T and I only managed to find about 45 minutes to meet yesterday. You'd think it would be easier to make time to meet, but sometimes it just doesn't work out that way.
I was hoping to connect with him around noon after a meeting and spend the afternoon together. Unfortunately, the time he had available after he finished up a job in the morning evaporated when he learned he had another job to get to in the afternoon.
Sure I was disappointed, but I wanted to see him anyway, so we decided to meet for a few minutes. I drove into a parking lot shared by a Carl's Jr and a grocery store in the town next to mine. It didn't take long to find his car where he was sitting and reading the paper, shaded by a big tree.
I pulled up next to him and parked. We both got out of our vehicles and walked to greet each other.
He smiled and said, "A van, huh?"
I was a little confused. All I was thinking about was kissing him, but he was one step ahead of me. I had driven the family van that day, instead of my teeny tiny Civic because I had to pick up a colleague at the airport earlier in the day.
"Yes," I answered. "I have the van today." Then I took his face in my hands and kissed him. Yes, right there out in the open in front of all the shoppers and lunch-goers. T slid his arms around me and kissed me again, deeper and more passionately.
After about 30 second of kissing, we decided to get in the van. We sat in the front seat first and got back to kissing. In between kisses, we chatted a bit and I caught myself staring at him and smiling. He had a couple of days worth of stubble (which I love!) and his hair was a bit mussed. He was a man who had been working, and from my perspective, there aren't many things hotter than that. Sure, I like a man in uniform or a tux, but I'll take one who looked exactly like T did yesterday afternoon over the others any day.
And it doesn't hurt that my heart melts when he smiles a me, something that still catches me off-guard after all this time.
After a couple of minutes, T suggested that we move to the back seat. We each got out and opened the sliding door on our respective sides. Then we put down the middle row of seats and climbed into the back. I noticed a man in a white truck parked in the row behind us. He was watching. I blushed a little because I knew what we were doing would be pretty obvious to anyone who was watching. I pointed him out to T who dismissed it by noting that the windows were tinted so he shouldn't be able to see.
The side windows are definitely tinted and didn't worry me at all, but the back window - not so much. Actually, I couldn't remember how much the back window was tinted and I couldn't tell from the inside. We sat down on the back seat and I looked back. There was White Truck, staring at me.
I started to get even more nervous, but then T wrapped his arms around me and started to kiss me and I didn't give a damn about White Truck anymore.
We made out like kids for a while, in the middle of the day in the back of Hubby's van. Did I mention that? The van is the vehicle that Hubby drives every day, but yesterday it was our hotel room.
I was lost in his kisses when I felt him reaching into my pants and sliding his hand down between my legs. He rubbed my clit slowly while I rocked my hips and moaned into his mouth. I came quickly the first time. He slid a couple of fingers inside me and I bucked against his hand as I let the orgasm play out.
As is T's style, he didn't stop once I had come, but he kept going, changing things up a little but grabbing some of the remaining energy from my first orgasm to start the journey to orgasm #2. I don't even try to resist anymore. I know he's going to make me keep coming until he's ready to stop. My job is to go with it, so I did. The second one was much more intense. As I started to let go, I put my head back and T kissed and sucked on my neck. I screamed and opened my eyes briefly, just enough to see White Truck staring right at us. It seemed like he could see, but maybe not. I didn't really care.
After orgasm #2 I was whimpering and wiggling a little, trying to escape some of the intensity I was feeling as T's fingers continued to work their magic. In no time at all, though, as usual, I was coming again, this time looking directly into his eyes. He smiled, and my heart melted right along with the rest of me.
I know he can keep that going for a long, long time because I've experienced that with him before, but were short on time so he stopped after he'd given me three. I snuggled against him purring, and he kissed me deeply. It felt like nap time to me.
But there was more to do. I asked him if I could have a taste. He agreed, but he looked around nervously as he unfastened his pants, talking about the tinted windows again. I glanced back and saw White Truck, as focused as ever.
T scooted over to the end of the seat and I knelt/squatted/sat between the second and third row of seats so I could easily access his gift for me. There was no time to play and tease, so I got down to business. I took him into my mouth slowly, sucking off some precum and increasing the speed and tightness over the next minute or so. I felt his hand on my shoulder and he pulled on my hair a little bit, but not much. He came soon, but it didn't seem very intense. I figured he was just uncomfortable being in public like that.
We talked and kissed a little while more. Then I asked, "Can I have some more?" I looked down at his cock and then back at his face.
What's a guy supposed to say in that situation? T said, "Sure," giving me access again, Then he added, "I know you know how to raise the dead." And I did.
I knew he was more into it the second time because he grabbed my hair tightly and pumped my head up and down exactly as he wanted. I could hear him breathing harder and moaning, and then he pushed and held me down on him and groaned wildly when he came.
As his cum was spurting into my mouth, I thought, That's my T. :-) If I could have smiled at that moment, I would have, but I couldn't do anything except swallow and wait. It was delightful.
I sat next to him again and we kissed for a few minutes more before realizing that he really had to go. We stayed longer than we had planned as it was.
As we climbed out of the van I saw White Truck still in the same place and he was still watching. Great, I thought sarcastically. An audience that won't leave.
We put the van back in the condition it was in before we played. We double and triple checked to be sure that T had everything he came with, like his keys and his sunglasses. Nothing could be left behind because Hubby would be driving that vehicle within an hour and he notices things.
Before he got back into his car, T gave me a hug and another nice, deep kiss. He got into the car and I saw White Truck get out of his car. I scurried to get into the van, and then I noticed that he was just getting something from the back of the truck before getting back in the driver's seat and driving away. Apparently, there was nothing left for him to see.
As I headed home, I drove with the windows down for a few minutes to make sure the van smelled as fresh as it did when I left the house in the morning.
Showing posts with label T. Show all posts
Showing posts with label T. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Monday, September 8, 2014
An Afternoon Escape with T (Part 2 of 2)
This is Part 2. If you'd like to read Part 1 of An Afternoon Escape with T, click here.
Looking at T's face is one of my favorite things to do. I've already told you that he's ruggedly handsome, and that's true.
Forget about the shirtless Abercrombie & Fitch models who have never seen a day of hard work in their lives. They have those little ripply muscles that were made in a gym, not the real world, and those will go away when they are older, their modeling days are over and they are not paid to hang out in a gym for 4 hours a day. Their eyes are blue, but they look hollow, and you wonder if the blue is real or from colored contacts. They are a type of handsome, sure, but it's a faux-handsome. Its more like "pretty."
Now picture another guy. Let's say you meet while camping by the river. Dark hair, dark eyes. You watch him move firewood and set up camp. He takes off his shirt and he has a real man's body - strong, a little hairy (but not too much), proportioned. His skin is glistening with perspiration and he rubs a towel over his hair and face. He turns to look at you and you lose your breath for a second when he smiles. He's not a model, but a regular guy, and that makes him hotter, much more appealing to you. He reaches for a beer and you notice the muscles in his chest and arms again. They are flexing in a natural way, moving as he moves, not just sticking out like permanent artificial attachments or growths. He sits down in a camp chair to relax and stretches his legs out. You notice a few scars here and there on his tan skin as you try not to fixate on his sexy mouth, the late-afternoon stubble on his chin and cheek, or the faraway look in his eyes when he thinks you're not looking anymore. The closer and longer you look, the more you think Wow. This guy is really good looking, but it's the kind of attractiveness that you don't notice until you really stop and look. You look around at the other men nearby to check your theory and you realize you're right. This one is different. He's the kind of handsome that comes from living and working and sacrificing and taking care of other people. Nothing about that is fake. The Abercrombie boys are nothing next to this guy, even though he could easily blend in with a crowd without turning every woman's head as they pass by. Those who take a good look, though, will turn and watch him, and they'll notice all the pieces come together until a minute later they realize that they are staring at a very attractive, real man.
That's T.
I was having that realization again - that he's so attractive - when he entered me deeply and pulled all of my attention to that one and only thought. I gasped and my mouth dropped open. Not only did it feel marvelous, but it was the first time. Yes, the first time his cock had been inside me. We had thoroughly enjoyed our oral and manual fun for a long time, but this.....
I pulled my knees up toward my chest and tried to keep my eyes on his while he fucked me, but every now and then I had to close my eyes to focus on the perfect sensation of his cock inside me. He continued for quite a while, which was awesome, but then we stopped for a moment and I suggested we try it from behind.
"Can you do that?" he asked, referring to the same issue he mentioned earlier when I was kneeling on the floor. My answer was simple. "Yes." Not only did I know I could, but I knew it wouldn't hurt and I knew I was going to be feeling so good when I came from doing it that way that I wanted to hurry.
We got in position and I felt him behind me. I spread my knees a little wider to adjust my height and he slid inside me easily, deeper this time, and I leaned back against him. What followed wasn't gently and sweet. It was fast, hard fucking. It took me no time at all to come again, and I screamed, pushing back against him, trying to hold onto the pleasure that was reverberating through me while he was pounding me HARD from behind. He came soon after that, and then he collapsed next to me, covered with sweat and breathing hard.
We just lay there quietly for a bit, holding hands, catching our breath. Then we started talking about this and that. I rolled onto my side and leaned over to kiss him. This may sound silly but I never get tired of kissing that man. I could kiss him for hours. Ok, that's probably not a great idea, but I could.
I'm not sure how much time had passed while we were kissing and talking, talking and kissing, but after one of our prolonged kissing bouts he said, "I want you taste us." I knew exactly what he meant. I scooched down toward the foot of his bed and licked his cock. One little lick. Then another. Another. Then I moaned and took the whole thing in my mouth. Yes, I could taste both of us. I licked and suckled and swallowed until I felt his cock go from firm to immalleable and unyeilding. Even though he had just come 20 minutes before, I felt his hands on the back of my head, his fingers tightening around my hair, and his hips thrusting upward. I matched him, stroke for stroke, until he exploded into my mouth.
I love the groan a man makes when he comes. I really do. When I hear it, I feel victorious, like there was just a little bit of a power swap and I won. He may have thought he was in control, but that guttural groan means he wasn't in control for that moment. In that moment, he was mine. All mine.
I lingered a bit, keeping his cock in my mouth until I was certain he was finished. Then I swallowed one last time and gently licked his cock and balls until they were all cleaned up.
I scooched back up and into his arms. The rest of our time together was spent kissing and talking, and talking and kissing some more, until it was time to go.
We got cleaned up and dressed, and I would be the first to go. He was going to hang out there for a while. I picked up my purse and keys and I turned toward the door. That's when I saw my cane hanging from the chair where I had left it when I came in. I grabbed it and whispered under my breath, "Fucking stairs." T was right there next to me, and he slid his arms around me again and kissed me just like he did when I walked in the door a few hours before. We said our goodbyes and I heard the door close behind me as I walked down the hall.
With every step, I could feel the peace of our afternoon escape slipping away. By the time I was at my car, my mental To Do list had forced itself to the front and center of my mind and I knew that by the time I walked through my front door at home, the last remnants of the escape would be completely gone and I'd be inundated again with chores and demands. The family would want dinner. I'd have clients that would want their phone calls returned. The list would just keep going from there and my life wouldn't be my own again.
Then I shifted in my seat a little and remembered. T's gorgeous cock had been inside me and it was unbelievably wonderful. Then I saw his face in my mind and remembered our kisses, and it occurred to me that all of that was mine. The rest of my life couldn't take away my time with him or the way he made me feel. It was all mine.
******************************
Looking at T's face is one of my favorite things to do. I've already told you that he's ruggedly handsome, and that's true.
Forget about the shirtless Abercrombie & Fitch models who have never seen a day of hard work in their lives. They have those little ripply muscles that were made in a gym, not the real world, and those will go away when they are older, their modeling days are over and they are not paid to hang out in a gym for 4 hours a day. Their eyes are blue, but they look hollow, and you wonder if the blue is real or from colored contacts. They are a type of handsome, sure, but it's a faux-handsome. Its more like "pretty."
Now picture another guy. Let's say you meet while camping by the river. Dark hair, dark eyes. You watch him move firewood and set up camp. He takes off his shirt and he has a real man's body - strong, a little hairy (but not too much), proportioned. His skin is glistening with perspiration and he rubs a towel over his hair and face. He turns to look at you and you lose your breath for a second when he smiles. He's not a model, but a regular guy, and that makes him hotter, much more appealing to you. He reaches for a beer and you notice the muscles in his chest and arms again. They are flexing in a natural way, moving as he moves, not just sticking out like permanent artificial attachments or growths. He sits down in a camp chair to relax and stretches his legs out. You notice a few scars here and there on his tan skin as you try not to fixate on his sexy mouth, the late-afternoon stubble on his chin and cheek, or the faraway look in his eyes when he thinks you're not looking anymore. The closer and longer you look, the more you think Wow. This guy is really good looking, but it's the kind of attractiveness that you don't notice until you really stop and look. You look around at the other men nearby to check your theory and you realize you're right. This one is different. He's the kind of handsome that comes from living and working and sacrificing and taking care of other people. Nothing about that is fake. The Abercrombie boys are nothing next to this guy, even though he could easily blend in with a crowd without turning every woman's head as they pass by. Those who take a good look, though, will turn and watch him, and they'll notice all the pieces come together until a minute later they realize that they are staring at a very attractive, real man.
That's T.
I was having that realization again - that he's so attractive - when he entered me deeply and pulled all of my attention to that one and only thought. I gasped and my mouth dropped open. Not only did it feel marvelous, but it was the first time. Yes, the first time his cock had been inside me. We had thoroughly enjoyed our oral and manual fun for a long time, but this.....
I pulled my knees up toward my chest and tried to keep my eyes on his while he fucked me, but every now and then I had to close my eyes to focus on the perfect sensation of his cock inside me. He continued for quite a while, which was awesome, but then we stopped for a moment and I suggested we try it from behind.
"Can you do that?" he asked, referring to the same issue he mentioned earlier when I was kneeling on the floor. My answer was simple. "Yes." Not only did I know I could, but I knew it wouldn't hurt and I knew I was going to be feeling so good when I came from doing it that way that I wanted to hurry.
We got in position and I felt him behind me. I spread my knees a little wider to adjust my height and he slid inside me easily, deeper this time, and I leaned back against him. What followed wasn't gently and sweet. It was fast, hard fucking. It took me no time at all to come again, and I screamed, pushing back against him, trying to hold onto the pleasure that was reverberating through me while he was pounding me HARD from behind. He came soon after that, and then he collapsed next to me, covered with sweat and breathing hard.
We just lay there quietly for a bit, holding hands, catching our breath. Then we started talking about this and that. I rolled onto my side and leaned over to kiss him. This may sound silly but I never get tired of kissing that man. I could kiss him for hours. Ok, that's probably not a great idea, but I could.
I'm not sure how much time had passed while we were kissing and talking, talking and kissing, but after one of our prolonged kissing bouts he said, "I want you taste us." I knew exactly what he meant. I scooched down toward the foot of his bed and licked his cock. One little lick. Then another. Another. Then I moaned and took the whole thing in my mouth. Yes, I could taste both of us. I licked and suckled and swallowed until I felt his cock go from firm to immalleable and unyeilding. Even though he had just come 20 minutes before, I felt his hands on the back of my head, his fingers tightening around my hair, and his hips thrusting upward. I matched him, stroke for stroke, until he exploded into my mouth.
I love the groan a man makes when he comes. I really do. When I hear it, I feel victorious, like there was just a little bit of a power swap and I won. He may have thought he was in control, but that guttural groan means he wasn't in control for that moment. In that moment, he was mine. All mine.
I lingered a bit, keeping his cock in my mouth until I was certain he was finished. Then I swallowed one last time and gently licked his cock and balls until they were all cleaned up.
I scooched back up and into his arms. The rest of our time together was spent kissing and talking, and talking and kissing some more, until it was time to go.
We got cleaned up and dressed, and I would be the first to go. He was going to hang out there for a while. I picked up my purse and keys and I turned toward the door. That's when I saw my cane hanging from the chair where I had left it when I came in. I grabbed it and whispered under my breath, "Fucking stairs." T was right there next to me, and he slid his arms around me again and kissed me just like he did when I walked in the door a few hours before. We said our goodbyes and I heard the door close behind me as I walked down the hall.
With every step, I could feel the peace of our afternoon escape slipping away. By the time I was at my car, my mental To Do list had forced itself to the front and center of my mind and I knew that by the time I walked through my front door at home, the last remnants of the escape would be completely gone and I'd be inundated again with chores and demands. The family would want dinner. I'd have clients that would want their phone calls returned. The list would just keep going from there and my life wouldn't be my own again.
Then I shifted in my seat a little and remembered. T's gorgeous cock had been inside me and it was unbelievably wonderful. Then I saw his face in my mind and remembered our kisses, and it occurred to me that all of that was mine. The rest of my life couldn't take away my time with him or the way he made me feel. It was all mine.
Sunday, September 7, 2014
An Afternoon Escape with T (Part 1 of 2)
We arrived at the hotel at the same time. I drove to the back of the parking lot to wait in the shade for him to text me with a room number. He turned the other way, driving toward the office.
I rolled down the windows and closed my eyes. The warm breeze passed through my car, seemingly carrying away my stress and concerns of the day, too. That's how it always is when I'm alone with him - nothing but him and me and that moment. All the stuff I have to deal with during the rest of my life is completely absent. Next to being with him, I think that's what I really love about these times. I get to be truly in the moment for a couple of hours. Oh, I try to be mentally present all the time, but I never seem to master it on my own. My brain keeps piping in with a million things that need to be done. Real peace is rare for me.
But I was starting to feel it as I relaxed into the breeze that afternoon. The silence was broken by the buzz of my phone announcing his text. Room 214. They only had upstairs. Sorry.
Ugh. It's not that I mind stairs, but I'm unable to negotiate stairs without my cane and in the months I'd been seeing T, I had managed to keep him from seeing me with my cane, for the most part. I used simple tricks - park close to the room and be careful, get to his place first and be sitting on a bench waiting for him to arrive. But there was no way I could avoid it now.
Half of you are probably thinking, Why is it a big deal? (The other half of you are thinking, Kat? A cane? What? How did I miss that? You didn't miss anything. I just don't share it much. Canes aren't that sexy, are they? However, I'm starting to think it may be my job to make them sexy! LOL) Anyway, it's not a big deal. It's just my ego and my struggles with my own self-image. There was a time in my life when I would have driven away rather than be faced with this situation. But I'm a grown up now. And this was T in that room.
I made it up the stairs and to the room. He had left the door open so I walked in. He heard me and turned and looked at me at smiled. Damn, that man is ruggedly handsome. Then his eyes dashed quickly to the cane and back to my face again.
Have you ever had a moment in which it seemed like many things happened all within the duration of a split second? That's what I experienced right then. I felt fear and embarrassment and I quickly said, "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to see the cane, but the stairs....." Why was I apologizing? I had nothing to apologize for. Before I finished the sentence, he was standing in front of me, reaching out to pull me closer to him. "It's ok," he said. "No big deal." And he kissed me deeply. I hooked the cane on the back of chair and held onto him instead.
And there it was again. The feeling that came along with that warm breeze, shooing the rest of the world and all my stress away until only the two of us were in that room and nothing outside those walls mattered. We stood there kissing a while and then we stopped for a bit because both of us had just been on the road. We needed a bathroom break and a chance to clean up a bit.
The beginning of a lovemaking (or hot sex, or both, whatever the case may be) session is always interesting, and it changes base on how long you've known each other, how comfortable you are, and how horny you are, of course. Sometimes you just rip each others' clothes off. Sometimes you undress slowly, interrupted by kissing and soft touching. Sometimes, you chit chat and undress while you talk, waiting until you're both naked to get started. T and I were somewhere between the last two options. I often find myself torn between wanting to talk to him, kiss him, stare into his eyes, and suck on his cock. Of course, I can't do all of those at once, which is a darn shame. The good news, though, is that I knew I'll get to do all of them soon.
He lay down on the bed and I grabbed a pillow and threw it on the floor. "Turn this way," I said, smiling. He smiled a knowing smile and sat on the edge on of the bed. I nudged his legs apart and knelt between them. "Whoa," he said. "Can you do that?" He was referring to my kneeling on the fake hardwood floor. I just smiled and said, "That's what the pillow's for," and leaned forward to take his cock into my mouth.
Before I go on, let me say this: It was a lie. It hurt like hell and I knew it would. There's my ego again, my image of myself, my refusal to accept reality. At that moment, something hit me. Not everything from the outside stays on the other side of that door. Some things have to come with us, no matter how much we'd like to lock them out.
It hurt, but I knew he didn't know it. I'm chuckling right now because I know he'll be reading this and thinking, What the hell, Kat? Why didn't you say something? There's only one honest answer. Because I'm an idiot - too proud, too scared, too stubborn. I think he's been those things at various times in his life, too. Haven't we all?
Pain aside, I loved getting his cock into my mouth. I suckled him for a while, alternating between deep and shallow strokes, playing more than seriously working toward orgasm. I knew he wouldn't let me make him come right then. We had just started. He'd want to wait a while so he could enjoy it all more. I considered taking that decision out of his hands, and a couple of times I took him into my throat. I could tell he was getting close, but ultimately he tapped out (tapping my shoulder) and suggested I get up on the bed with him.
I agreed, and I started to comply, but then I stopped. In my exuberance and foolish excitement about getting on my knees, I had completely forgotten about the second half of that project. Getting up. At first, I was struck with panic. What if I have to ask him to help me? Seriously, at that moment, that seemed like a fate almost worse than death. Knowing someone has a disability is one thing. Seeing evidence of it (cane, wheelchair, etc.) is something else. But having to be involved in physically helping with what to others are simple movements? That's way on the un-sexy side of the scale in my mind. Sort of. Only when it's me. Could my perception of his sexiness be negatively impacted if I needed to help him? My perception of a man's sexuality is much broader than any set of physical characteristics. The question I continue to ask myself is this - Why is it so hard for me to believe that he wouldn't be put off my this stuff? T is a good man. I know he, like all of us, has struggles of his own. I know he doesn't judge me.
I proceeded slowly and eventually I made it up and onto the bed. I nestled in next to him and his hands started exploring me as we kissed. My neck, my cheek, the back of my head, my shoulder, my arm, my breast, my hip...... I parted my legs, knowing where he was going next. Hoping.
I heard myself moan softly when he touched me. He parted my lips with his fingers and found my clit instantly. My gasp and little squeal, and the way I pressed against his hand when he touched it might have been a clue for him that he was in the right place. A clue was completely unnecessary, though, because he never had trouble funding the right spot. Never. I relaxed and let him work his magic, surrendering to him and the moment. He brought me right along the trail he was blazing, at exactly the speed he wanted, using more than just his fingers. His mouth and tongue kept me entranced while arm was around me and his hand pulled the hair on the back of my head, keeping my lips in position to receive his kisses. He wrapped his legs around my leg closest to him and pulled it toward him, pinning me down. Sometimes he'd stop kissing me for a moment so he could watch my face as got closer and closer to coming.
I knew the moment was coming when it would feel less like he was doing something to me and more like he was reaching inside me to pull my orgasm from me, whether I was ready to give it up or not, because it was his and he'd come for what was his.
That moment flew by me quickly and I came hard, almost without the normal build up. One sharp bolt that made me scream into his mouth, followed by ripples of pleasure that forced out a series of little whimpers.
True to form, he didn't let me enjoy the final passing of the electricity. Instead, he kept going, stroking my clit through that almost painful period when everything is so intense...and on to another crescendo of delight. I reached down and found his cock, which was rock hard and stretched to its fullest, and I started stroking him. This time, there was a build up. Slow and steady. I squeezed his cock harder as I got closer to coming and gripped it tightly when I released. He kissed me gently, letting me come down this time, pulling his finger off my clit, sliding a couple of fingers inside me.
At one point, we stopped kissing and I gazed into his eyes. I was still shaking, he was holding me tightly, and I couldn't speak. I was feeling things I wanted to say, but I couldn't say them.
After a few moments, he rolled over on top of me, nudged my knees apart, and pressed his cock against my pussy. He slid it up and down against me for several strokes. I moaned, "That feels pretty good just like that." Just as I said that, he entered me deeply and I gasped.
To be continued......
I rolled down the windows and closed my eyes. The warm breeze passed through my car, seemingly carrying away my stress and concerns of the day, too. That's how it always is when I'm alone with him - nothing but him and me and that moment. All the stuff I have to deal with during the rest of my life is completely absent. Next to being with him, I think that's what I really love about these times. I get to be truly in the moment for a couple of hours. Oh, I try to be mentally present all the time, but I never seem to master it on my own. My brain keeps piping in with a million things that need to be done. Real peace is rare for me.
But I was starting to feel it as I relaxed into the breeze that afternoon. The silence was broken by the buzz of my phone announcing his text. Room 214. They only had upstairs. Sorry.
Ugh. It's not that I mind stairs, but I'm unable to negotiate stairs without my cane and in the months I'd been seeing T, I had managed to keep him from seeing me with my cane, for the most part. I used simple tricks - park close to the room and be careful, get to his place first and be sitting on a bench waiting for him to arrive. But there was no way I could avoid it now.
Half of you are probably thinking, Why is it a big deal? (The other half of you are thinking, Kat? A cane? What? How did I miss that? You didn't miss anything. I just don't share it much. Canes aren't that sexy, are they? However, I'm starting to think it may be my job to make them sexy! LOL) Anyway, it's not a big deal. It's just my ego and my struggles with my own self-image. There was a time in my life when I would have driven away rather than be faced with this situation. But I'm a grown up now. And this was T in that room.
I made it up the stairs and to the room. He had left the door open so I walked in. He heard me and turned and looked at me at smiled. Damn, that man is ruggedly handsome. Then his eyes dashed quickly to the cane and back to my face again.
Have you ever had a moment in which it seemed like many things happened all within the duration of a split second? That's what I experienced right then. I felt fear and embarrassment and I quickly said, "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to see the cane, but the stairs....." Why was I apologizing? I had nothing to apologize for. Before I finished the sentence, he was standing in front of me, reaching out to pull me closer to him. "It's ok," he said. "No big deal." And he kissed me deeply. I hooked the cane on the back of chair and held onto him instead.
And there it was again. The feeling that came along with that warm breeze, shooing the rest of the world and all my stress away until only the two of us were in that room and nothing outside those walls mattered. We stood there kissing a while and then we stopped for a bit because both of us had just been on the road. We needed a bathroom break and a chance to clean up a bit.
The beginning of a lovemaking (or hot sex, or both, whatever the case may be) session is always interesting, and it changes base on how long you've known each other, how comfortable you are, and how horny you are, of course. Sometimes you just rip each others' clothes off. Sometimes you undress slowly, interrupted by kissing and soft touching. Sometimes, you chit chat and undress while you talk, waiting until you're both naked to get started. T and I were somewhere between the last two options. I often find myself torn between wanting to talk to him, kiss him, stare into his eyes, and suck on his cock. Of course, I can't do all of those at once, which is a darn shame. The good news, though, is that I knew I'll get to do all of them soon.
He lay down on the bed and I grabbed a pillow and threw it on the floor. "Turn this way," I said, smiling. He smiled a knowing smile and sat on the edge on of the bed. I nudged his legs apart and knelt between them. "Whoa," he said. "Can you do that?" He was referring to my kneeling on the fake hardwood floor. I just smiled and said, "That's what the pillow's for," and leaned forward to take his cock into my mouth.
Before I go on, let me say this: It was a lie. It hurt like hell and I knew it would. There's my ego again, my image of myself, my refusal to accept reality. At that moment, something hit me. Not everything from the outside stays on the other side of that door. Some things have to come with us, no matter how much we'd like to lock them out.
It hurt, but I knew he didn't know it. I'm chuckling right now because I know he'll be reading this and thinking, What the hell, Kat? Why didn't you say something? There's only one honest answer. Because I'm an idiot - too proud, too scared, too stubborn. I think he's been those things at various times in his life, too. Haven't we all?
Pain aside, I loved getting his cock into my mouth. I suckled him for a while, alternating between deep and shallow strokes, playing more than seriously working toward orgasm. I knew he wouldn't let me make him come right then. We had just started. He'd want to wait a while so he could enjoy it all more. I considered taking that decision out of his hands, and a couple of times I took him into my throat. I could tell he was getting close, but ultimately he tapped out (tapping my shoulder) and suggested I get up on the bed with him.
I agreed, and I started to comply, but then I stopped. In my exuberance and foolish excitement about getting on my knees, I had completely forgotten about the second half of that project. Getting up. At first, I was struck with panic. What if I have to ask him to help me? Seriously, at that moment, that seemed like a fate almost worse than death. Knowing someone has a disability is one thing. Seeing evidence of it (cane, wheelchair, etc.) is something else. But having to be involved in physically helping with what to others are simple movements? That's way on the un-sexy side of the scale in my mind. Sort of. Only when it's me. Could my perception of his sexiness be negatively impacted if I needed to help him? My perception of a man's sexuality is much broader than any set of physical characteristics. The question I continue to ask myself is this - Why is it so hard for me to believe that he wouldn't be put off my this stuff? T is a good man. I know he, like all of us, has struggles of his own. I know he doesn't judge me.
I proceeded slowly and eventually I made it up and onto the bed. I nestled in next to him and his hands started exploring me as we kissed. My neck, my cheek, the back of my head, my shoulder, my arm, my breast, my hip...... I parted my legs, knowing where he was going next. Hoping.
I heard myself moan softly when he touched me. He parted my lips with his fingers and found my clit instantly. My gasp and little squeal, and the way I pressed against his hand when he touched it might have been a clue for him that he was in the right place. A clue was completely unnecessary, though, because he never had trouble funding the right spot. Never. I relaxed and let him work his magic, surrendering to him and the moment. He brought me right along the trail he was blazing, at exactly the speed he wanted, using more than just his fingers. His mouth and tongue kept me entranced while arm was around me and his hand pulled the hair on the back of my head, keeping my lips in position to receive his kisses. He wrapped his legs around my leg closest to him and pulled it toward him, pinning me down. Sometimes he'd stop kissing me for a moment so he could watch my face as got closer and closer to coming.
I knew the moment was coming when it would feel less like he was doing something to me and more like he was reaching inside me to pull my orgasm from me, whether I was ready to give it up or not, because it was his and he'd come for what was his.
That moment flew by me quickly and I came hard, almost without the normal build up. One sharp bolt that made me scream into his mouth, followed by ripples of pleasure that forced out a series of little whimpers.
True to form, he didn't let me enjoy the final passing of the electricity. Instead, he kept going, stroking my clit through that almost painful period when everything is so intense...and on to another crescendo of delight. I reached down and found his cock, which was rock hard and stretched to its fullest, and I started stroking him. This time, there was a build up. Slow and steady. I squeezed his cock harder as I got closer to coming and gripped it tightly when I released. He kissed me gently, letting me come down this time, pulling his finger off my clit, sliding a couple of fingers inside me.
At one point, we stopped kissing and I gazed into his eyes. I was still shaking, he was holding me tightly, and I couldn't speak. I was feeling things I wanted to say, but I couldn't say them.
After a few moments, he rolled over on top of me, nudged my knees apart, and pressed his cock against my pussy. He slid it up and down against me for several strokes. I moaned, "That feels pretty good just like that." Just as I said that, he entered me deeply and I gasped.
To be continued......
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 3 of 3)
If you haven't yet read the first two parts of this encounter, here they are:
The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 1 of 3)
The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 2 of 3)
The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 1 of 3)
The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 2 of 3)
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One of the frustrating things about only having a couple of hours together is that you want to do much more than you can do in that amount of time. Ultimately, you just have to let go of plans and expectations and go with the flow. That's what I decided to do at this point.
I had checked the time and it was time to go. In fact, it was about 5 minutes before my "must go now" time. But we were both having such a nice time and I was in the mood and he was hard again, so......
I scooted down and started licking his cock. I was thinking. He came just a little while ago. Could he come again so soon? How long would that take? I started to wonder if he'd want to go for it again, but then I realized I was taking a rock hard cock into my mouth. That's usually a sign that he wants to go for it. I think that's the universal male sign for, "Go for it!" So I did.
I got comfortable, prepared to spend some time. Rushing wouldn't work. The only way this would happen is if I focused on the journey, rather than the destination. I took him into my mouth and suckled him slowly, playfully. Then after a moment or two, I sucked the head into my throat and swallowed, massaging him with my soft palate and flicking my tongue on the base. Every time he moaned, I stopped what I was doing and changed it up, trying different things, exploring, playing.
About ten minutes into it, I felt a twinge in my pussy, then another. I sucked him harder, almost as an automatic response to what I was feeling. Now I wasn't playing anymore. Whenever my pussy twitched I'd press into whatever I was doing with renewed focus and passion. If I had taken him in deep, I'd dive down further. If I was on an upstroke, I'd just suckle the head for a bit.
I knew he was done with my eclectic approach when I felt him grab my head and hold it down while he thrusted upward from below. I pressed my legs together and started grinding, wanting to cum, but trying to stay focused on him. I wasn't very successful until I heard him groan loudly and push my head down, holding me firmly while he came.
I held my breath, then came up swallowing. After, I kissed his cock gently, as I always do. I was about to crawl back up to kiss him when I thought. Wait. What's good for the goose is good for gander. He never stops when I come. He always keeps going. I wonder what would happen if...... Besides, horny is an understatement for what I was feeling at the moment.
I didn't care what time it was.
I looked up at him and took his cock into my mouth again. He smiled and chuckled a little. He didn't get completely soft after he came, and it didn't take long at all before he was as hard as he was before. Every now and then he'd say something, but to be honest, I don't know what he said. His voice had a magical effect on me, though. My pussy wasn't just twitching anymore; it was on fire.
I was conflicted again. I really needed a good hard fucking, but I was committed to seeing if I could get a 3rd orgasm out of him, and I was finding it pretty pleasurable. I could wait. For a little while, anyway.
I refocused on his cock and started with the exactly what I had been doing when he came a moment ago. He moaned loudly. I relaxed and kept going, sliding my hands up his hips and around his lower back, then down to his backside, pulling him up a little on each downstroke so I could get him even deeper.
My mind wandered at times. Why does this guy turn me on like he does? Why does my body respond to him so easily? Why do I like being with him so much? Why does his voice make me feel both calm and excited at the same time?
Every now and then he'd do something that would pull my attention back to him completely - a moan, a word or two, his grip on my hair pulling my head up forcing me to pull against him to get back to his cock. And whenever my attention came back, not only did I go after his cock more hungrily, but I realized how close I was to coming.
It seemed like a long time later, but eventually he groaned loudly again and held my head down. I felt his cock pulsate in my mouth, but very little ejaculate came out. When he released me a moment later, he said, "Damn, you drained me." That made me smile, So, that's really possible, I thought.
My pussy was quivering wildly. Not. Quite. There. Ugh!
I lapped up a few drops of cum and crawled back up to kiss him. I wanted to suggest that we do something more to take the edge off my slutty and needy pussy, but I realized that it had to be late. I checked the time and I was right. I had to go. I was already late. Fuck.
As I was driving home, I still wanted him. Later that night, I still wanted him. Finally, I found some release in the shower, but it didn't relieve my desire for him at all. And we had no date for another meeting.
I hoped it would be soon.
Thursday, August 14, 2014
The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 2 of 3)
This is the continuation of The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 1 of 3). You can start here or go back to read part 1 first, as you choose.
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As T was moving between my legs, I tilted my head back and tried to relax. I spread my legs, but was reminded immediately by a shot of pain from my groin injury that I needed to be careful and move slowly. I opened my knees as he slipped his arm under and around my right thigh. I grabbed his hand and held on tightly when I felt the first flick of his tongue on my clit.
I reached between my legs with my other hand and separated my pussy lips for him, giving him more room, and then I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the sensations.
Every now and then I'd catch myself thinking, "Wait. How is he doing that? Is that his tongue? His lips?" and I'd have to pull myself back to the moment or he would do it for me by changing things up a little bit.
In less than two minutes, my body had taken over and I couldn't think about anything. I felt him slide a finger (or two) inside me and I started to shake. I moaned "No!" in protest, but not a no as in "Stop!" but a no as in, "I don't want to come so fast! I want to feel it build for longer." He ignored me and I came hard.
Yes, I know that's hard for you guys. No should mean "No, stop!" right? And it does, usually. Fortunately, T knows me well enough to know that it didn't mean I wanted him to stop. I remember once several months ago when he made come so many times that I was truly in need of a break. My protests did no good so I ended up sitting up and grabbing his hair and pulling him off me. Haha! He can read my body's more subtle signals now, which is very helpful.
With most of the men I've known, an orgasm kind of stops everything for awhile, and then it's time to fuck or play with him or just chat for a bit, but not with T. With him, coming means we're just getting started, and he increases the intensity to the next level.
I squealed a bit as he started sucking on my clit again because it was so, so sensitive. I took a deep breath to try to get over that sensation of a hundred electric needle pricks on my clit, and as I did, I lifted my shoulders a bit so I could look down at him. He was busy at work so I couldn't see much of his face, but I could see his strong shoulders, and his left arm that flexed as he held me tightly in place while my body tried to wiggle away. I could see his mussed black hair that I love to play with, and I could see his lower back and hips that were also moving slightly as he pressed forward, finger fucking me with his right hand. That image of him was so incredibly hot that, coupled with the actions of his hand and mouth, I was about to come again.
I screamed and started shuddering, and he held onto me tighter and did whatever he was doing faster and harder. Unlike the orgasms before this one, this one came on slowly and kept building and building as it spread throughout my body. It didn't start subsiding after 30 seconds and I didn't want to lose it. I wanted to ride it as long as I could. Of course, I didn't need to say anything because he had no intention of stopping.
I lost my sense of time, so I'm not sure how long it was, but it felt like that one kept reverberating through me for five or more minutes and, just as I started to come down, the next one hit. It came hard and suddenly, like an unexpected car collision, and I felt the air being sucked from my lungs as I sat halfway up and screamed. I squeezed his hand harder to steady myself. That one ended as quickly as it came. Within 10 seconds, I had collapsed back on the pillow again. I gasped for some air, trying to recover, but there was no recovery period. T was still going, trying something new and pulling me right back to where he wanted me again. And again.
I'd love to be able to give you detail about exactly what he does to make me so crazy, but I have no idea, really. I know it feels damn good. That's what I know. Maybe we'll get him to write a guest post to share some of his technique, or maybe he'll want to keep it a secret. We'll see.
After all that, I curled up with him and rested my head on his shoulder....and I wanted to nap. That's the truth, but I wasn't about to waste a moment of our time with sleep. We chatted a bit, about everything and nothing. And we kissed. A lot. It was almost time to go, but I don't think either of us wanted to stop.
Then I felt it. I reached down to be sure. He was hard again. We both smiled, ready for more.
To be continued.....
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 1 of 3)
I was already in my car and on my way to the hotel when I got his text. "Rm 139 next to the restaurant, corner room by the pool." It's so nice to get some information to help me find the room besides just the room number. It saves me from having to drive or walk all around the place. It was a warm afternoon on what had been a busy day. I was grateful for anything that made it a little easier.
My mind was still running a hundred miles an hour in a million directions. Home. Work. Alibi. Did I defrost the chicken for dinner? Why didn't I get gas yesterday? As I got to the room and knocked on the door, it slowed down, but it didn't stop. I wish I had made the time to pick up some massage oil. I didn't bring any lube either. Damn! Wait, I don't think I'll need it. T opened the door and smiled and for just a moment everything stopped. His smile is truly disarming. Whatever I had been thinking about or planning to say just faded away. I stepped in and we kissed. It was nice, but brief because my mind started running again.
I dropped my purse and excused myself to the bathroom. I thought that if I washed up a little I might be able to pull myself into the present moment. I cleaned up and took a few deep cleansing breaths. Better already.
I stepped back into the room and he walked over to me, slid his hands around my waist and kissed me. It was a deep kiss, both gentle and demanding, and that was all it took. Everything outside the room was gone. There was only him, that moment, that room, that kiss.
I slid my hands over his forearms and then slowly up his biceps to his shoulders. My god he has strong arms and shoulders! That's one of the things I first noticed about him on the day we met. It's one of the features of his body that I really love, not my favorite thing, but close. We stood there kissing for awhile, giving me time to caress his arms some more. Eventually, he slid a hand between my legs and rubbed me through my pants.
That's when the mixed emotions settled in. Once he started touching me down there, I couldn't give his kisses and arms my full attention anymore, but I wanted more of that nice feeling. I slipped out of my pants and panties and he obliged. I started pulling off his t-shirt (a San Francisco Giants t-shirt, by the way, because he's not stupid and I know how to pick my men) and he helped me. I commented on his fabulous choice in shirts, and he smiled as he threw it to the floor.
That's one of the things I love about hot sex with lover, and this one, in particular. The clothes get peeled off and tossed aside wherever they may fall. That's part of the turn on. Any guy who starts folding his clothes and placing them neatly on the table or the dresser before coming back to me would lose me because my ADHD would pull my brain away from him to thoughts of laundry and that load that was in the dryer when I left the house. Not only that, I'd think he was weird. Seriously, if you'd rather fold clothes than touch my woohoo, yeah, you're weird. Anyway.....
Then I was thoroughly enjoying what he was doing with my clit and losing myself in his kisses (truly amazing kisser, this one) and expanding my exploration of his body from his arms and shoulders to his chest. Within about 30 seconds I was on sensory overload.
"Let's get in bed," I suggested. He smiled and agreed. The next 15 seconds were a rush of pulling off the remaining clothes and climbing into bed.
He leaned over me and kissed me and reached his hand between my legs again. I had been with him enough that he knew his way around. He knew exactly how to touch me to make me moan, exactly how to kiss me to make me want him even more. It wasn't long before I came the first time. I screamed into his mouth and bucked against his hand, riding it as long as I could.
I never could come down, though, because he didn't stop. When I first experienced this with him it was unsettling. I was typically used to at least a little recovery time, even 30 seconds would do, but he liked charging forward, stroking on every highly sensitized nerve and pushing me through the pain of that to even more pleasure. I was ready for it, and I surrendered to it, still kissing him the whole time. When I came the second time, I felt it throughout my entire body. I don't remember much except focusing on the sensations pulsating through me and how it felt when he slid his fingers inside me.
I wish I were a better writer. I wish I could find the words to describe how that feels physically and how it feels emotionally to experience that with someone you really care about. No matter how hard I've tried, I have failed to capture it accurately. Maybe it's one of those things that isn't meant to be talked about or written about, but just experienced - a sensory and emotional experience meant to be shared by two people. When it's good, when you really have chemistry with that other person, it changes you a little every time. The woman who walks out of that room isn't the same one who walked in. And it's a good difference.
After I came for the third time (or was it the fourth?), we stopped for a bit and I snuggled up next to him, resting my head on his shoulder, tracing my finger across his chest while we talked, kissed, talked, and kissed some more.
I love stroking his chest while we lay together. He's a strong, solid man. Yes, he's very bright, too, which you know is a requirement for me, but he's also very physical, which is an overwhelming turn on. He has short dark hair, much shorter than it was when I met him, but longer than it was a month ago. Now it's just long enough for me to run my fingers through it, which I love to do. He's clean shaven, although by the time I see him in the afternoons he's usually got a little stubble, which I also love. He's taller than me (heck, who isn't?) but not really tall - the perfect height for standing in front of him and kissing without having to stand on my tippy toes and keep my face turned straight up all the time until I get dizzy and lose my balance.
I'll save the rest of the description for another time because as much as I loved what we were doing, I could feel that he was hard and I wanted to taste him. I started re-positioning myself and I asked if it was ok if I enjoyed his cock for a while. He smiled and said, "You know what I want," and I nodded, indicating that yes, indeed, I knew exactly what he wanted right at that moment.
I took his hard cock into my mouth and suckled slowly for a minute or two, enjoying the taste of him and assessing which movements and pressure points got the most response. Every now and then he'd moan and I'd feel my pussy twitch. It was almost like a dance. His responses - a moan, a thrust of his hips, a pull of my hair - elicited more excitement in me which made me suck harder and deeper, and that made him moan more, thrust faster, pull my hair harder.
Hair pulling is incredibly sexy and the one sure way to make me crazy (in a good way). I have no idea how or why my scalp is connected to my pussy, but apparently it is. I'd take a deep breath and dive down, swallowing the head of his cock and he'd grab a big handful of hair and pull me up off him, just so I could struggle against him to get his full cock back in my mouth again. Sometimes the best I could do was just to get to the tip, other times I did better. Sometimes he'd just release me and the momentum of my own pulling downward would force me to fall on him, with his head forcing is way into my throat. Other time's he'd surprise me by pulling my hair up and then, instead of releasing me either slowly or quickly, he'd push my head down onto him and hold me there, so all I could do was hold my breath and just fuck him with my throat, swallowing repeatedly. It was on one of those times that he finally released into my throat, coming so much that I had to keep swallowing so I wouldn't choke.
As if I wasn't turned on enough by the whole experience, when he groaned loudly as he came, it felt like I was pushed over an edge and I felt myself starting to come. My cunt was contracting and I felt those pleasure chemicals starting to release, but it startled me and elicited just enough resistance to stop it. That was confusing. I've experienced coming just from nipple stimulation before, and I've experienced getting so turned on by giving head (with this same man) that all it took was about 5 seconds of touching me to make me come, but I had never come before without any external stimulation below the neck. This was the first surprise of the afternoon.
I was so shocked by it that I didn't tell him. I don't know why I didn't, probably because it was so strange for me that I didn't really know how to express what happened. I was also disappointed in myself for not going with it and seeing how far it would go.
After I had swallowed the last drop he had for me, I scooched back up to where I could curl up in his arms again. Things had been changing for me recently where this man was concerned. We were supposedly fuck buddies, of sorts, I suppose. He made it clear to me six months ago that he didn't want to feel anything for me and he didn't want me to feel anything for him. We even stopped seeing each other for a month or so over that issue.
The rules hadn't changed, but the situation did. Feelings were involved now, for both of us. For me, that makes the sex better, much, much better. Everything was more intense. We were both a bit less inhibited, not that we were very sexually inhibited before but there's a price you pay for emotional inhibition. You can't be locking your emotions down without experiencing a corresponding inability to completely surrender yourself to the physical pleasure. I've come to understand that the physical/sexual and emotional parts of ourselves are intimately connected. Sure, you can have really good sex without letting your emotions out of their tightly locked box, but you can't have great sex that way. You can't break through to real shared intimacy - at any level - without letting yourself feel something.
It's hard to explain this to people, particularly to men, not because they are incapable of emotion, but because they are socialized to think that emotion comes with responsibilities. Many think, deep down, that "if I love you, then I'll have to take care of you and I don't want that responsibility," or "I can't open up to you because that will mean that I really don't love my wife/girlfriend/ex-wife," or "If I let you into that soft emotional place inside me, that would be a betrayal to my wife/girlfriend/ex-wife."
It saddens me to think of the intimacy, joy, and pleasure that we deny ourselves because of what we think it will mean. Why can't we just let it be what it is? If you don't want to make major changes in your every day life, fine. The beauty of experiencing real intimacy with someone is that you don't have to do anything you don't want to do, but you may surprise yourself and find that you like it, and that you want keep peeling those layers of resistance away so you can experience more of it. Or not, and that's good, too. Why can't we make our own rules? Why can't we decide what it means for us?
Anyway, the point I was trying to make was that I was experiencing our sexual encounter differently because of the increased level of intimacy. It was a wonderful and positive difference, and every kiss was a little sweeter. Heck, I started to come from giving a blow job. That's definitely a good difference. Wouldn't you agree?
Back to room 139....We kissed more and talked more, and a few minutes later he said with a wicked smile, "It's my turn," and he started moving down between my legs.
To be continued......
My mind was still running a hundred miles an hour in a million directions. Home. Work. Alibi. Did I defrost the chicken for dinner? Why didn't I get gas yesterday? As I got to the room and knocked on the door, it slowed down, but it didn't stop. I wish I had made the time to pick up some massage oil. I didn't bring any lube either. Damn! Wait, I don't think I'll need it. T opened the door and smiled and for just a moment everything stopped. His smile is truly disarming. Whatever I had been thinking about or planning to say just faded away. I stepped in and we kissed. It was nice, but brief because my mind started running again.
I dropped my purse and excused myself to the bathroom. I thought that if I washed up a little I might be able to pull myself into the present moment. I cleaned up and took a few deep cleansing breaths. Better already.
I stepped back into the room and he walked over to me, slid his hands around my waist and kissed me. It was a deep kiss, both gentle and demanding, and that was all it took. Everything outside the room was gone. There was only him, that moment, that room, that kiss.
I slid my hands over his forearms and then slowly up his biceps to his shoulders. My god he has strong arms and shoulders! That's one of the things I first noticed about him on the day we met. It's one of the features of his body that I really love, not my favorite thing, but close. We stood there kissing for awhile, giving me time to caress his arms some more. Eventually, he slid a hand between my legs and rubbed me through my pants.
That's when the mixed emotions settled in. Once he started touching me down there, I couldn't give his kisses and arms my full attention anymore, but I wanted more of that nice feeling. I slipped out of my pants and panties and he obliged. I started pulling off his t-shirt (a San Francisco Giants t-shirt, by the way, because he's not stupid and I know how to pick my men) and he helped me. I commented on his fabulous choice in shirts, and he smiled as he threw it to the floor.
That's one of the things I love about hot sex with lover, and this one, in particular. The clothes get peeled off and tossed aside wherever they may fall. That's part of the turn on. Any guy who starts folding his clothes and placing them neatly on the table or the dresser before coming back to me would lose me because my ADHD would pull my brain away from him to thoughts of laundry and that load that was in the dryer when I left the house. Not only that, I'd think he was weird. Seriously, if you'd rather fold clothes than touch my woohoo, yeah, you're weird. Anyway.....
Then I was thoroughly enjoying what he was doing with my clit and losing myself in his kisses (truly amazing kisser, this one) and expanding my exploration of his body from his arms and shoulders to his chest. Within about 30 seconds I was on sensory overload.
"Let's get in bed," I suggested. He smiled and agreed. The next 15 seconds were a rush of pulling off the remaining clothes and climbing into bed.
He leaned over me and kissed me and reached his hand between my legs again. I had been with him enough that he knew his way around. He knew exactly how to touch me to make me moan, exactly how to kiss me to make me want him even more. It wasn't long before I came the first time. I screamed into his mouth and bucked against his hand, riding it as long as I could.
I never could come down, though, because he didn't stop. When I first experienced this with him it was unsettling. I was typically used to at least a little recovery time, even 30 seconds would do, but he liked charging forward, stroking on every highly sensitized nerve and pushing me through the pain of that to even more pleasure. I was ready for it, and I surrendered to it, still kissing him the whole time. When I came the second time, I felt it throughout my entire body. I don't remember much except focusing on the sensations pulsating through me and how it felt when he slid his fingers inside me.
I wish I were a better writer. I wish I could find the words to describe how that feels physically and how it feels emotionally to experience that with someone you really care about. No matter how hard I've tried, I have failed to capture it accurately. Maybe it's one of those things that isn't meant to be talked about or written about, but just experienced - a sensory and emotional experience meant to be shared by two people. When it's good, when you really have chemistry with that other person, it changes you a little every time. The woman who walks out of that room isn't the same one who walked in. And it's a good difference.
After I came for the third time (or was it the fourth?), we stopped for a bit and I snuggled up next to him, resting my head on his shoulder, tracing my finger across his chest while we talked, kissed, talked, and kissed some more.
I love stroking his chest while we lay together. He's a strong, solid man. Yes, he's very bright, too, which you know is a requirement for me, but he's also very physical, which is an overwhelming turn on. He has short dark hair, much shorter than it was when I met him, but longer than it was a month ago. Now it's just long enough for me to run my fingers through it, which I love to do. He's clean shaven, although by the time I see him in the afternoons he's usually got a little stubble, which I also love. He's taller than me (heck, who isn't?) but not really tall - the perfect height for standing in front of him and kissing without having to stand on my tippy toes and keep my face turned straight up all the time until I get dizzy and lose my balance.
I'll save the rest of the description for another time because as much as I loved what we were doing, I could feel that he was hard and I wanted to taste him. I started re-positioning myself and I asked if it was ok if I enjoyed his cock for a while. He smiled and said, "You know what I want," and I nodded, indicating that yes, indeed, I knew exactly what he wanted right at that moment.
I took his hard cock into my mouth and suckled slowly for a minute or two, enjoying the taste of him and assessing which movements and pressure points got the most response. Every now and then he'd moan and I'd feel my pussy twitch. It was almost like a dance. His responses - a moan, a thrust of his hips, a pull of my hair - elicited more excitement in me which made me suck harder and deeper, and that made him moan more, thrust faster, pull my hair harder.
Hair pulling is incredibly sexy and the one sure way to make me crazy (in a good way). I have no idea how or why my scalp is connected to my pussy, but apparently it is. I'd take a deep breath and dive down, swallowing the head of his cock and he'd grab a big handful of hair and pull me up off him, just so I could struggle against him to get his full cock back in my mouth again. Sometimes the best I could do was just to get to the tip, other times I did better. Sometimes he'd just release me and the momentum of my own pulling downward would force me to fall on him, with his head forcing is way into my throat. Other time's he'd surprise me by pulling my hair up and then, instead of releasing me either slowly or quickly, he'd push my head down onto him and hold me there, so all I could do was hold my breath and just fuck him with my throat, swallowing repeatedly. It was on one of those times that he finally released into my throat, coming so much that I had to keep swallowing so I wouldn't choke.
As if I wasn't turned on enough by the whole experience, when he groaned loudly as he came, it felt like I was pushed over an edge and I felt myself starting to come. My cunt was contracting and I felt those pleasure chemicals starting to release, but it startled me and elicited just enough resistance to stop it. That was confusing. I've experienced coming just from nipple stimulation before, and I've experienced getting so turned on by giving head (with this same man) that all it took was about 5 seconds of touching me to make me come, but I had never come before without any external stimulation below the neck. This was the first surprise of the afternoon.
I was so shocked by it that I didn't tell him. I don't know why I didn't, probably because it was so strange for me that I didn't really know how to express what happened. I was also disappointed in myself for not going with it and seeing how far it would go.
After I had swallowed the last drop he had for me, I scooched back up to where I could curl up in his arms again. Things had been changing for me recently where this man was concerned. We were supposedly fuck buddies, of sorts, I suppose. He made it clear to me six months ago that he didn't want to feel anything for me and he didn't want me to feel anything for him. We even stopped seeing each other for a month or so over that issue.
The rules hadn't changed, but the situation did. Feelings were involved now, for both of us. For me, that makes the sex better, much, much better. Everything was more intense. We were both a bit less inhibited, not that we were very sexually inhibited before but there's a price you pay for emotional inhibition. You can't be locking your emotions down without experiencing a corresponding inability to completely surrender yourself to the physical pleasure. I've come to understand that the physical/sexual and emotional parts of ourselves are intimately connected. Sure, you can have really good sex without letting your emotions out of their tightly locked box, but you can't have great sex that way. You can't break through to real shared intimacy - at any level - without letting yourself feel something.
It's hard to explain this to people, particularly to men, not because they are incapable of emotion, but because they are socialized to think that emotion comes with responsibilities. Many think, deep down, that "if I love you, then I'll have to take care of you and I don't want that responsibility," or "I can't open up to you because that will mean that I really don't love my wife/girlfriend/ex-wife," or "If I let you into that soft emotional place inside me, that would be a betrayal to my wife/girlfriend/ex-wife."
It saddens me to think of the intimacy, joy, and pleasure that we deny ourselves because of what we think it will mean. Why can't we just let it be what it is? If you don't want to make major changes in your every day life, fine. The beauty of experiencing real intimacy with someone is that you don't have to do anything you don't want to do, but you may surprise yourself and find that you like it, and that you want keep peeling those layers of resistance away so you can experience more of it. Or not, and that's good, too. Why can't we make our own rules? Why can't we decide what it means for us?
Anyway, the point I was trying to make was that I was experiencing our sexual encounter differently because of the increased level of intimacy. It was a wonderful and positive difference, and every kiss was a little sweeter. Heck, I started to come from giving a blow job. That's definitely a good difference. Wouldn't you agree?
Back to room 139....We kissed more and talked more, and a few minutes later he said with a wicked smile, "It's my turn," and he started moving down between my legs.
To be continued......
Thursday, August 7, 2014
Checking In....
Hi, Prowlers. I thought I'd check in and report on my state of mind, sex life, etc. Let's start with the most important thing - sex.Sex with Hubby has been non-existent lately. We're going through a little rough patch, which explains some of it. Then there's the fact that I'm up late working into the wee hours of the morning, hours after he has gone to bed. As many of you know, it's hard to have spontaneous sex if you're rarely in the same bed together. I know this phase will pass. It always does, but I wish I could solve the challenge of keeping the passion alive after 25+ years. If I could, I'd use the information myself first, and then I'd write a book and sell it to all of you. And because I'm so sweet, I'd just give it to those of you who have become my close friends.
Please don't send me your tips for keeping the passion alive. We all know it can be done for various periods of time, but eventually the boredom and routine set in and you have to revitalize it all over again. I think it's really good that we, as a society, don't tell newlyweds what they're in for or a lot fewer people would want to get married.
As far as gay marriage goes, all I'll say is that I want to ask my gay friends, "Seriously? You really want this?" I know I'm just being jaded because I've been cut off from Hubby (who has a very nice big cock, by the way, which I miss). I think gay couples have just as much a right to long term marital misery as the rest of us.
Luckily, the cold bed at home is not my only opportunity for sex. I saw Tall Guy earlier this week. He's sweet. He's wonderful. But we had to be pretty careful because I'm still recovering from my groin injury (see The Great Dane and the Pomeranian). The interesting thing about sex when you're recovering from an injury is that you tend to be much more careful than you really need to be because of the fear of re-injury. That's true, except for the end. There comes that point where I've kind of slipped into the pleasure zone and I'm not paying attention and then OH SHIT! THAT HURTS! Yeah. That's a real mood killer, isn't it? On top of that, I got two foot cramps (I know, I know. Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate.) so I spent a good part of my time with Tall Guy being a crybaby. Sexy, huh? Still, just being with him is pretty wonderful.
And then there's T. It looks like I may have a chance to see him later in the week. As I've shared with you before, he really is like crack for me. I can't stay away. We've got that chemistry thing going on and my body just responds (wet pussy, hard nipples) whenever I see a text from him or hear his voice. I've been around enough to know that that kind of uncontrolled, visceral response to another person is not very common. In fact, it's rare. In short, if I do see him, I'll expect a re-injury, which will keep Hubby and my doctor wondering why I never recover from an injury that most people recover from in a couple of weeks.
Speaking of that, I've told various stories about what happened. I told my doctor that it happened during sex. She assumed Hubby and I just smiled sheepishly. That was easy. I told Hubby I had absolutely no idea how it happened. He asked what seemed like a million questions trying to "help" me pinpoint the cause, but I just played dumb. I felt like one of those country girls who fucks every guy within 10 miles, but then doesn't know how she got pregnant. I told my physical therapist - a hot, gorgeous young guy - that I did it while playing on the floor with my son. I have no idea why I came up with that explanation, but I did. At one point, cute PT Guy asked, "Are you sure you'd be comfortable with me? Or would you rather work with a female therapist?" You all know what I said, right? I said I was perfectly comfortable him, and then I took off my pants and showed him where it hurt by taking his hand and placing it exactly on the right spot. The poor guy had a hand in my crotch and he looked like a deer in the headlights. It's really unfortunate that the young ones don't know how to handle situations like that. I'll say this - most of the full grown men I've known would have had no problem with it. Anyway, I don't think PT Guy is going to take me into a private exam room again. Cougar - 1. Kitten - Afraid.
On the non-sex front, I want to send a special thank you to SNS Guy and my friend K for the excellent advice they gave me this week on a big decision I had to make. Something I didn't expect when I began this PWK journey is that I would make some very close friends who would come to mean the world to me and who would play important roles in my daily life. I am a fortunate woman, indeed.
Sunday, July 27, 2014
The Preacher Had a Boner
"Hey, Mom! Did you notice on the movie, The Little Mermaid, that the preacher officiating at the wedding of Ariel and the Prince had a boner?"
I just looked at Little TommyKat with a look that was a cross between surprise and disgust.
"No, I didn't notice, and now I won't be able to help but notice. You just ruined that movie for me. And I don't want to hear about animated boners. Tell your father."
Something happens when you spend enough time around boys. Eventually, they forget that you're not one of them and they start to talk to you like you are. Sometimes, it's amusing. Other times, it makes you fear for the future of the country.
Anyway, so Little TommyKat mentions the Preacher's boner in Little Mermaid, so my brain automatically starts to picture it and tries to remember. That's when I realized that the image that came to mind wasn't the Preacher's boner. It was T's, from the last time I was with him. Specifically, the image was of it just before I took it into my mouth after he had arranged us into a 69 position. He was on top and tilted his hips in such a way that once it was in my mouth, I couldn't take it out. It was one of those blow jobs with almost no lip or hand involvement; it was all tongue, soft palate, and throat. My favorite kind.
But just before I took it into my mouth, I remember how perfect it looked. Nice and hard, throbbing a bit. I wanted it. Badly.
I've told you before that I'm not a big fan of 69 because I can't stay focused on my end of the deal when something so nice is going on at the other end. It's an ADHD thing. This was different, though. Because I couldn't take it out of my mouth, it was easier, and I learned that the closer I came to coming, the harder and deeper I suckled his cock. He made me come a couple of times that way. Just thinking about it today made me damp and I started wondering where T was right at that moment.
I looked up from my book and Little TommyKat was just staring at me, smiling. Apparently, only a second or two had passed. Then he said, "I know, I know. You only care about Dad's boner, right?"
I closed my book and said, "Of course. Now no more boner talk. It's time for lunch."
I just looked at Little TommyKat with a look that was a cross between surprise and disgust.
"No, I didn't notice, and now I won't be able to help but notice. You just ruined that movie for me. And I don't want to hear about animated boners. Tell your father."
Something happens when you spend enough time around boys. Eventually, they forget that you're not one of them and they start to talk to you like you are. Sometimes, it's amusing. Other times, it makes you fear for the future of the country.
Anyway, so Little TommyKat mentions the Preacher's boner in Little Mermaid, so my brain automatically starts to picture it and tries to remember. That's when I realized that the image that came to mind wasn't the Preacher's boner. It was T's, from the last time I was with him. Specifically, the image was of it just before I took it into my mouth after he had arranged us into a 69 position. He was on top and tilted his hips in such a way that once it was in my mouth, I couldn't take it out. It was one of those blow jobs with almost no lip or hand involvement; it was all tongue, soft palate, and throat. My favorite kind.
But just before I took it into my mouth, I remember how perfect it looked. Nice and hard, throbbing a bit. I wanted it. Badly.
I've told you before that I'm not a big fan of 69 because I can't stay focused on my end of the deal when something so nice is going on at the other end. It's an ADHD thing. This was different, though. Because I couldn't take it out of my mouth, it was easier, and I learned that the closer I came to coming, the harder and deeper I suckled his cock. He made me come a couple of times that way. Just thinking about it today made me damp and I started wondering where T was right at that moment.
I looked up from my book and Little TommyKat was just staring at me, smiling. Apparently, only a second or two had passed. Then he said, "I know, I know. You only care about Dad's boner, right?"
I closed my book and said, "Of course. Now no more boner talk. It's time for lunch."
Saturday, June 21, 2014
Crack
He really is like crack for me.
Thursday night I had a Facebook chat with T. I haven't seen him for awhile and we rarely chat for a variety of reasons. I hesitate to write about him here because it was posting about him here that made him break up with me - the first time - because he didn't want a relationship.
We've been together several times since then, in spite of having no relationship, because the sex is very, very nice. Chemistry, like I said when I wrote about our first meeting. Chemistry and his amazingly advanced oral skills.
About the whole "relationship" thing.....It is my opinion that any time you have more than one encounter of any kind with a person, you have some type of relationship. There are as many kinds of relationships as there are people. I think that T and I definitely have a relationship. It's not a traditional one by any stretch. It's not leading to marriage or even love, but it's quite nice. I quit trying to debate the semantics with him months ago. So, we don't have a relationship.
Anyway, we started chatting and he started talking a bit dirty and - BAM! - my pussy was wet and I was craving him. Just like that. Why did that happen? Because, as I said, he's like crack for me. I can be involved in my normal life, thinking about him here and there fondly, and all is well. But then when he talks to me or sends me naughty messages, my body starts craving him again and won't stop until we've been together or a week or so of "detox" has passed.
It turns out that we may have an opportunity to get together next week. (Cue the damp panties and hard nipples.) Try as I will to go about my daily life, I'll end up thinking about him often - and masturbating a lot - over the next several days. I'll probably fuck Hubby a few times, too.
But nothing will satisfy the craving. Nothing but him, and a couple of hours in bed within the context of our very hot non-relationship.
Thursday night I had a Facebook chat with T. I haven't seen him for awhile and we rarely chat for a variety of reasons. I hesitate to write about him here because it was posting about him here that made him break up with me - the first time - because he didn't want a relationship.
We've been together several times since then, in spite of having no relationship, because the sex is very, very nice. Chemistry, like I said when I wrote about our first meeting. Chemistry and his amazingly advanced oral skills.
About the whole "relationship" thing.....It is my opinion that any time you have more than one encounter of any kind with a person, you have some type of relationship. There are as many kinds of relationships as there are people. I think that T and I definitely have a relationship. It's not a traditional one by any stretch. It's not leading to marriage or even love, but it's quite nice. I quit trying to debate the semantics with him months ago. So, we don't have a relationship.
Anyway, we started chatting and he started talking a bit dirty and - BAM! - my pussy was wet and I was craving him. Just like that. Why did that happen? Because, as I said, he's like crack for me. I can be involved in my normal life, thinking about him here and there fondly, and all is well. But then when he talks to me or sends me naughty messages, my body starts craving him again and won't stop until we've been together or a week or so of "detox" has passed.
It turns out that we may have an opportunity to get together next week. (Cue the damp panties and hard nipples.) Try as I will to go about my daily life, I'll end up thinking about him often - and masturbating a lot - over the next several days. I'll probably fuck Hubby a few times, too.
But nothing will satisfy the craving. Nothing but him, and a couple of hours in bed within the context of our very hot non-relationship.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
My Little Slice of Heaven .....and Other Randomness
My "little slice of heaven." That's what I call my woohoo, and none of you guessed it! You came up with some fun guesses, though. My favorite was "Batter's Box," submitted by my buddy, Max. I wish I could reward Max with some time of his own in my Batter's Box, but he lives a few thousand miles away. Such a shame. ;-)
I've been spending more time with Spartacus lately than I usually do. For those of you don't know, Spartacus is my favorite vibrator. He's quite loyal and always there for me, and he never disappoints. It's never the same way twice with him, which is a concept that seems to elude Hubby.
So here I've been over the last month, hornier than I have been for a long time, and....well, nothing. Almost nothing. Hubby is....well.....he's who he is. JJ is busy. T is also unavailable, although we did have some very nice phone sex recently. That was lovely. C is monitored more closely by his wife than are most inmates in a maximum security prison. D is on vacation. And SNS Guy remains two thousand miles away. What's a hungry Kat to do? I've attacked poor Hubby a couple of times out of pure frustration, but the lack of passion there really doesn't do much to quench my thirst, if you know what I mean.
So I just give Spartacus a new set of batteries and make do. Hubby gave me some rechargeable batteries and a new charging station recently. That helps. Always thinking about saving money, dear Hubby.
I put lube on the family shopping list last week and Hubby asked what is was for. I answered, "If you don't know, then it has been waaaaaaaay too long......"
He continued to stare at me, so I said, "Spartacus is thirsty."
His eyes widened a bit with recognition and he replied with, "Oh. Ok. Is there any particular variety that Spartacus wants?"
"Spartacus likes what you like," I answered with a devilish smile.
"Oh." And that was the end of the conversation. {{{sigh}}}
On another topic......I'm in the process of writing a smutty romance novel. I've shared several chapters with a few friends, including SNS Guy and Married Guy, but I'm stuck now, not because of writer's block, but because I'm so busy with work and family that finding time is very difficult. I know you understand because the same issue has kept me from writing here as often as I would like.
As I make progress on the novel, however slow that progress may be, I've learned that I'm much better at writing smut than I am at writing romance. I can write a hot sex scene, but guiding characters through sharing their deepest feelings is much more difficult. probably because sex is much easier for me than sharing feelings.
When I told my therapist about the book, she said, "Feelings? Romantic feelings? You're really going to write about that?" And then she smiled that hideously condescending smile that she takes on sometimes. She invited me to share some feelings I've had recently.
(crickets)
If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me how I feel about something, I'd be rich. The last time I was with T (who she knows as Xavier, just because we all live in the same town and I wanted to be sure that his identity was safe), she asked what feelings I had for him. There was a long silence. Not an uncomfortable one, just a long one.
"I like him very much. I'm not in love with him. I enjoy his company. I get annoyed when he pulls away from me like I'm a threat to his freedom, but I can live with that."
It's at that point that she usually points out to me which of the things I've just said were really thoughts or attitudes, but not feelings. Now she just has to repeat the word, "Feelings."
"Ok, ok, I said. Affection. Occasional rejection and annoyance. Comfortable. Caring? That's all I got. Except for the fact that he turns me on sexually like you wouldn't believe. I hear his voice and I'm wet and ready. Where's that on the feelings chart?"
It reminded me of the first time Hubby and I went to marriage counseling. He said something and the counselor looked at me and said, "So, Kat, how does that make you feel?" And Hubby started laughing. The counselor was shocked and started to tell Hubby how inappropriate it was to laugh at me, but Hubby explained, "She can't tell you how she feels. At least not on the spot. She'll have to answer you next week." He was right. I'm much better at identifying feelings now than I used to be, but it can still be a challenge for me.
Anyway, my instinct is to have my two main characters fucking all the time - at least as often as I want to, which is a lot. Fucking on the bus, on the bed, on the kitchen table, in the elevator, in the car, in the shower. But in a smutty romance novel, there must be some romance, so I need to build them up to fucking with some romance and feelings. Ugh.
In the prowling world, the romance and feelings often, although not always, follow the initial sexual encounters. That, I understand.That, I can describe quite well.
Maybe that's the novel I should be writing.
I've been spending more time with Spartacus lately than I usually do. For those of you don't know, Spartacus is my favorite vibrator. He's quite loyal and always there for me, and he never disappoints. It's never the same way twice with him, which is a concept that seems to elude Hubby.
So here I've been over the last month, hornier than I have been for a long time, and....well, nothing. Almost nothing. Hubby is....well.....he's who he is. JJ is busy. T is also unavailable, although we did have some very nice phone sex recently. That was lovely. C is monitored more closely by his wife than are most inmates in a maximum security prison. D is on vacation. And SNS Guy remains two thousand miles away. What's a hungry Kat to do? I've attacked poor Hubby a couple of times out of pure frustration, but the lack of passion there really doesn't do much to quench my thirst, if you know what I mean.
So I just give Spartacus a new set of batteries and make do. Hubby gave me some rechargeable batteries and a new charging station recently. That helps. Always thinking about saving money, dear Hubby.
I put lube on the family shopping list last week and Hubby asked what is was for. I answered, "If you don't know, then it has been waaaaaaaay too long......"
He continued to stare at me, so I said, "Spartacus is thirsty."
His eyes widened a bit with recognition and he replied with, "Oh. Ok. Is there any particular variety that Spartacus wants?"
"Spartacus likes what you like," I answered with a devilish smile.
"Oh." And that was the end of the conversation. {{{sigh}}}
On another topic......I'm in the process of writing a smutty romance novel. I've shared several chapters with a few friends, including SNS Guy and Married Guy, but I'm stuck now, not because of writer's block, but because I'm so busy with work and family that finding time is very difficult. I know you understand because the same issue has kept me from writing here as often as I would like.
As I make progress on the novel, however slow that progress may be, I've learned that I'm much better at writing smut than I am at writing romance. I can write a hot sex scene, but guiding characters through sharing their deepest feelings is much more difficult. probably because sex is much easier for me than sharing feelings.
When I told my therapist about the book, she said, "Feelings? Romantic feelings? You're really going to write about that?" And then she smiled that hideously condescending smile that she takes on sometimes. She invited me to share some feelings I've had recently.
(crickets)
If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me how I feel about something, I'd be rich. The last time I was with T (who she knows as Xavier, just because we all live in the same town and I wanted to be sure that his identity was safe), she asked what feelings I had for him. There was a long silence. Not an uncomfortable one, just a long one.
"I like him very much. I'm not in love with him. I enjoy his company. I get annoyed when he pulls away from me like I'm a threat to his freedom, but I can live with that."
It's at that point that she usually points out to me which of the things I've just said were really thoughts or attitudes, but not feelings. Now she just has to repeat the word, "Feelings."
"Ok, ok, I said. Affection. Occasional rejection and annoyance. Comfortable. Caring? That's all I got. Except for the fact that he turns me on sexually like you wouldn't believe. I hear his voice and I'm wet and ready. Where's that on the feelings chart?"
It reminded me of the first time Hubby and I went to marriage counseling. He said something and the counselor looked at me and said, "So, Kat, how does that make you feel?" And Hubby started laughing. The counselor was shocked and started to tell Hubby how inappropriate it was to laugh at me, but Hubby explained, "She can't tell you how she feels. At least not on the spot. She'll have to answer you next week." He was right. I'm much better at identifying feelings now than I used to be, but it can still be a challenge for me.
Anyway, my instinct is to have my two main characters fucking all the time - at least as often as I want to, which is a lot. Fucking on the bus, on the bed, on the kitchen table, in the elevator, in the car, in the shower. But in a smutty romance novel, there must be some romance, so I need to build them up to fucking with some romance and feelings. Ugh.
In the prowling world, the romance and feelings often, although not always, follow the initial sexual encounters. That, I understand.That, I can describe quite well.
Maybe that's the novel I should be writing.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
A Few Tips for Mistress Day Gifts
Mistress gift giving may not be easy, but don't ignore the holiday. That would send a message you probably don't want to send - that she's not important to you, that you don't care enough to recognize the holiday.
First, let's start with the card. Of course you'll want to get her a card. If you give her a physical card, she's going to have to throw it away, as much as she doesn't want to. One strategy is to get a card, write your personal note in it, scan it, and then after you have given her the card, you can email her the scanned version. You can also send an e-card, but not as much effort goes into those, so they are not quite as special.
You can also give her a love letter, or love email, in lieu of a card. The whole point of a love letter is to share your feelings. If you're not prepared to do that, then this is not the option for you.
Speaking of feelings....if you love her, for godsake, just tell her! Get over the mental masturbation you practice whenever the L word comes up about what kind of commitment it means, whether you can love your wife and another woman, and how long it may last. Forget all that. I'm talking about pure emotion, completely divorced from your logical mind. If you love her right now, tell her so. We all know that tomorrow is never guaranteed, but to avoid love today because you're afraid it won't be here tomorrow is just....well, silly. You're alive now. She's in your life now.
And if you've been avoiding the L word for some reason, there's not a better gift in the world you could give her.
What about other gifts? You need to select something that she can easily slip into her regular life unnoticed. What fits into this category is different for every woman. Some of us can slip an pair of earrings into the jewelry box unnoticed and others of us can't. As many of you know, I'm a big fan of small, inexpensive, but meaningful gifts. I like little things that I can use or carry every day that will remind me of the giver. I know I may be in the minority and that many women like expensive gifts, but that has never been me. My favorite gift has always been, and remains, books. I go through so many books that Hubby never notices new ones and when he does, he assumes I bought them for myself, which is usually true.
Don't forget about gift certificates for massages and other spa services. Make her feel good when you're not with her making her feel good.
Or you can go for sex toys and/or tasty lubricants. Those come with a storage issue (where do you hide it safely?), but they also make your playtime more fun and they can become one of those gifts that keeps on giving.
Whatever you do, make sure you think about your sweetie when you do it and select something that is particularly special for her.
What about turning the tables? What should women know about Mistress Day gifts for their lovers. I know I'm exposing the double standard, but women are not expected to recognize the holiday with their lovers unless they choose to. If you want to, go ahead, but keep the same guidelines in mind.
Friday, January 24, 2014
Do That to Me One More Time
Today marks two weeks since I met T in person on our date. We've seen each other five times since then for playtime. That's three times in the first week and two in the second.
I think it's safe to say that it's going well. Very well.
Here's why:
1) Really nice man whose company I genuinely enjoy.
2) Intelligent, funny, creative guy.
3) Fan-fucking-tastic sex.
4) Let me repeat that sentiment. The sex is oh my god great!
5) Local, with a place to play and a flexible schedule
I just can't get enough of him. It has been a l-o-n-g time since I felt that. That desire for him, the craving his touch - those have taken me a bit by surprise. I was hoping for a decent guy and a moderate level of sexual compatibility. I guess I was keeping my expectations in check because I know what's out there. I know the odds of finding a JJ are very slim. Hoping for that is just a recipe for disappointment. Right? So I was prepared to settle for ok, good enough. I just wasn't prepared for T.
I wasn't prepared for the way he kisses me. I wasn't prepared for his passion. I wasn't prepared for how quickly he learned just what I like and need. I wasn't prepared for the experience of his advanced oral skills.
I didn't expect to like him so much.
But I do and I'm very comfortable with that. I think he is, too.
I asked him why he was shopping for a married woman on AM. He's single, after all. His answer was that he figured a married woman would have a life and responsibilities of her own and wouldn't want so much of his time. That makes sense. I want more of his time (because he has made me an oral sex addict), but I know that I have a full life and so does he. Coming together for a little shelter from life's storms once or twice a week is perfect.
In the fine tradition of Ryan Beaumont, I thought I'd share a cheesy song that expresses my feelings about T at this point. Yesterday I heard the news that Captain and Tennille are divorcing after 39 years of marriage. I hate to admit this, but I didn't even know they were still alive. Apparently, they are, and they are going their separate ways. As an aside, I'd really like someone to explain to me sometime what can be so bad that you can't work it out after 39 years of marriage. Anyway, in recognition of their long marriage I thought I'd share one of their songs, and it really does remind me about my feelings for T.
By the way, what were you doing in 1979? I was a freshman in high school. I was slutty then, too. I just didn't want anyone to know it.
I think it's safe to say that it's going well. Very well.
Here's why:
1) Really nice man whose company I genuinely enjoy.
2) Intelligent, funny, creative guy.
3) Fan-fucking-tastic sex.
4) Let me repeat that sentiment. The sex is oh my god great!
5) Local, with a place to play and a flexible schedule
I just can't get enough of him. It has been a l-o-n-g time since I felt that. That desire for him, the craving his touch - those have taken me a bit by surprise. I was hoping for a decent guy and a moderate level of sexual compatibility. I guess I was keeping my expectations in check because I know what's out there. I know the odds of finding a JJ are very slim. Hoping for that is just a recipe for disappointment. Right? So I was prepared to settle for ok, good enough. I just wasn't prepared for T.
I wasn't prepared for the way he kisses me. I wasn't prepared for his passion. I wasn't prepared for how quickly he learned just what I like and need. I wasn't prepared for the experience of his advanced oral skills.
I didn't expect to like him so much.
But I do and I'm very comfortable with that. I think he is, too.
I asked him why he was shopping for a married woman on AM. He's single, after all. His answer was that he figured a married woman would have a life and responsibilities of her own and wouldn't want so much of his time. That makes sense. I want more of his time (because he has made me an oral sex addict), but I know that I have a full life and so does he. Coming together for a little shelter from life's storms once or twice a week is perfect.
In the fine tradition of Ryan Beaumont, I thought I'd share a cheesy song that expresses my feelings about T at this point. Yesterday I heard the news that Captain and Tennille are divorcing after 39 years of marriage. I hate to admit this, but I didn't even know they were still alive. Apparently, they are, and they are going their separate ways. As an aside, I'd really like someone to explain to me sometime what can be so bad that you can't work it out after 39 years of marriage. Anyway, in recognition of their long marriage I thought I'd share one of their songs, and it really does remind me about my feelings for T.
By the way, what were you doing in 1979? I was a freshman in high school. I was slutty then, too. I just didn't want anyone to know it.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Stolen Hours
I was in the car getting ready to go, and I looked up at T who was standing next to the car looking down at me. The smile on his face melted my heart. Maybe it was the beautiful day with the sunlight filtering down on him through the tree. Maybe it was the last remnants of the oxytocin floating through my body, the result of coming more times than I could count. Whatever it was, it was making me feel connected to him and I didn't want to leave. But I had to, of course. He had to leave, too. We both had to get back to work. The hours we had stolen to be together were over.
A little over two hours earlier, I was just arriving to his man cave out in the country. When I was there three days ago, I was nervous, but not today. Being there felt right.
I knocked on the door and no one answered, so I let myself in. Then I walked back to his bedroom and knocked. No answer. I stood there for a couple of minutes, not quite sure what to do. While I was thinking about it, he walked in. I smiled at him and we exchanged greetings as he walked over to me and kissed me.
We stepped into his room and he closed the door behind him. He had music playing and a lamp on an end table lit so the room was dim, but not dark. I dropped my purse and kicked off my shoes and turned to kiss him again. Deep, slow, passionate kisses. I reached down to untuck his shirt and he pulled it off, uncovering his strong, broad shoulders. I touched his chest with both hands and slowly ran my hands up to and over his shoulders.
What followed was something of a flurry of kissing, clothes coming off, him sucking my breast, me sucking his cock. It was that rushed and frenzied beginning when you want to do everything at once. Eventually, that settled down and we both got on the bed. I was laying on my back and he was laying over me, kissing me, sliding a hand over my breast, pinching my nipple, then sliding it down further. He fingered me for a minute or so and then he slid down between my legs.
Just as his tongue touched my clit, he slid a couple of fingers inside me. I put my head back and closed my eyes, focusing on the sensations. Soon I was rocking my hips, pressing against his hand and his mouth, and moaning loudly. I came hard, shaking and feeling my cunt tighten around his fingers. It was dizzying.
As you know, I'm not used to anyone going down on me. Hubby has never done it. It had happened about five times in my life before I met T and I only came on two of those occasions. Now it's happened twice with T - once a couple days ago and once today.
I expected a little recovery time, but he didn't stop. Now it was even more intense - that pain mixed with pleasure that comes when everything down there is so sensitive. I squirmed at first, whimpered a weak "no" that I didn't mean. It just felt so foreign to me. But he didn't stop. Within a couple of minutes I started shaking and I came again, this time a little harder.
I wanted to pull him up to me so I could kiss him, but he wouldn't stop. His fingers and his mouth worked their magic and the next orgasm didn't feel like it was bursting out of me. It felt like it was being pulled from me involuntarily. I've heard about forced orgasms, but I hadn't experienced one myself, until today.
Three orgasms from oral - that exceeds the total number for the entire rest of my life. Wow.
Finally, he moved back up to where I could kiss him. I tasted myself all over his mouth and wrapped my arms around him. He laid down next to me and we kissed some more. I traced my finger on his face, still trying to learn about him. Within a few minutes, he moved between my legs, I pulled up my knees and he slid his cock inside me. I was a little embarrassed because I was so wet; it was like a slip 'n' slide down there. No friction. It seemed like a good time for him to relax and let me take over.
He laid back and I scooched down toward the end of the bed. I licked his cock first, and it jumped. Then I took it into my mouth and started suckling it. He grabbed my hair and pulled it tight - very tight - and guided me up and down. Again. Again. Then he pushed my head down on him and held me down so all I could do was swallow over and over. After a little while, he released me to do as I pleased with him, but he held my hair tight with my head pulled up just a bit so I had to strain against the pressure to get to his cock and suck harder. He pushed me down on him again when he was ready to come and he groaned long and loudly as he released into my mouth.
We rested together for awhile, talking, kissing, laughing. Without warning, he slid his hand between my legs and started fingering my clit. I moaned and started shuddering within about a minute and just like earlier, he didn't stop after I came; he just kept fingering me until I came again and again.
Finally, I stopped him. I don't know how many times I came, but I knew I couldn't take one more try.
He asked me if I'd wrap my mouth around his cock again. I smiled. Of course! This time he let me do him however I wanted and he came quickly. I swallowed, cleaned up, and we kissed some more, both of us knowing that our time was about up.
We got dressed and started to leave. I forgot to kiss him goodbye in the house. We were outside near my car when I turned to kiss him. We kissed briefly and then he reminded me that I forgot to kiss while we were in private, and not outside. But you know what? I didn't care. I was happy and relaxed, it was a beautiful day, and here was an incredible man I didn't want to leave. Who cares if someone sees us?
Yes, I know that's stupid, but that's how I felt. I'd do it again in the same situation.
I got in my car and looked up, and there he was smiling at me. As I said, my heart melted.
A little over two hours earlier, I was just arriving to his man cave out in the country. When I was there three days ago, I was nervous, but not today. Being there felt right.
I knocked on the door and no one answered, so I let myself in. Then I walked back to his bedroom and knocked. No answer. I stood there for a couple of minutes, not quite sure what to do. While I was thinking about it, he walked in. I smiled at him and we exchanged greetings as he walked over to me and kissed me.
We stepped into his room and he closed the door behind him. He had music playing and a lamp on an end table lit so the room was dim, but not dark. I dropped my purse and kicked off my shoes and turned to kiss him again. Deep, slow, passionate kisses. I reached down to untuck his shirt and he pulled it off, uncovering his strong, broad shoulders. I touched his chest with both hands and slowly ran my hands up to and over his shoulders.
What followed was something of a flurry of kissing, clothes coming off, him sucking my breast, me sucking his cock. It was that rushed and frenzied beginning when you want to do everything at once. Eventually, that settled down and we both got on the bed. I was laying on my back and he was laying over me, kissing me, sliding a hand over my breast, pinching my nipple, then sliding it down further. He fingered me for a minute or so and then he slid down between my legs.
Just as his tongue touched my clit, he slid a couple of fingers inside me. I put my head back and closed my eyes, focusing on the sensations. Soon I was rocking my hips, pressing against his hand and his mouth, and moaning loudly. I came hard, shaking and feeling my cunt tighten around his fingers. It was dizzying.
As you know, I'm not used to anyone going down on me. Hubby has never done it. It had happened about five times in my life before I met T and I only came on two of those occasions. Now it's happened twice with T - once a couple days ago and once today.
I expected a little recovery time, but he didn't stop. Now it was even more intense - that pain mixed with pleasure that comes when everything down there is so sensitive. I squirmed at first, whimpered a weak "no" that I didn't mean. It just felt so foreign to me. But he didn't stop. Within a couple of minutes I started shaking and I came again, this time a little harder.
I wanted to pull him up to me so I could kiss him, but he wouldn't stop. His fingers and his mouth worked their magic and the next orgasm didn't feel like it was bursting out of me. It felt like it was being pulled from me involuntarily. I've heard about forced orgasms, but I hadn't experienced one myself, until today.
Three orgasms from oral - that exceeds the total number for the entire rest of my life. Wow.
Finally, he moved back up to where I could kiss him. I tasted myself all over his mouth and wrapped my arms around him. He laid down next to me and we kissed some more. I traced my finger on his face, still trying to learn about him. Within a few minutes, he moved between my legs, I pulled up my knees and he slid his cock inside me. I was a little embarrassed because I was so wet; it was like a slip 'n' slide down there. No friction. It seemed like a good time for him to relax and let me take over.
He laid back and I scooched down toward the end of the bed. I licked his cock first, and it jumped. Then I took it into my mouth and started suckling it. He grabbed my hair and pulled it tight - very tight - and guided me up and down. Again. Again. Then he pushed my head down on him and held me down so all I could do was swallow over and over. After a little while, he released me to do as I pleased with him, but he held my hair tight with my head pulled up just a bit so I had to strain against the pressure to get to his cock and suck harder. He pushed me down on him again when he was ready to come and he groaned long and loudly as he released into my mouth.
We rested together for awhile, talking, kissing, laughing. Without warning, he slid his hand between my legs and started fingering my clit. I moaned and started shuddering within about a minute and just like earlier, he didn't stop after I came; he just kept fingering me until I came again and again.
Finally, I stopped him. I don't know how many times I came, but I knew I couldn't take one more try.
He asked me if I'd wrap my mouth around his cock again. I smiled. Of course! This time he let me do him however I wanted and he came quickly. I swallowed, cleaned up, and we kissed some more, both of us knowing that our time was about up.
We got dressed and started to leave. I forgot to kiss him goodbye in the house. We were outside near my car when I turned to kiss him. We kissed briefly and then he reminded me that I forgot to kiss while we were in private, and not outside. But you know what? I didn't care. I was happy and relaxed, it was a beautiful day, and here was an incredible man I didn't want to leave. Who cares if someone sees us?
Yes, I know that's stupid, but that's how I felt. I'd do it again in the same situation.
I got in my car and looked up, and there he was smiling at me. As I said, my heart melted.
Friday, January 10, 2014
The Date with T
T's message was actually the first I responded to on AM since I reactivated my profile. He sent me a message months ago and I never responded, so I thought it was only right to make his the first reply.
I liked his profile because he seemed to be a "normal guy" and that's what I was looking for. A fun companion, great sex, no drama, and honesty. His emails confirmed what his profile said. He is a normal guy. He is also very bright, well-spoken, funny. An all around nice guy.
Perfect, right?
Well, not exactly. He lives in my town (that's awfully close to home) and he's in the middle of a divorce, which means that for all practical purposes, he's single, not married. And you know my rule about single men, right?
I decided to overlook those concerns because I liked him. Plain and simple.
So we set up a date to meet today at a restaurant in a nearby town. Between the time of setting up the date a couple of days ago and showing up for the date, I had exchanged emails and phone calls with another AM suitor I really liked.
I almost cancelled the date, and I had a long list of reasons. I'm still quite wounded from the experience with SNS Guy. If this guy didn't like me, that would be a little more rejection than I wanted to take in one week. Also, I really liked the other guy I was talking to. Shouldn't I meet him first? And what about JJ? I don't want a bunch of men in my life. I want one. Finally, I hate first dates. And don't forget - I don't date! What if we didn't have anything to talk about? My head was going around and around and I almost called to cancel.
But I didn't. That was a good choice.
We met in the parking lot of the restaurant we agreed to. It was closed. What now? He suggested we go to a Popeyes just a block away. That wasn't what I had in mind, but I could go with it. When we got there we saw that it was actually at a gas station, attached to the mini-mart. I had to laugh. So far, it wasn't going well. Then he suggested a local Mexican restaurant and we went there and the date actually started.
I was comfortable immediately. He was funny and engaging and direct and all the things I like in a friend. There were a few times when I thought, Why are we wasting time here? Let's get to a hotel. I know what I want to do with you. But I never said it because I was so engaged in the conversation and I was thoroughly enjoying talking with him.
Yes, it's true. I chose talking over fucking. Go figure.
After a while we decided to drive back to the parking lot of the first restaurant because it was a bit secluded. I felt electricity when he kissed me, and he's an amazing kisser. We kissed a long time. I stroked his hard cock through his pants. He fondled my breast. I sucked his cock for awhile but the angle in his car just wasn't great for that. We kissed some more. Every now and then we'd stop and talk a bit, but the kissing always won. At one point, he lifted my shirt and bra and sucked one of my nipples. I felt my pussy going from damp to wet to drenched. It has been a long time since I wanted a man as much as I wanted T.
I was so aroused and so dazed with passion that I probably would have done anything he wanted, but.....
We ran out of time. I had a phone meeting and he also had some place to be, so we had to end the date, but I didn't want to go. I was ready to blow off my meeting and spend the rest of the afternoon with him, but he couldn't so we went our separate ways.
When was the last time you sat in a car making out and petting for an hour? I don't even remember the last time I did. It was amazing.
As I drove away I thought about how glad I was that I hadn't canceled the date, and how much I couldn't wait to see him again. But the next time I see him, I want it to be in a private room where I can admire him without his clothes on and have my way with him.
I've never been a big believer in chemistry.
I am now.
I liked his profile because he seemed to be a "normal guy" and that's what I was looking for. A fun companion, great sex, no drama, and honesty. His emails confirmed what his profile said. He is a normal guy. He is also very bright, well-spoken, funny. An all around nice guy.
Perfect, right?
Well, not exactly. He lives in my town (that's awfully close to home) and he's in the middle of a divorce, which means that for all practical purposes, he's single, not married. And you know my rule about single men, right?
I decided to overlook those concerns because I liked him. Plain and simple.
So we set up a date to meet today at a restaurant in a nearby town. Between the time of setting up the date a couple of days ago and showing up for the date, I had exchanged emails and phone calls with another AM suitor I really liked.
I almost cancelled the date, and I had a long list of reasons. I'm still quite wounded from the experience with SNS Guy. If this guy didn't like me, that would be a little more rejection than I wanted to take in one week. Also, I really liked the other guy I was talking to. Shouldn't I meet him first? And what about JJ? I don't want a bunch of men in my life. I want one. Finally, I hate first dates. And don't forget - I don't date! What if we didn't have anything to talk about? My head was going around and around and I almost called to cancel.
But I didn't. That was a good choice.
We met in the parking lot of the restaurant we agreed to. It was closed. What now? He suggested we go to a Popeyes just a block away. That wasn't what I had in mind, but I could go with it. When we got there we saw that it was actually at a gas station, attached to the mini-mart. I had to laugh. So far, it wasn't going well. Then he suggested a local Mexican restaurant and we went there and the date actually started.
I was comfortable immediately. He was funny and engaging and direct and all the things I like in a friend. There were a few times when I thought, Why are we wasting time here? Let's get to a hotel. I know what I want to do with you. But I never said it because I was so engaged in the conversation and I was thoroughly enjoying talking with him.
Yes, it's true. I chose talking over fucking. Go figure.
After a while we decided to drive back to the parking lot of the first restaurant because it was a bit secluded. I felt electricity when he kissed me, and he's an amazing kisser. We kissed a long time. I stroked his hard cock through his pants. He fondled my breast. I sucked his cock for awhile but the angle in his car just wasn't great for that. We kissed some more. Every now and then we'd stop and talk a bit, but the kissing always won. At one point, he lifted my shirt and bra and sucked one of my nipples. I felt my pussy going from damp to wet to drenched. It has been a long time since I wanted a man as much as I wanted T.
I was so aroused and so dazed with passion that I probably would have done anything he wanted, but.....
We ran out of time. I had a phone meeting and he also had some place to be, so we had to end the date, but I didn't want to go. I was ready to blow off my meeting and spend the rest of the afternoon with him, but he couldn't so we went our separate ways.
When was the last time you sat in a car making out and petting for an hour? I don't even remember the last time I did. It was amazing.
As I drove away I thought about how glad I was that I hadn't canceled the date, and how much I couldn't wait to see him again. But the next time I see him, I want it to be in a private room where I can admire him without his clothes on and have my way with him.
I've never been a big believer in chemistry.
I am now.
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