passionate, tight and aggressive but it was also tender and patient.


All of the times they had made love were never rushed...never quickies... a real challenge given their situations.


The beads of sweat had been dripping down the side of Clark's face for two hours.  He looked at his watch.  1:30 AM on Sunday morning after they had been dancin' at the Hoodoo Lounge (a real place), the hottest dance club in Banff, right off Caribou Street.  Strobe lights flickered and a steam machine blurred the room a bit.


Clark sighed and took a final lunge at her delicate ear.


"HEY!... DO YOU WANT TO GO!?!"


Kat rolled her eyes and shook her head 'no'.  She puckered her lips.


Clark leaned in and pushed, gently, his sweaty lips onto hers.  Kat's moist hands grabbed his sweaty cheek bones as their tongues mashed lightly.  With their eyes closed, K and C felt like the only two people on the dance floor, completely oblivious to the other 200 people crammed into this tiny room.


She now leaned in... "I want you...  NOW!"


Startled, Clark looked her in the eyes.  "HERE?"


Kat learned back in.  "I don't care where.  I want you...NOW.  MAKE IT HAPPEN!"


Author's Note.

Play the songs as you read the story...:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bfdt7Bd_urg



Kat and Clark had touched each other a little throughout the three hours at the Hoo Doo.  Yet they wanted the anticipation to build and to foster for when they would, finally, have their moment of satisfaction.


Clark had already burned through his four White Russians since they got there at 10 o'clock.  Enough for a slight buzz but not enough to take away from what he really wanted out of the night.  To feel her, to love her, to satisfy her, to make her toes curl... her insides hum... and her passion to overflow all throughout every cell of her very being.


Hearing Kat say that she wanted him now sent his brain into a flurry of activity.  What are my options?  Where could I take a woman this beautiful?  No, not to a bathroom for a quickie.  That is so 1985 and, besides, they don't do quickies.  Kat and Clark make love.  They do it right.   As Barry White said... "I'm gonna make ya feel... like ya wanna feel."


"LET'S GO.  TRUST ME!"  Clark called out to her, who flashed her traffic-stopping smile that told him... 'yeah, ya buffoon, I've been wet and ready for an hour now and I've watched you try and dance like you're all hot stuff'.


He reached out for Kat's welcome hand and guided her amid the mob of people jamming away.  Clark felt like the oldest dude in the joint but that was okay.


Clark glanced back at her, smiling with confidence in her black, sleeveless top, with silver accents. 


I'm the oldest dude but I've got my arms on the hottest girl in the joint.


Kat was so beautiful - curvy in all the right places - so confident and carried herself with such poise that she was so incredibly sexy.


They pushed out onto the sidewalk just as the rain drops of Banff pelted them. 


"Here," Clark said, peeling off his purple, long-sleeved dress shirt, revealing his navy blue t-shirt was, admittedly, was a bit drenched in sweat.  "Take my shirt."


"No, Sweetie," Kat said, shrugging it off.  "I don't need it."


"Please.  I insist.  We only have two blocks to the International.  Let's cool off for two blocks and I'll get you warm again.  I promise..."


Clark, guiding Kat with his hand, led her under the awnings on the street to shield them from the raindrops.  When they had to cross a street, they ran -- he in his size 15 black shoes and she in her size 6 heels.


The people on the street melted away in the final strides to their hotel.  The chills of the September wind blew through them, drying up the sweat that had built up from their hours of grooving at the Hoo Doo.


"The elevators are this way," Kat said, trying to pull Clark's hand to the right.


"We're not going to the elevators, Beautiful..."



A new song...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5STkndT8nfQ&feature=related

*****


"Why are we going to the pool?" Kat whined a little.  "Let's go upstairs and make love overlooking the city."


Clark stopped, in stride and looked her in the eye, in all serious.  "We'll do that.  In an hour.  But first... join me...as one."


He wanted to be all bold, after walking through the lobby, hand in hand to the pool area and open up one of the four small sauna rooms off the corridor that led to the pool. 


Clark reached the first one.  Locked.


Second one.  Locked.


Third one was slightly ajar.  Clark giggled the door and it opened, the light bulb still on.  "It's 2 in the morning.  Let's live a little..."


He closed the door, smiled at Kat, who placed her head on his shoulder.  "I'm so ready for you, sexy Clark," she cooed.


Clark took his left hand and, lightly, squeezed her chin, placing his lips on hers as they kissed, deeply, their hands starting to explore their bodies.  He felt her smooth skin, now with the sweat and the smoke from the club dried off.  The rain had washed it away.


He pulled himself away, hard as it was, for a second to twist the wall knob to get the sauna steam going.  They both could see the heat fogging up the glass door to, once again, give them the privacy they so craved -- just as Clark's hands were running over her chest, cupping her perfect, firm breasts underneath her bra.


Kat shot out a short breath as her insides were firing up and stirring again.  She reached down to run her hands underneath the waist line of his tight, leather pants.  Clark jumped up at the feeling of her squeezing his ass, her unpredictable hands sending all the blood into his body right to the growing bulge in his tight pants...


"Hot and Steamin' Kat, I must relax you.  I mean...totally relax you."


****

Another song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yxoEo-q7cpk&feature=related

"Let me put my hand..." Clark said in his deep voice, placing a curious hand on her black, skintight

pants, right where her legs come together.  Warm...so warm.  "...right there."


With her eyes closed, Kat smirked and reached back to kiss him some more.  "I want to make you come like you've never come before.  Ever."


"But you know the rule, luv." Clark said.  "You come first."


"That is always such a turn on."


Clark peeled off her silver and black top, running his hands underneath her shiny, black bra to reveal those perfect breasts.  Now moving behind her, his growing shaft pressing against her backside, Clark rubbed the bottom of her breasts, offering a striking pinch to each nipple as he kissed her neck.  Clark felt her flawless, blonde hair -- and it smelled incredible -- flowing around his face, tickling a little bit but feeling oh...so right.


As he moved his tongue all over her neck and shoulders, teasing her breasts with his fingers, Clark crouched to offer Kat an unplanned back massage to work out any tension from the trip so far.  They had just gotten to Banff eight hours before and had not taken the proper time to make love like they wanted to. 


Now it was their time -- their moment...and Kat and Clark wanted the moment to feel like it was going to last forever.


His tongue slid down her spinal cord, finally stopping as his hands reached her tight pants.  He reached in, feeling her bare ass and peeled the pants down, almost like unrolling a knee-high sock.  He could already tell that Kat was so wet from the buildup that his tongue dropped to her inner left high, licking up...inch... by inch... until reaching the fabric of her moist, red thong. 


"Take it off with your teeth," Kat said as steam now filled the room from the sauna.


"Anything you like, Sweet K..."



Play THIS song...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYEJFSsfEcs



*******


The steam from the sauna now made his clothes feel so restricting, almost like being claustrophobic.  But this was her moment.  He would wait.  Kat needed to get off first.


From his knees, Clark held on to her hips as he wheeled around to be in front of her.  Kissing just under her belly button, Clark ran his tongue down to meet the red fabric of her thong, just above her wet and ready pussy.


Holding on to the sides of the thong, his teeth grabbed the thong and he, slowly, pulled the thong off, tasting a glimpse of her pussy as the red fabric dropped to the floor.


She stood, all of her perfect frame, over him.  He looked up to see the steam filling the top half of the room.  Clark still had his t-shirt and pants on but Sweet C only wore her smile and her undeniable beauty.


With his hands cupping her ass, Clark guided his tongue to taste her pussy lips.  So hot, so open after hours of teasing, so tasty as her love juice was already overflowing.


He had captivated her, many times, with his tongue alphabet.  He would employ that tactic again.  Why not...she always came before he ever got to the letter 'V'.  His right hand left Kat's ass as he inserted an index finger inside of her.


"Oooohhhh," she grunted as the finger explored her tight circle .


"B".... "C".... "D".... the letters came, one after the other.  Kat's hands dug further and further into his skull, her sharp nails stimulating Clark even more.  He was rock hard now, knowing that, each time she grabbed his scalp, she was riding the waves of his stimulation.


"I'm going to come... I swear... I'm going to come," Kat said as Clark was stuck on 'H'.  He might not even have to get to "Q", the best letter of the tongue alphabet...  "Don't stop.  Just like that."


A second finger joined the first as the walls of her pussy grabbed the fingers, tightening them and then releasing... more tightening...and another release.  Kat stopped breathing for a few seconds before gasping for a deep breath.


She wouldn't last much longer now.  Kat lifted up her right foot to place it on the sauna bench, giving Clark a little more room for his tongue and fingers to help her moist region reach the climax she longed for.


"YES!" Sweet Kat screamed, pushing his collar bone as the come had finally arrived.  "OOOOOOHHHHHHHH..."


Her pussy exploding with the release, Clark tasted every drop that came out, savoring the taste, the scent and just how hot Kat was whenever she came. 


She finally started catching her breath again.  Clark pulled back and stood up, looking at her and kissing her tongue, with his... Kat had never felt as close to a man as she had at that exact moment.


"I want your cock in my mouth," Sweet Kat said.



A song..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j8P1JzIFf9g



*****


Clark peeled off his soaked shirt and took in one final look at Kat's naked, quivering and glistening body.  Sooo beautiful... he felt so lucky to be with her.  Especially like this.


Kat reached into his leather pants and pulled them down fast, like a kid at Christmas opening a present.  Now with his bulging cock at its full 7.75", she took his shaft into her mouth.  Tugging at the balls with one hand, she squeezed his base and her delectable and tasty tongue swirled over his shaft.


"You have no idea how this feels..." Clark moaned.


Maybe she did have some idea.  Clark always hoped that her orgasms were as satisfying as his.  Sexy Kat was a superb lover, giving but never afraid the receive the best.


After all of the anticipation, Clark knew he wouldn't last long either.  Not with a woman this beautiful bobbing and sucking him.  If he didn't do something about it, he would come in about 30 seconds.


"I'm ready," he said.  "Are you?"


Clark could stand there and let her lick him for hours, if only he could hold out.  But he just knew that wasn't going to happen...


"Put it in," she cooed.


She sat on the wooden bench, placing a towel for her comfort as he reached down to kiss her on the lips away.  Feeling her pussy with his fingers, he found it still moist and ready for his full-sized cock.


While kissing her and holding one of her hands, Clark eased his dick into her quivering pussy, guiding it all the way in to even feel her back walls.  Mmmmmmm... what a feeling.  Now this was where he could stay for an hour.


He swirled his cock inside of her, hitting all of the passion points in her pussy.  Kat's front teeth bit her bottom lip with each thrust as he felt her "lower lips" wrap around his cock so tight.  Dang, she was tight...always.  And it felt so good.


The buildup was already growing in his cock as his love juice had flowed out of his balls into the base of his cock.  Think about something else, Clark tried to tell himself.  Something else.


"This better than watching the Giants, Kat?"


"Yeah..." she moaned.


"Better than the 49ers?"


"Oh Yeah..."


"Especially when Steve Young was under center?"


"Oh...yeah..." she begged.


That brought him some more time.


"May I go behind you?" Clark asked.


"DO IT NOW!" Sweet K said back.


Clark got up, still with a full-sized erection and with a hand to guide Kat up to her feet.  She stood in front of him before bending over to reach the bench.  Clark reached in and spread her ass cheeks, with care, so allow his cock to offer them both maximum pleasure.


"OOOHHH," they both groaned as his dick filled her pussy from behind.


Clark looked down at this most spectacular site.  She had a perfect ass and she was allowing him to rub up against it, with each thrust.  He kept one hand on her left hip for guidance and let the other fingers play with her clit, on a reach around...even playing around with her delicate ass. 


By now, Clark was driving with his shaft like a tender jackhammer, with a consistent pace.


In...


Out...


In...


Out...


It was as if they were not only exchanging love but also the sweat of the steamy sauna brought them together as one.  The buildup was growing once again, from his base to the shaft.


"Ride me, Hot Kat...ride me..."


"I thought...you'd...never ask," Kat shouted before grabbing her hair.


Clark laid down on the floor, unable to even see the ceiling tiles because of the steam.  Kat smiled at him and eased her hot pussy on top of his erect cock.  They kept eye contact as she started riding him.


Her hands on his chest and one of his fingers rubbed her clit in the same rhythm of their thrusting.  Now Sweet K controlled the tempo, riding up and down...up and down.


"Oh, I'm going to come again," Kat said.


Yes, it was time for her "one moment in time".  A second climax...which was good as Clark had been on the brink of coming for so, so long.


He felt her walls quiver on his cock as he reached her second zenith of the evening.  His own orgasm had now built up, all the way, in his tip.  He was going to come all over.  No going back now.  Not at all.


Kat took a deep, post-climax breath and smiled, looking deep into his eyes.


"Just a few more seconds," Clark said.


"I want to watch you come."


Sexy Kat slid off his cock and reached down to stroke it with her hand.  She sucked on the tip and could feel all of the come about to finally get released.


Pulling her mouth out, she could tell that Clark was about to explode all over the room.


His orgasm was powerful, the first burst shooting about two feet into the air and the next six bursts spilling all over her hand and his chest.


She giggled as it was now Clark's turn to try and catch his breath.  Kat licked some of the come off his the well-worn head of his shrinking cock. 


"That tickles!" Clark said with a playful hint of "do whatever you want, hot Kat.  You're so beautiful.".


Kat edged up and collapsed on his chest, kissing his lips.


"We can just stay here tonight.  Forget the room."

America's Favorite Pastime - Part 2

If you yet read Part 1 of America's Favorite Pastime, by SomewhereMan, do yourself a favor and read it.  Then enjoy Part 2....

******

"These cookies are really good," Kat said, now in the ninth inning, nearly two hours after their encounter in the suite for the garbage company.

They were still able to walk out, undetected, once they got their clothes back on and their blood was redistributed properly throughout their passion-laden and sweaty bodies.

"Are we just going to go home now?" Kat asked, with a voice full of disappointment.

Clark looked around the press box, as most of the writers had already made the long elevator ride to the locker room for the post-game interviews.  That was out for a possibility but Clark still had ideas.  He always had ideas.

Of course, it would help if he asked someone where the damn elevators were.

Another easy save for the Giants, a 5-2 win over Pittsburgh as the final 13 or 14 media members filed out of the press box, leaving Clark and Kat behind, with only the team PR people, stats workers and dining room attendants left.  Another mellow Tuesday night in a press box.

"Let's go," Clark announced.  "But we're not going home."

"Okay.  Surprise me."

They gathered the still useless camera and laptop bags and followed two fat guys who just screamed "newspaper men".  The men looked like they knew were they were going and, sure enough, they went right to the elevator. 

Within sixty seconds, the elevator opened, leaving Kat and Clark in the bowels of AT&T Park.

"Want to see the clubhouse?" Clark asked.

"You have anything better in mind?" Kat asked, resisting the urge to grab his ass while smiling at him.

"Actually...I do."  The Giants' locker room was to their right.  Instead, Clark went to the left.  "This is Pittsburgh.  It'll be deserted over there.  Trust me on this."

Clark explored this concrete tunnel and, at the end of it, spotted a couple of the Pirates stepping on the hard floor, the sound of their cleats booming through the tunnel.

He stopped, just shy of the Pirates' locker room.  "See?  It's deserted.  No media.  Little security.  Follow me.  Look like a professional."

"Oh, whatever," Kat said, giggling and rolling her stunning blue eyes.

A long tunnel awaited, about twenty yards from the Pirates locker room to the playing field itself. 

Clark took the lead, hopping up the steps at the end of the tunnel, into the Pittsburgh dugout.  Baseball dugouts are fairly nasty, with shells and tobacco spit all over.  Even if Kat loved getting fucked from behind, they needed a cleaner place than this.

"What's in here?" Clark asked, stepping back down the stairs to a supply room.  He opened the door and turned on a light.  Towels.  Bats.  Bags. 

Perfect.

"Pirates aren't leaving until tomorrow.  We should be okay... just don't take too long, Beautiful Kat."

Kat nodded, loving the fact that clean white shower towels filled the room amid the extra bats.  Without being prompted, she undid her jeans and even pulled her black top off. 

"May as well go all the way," Kat said, laughing.  "Come on, Clark, don't be shy.  If I'm buck, you should be, too.  We don't have much time!"

Kat took a finger to play with herself as Clark got out of his clothes as fast as he good, hopping on one foot to get his size 15 feet out of the bottom of the jeans.

She made a makeshift "landing spot" for her hands with the towels.

"Inside of me, now... I want you now!"

Clark stroked himself a little more to full size and he was ready for her.  They didn't have much time as this was now, officially, high-risk.  Seeing her beautiful ass as Kat spread her sweet cheeks apart for him made him stay so hard.

He eased into her wet pussy, sliding in slowly, at first, until the tip of his cock reached the back walls of her ready and moist cavity.

In...and out...

Kat bucked with each thrust, swiveling her hips.  "That's SO GOOD!" she moaned between her short breaths now that Clark was filling her with his passion.

Holding on tight to her hips, Clark looks down as his cock would slide in and now he swirled his around her pussy while slipping a finger down to reach her hot clit. 

"Keep doing that," Kat sighed.  "Don't stop."

Two hours since their last encounter in the suite, Clark's cock has fully reloaded.  His eventual and building explosion wouldn't be a tidal wave but it would be even more satisfying because of the mind-blowing woman who wanted nothing more than to fuck him at a Giants game.

A Giants game. 

Seriously.

They heard footsteps...cleats just a few feet away.  Clark pulled out, taking three steps to shut the door to the tunnel that led to the Pittsburgh dugout. 

"Where was I?" Clark mumbled as he put his cock back inside of her.  "Oh, that's right... right here."

By now, Kat has rested her head on the towels, shooting her ass a little higher into the air.  Clark knew she loved doing this -- loved any hot sex from behind as she felt him slapping against her while inside of her, his balls touching her delicate and, now, well-worn clit with each stroke.

Clark looked down at Kat's hands, now clutching the white towels.  Neither of them had much longer before their second hard climaxes of the game.

He closed his eyes, thinking of how lucky he was to have met this Czarina of Hot Blogging, the Beauty of Northern California.  What a lucky man he was.

"OOOH! I'm there!" Kat screamed, as if the climax had kind of snuck up on her and, especially, on him.  Clark felt his cock have a little less room to move as Kat's body exploded with love and passion overflowing throughout her sexy, 5'4" frame.

Now Kat only wore a smile, her sweat and her endless tingles.

Holding her warm body even closer, Clark's balls fired the first burst of cum through his dick, shooting out of the tip and deep within Kat's ready pussy.  He held off the next thrust until a second burst was ready for release.  He stuck his exploding cock deep, deep within her walls, swirling it around inside of her and chills filled his body.

Clark wanted to stay like this for a week, inside of her.

They held each other like this for another 30 seconds.

"You know," Clark said, pulling out and leaning in for a kiss.  "I'm sorry we didn't get to kiss enough."

She kissed him back.  "Oh, that's okay.  Time was of the essence tonight.  That's okay.  Just kiss me for three hours tonight when we get home.  Maybe you'll be ready for a third time."

Kat started to put her black shirt back on.  "Time to go home?"

"Actually not quite yet.  I want to walk onto the field with you?"

"Really?" Kat said.  "That would be great.  Why is that, luv?"

Clark laughed and looked into her eyes.  "I want to take your hand and touch home plate with you.  After what we did here tonight, that only makes sense."