bull's bollocks

Not what I had in mind

2006-10-22T14:23:00.000-07:00

Her tits really were magnificent. She was wearing a loose blouse and they kept spilling into view every time she leaned over in the slightest. I was beginning to feel as if she was toying with me, and I was wondering when her husband would catch me staring at them, when I looked up and saw him grinning like a fool at me.

The couple that I mentioned in my previous post had asked me over again. After we followed up on our business, they offered a beer and I had been happy to accept so that I could keep following the melons that had been bouncing around every time that she moved.

But now I found myself looking up into his foolish grin and realizing that I had been too slow to pick up on the signs. She sat down beside me and put her hand on my leg before I could even formulate a response to his leering smile. She said that it looked like I enjoyed what I was looking at and she pointedly stared at the hard-on I had growing in my pants. I confessed that I had enjoyed it but would enjoy it even more seeing her breasts in the flesh. Truth speaks power.

"I think I'd enjoy what I'm looking at if it wasn't covered up, too," she said. As I looked her in the eyes, she licked her lips coquettishly and reached for my bulge. I looked up to judge her husband, and took his frozen grin as a green light.

I wasn't going to be too slow any longer. In no time I was disrobed, and she began to grab for my cock so fast that I had to slow her down to get her blouse and pants off. I was grabbing for her panties and she was already trying to go down on my cock when the old goat spoke up: "Honey, wait!"

The moment is frozen in my mind. He had lost his nerve - the look on his face was plain for me to see. She stopped what she was doing as she remained bent over at the waist, mouth open as she looked up to him to see what the problem was. My cock was warm in her hand, and her open mouth looked warmer. I wanted to tune out the old goat and push past her lips, but it was not to be.

They were a close couple and they had agreed together to do this only if they were both ready for it. "What is it?" she asked, "Are you not ready for this?" He gave a quick shake of the head without looking at either of us.

She looked up and shook her head at me and I sat down beside her on the couch. It's funny but her hand never left my cock. We sat there, we three - me in my nakedness, her in her panties, and he fully clothed, and oddly, with his own hard-on showing through his pants despite his sudden misgivings. I talked to them calmly, hoping to revive their interest in the thing. I asked if it was their first time (it was), I asked if it had been his idea (it had), and I asked what had made them want to do it. They both said that they had always fantasized about a threesome with another man, that they had talked about it during their lovemaking, and now they had thought that they should do it before they got too old to be this adventurous.

I tried my best sales job and they seemed so willing to give in. At least she did - in fact, I think she was eager to continue. He still wanted to do it, he said, but he just couldn't. "Honey?" she queried. He shook his head again, looking down. She turned to me and said, "I'm sorry, I really am." And she gently laid my cock back in my lap, although it did spring back up at her.

Being the "bull" in a hotwife scenario, or even being the third in a vanilla threesome, is lonely afterward. At least if you do it with couples who are stable in their relationships, which I do. You are always the one that, in the end, goes home alone. Usually there is the solace of the pleasure, and the fact that you bring home some of the other couple's relationship with you. Not this time. It wasn't the first time, and I'm sure it won't be the last, but it's no fun.

"Blue balls" I thought to myself on the drive home, it's my karma for all the times I've left the husbands with blue balls. Great big blue balls.

How To

2006-10-12T20:27:00.000-07:00

Some readers have asked how to find other couples/dominant males/whatever. I'm no expert and this will be a short post, but here is my magic:

1. online
2. speak your mind, both online and in person

That's it. But especially the latter. You'd be surprised how many doors open by saying what you are thinking. It's a delicate matter to be sure, and I have been emboldened by being tall, fit, and capable of defending myself if someone's husband get offended.

I recently met a couple during a business transaction. They were older, but she was beautiful and had magnificent tits. After the business was transacted, I told him, in front of her, that he should not leave me alone with her, and that he was lucky to have such a gorgeous wife.

They were both surprised, but not offended. She, on the contrary, was flattered, and he was flabbergasted. I think he was titillated, too. In any case, they were both still flushed when I left them. Nothing has come of it yet, but I see them again tomorrow. And I bet they fucked like bunnies after I left them.

thanks, fleshbot ...

2006-10-10T21:41:00.000-07:00

... and chelsea girl of pretty dumb things. I hope any new readers enjoy what they read. And please feel free to leave comments. Welcome!

afternoon delight

2006-10-06T17:18:00.000-07:00

I straddled her face with my balls in her mouth. She sucked them while stroking my pole furiously. Neither one of us heard her husband enter the room, nor cared. She had come awake from her nap horny for more, after the athletic fuck we'd enjoyed earlier that afternoon. She brought me awake by first carressing me to hardness and then painting my cock with her tongue. My moans and commands must have roused him in the other room.

I had banished him there while she and I had fucked like school kids earlier. I sometimes cruelly torture him by making him leave the room so that he can neither see nor smell the sex, and certainly has no hope of participating. At best, he can hear, and this leaves him guessing and imagining and missing what he can't have.

She swabbed my balls with sloppy wet strokes, occasionally wandering off to the side or below and I would push my balls back up to her lips. She was doing a wonderful job on me, really, but I know she likes it when I force it on her more.

He had come in and disrobed and moved down between her legs where he was feverishly lapping. She moaned and squeezed her legs hard against the sides of his head, and grabbed his hair and pushed her swollen pussy into his mouth. He sucked at the seed soaked snatch and I knew he was besotting himself on the jazzy delight I had left for him.

I plunged my prick into her mouth and pulled and pushed the flaring cockhead past her lips while her tongue tickled the underside of my shaft. Oh my God but she was wanton when she sucked - so submissive that I often spanked her when she went down on me, or slapped her face with my cock. She coaxed me deeper with her tongue, and I knew I was close to coming. I pulled out and pushed my balls up to her lips again and she stroked me. She had brought me to that wonderful state where every cell in my body glowed with joy and it was no longer a question of whether I would come, but when. The pre-cum drizzled from my angry, jerking cock, and now I reached down and grabbed his hair and pulled him up her body. I rubbed the oozing cockhead against his upper lip and he licked his lips. I could feel the explosion waiting to happen, a thunderous storm brewing in my balls. She jerked me back to her mouth and that's all it took.

She got the first shot in her mouth, but I know she doesn't like to swallow a lot so I pulled out while she stroked me with both hands. As I pulled back, the next shots went from her chin to her wonderful tits, and then I aimed at her hairy mound. After my explosions subsided and I caught my breath, I deposited the spunk clinging to the tip on his upper lip again, and pushed his head down to lick her body clean. He followed the trail of come back to her twat, where he sucked with renewed vigor. And now she shook with her own explosions, pushing more of her creamy load into his waiting mouth.

2006-09-29T22:34:00.000-07:00

power

2006-09-29T21:42:00.000-07:00

If you want to cause problems with an insecure husband/cuckold, the surest way to do it is to have your own private time with his wife, where he is totally unaware of what has taken place, been said, oaths taken, etc.

At the same time, if he is a true submissive, or if he wants to believe that he is truly giving his wife up to the libertine life he wants for her (not necessarily the same thing), there is nothing better for him than that.

The times that I have sent hubby to the store, or shown up way early for trysts when he was gone, or just gone around his back because I knew it was best, have been the best and worst of times. Sometimes they realize their true fantasies that way and sometimes they go weird. Sort of unpredictable.

Oftentimes, when they finally get there, or realize that they have missed out on some of the fun, they just go nuts with desire, sucking anything that moves. Other times not. But most often, it is the former - guys who do this want their wives/girlfriends to realize their potential as the sex goddesses that they are in their eyes.

The thing that strikes me the most in those times, is that, yes, I have some control over them, but their women have the ultimate control. I can make them do anything, anything, so long as their woman does not object.

But she has not only the power of "no", but also the ability to push them even further without complaint.

And they would love it.

And it would be good.

2006-08-17T20:05:00.000-07:00

tender mercies

2006-08-17T06:32:00.000-07:00

I'm all about the tenderness when tenderness is called for. There are certainly times for all of us when we have been battered by life, or even by the daily grind. There are times where muscles are sore, flesh bruised or raw, skin more sensitive. I understand that, and I have been there myself. In times like that, sweet words of love and support need to be spoken, or muscles need to be massaged, or confidence bolstered, or skin gently caressed and kissed. All of that comes with being a person, and I am aware enough to notice when it's time to be tender.

But when it is not one of those times, I can be a bit more demanding. I like to have my cake and eat it, too.

I think that is why I developed a dominant streak in my sexual personality. I enjoy sex with physical gusto, hard, banging, with loins slapping. I like twisting nipples, slapping cheeks, restraining wrists, and sitting on faces. I like to bend wills, make my desires theirs, and accept no excuses. I want to fill her pussy while her butt plug fills her ass. I like to make her husband watch, or at least know about, what we are doing. I like to grab a handful of hair while my shaven balls get sucked and I get my caveman blowjob. I like to tie knots while listening to incoherent protests spoken with a ball gag in place. I like a good rutting brutal fuck.

And if everything is sore afterward, I will be tender. I will be more than happy to go down and gently suck and kiss her swollen lips.

Or, better yet, make her husband.

what husbands won't do

2006-08-04T06:40:00.000-07:00

When I'm bicycling, I enjoy having other riders along. I like group rides, partner rides with friends, or rides where I meet another rider going the same direction and get to befriend them for a while. The social aspect of riding with others makes the miles fly by, and a 50 mile ride with others will go by as easily as a 20 mile ride alone.

But the best inspiration for a ride is riding with the fair sex. Riding shorts can be quite nice looking on the female posterior.

Usually when you meet female riders on the road, they are riding in groups or with another female. The occasional lone female rider is fairly rare, and they usually know when they get male company that they are being hit upon. So I was lucky when I caught up with Laura on the road and she was receptive to friendly conversation. I was actually not hitting on her at first, although I did admire the rear view when riding up to her. Nice spread fanny. Good definition. Strong legs churning.

She had been out for about 10 miles so far, was looking to go 30, and wanted to do hill work. I asked her if she had been up the road to a favorite turnoff of mine, with a grinding uphill challenge that paid off with a nice view, and she replied that she hadn't. I offered to show her the way and she accepted. Doing a ride together creates a bond, but beating a monster hill on a long ride accentuates that. We did the ride, with a couple of stops for snacks and water, and we talked. We commiserated, we enjoyed, we persevered. Cycling is fun.

On the way back, when we got near the turnoff to her house, she complained about her aching shoulders and back. I advised a good massage. "I won't be able to get my husband to do that," she said.

I couldn't pass on that: "I'd be happy to do it!" She replied that he might not like that. I countered that he wouldn't have to know. She didn't say anything and we got to her turnoff. I gave her my business card (I carry one with my info written on it in my bike bag, in case I get run over by by a car), and told her to call if she wanted company on a ride.

I was surprised to hear from her again, but jumped at the chance to ride. We actually rode together a couple of more times, and each time I remarked about what good shape she was in.

After that second ride, she said she was ready for a massage. "What about your hubby?" I asked.

"He's out of town."

When we got to her house, the massage started innocently enough, but I knew she was asking for the same kind of massage that I was thinking of. And she knew that I knew. By the time I had her on all fours, plunging my tongue deep into her pussy and ass, she had a small vibrator competing with my tongue for access. She was moaning as she came repeatedly. It was her sore crotch, after all, that needed the most attention, since it was tender from the saddle.

"My husband never does this," she said. "He never eats me this way. He never goes down on me."

He doesn't know what he's missing.

But I do, because she hasn't called me since. You see her teenage daughter came home unexpectedly right about then, and we had to scramble and come up with lame excuses. We got dressed in time so she didn't see anything, but she may have expected what we were up to. Laura was visibly rattled, and I think the near miss must have chastened her.

But I'm holding out hope for another ride.

the first time I enjoyed it

2006-07-30T21:37:00.000-07:00

The first time that I enjoyed fucking someone else's girl was not the first time I did that. The first time I had someone else's girl was in high school and there were too many complications from stealing the girlfriend of a friend to make it enjoyable.

But in my young adulthood, when my co-worker Jean fell into my arms despite the fact that she was living with Jim, I came to new realizations about relationships, sexuality, and guilt. Or the lack thereof.

Jean was a cute little pixie, not endowed with any outstanding physical attributes, but cute and whip smart, and whip smart is oh so sexy. She was (is) 5'3" at best and Jim wasn't any taller than 5'6". Both bright, both attractive, and I was lucky enough to work with Jean at the restaurant I worked at. We were always talking, because I enjoyed her quick retorts and keen observations. And her warm smile and cute little butt.

My usual offhand comments about sex steered our conversations inevitably to the point where I was flirting with her. But she always just smiled that pretty smile of hers and never gave me anything much to work with.

One night, though, I offered to loan her a couple of books when work was done, and she said she would come by after our shift ended. "But once I have you in my lair," I joked, "you'll be mine to devour."

"Only if you catch me," she replied.

She was oh so easy to catch once she got there, especially after I threatened to spank her. She practically threw herself across my lap, much to my delight. Her cute little bunghole winked at me while I painted her asscheeks red with swat after swat. She needed spanking bad, apparently, because she practically raked my cock with her toothy ravenous cocksucking after the spanking. We ended up in bed, fucking lustily and physically, slapping bodies and loins together in a brutal bruising fuck. I slapped her ass while pounding her on all fours. We came, we saw, we conquered.

I was still catching my breath afterward, when she said, "I have to get home. Jim will be waiting." She pulled her panties on, standing up and allowing me to see my come streaking down her inner thigh. She left.

I always wondered about that. How did she explain the come filled panties, the rosy pink asscheeks?

Jim was different the next time I saw him at the restaurant, more combative, not as laid back. I always wondered.

He was a nice guy, and I sincerely liked him. It didn't feel good because I wanted to spite him. It didn't feel good because I wanted to steal her away. It just felt good because she wanted it, I wanted it, and everything was hot when it happened.

That. That, and the wondering about how she explained the come filled panties and the rosy pink butt.

more figs

2006-07-24T07:04:00.000-07:00

Since we were last discussing figs, I thought I'd share a link to D.H. Lawrence's "Figs", a wonderfully sexual poem that was featured as dialog in the movie version of Women in Love.

And for more on Lawrence, here is Doris Lessing's take.

the fig tree

2006-07-20T06:54:00.000-07:00

I was introduced to sex in a different sort of way, by my "cousin". In an earlier post, I identified her more accurate relation to me, but she is more like a cousin. (I have revised the earlier post now, too.) She is only a couple of years older than me.

When I was 4 or so, "cousin" did a strip tease for me in the treehouse. It was drawn out - what seemed an eternity to me - by the fact that she was humming the tune to "The Stripper". I was only 4 years old and I had already seen her bare chest, so that held no fascination, but when the panties came off, my childish curiosity was on fire at the sight of her hairless vulva. She heightened my interest by making me look closer, and when I got close to get a better look, she asked if I'd like to taste it.

I don't know why that idea seemed so appealing to my 4 year old mind: that is a question for developmental psychologists. Nature? Nurture? Who knows? Who cares? I wanted to lick it. When I made all the necessary promises that I wouldn't tell any grownup ever, she said "Follow me."

She put her clothes back on and I protested. She assured me, though, that she had not had a change of heart, and told me to follow her down from the treehouse to the back yard and behind a row of hedges. When we got there, she pulled off her shorts and panties, squatted and peed. I watched, as dumbfounded as I had been all along, and I don't remember saying anything. But I do remember her saying, when she finished, "It's time for your tea party - come taste the tee."

I often think back to that day in several contexts. For one thing, it's a very early memory and yet so crystal clear. Obviously, I think of it every time I see my "cousin." For another, it was my introduction to sex, and in that sense shaped my thoughts in ways that have been both short term and long term.

In the short term, it shaped my expectations of the female pudenda. I expected female genitalia to be hairless in order to be desirable. I had walked in on my mother at inopportune moments and seen her matronly form and her hairy bush, and it was not at all appealing. But my cousin's hairless twat, pretty and pink in its unadorned state, and so pleasing to the tongue, was exhilarating. Imprinted in my mind forever was the beautiful bald beaver. Nothing would change that. Nothing. A year later, when on vacation with my family, I found a men's magazine in the motel room's bedside table. It had photos of half naked young starlets, mostly just bare-breasted. But there were a couple of photos that showed pubic hair, and those were the photos that did not excite me.

You might expect that I still am obsessed with shaved coochies, but that isn't true. As you may have noticed, I said "in the short term."

That is because of what happened 2 years after my cousin, just after first grade. We lived in a small town, next door to a relatively newlywed couple who had a baby about one or two years old. The first time I saw the neighbor lady was at the neighborhood swimming pool, when she was swimming laps. She was the first person I ever saw doing that. And she didn't look like my mom. She was tanned and nicely shaped and pretty and she was our next door neighboor. But since I was not a stalker psycho kid, I didn't know what possibilities there were, even when I discovered the fig tree in her back yard. These were the days before everybody had privacy fences and such, and when she introduced to me to figs I loved them, and I loved them more for being available in nature's bounty and with my neighbor's blessing.

I am 100% sure that, when she made the large-hearted offer to me that any time I wanted to climb up in her fig tree for figs that I could, that she was saying that in the context of the early evening time frame in which she made the offer, and not thinking about me coming around any old time of the day. But when I returned to her fig tree, it was morning.

The fig tree was located outside her bathroom window, which had a frosted lower window (for privacy), and a clear upper window (for light). The clear upper window was safe from the view of anyone. Unless they were sitting in the boughs of the fig tree outside, munching Nature's bounteous figs.

She was beautiful and young. Her breasts were even more luscious than her swimming suit hinted at. And her mons veneris was hairy. Furry. Hirsute. Thatched. Overgrown even. At first I was apalled. But then my disgust turned into intrigue. She was ideal in all other ways, after all.

The second time I saw her through the bathroom window was another shower time. First she stripped, peed and wiped, then she took a leisurely shower, then she dried her heavenly body, then she shaved her legs, then she fingered herself. Just a bit, not with any apparent heartfelt purpose. Then she got dressed.

But watching that finger dip into that overgrowth of pubic hair, into the pink that I had tasted with my cousin in my life changing experience ...

It was like I had changed religions: Hairy is GREAT. Bald is beautiful and sleek, but hairy is great. Mysterious, natural, fecund, and a mouthful of kinks.

Of course, I went back to the well too many times, and my neighbor caught me staring in. I would like to tell you, dear reader, that she took me into her home and punished me with spankings and admonishments, and then exposed me for her play, as I had enjoyed her exposure. But she didn't. She took me to my my mom, and I caught holy hell.

My ex-neighbor must be gray by now. Still swimming and lithesome, I wager. But even if not, I would still love to dip my tongue into that primeval forest ...

Or any primeval forest. And that is the long term influence of my cousin, and my beautiful neighbor.

my new bride (continued)

2006-07-16T16:27:00.000-07:00

(Continued from a previous post here.)

He lost all hesitation and came over from his chair. His hand still shook as he reached out, but instead of grabbing my prick he put his hand on his wife's vulva, to feel how wet she was. She moaned at his touch, and she encouraged him on, "Put his cock in me, honey. I want to feel him fill me up."

His hand moved from her pussy to my shaft, and as he nervously wrapped his fingers around it, I felt mischievous about his unease. I reached over and pinched his nipple, not hard, just enough to startle him. "You're a natural - my cock likes you," I said while contracting my muscles to make my dick jerk in his hand. He started to let go, but when I moved the head of my cock up to his wife's open and swollen lips, he grabbed it again, wanting to be part of the action. He didn't so much guide it in as enjoy the ride, since I was already pushing it past her lips into her wet and waiting warmth. She groaned as I eased it in, and as I pushed more into her he let go to allow it to happen. She tightly clasped my cock at first, but as she got used to the girth, she relaxed and I was able to push it all the way home. As I began to fuck her, I reached under and grabbed her asscheeks to pull her onto me even more, and her groaning became guttural.

In the meantime, hubby had become transfixed, staring at my cock sawing in and out of his beautiful bride's wet pussy. "Give your wife a kiss," I told him, "and tell her how beautiful she is." He did so, and I continued, "Encourage her to fuck me good, and tell her how wonderful she is. Tell her how you want her to fuck me anytime she wants, and you'll watch." I could feel her coming at hearing that, even before he had the chance to mouth the words. Her pussy was gushing and yet on fire, and she was driving me over the edge.

"Rub her clit, man," I huffed as I pounded her harder. When he started to rub it, I felt her orgasm continuing as she soaked my rod. I felt my climax building, and I wished I had told him to grab my balls, because they were contracting as I started to shoot my spunk into her. She began to buck so wildly that I had to hold on tight to keep inside her. As our climaxes subsided, she was still squirming and making whimpering noises, as we both caught our breath.

In a moment of tenderness, or maybe just to get back in the mix, he leaned over to kiss her again, but it was my turn now, and I pushed him away as I began to kiss her. She hungrily kissed back, forcing her tongue deep.

As we rested, I stayed inside her until I could feel some come starting to leak out. I knew it was time for his show then, and I pulled out and away from her. Hubby moved where he could see, and he got an eyeful. Her lips were swollen and puffy and splayed wide, glistening with her own love juices. And out trickled my come, a white sticky stream of hot jizz, from deep inside her.

He stared at it, at first doing nothing, but then reaching out to touch it. She gasped at his touch, since she was obviously very sensitive, and her breathing quickened since she was still very excited. She looked up at him, expectantly, and he kept gaping. He continued to just touch her slit, especially down near her ass, where my load was pooling up and out over her cute asshole. She seemed to be waiting for him to make his move, and I know I was getting impatient, but he just stood and stared.

"Get out of my way, man," I said as I kneeled down between her legs. I wasn't going to waste the sexy scene like he was, and it was pretty apparent she was ready for more. When she felt my tongue against her lips, she moaned, and when it flicked against her perineum, she lifted herself up so that it poked against her bumhole. When I began seriously lapping her pussy, and sticking my tongue deep into her, I could feel her building to yet another orgasm as she grabbed my head.

"What a fool he is," I mused. "She's mine now for sure."

wow!

2006-07-14T06:24:00.000-07:00

I've been away, hard at work on my day job, and I missed all the excitement. First I get a mention in fleshbot and that is a dream come true.

But then I see that the mention came from chelsea girl of pretty dumb things! I'd like to maintain my composure and act all cool, and not do the dumb Wayne's World "I am not worthy!" thing. So I'll just use the opportunity to tell you to check her blog. You'll be glad you did.

2006-07-09T17:55:00.000-07:00

best concert ever

2006-07-09T17:32:00.000-07:00

At the Halloween concert, years ago. Great band playing, everybody gyrating on the dance floor. Lots of nasty costumes. At intermission, everybody headed for the bathrooms. The line out the women's room was a mile long. Desperation happens. So I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when I walked into a stall in the men's room and found a beautiful damsel in distress - no door on the stall. She smiled up at me and I smiled back. I started to walk away, but instead I stayed and stared. When she smiled again, I stepped in closer and she reached up to my zipper. I was in the middle of getting a delicious tongue lashing when her boyfriend/husband walked up and said, "Let's go, hon."

Just like that.

I looked for them the rest of the night but never saw them. If they read this, I still want to get to know them better.

the forbidden

2006-06-26T21:16:00.000-07:00

The best sex I ever had was sex that did not care about moral conventions or niceties. The best sex I ever had was with wild abandonment of all illogical constraints (except sometimes physical constraints). This is why sex threatens the Church (any church). This is why you are dangerous.

That is why sexual renegades are exiled (Ovid), imprisoned (Sade, Wilde, and many others), or denigrated (look around). But all you have to do is look, and you will see that the most intriguing sex is the forbidden.

That is why I have a favorite "cousin", the one that not only introduced me to sex, but introduced me to sex acts that push most envelopes. That is why I've lost a few friends but gotten to know their girlfriends much better. That is why the woman whose name would inspire the most jealousy in my wife, to this day, is one I last saw 20 years ago.

That is why men kneel down and women weep.

I could go on, and should. But I need sleep, and tomorrow I'm replying to the man I'm going to cuckold, about what I want to do with his wife.

2006-06-24T13:37:00.000-07:00

My new bride

2006-06-22T01:39:00.000-07:00

By the time her husband got home, I had coaxed her out of her clothes and was fucking her with three fingers while thumbing her clit. He looked a little miffed when he came in, since he'd wanted to be there for all of it, but that is why I had sent him to the store and started making out with her - to keep events off of his terms.

She was really quite worked up at this point, and I hated to turn my attention away in the slightest, but I told him, "Chill the champagne for later, but open the wine to let it breathe. I'll want a glass after we come." He did as told and I continued with her, moving off of the sofa and between her legs, kissing her thighs and tracing my tongue along the lines where her groin led to the delicious V that I wanted. When I began to run my tongue up and down her furrow, she accommodated me by lifting her legs on top of my shoulders. Her breathing quickened, as did his, and I looked up and saw that as he carried a glass of the Cabernet to his armchair nearby his hand was shaking. The armchair was near enough to the sofa that I'm sure he could not only see it all clearly, but hear and smell very well, too. When I dipped my tongue south of her groove into her musky ass, she squirmed, and when I sucked on her clit I felt her first tremors.

Coming wouldn't quench her, though, and she continued to grind against my face. But by now, she was wanting more and she reached out to undress me. As she started with my shirt I came up to kiss her hard on the mouth, deep soulful open mouthed kisses, the better for him to understand the depth of her lust.

The only thing I did to help her undress me was stand up. I preferred to allow her to remove each item, so that he could see her do it. She removed my shirt and pants, running her hands up my abs to my chest and back down to my legs. When she went to remove my briefs, my straining tool got stuck on the waistband. She tugged on the elastic to free it and the cockhead popped loose and slapped her under her nose, but she quickly grabbed it with both hands and guided it into her warm mouth. She stroked the serpent and tickled my balls as her hot wet tongue charmed me. I heard a grunting sound from the armchair and looked up to see her husband grabbing his crotch just as he spilled wine on himself, a red splotch in the middle of his shirt.

"You'd better take your own clothes off before you start to look like your heart ruptured," I told him. He did, with shortening breath, and then I saw why she wanted to do this. I had wondered what her motivation was up to this point, never quite sure, but now I felt I knew. He wasn't really short, but he was average at best, and I couldn't help but feel she just wanted to try for a little more. At least that was the best I could figure. He wanted some control and humiliation, but she didn't seem to have the need to control him. And so far she sure didn't seem to be doing it all just for him.

I pulled away from her mouth and moved down to her other lips, moving my cock up and down her sweet slit, and then slapping her clit with the cockhead. After very little of this, she said, " Give me your cock. All of it."

I kept slapping her cunt with my fat tool, and said, "No. You have to ask him to beg me to fuck you." She didn't object, and quickly pled, "Honey, do it. Do whatever he wants." And, when he started to whine about it, she emphasized to him: "Just do it - now for god's sake!"

I played with him a bit, making him say please and pretty please, but when he looked petulant about it, I told him, "The only way I do it is if you come here and then guide it into her while you hold my balls."

He lost all hesitation and came over from his chair ...

(To be continued. First draft. Comments, literary criticism, emails, and online seductions are all welcome.)

2006-06-02T07:53:00.000-07:00

cleaning up, again

2006-06-02T07:41:00.000-07:00

Last night I was cleaning house a bit. When I went to wash the sheets, I noticed for the first time the cum stains on my pillowcase. At first I was perplexed, and then I remembered this.

Needless to say, that led to randy thoughts, which later turned into heated lovemaking, which turned into ...

Sometimes it seems the housework is never done.

Odd asides before vacation

2006-06-01T22:28:00.000-07:00

Odd asides before vacation (I hope to post some while I'm away - but don't expect much - for 2 or 3 weeks):

Top 10 novels influenced by Shakespeare

Rachel Weisz had a baby and it wasn't mine. Damn.

I wondered about what kind of response I would get to yesterday's post, but they (you) liked it. Good - have fun!

This blooging thing is funny - when you start to read other bloggers posts, you want to meet them. Cool.

2006-05-31T23:04:00.000-07:00

let me kiss your ass

2006-05-31T20:33:00.000-07:00

I love oral sex more than just about anything. I love receiving it, of course, but I truly love giving it just as much, if not more. The act allows for so much variation in intensity and focus - light and teasing, skirting around the edges, and using breath and butterfly-light touches to heighten anticipation. Or ravenous and plundering, trying to drink every ounce of pleasure that you can. Lingering on the lips, sucking on the clit, or probing to the g-spot - I want to leave no nerve unexcited. And the best part is the way she squirms and clutches

But when I can, I like to move beyond the playground of the pussy to other sensitive areas. I know about the safety and hygiene concerns, but when practiced with a regular partner who knows how to use soap and a rag, I've never had anything but a wonderful time.

I actually had a girlfriend once who enjoyed analingus more than cunnilingus. Oh, I wouldn't mind seeing her again. She enjoyed it all - on her back and holding her legs up to her chest, or with her ass in the air and splaying her ass cheeks apart for easier access, or sitting right on my face to enjoy my tongue and nose.

I still love it.

I love wandering from the cunt to the arse, and traveling up and down the furrow. I enjoy manually attending the clit while kissing the puckered treasure. The booty is mine to devour while I might fill her coochie with her favorite vibrator. I love the way she pushes her rosebud against my tongue when she's pushed beyond excitement, so that it can slip to the quick, and I love how that drives her further past all control.

I love the way she surrenders.

p.s. I'll be on a little vacation in a couple of days. I'll be posting scarcely at best. So take advantage of my absence to comment on any posts you've enjoyed. Or, if you aren't comfortable with leaving public comments, send me an email to enjoy when I get back. I'd love to hear from anyone who enjoys my depraved cravings.

2006-05-31T07:32:00.000-07:00

how do I love thee?

2006-05-30T20:57:00.000-07:00

What is it that I love about having you on all fours, licking my cock, sucking my balls, occasionally losing control and doing something that makes me slap your hanging breasts or spank your ass cheeks? (You need to be reminded.) Is it that I love fucking your mouth while you alternate between swallowing and whimpering noises, or is it that I like reaching across the length of your body to swat your pussy or push my fingers up your ass? Is it that I like the way you respond to each affront with more heated slathering of my dick, or is it the way I can feel the response of your cunt as it drips more with each touch? Is it the way I imagine you doing this while I watch you respond to someone else just as heatedly, since you are the prisoner of your body and your own desires? Or is it the way that I know that I know the depths of your craving better than anyone else ever would?

Your hair is lovely to hold and pull while I turn your mouth to this place and that. Your lips are my heaven to invade. I love to slap your face with my prick. You lose control at such moments and desperately attack my tool with your tongue.

But what I really love is that, with each swat of my hand, with each probe of my fingers, you wiggle and writhe your ass frantically, either to escape or to accommodate. Wagging your tail like a little puppy. A happy little puppy.

The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in the stars, but in ourselves

2006-05-29T22:47:00.000-07:00

Sexual Desire is in Your Genes

Everyone deserves ...

2006-05-29T22:34:00.000-07:00

2006-05-29T12:09:00.000-07:00

Erotic Education

Since posting Auden's "A Day for a Lay" I had been thinking about the best erotic passages that I had read in literature. I was thinking in terms of "serious literature" but then I realized that the lines are blurred between literature and erotica.

Then I ran across this wonderful post in Sexeteria ( "And then Mommy puts her finger in Daddy's..."). It is a post about how kids learn, or don't learn, about sex and relationships. It's a thoughtful piece, and thought-provoking - go read it now. (I'll wait.)

And then it struck me that the erotic literature that charged me up the most, that which was most memorable, was not the wildest or kinkiest, even though I am wild and kinky. Rather, it was the erotica that I had read in my formative years, which was part of my education about sex. It was stuff like "A Day for a Lay", and Candy by Terry Southern that I happened across in my early teens, and that led to multiple fapping sessions.

It makes me wonder if the same is true for everyone.

2006-05-27T22:10:00.000-07:00

When wife and I were in the blue heat of our fuck the other night, I fantasized out loud about watching her fuck two other guys and then sucking her tender pussy after.

I created a monster.

When we were done, she said, "Are you ready to clean me up?" I heartily complied, and she ground against my face as she came again.

The next night, after we made love, I was drifting off to sleep, when she climbed on my face and demanded that I suck her clean again.

Last night she drifted off before the follow-up act, but only after fucking me so hard she just about broke my dick.

What a lovely monster.

2006-05-27T22:08:00.000-07:00

2006-05-27T20:46:00.000-07:00

2006-05-27T20:10:00.000-07:00

A Day For A Lay (or The Platonic Blow)

I re-read W.H. Auden's poem "A Day for a Lay" today, including a discussion at Snopes on the provenance of the poem. A fellow posting there kept insisting that Auden could not have written it, because Auden was so good and the poem was so bad. Read for yourself and someone explain to me how it is bad:

A Day For A Lay

It was a spring day, a day, a day for a lay when the air
Smelled like a locker-room, a day to blow or get blown.
Returning from lunch I turned my corner and there
On a near-by stoop I saw him standing alone.
I glanced as I advanced. The clean white T-shirt outlined
A forceful torso, the light-blue denims divulged
Much. I observed the snug curves where they hugged the behind,
I watched the crotch where the cloth intriguingly bulged.
Our eyes met, I felt sick. My knees turned weak.
I couldn't move. I didn't know what to say.
In a blur I heard words myself like a stranger speak.
"Will you come to my room?" Then a husky voice, "O.K."
I produced some beer and we talked. Like a little boy
He told me his story. Present address next door.
Half Polish half Irish The youngest. From Illinois.
Profession mechanic. Name Bud. Age twenty-four.
He put down his glass and stretched his bare arms along
The back of my sofa. The afternoon sunlight struck
The blond hairs on the wrist near my head. His chin was strong,
His mouth sucky. I could hardly believe my luck.
And here he was sitting beside me, legs apart.
I could bear it no longer. I touched the inside of his thigh.
His reply was to move closer. I trembled. My heart
Thumped and jumped as my fingers went to his fly.
I opened a gap in the flap. I went in there.
I sought for a slit in the gripper shorts that had charge
Of the basket I asked for. I came to warm flesh then to hair,
I went on. I found what I hoped. I groped. It was large.
He responded to my fondling in a charming, disarming way:
Without a word he unbuckled his belt while I felt
And lolled back, stretching his legs. His pants fell away.
Carefully drawing it out, I beheld what I held.
The circumcised head was a work of mastercraft,
With perfectly beveled rim of unusual weight
And the friendliest red. Even relaxed, the shaft
Was of noble dimensions with the wrinkles that indicate
Singular powers of extension. For a second or two,
It lay there inert then suddenly stirred in my hand,
Then paused as if frightened or doubtful of what to do,
And then with a violent jerk began to expand.
By soundless bounds it extended and distended, by quick
Great leaps it rose, it flushed, it rushed to its full size.
Nearly nine inches long and three inches thick,
A royal column ineffably solemn and wise.
I tested its length and strength with a manual squeeze,
I bunched my fingers and twirled them about the knob,
I stroked it from top to bottom. I got on my knees.
I lowered my head. I opened my mouth for the job.
But he pushed me gently away. He bent down. He unlaced
His shoes. He removed his socks. Stood up. Shed
His pants altogether. Muscles in arms and waist
Rippled as he whipped his T-shirt over his head.
I scanned his tan, enjoyed the contrast of brown
Trunk against white shorts taut around small
Hips. With a dig and a wriggle he peeled them down.
I tore off my clothes. He faced me smiling. I saw all.
The gorgeous organ stood stiffly and straightly out
With a slight flare upwards. At each beat of his heart it threw
An odd little nod my way. From the slot of the spout
Exuded a drop of transparent viscous goo.
The lair of hair was fair, the grove of a young man,
A tangle of curls and whorls, luxuriant but couth.
Except for a spur of golden hairs that fan
To the neat navel, the rest of the belly was smooth.
Well hung, slung from the fork of the muscular legs,
The firm vase of his sperm, like a bulging pear,
Cradling its handsome glands, two herculean eggs,
Swung as he came towards me, shameless, bare.
We aligned mouths. We entwined. All act was clutch,
All fact contact, the attack and the interlock
Of tongues, the charms of arms. I shook at the touch
Of his fresh flesh, I rocked at the shock of his cock.
Straddling my legs a little I inserted his divine
Person between and closed on it tight as I could.
The upright warmth of his belly lay all along mine.
Nude, glued together for a minute, we stood.
I stroked the lobes of his ears, the back of his head
And the broad shoulders. I took bold hold of the compact
Globes of his bottom. We tottered. He fell on the bed.
Lips parted, eyes closed, he lay there, ripe for the act.
Mad to be had, to be felt and smelled. My lips
Explored the adorable masculine tits. My eyes
Assessed the chest. I caressed the athletic hips
And the slim limbs. I approved the grooves of the thighs.
I hugged, I snuggled into an armpit.
I sniffed the subtle whiff of its tuft. I lapped up the taste
Of its hot hollow. My fingers began to drift
On a trek of inspection, a leisurely tour of the waist.
Downward in narrowing circles they playfully strayed.
Encroached on his privates like poachers, approached the prick.
But teasingly swerved, retreated from meeting. It betrayed
Its pleading need by a pretty imploring kick.
"Shall I rim you?" I whispered. He shifted his limbs in assent,
Turned on his side and opened his legs, let me pass
To the dark parts behind. I kissed as I went
The great thick cord that ran back from his balls to his arse.
Prying the buttocks aside, I nosed my way in
Down the shaggy slopes. I came to the puckered goal.
It was quick to my licking. He pressed his crotch to my chin.
His thighs squirmed as my tongue wormed in his hole.
His sensations yearned for consummation. He untucked
His legs and lay panting, hot as a teen-age boy.
Naked, enlarged, charged, aching to get sucked,
Clawing the sheet, all his pores open to joy.
I inspected his erection. I surveyed his parts with a stare
From scrotum level. Sighting along the underside
Of his cock, I looked through the forest of pubic hair
To the range of the chest beyond rising lofty and wide.
I admired the texture, the delicate wrinkles and the neat
Sutures of the capacious bag. I adored the grace
Of the male genitalia. I raised the delicious meat
Up to my mouth, brought the face of its hard-on to my face.
Slipping my lips round the Byzantine dome of the head,
With the tip of my tongue I caressed the sensitive groove.
He thrilled to the trill. "That's lovely!" he hoarsely said.
"Go on! Go on!" Very slowly I started to move.
Gently, intently, I slid to the massive base
Of his tower of power, paused there a moment down
In the warm moist thicket, then began to retrace
Inch by inch the smooth way to the throbbing crown.
Indwelling excitements swelled at delights to come
As I descended and ascended those thick distended walls.
I grasped his root between left forefinger and thumb
And with my right hand tickled his heavy voluminous balls.
I plunged with a rhythmical lunge steady and slow,
And at every stroke made a corkscrew roll with my tongue.
His soul reeled in the feeling. He whimpered, "Oh!"
As I tongued and squeezed and rolled and tickled and swung.
Then I pressed on the spot where the groin is joined to the cock,
Slipped a finger into his arse and massaged him from inside.
The secret sluices of his juices began to unlock.
He melted into what he felt. "O Jesus!" he cried.
Waves of immeasurable pleasures mounted his member in quick
Spasms. I lay still in the notch of his crotch inhaling his sweat
His ring convulsed round my finger. Into me, rich and thick,
His hot spunk spouted in gouts, spurted in jet after jet.

2006-05-27T11:48:00.000-07:00

This is the first post from a deliriously depraved man in southern Arizona. If your mind is often in the gutter, stick around.