Monday, February 16, 2009

VALENTINE'S GIFT

For Valentine's she said I could have anything I wanted. She drew her legs up to show me what she meant. She knew it'd been a long time. I stepped to the edge of the bed. Holding my cock, I rubbed it up and down her soft folds. She had a let her hair grow back some, and it felt soft and sexy. She grew wet as I teased her. Dipping my head into her, she shuddered. She still held her legs pinned back to her chest. Do you want me like that? She asked. I bobbed just the first two inches inside her. She was soaking wet, and her juices seeped from her folds and between her upturned buttocks.


I pulled out and circled my lubricated head over her puckered anus. She looked at me with a twinkle. Do you want to fuck me there? she asked. I pushed a little. She kept her eyes locked on me. Slowly, I eased the tip in. She was tight, and her sphincter muscles gripped. I rubbed her clit with my thumb and she began to moan and push her hips up to ease me in deeper. She was soaking wet and her body glistened. I continued to rub her clit, as I pushed. I was now half way in and slowly pumping. Her eyes now closed and I knew she was feeling my hand on the front and my body filling her in the back. I could see my cock half in her, stretching her. She bucked harder against it to force it in to its hilt. Yes, she said. That feels so good. Do you like it? She asked.


I love it, I said. It's so tight. So smooth.

By now, her body had relaxed to accommodate my size. She was rocking her hips with full force down on my cock to meet each thrust. Her eyes had glazed over in a half dream like state. She only gets that way when the anal sex is really deep and strong. It puts her in a totally different place, like her conscious self is shut down, and she's only moving on a deep, primal instinct. She begins to groan and mutter words and incomplete sentences: there? oh yes. Fuck. yes. there. that's it. you fuck me so good. my ass. fuck my ass. there. there. there.

We were now going full force and she was completely mad, shouting and thrashing. Fuck my ass fuck my ass fuck me. She yelled as I pounded her with everything I had. Shoot it in me, she screamed. shoot it. in my ass.

With that, I let go my full load. My cock twitched and pulsed as it gushed. Then, slowly, still panting and trying to catch my breath, I slowly pulled out. My cock was half erect still, and sleek with our sex.

She was shaking and blinking as if waking from a daze. She smiled at the ceiling and let her legs fall back to the bed.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

What better way to say "I (heart) you" to your sweetie than to dress in red and offer a new toy as a surprise gift.

That's one way to start the XOXO.

Friday, February 13, 2009

RED DIRT GIRL

Caralee was the best writer in the MFA program. She wrote of her hard scrabble childhood in Appalachia. It was simple, but direct storytelling that the professors praised and the fellow students envied. Caralee read her work with a sweet southern drawl. Her words evoked images of sugar pine forests, burbling creeks and whisky stills. Railroad tracks and cotton fields. Red clay, and hot sticky summer days that brought afternoon thunderstorms. She wrote of the great gothic themes of the south: a mother's suicide, a sharecropping father who abused her as a child, a teenage pregnancy. It was so real, so raw and honest. She'd had a hard life, yet she spoke of simple beauty. She spoke of the carefree summer days. I return again and again to an image of her one summer afternoon, and am reminded of everything that makes the joy transcend the bad.

CORNER FLASH

The erotic element of flashing is nudity unexpected and out of place. Here's a great example. I love how she's coming around the corner, flashes. It's as if the moment exists only between the looker and the person looked at. Everything else is the usual day-to-day. How fun.

BW FINGER IN BACK

What else can you say about this image but sexy. Very.
BEACH HANDLER

I don't know why, but this image is both silly and sexy. A couple skinny dipping: sexy. A woman holding her man's junk: sexy.
But there's something posed, and a little goofy, too. Who knows? What were they doing when the picture was taken? Who took it? And what happened next? Did they go back to swimming? Did he get hard, feeling her warm hand cupping him? If he did, what did she do? I'll let you take the story from there....

Thursday, February 12, 2009

BW BREAST

BEDTIME, TEETH BRUSHED, FACE WASHED


It's late, and she returns from the bathroom, asks, "You coming or what?"

KICKED BACK

There's just something sexy about this image. Maybe because she's half covered, half exposed. We're used to seeing women topless; at least, it's nearly publicly acceptable. Their are topless beaches in Europe. An exposed breast in a movie can still have an R rating. But no pants? A thatch of pubic hair? That's just downright erotic.

Or maybe it's the fact that she's totally kicked back, not looking at the camera,eyes closed, but smiling, inviting. Maybe the sexuality is more implied? You be the judge.

THE LAST LETTER SHE SENT


They'd been long-distance for three months, and the only thing keeping the connection intimate was her laptop. She snapped a picture of herself on the couch, spread out for him. Then she emailed it.


Lots of nights she'd sit on her couch, her laptop propped up beside her. Naked, she'd read his emails, or compose one for him. Sometimes, though, she'd get both bored and lonely; she'd click on one of her favorite porn sites. She'd found one where real couples submitted their photos. If she couldn't have physical satisfaction, at least she could she other people experiencing it. It turned her on, and soon she'd be touching herself at her computer. She joked with him that the long distance would drive her to seek out internet porn. They laughed about it, but she never fully admitted to him the extent of her online exploring.


It wasn't long before she clicked a link to an adult toy retail site. And with a click of a button, she'd placed her first order. She'd never had a toy before. She'd always been far too shy to actually go into one of the seedy adult shops and, frankly, her fingers seemed to do enough. But the months of long-distance, combined with the daily emails, the photos, and surfing amateur sites, had gotten her totally curious. The next thing she knew, a small brown package had arrived.

Of course, the first thing to do was test it out. She locked the door, drew the curtains, and stripped down. She unwrapped her new toy, found some AA batteries, and pulled up her favorite site. She started touching with her fingers, until she was wet and ready. Then with a twist, her new toy hummed in her hand. She touched it to her clit, and it sent shocks of vibrations to the tip of her head. Everything tingled.

It didn't take long at all for her to reach climax. In fact, just holding it against her clit could bring on an orgasm. Shaking and trembling, she set the toy down.

She wondered if she should tell her boyfriend of her new purchase, and her new experience. To test his reaction, she wrote him that she'd gone online and watched a video of a woman playing with a vibrator, and asked if that turned him on. The irony was that as she asked his permission to explore new things, she was already two steps ahead. By the time he wrote back that he was glad she'd found a sexy video of a solo girl, she'd already ordered her second toy.

Again she stripped on her couch. She placed a towel down, lubbed up her toys, and set down for more porn, and more pleasure. She learned that the vibrators with the rattling pearls inside produced the most intense vibrations. She loved to feel this type of her toy on her clit and filling her in the front. She also lerned that her smaller, sleek reddish colored vibrator felt good in her back. She'd discovered this on the couch. Trying to hold on toy on her clit and work one inside of her, it slipped to her lower entrance. To her surprise, the sensation shot direct currents to her clit. The more she pushed the toy against her anus, the more intense the sensation in the front. It was as if currents of electricity connected the toy toys. So she'd sit on her couch, legs propped up on the coffee table. She'd work the red toy in her butt, while pressing the pearl vibrator in the front, as she watched online porn.


Eventually, she told her boyfriend about purchasing her first toy. By then, her collection had grown. So had her Sex Ed, provided by hours of watching online porn. At first she liked the solo girls. She would place herself in the shot, moving her toy as the woman on screen moved hers. She then began watching couples' videos. Shed imagine the guy as her boyfriend, and the woman as herself. She'd get on her knees and use the toy from behind. Or hold it upright and ride it.

At the beginning of the long-distance, her sexy emails would retell some of the experiences she and her boyfriend shared. After those ran their course, she found herself describing scenes she'd watched online. In the emails she'd change the scenes, the places, the names, the details to be specific to her boyfriend and their life in their homestate.

She even got so bold as to send him a self-timer shot of her using her toy in the back. It would either freak him out or turn him on so much he'd beat off to it every day for weeks. She wanted to think of him being turned on by the image, and to get her pleasure from the thought of him getting pleasure from the image. But she was already far passed him and their relationship that seemed fixed in another place, long ago. She was in the city and her job and her live was changing. HE was still back home, hanging out with the same high school buddies, drinking beer, working the same stupid job. She didn't know what he'd think of the image of her with the vibrator up her butt. She was certain it'd shock him.



He'd have no idea, though, that bedtime became her time to bring out her toys. She'd used her larger toys in the back, that she'd use another toy in the front. Or suck on one, while pushing another up her butt. As far as he knew, every story, every private fantasy was about the two of them. She couldn't tell him that he only appeared as a character in her emails to him. In her mind, she was on her back, a man straddling her face, his cock dangling down as she takes it in her mouth. Another man beside her, pushing his hard cock into her anus.



She now had several toys: blue and purple, white, red. Each a different shape and size, and personality. Some had gentle, soft vibrations, and some she could only bear for a few seconds, they seemed to send such strong currents through her. Each one had a texture, a style, a mood. A personality. When she was home, before moving to the city, she imagined she'd only be with her boyfriend. That they'd get married, and be happily every after. When they made love back then, she figured a penis was just a penis. All boys had one, but they were essentially the same. Now, with her toys, she imagined she had a dozen different lovers. Each night would be a new combination. Always, she imagined more than one cock, fucking and sucking at the same time.

Months passed. When they first started dating in high school , all they could talk about was getting out of their small hometown, far away from parents and teachers, and starting an adventure in the city. After graduation, even agreed to start college at the local community college. He argued that core credits were all the same, and it'd be cheaper to live at home and get in-state tuition, and get some credits out of the way before moving.

So she passed up all the other acceptance letters from colleges in the east and a couple in California. And she enrolled at teh local community college. And on fridays they went on dates, to the movies, and bowling, and had sex in his pickup, just the same as any young adults do in any small town USA. It was fine then, even lovely, even fun.

But eventually, she had to move to the city. Had he been an asshole, the choice and a breakup would have been easy. Simple. But you know: life is never easy or simple. He was kind and agreeable and supportive. He wrote her letters regularly. At first, he said he needed to stick around a while to make sure his folks had help on the farm. That he wanted to save up some before joining her in the city. But at last, it had become clear. There would always be something keeping him in their hometown, and she couldn't go back. Letters were fine for a few months, but without any clear end in sight, they could not sustain. She'd grown into a woman he didn't know, with thoughts and desires she could never share.

She had to force the situation to the point of decision. She knew she had to do two things to truly break from the innocence girl she was. She knew in her heart, she had to experience two men at once. She had to make real the fantasy, at least once. And she knew, she could not keep the secret from him.

In life, agony and anxiety often come when a decision is put off. ONce the decision is made, life takes up and moves on its own. Things fall into place. And so it was that she found herself in a hotel room she'd reserved, and two young men about her age, good looking enough, and total strangers who agreed to what she had in mind. And so it was the three were naked, and she riding one, and sucking the other, and then trading. Being filled the front and the back. Being stretched out, sore, sweaty, and satisfied. They fucked her like no toys could. She was dizzy and wanted more and more. She came over and over. They fucked until she had drained every drop of cum they could give her. Semen sloshed in her belly, dripped from her cunt and asshole. Around 4am, they guys left. She slept on the tangled, stained sheets.


The next morning she showered, dressed and checked out. The only evidence she had of her tryst was a self timer shot on her digital camera. Back at her laptop, she debated sending it. Did he really need to see it? Did she really need to tell him everything?

That's when she knew she had really changed. For the first time she felt truly like a woman, and not like someone pretending to be a mature adult. She now new herself like never before. She could give all she had, and still keep herself. She downloaded the image, but did not send it. She took out a piece of paper and pen and wrote an old fashioned letter saying she needed to break up, that it was her, not him. That she'd always care for him, and that she didn't want to hold him back. As she wrote, life became suddenly clear. Somehow she knew in her gut that he'd already found someone else, a local girl with no intent of moving. And rather than send him the shot of her and the other guys in vengeance, she wished him happiness. The answer was simple all along. He was doing what he needed to do. And so, with that, she did what she needed to do. She sealed the letter and set it on the coffee table to be mailed, cutting the final and last strand holding her back.
FIRES THAT BURN THE HOTTEST BURN THE FASTEST

One of my greatest sexual experiences started with a fight. I dated Patricia for nearly two years, which was a least a year too long. In the beginning it was an intense, passionate connection. As time went on, it became apparent that it was a physical chemistry that kept us together. We fought often, and always about nothing. It was never one thing, or anything, really, just power control, and lack of control over what we were going through. If love came with clarity and honesty, we'd realize that we were, bit by bit, becoming each other's adversary rather than partner. But the sex was great. And the fighting seemed to fuel it even more. A pattern was forming, not a good one, either. It went like this: something of no important sets off an argument. The argument gets off topic and brings in a variety of undefined, but deeply felt grievances. The argument flares into a full-blown fight, until someone stomps off, slams a door, and screams, fuck you I never want to see you again.

Sadly, that's the point we were at. We'd both come home from work. Worn out, stressed, it was not a good time to get in a fight. Who should have called ahead for take out, or who should have stopped to get pasta, because we were out, might have sparked this fight. But I can't recall, and it never really mattered. Somehow the pattern took ahold of us, and we slipped quickly from stage one to stage two, to stage three. By that time she was threatening that we only had anal sex because I insisted and that she never liked it and that she didn't want to have it anymore. She stormed off, screaming, slamming doors. She'd never attacked our sex life. Of all our problems, that had been the steadfast beacon of hope. Her words shattered that, and I thought then, this time it's REALLY over.

Eventually, she returned, hugged me and said she was sorry. She was shaking with tears. As I held her, her groin moved against mine. She rolled her hips and pressed. My body responded, growing harder. Still shaking, trembling rage, turned quickly to hands tugging down underwear, reaching genitals. I was rock hard and she pumped my dick with her hand, sobbing, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. My hands were moving up and down her back and pawing her bare buttocks. She turned suddenly, leaning on the kitchen counter with one hand, reaching back with the other and without a word, guided the head of my cock to her ass. Are you sure? I asked.

She pushed me deeper to say yes. Her ass was so silky smooth, tight. It was the most perfect sensation I knew. I knew she loved it. She really did, despite what she'd said. But I also knew, at that moment, our time was marked. So I pushed my hips forward and she pushed her butt back, and we were joined. Her hot flesh gripping, engulfing my cock. We were both shaking, sobbing, saying sorry, I'm sorry over and over. Slow and deep, and then hard and fast. She grunted and screamed and moaned and yelled at me to give it to her, to fuck her, and to cum in her ass.

And so I fucked her in the ass like it would be my last time. And it was.


ARTISTIC B&W
AFTER THE DANCE, WE TURNED TO THE MIRROR

After the homecoming party, my college girlfriend was a bit tipsy and very turned on. There's something about being all dressed up, and free drinks flowing, and coming back to the tiny dorm room. IT was a cramped space to go wild. There was the bed, and desk, and not much space in between. When she was drunk and randy, her wild side came out. She pushed back my desk chair, and sat me in it. Then she took the mirror that was hanging on a nail above the dresser and positioned it on the floor. I could see my computer, my closet, my legs.

Then straddling me, facing away, she reached back and guided my hard cock into her. She pushed back, sliding me easily into her tight pussy. It was an incredible sight in the mirror. I snapped a photo, just to try and save the memory of the evening. We both seemed so mature then, such adults. I look at the image now and notice smaller details. Like her blue hair scrunchy, that the girls wore back in the 1990s. We look so young. My legs thin. Her legs taunt, flexing as she rolls her hips up and down the length of my cock. Her butt firm, her breasts smooth and bouncing as she fucked me. How wet she was then, how hard I would get. And how spontaneous and easy it was. The mirror showed our bodies joined, caught in a moment in time, forever.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

SAY HURRAY

A SUMMER, A HOT TUB, A CRUSH.

When I first met Lauralee, she was engaged. His name was Dwayne, but behind his back we called him "The" Dwayne. The point being none of Lauralee's friends liked The Dwayne, and thought she could do a lot better. She was smart, beautiful, with dark hair and eyes, freckles across her shoulder blades, and down the V of her chest. She had the softest lilting Southern drawl you ever heard, always soft and breathy, making you lean in closer to hear, as if she was telling you a secret just to you, and you, more than anything, wanted to hear. We all had a crush on Lauralee, boys and girls. But she had it crazy for The Dwayne. So la-la for The Dwayne, she seemed all the more inaccessible, and thus, all the more desirable. Maybe she knew she made boys hard and girls wet. Or maybe not. We were friends, best friends, and she felt she could tell me everything. I didn't want to hear, frankly, about The Dwayne. But I wanted to hear her drawl, be near her.



Lauralee and The Dwayne lived in a small two-bedroom bungalow. Out back it had a nice little yard, barbecue, small deck, and hot tub. One particularly hot summer afternoon, we sat on her back deck, sharing a bottle of white wine. After the thrid glass, we were both feeling totally buzzed. Lauralee suggested we hop the hot tub, kicking off her flip-flops and tugging down her jeans. I don't know why, then, I didn't think it unusual that she didn't have a swim suit to offer, but she'd already stripped down to just a t-shirt. It was one of The Dwayne's undershirts.

When she hopped in, their was no question I'd join her. There was no question we'd drink more wine. And no question that I wanted her more than ever. The thin fabric of the tank top clung to her breasts, showing their full size. I picked up my camera and snapped a shot to have and to always remember that afternoon. She looked at me as if she knew she was sexy, as she knew I wanted her, and that she was spoken for and therefore safe with me, her best friend, her confidant. I snapped a second shot, before stepping in.

SUMMER SNAPSHOT, LOOKING UP


This is just such a great snapshot. It's one of those unplanned, unexpected moments. The framing seems accidental, yet it's somehow a better image than if carefully composed. Who is this woman? Who has the camera? Did she set the timer--is it a self-portrait? Was she sun bathing with partner and just stood up? It's sunny and warm, that's about all we can conclude for certain. The rest is playful imagination.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

MESSY ROOM, MIRROR


Her dorm room was a mess, a total disaster. Laundry piled everywhere. Textbooks, homework, music lessons buried in the mix. It was finally the weekend, and she figured, maybe she should pack up a load and take it to the laundry room. When she'd returned from the shower, she saw a text message from her boyfriend. He was going to school in another state. Whats up? he'd written. Feeling silly, sexy, and lonely from missing him, she dropped her towel, and stood in front of her mirror, lit by the desk lamp. She snapped a photo with her cel and hit send.

MS. FIX-IT

Oh yeah, there is nothing sexier than a woman who knows what to do with a tool in her hand. In this case, a 5/8 socket. Here's a salute to the Modern woman. Self-empowered and sexy. As the old blues song says, she can bring home the bacon and fry it in a pan. She doesn't wait for hubby to come home to fix the garage-door. But if he does, he'll certainly get a sight to reckon. She's the kind of woman that doesn't need a man around the house, but is glad she does. Being sexy is always sexier with an audience, she thinks. And for all the tools she can use, she knows she likes his best of all.

WAKE UP AND FEEL THE BOOBIES

She loved weekends. She loved sleeping in. She loved waking up, full of energy, and frisky. She loved cupping her breasts around his morning-hard shaft. She loved his sleepy, surprised, and aroused expression as he saw his cock popping in and out of sight between her beautiful, perfectly shaped, perfectly smooth, perfectly soft breasts. In fact, it was hard to say who enjoyed it enjoyed it more. But one thing was certain: it was a fine way to kick start the day.

NIGHTY-NIGHT

Very Sexy in her white and pink nighty. One tempting way to say, "Ready for bed?"




Friday, February 06, 2009

HAVE CAMERA, WILL TRAVEL

They'd packed their camcorder for the trip, to shoot, you know, the usual tourist stuff.

The driving was long, monotonous across Wisconsin. Bored, horney, she reached over and began to stroke him through his pants. She felt him respond to her touch. And after a mile or so, he'd tugged down his pants, released his erection. She gripped it, and stroked slowly. She knew every ridge, every ripple of flesh. She knew his smell, and the taste of his pre-cum. She grew wet, and longed to wrap her lips around his shaft. He grew thicker in her grasp. The miles passed. She began fantasizing about taking him in her mouth and sucking him until she was rewarded with the blast of salty cum. She couldn't stand it, and from his cock straining in her hand, she knew he wanted it, too.

So she scanned the highway for turnouts, rest stops, state parks, and farm service roads. Eventually, she found one, and turned off. It was a secluded farm road, with a small brown sign pointing toward a wetland. A mile or so off the main highway, they came to the wetland. It was an empty gravel parking lot, with an outhouse, a garbage can, and a interpretive sign about birds. She took all of this info in as she scanned the scene, making sure it was perfect for her plan. Once she switched off the ignition, she could have gotten him off then and there. But the anticipation had built up too much. She wasn't going to just do it same-old-same-old. She'd been teasing him and herself for the last hour, it seemed, and here they were, in a secluded, but potentially public place. The sun was warm, the bird chirps filled the air. It smeeled of summer and trees and bushes and nature. She felt ALIVE. She felt DARING.

She looked at him with a grin. "Take off your clothes," she instructed, as she wiggled out of hers. They set up the camcorder on the tripod. And pressed record. "Let's make a real vacation movie," she said.

Thursday, February 05, 2009

IN EDEN, BEFORE APPLES

In college, I hated living in the dorms and having to eat in the cafeteria. That was a couple decades ago--I'm sure both dormitories and their food services have gotten much better. But back then, it was really like living in little concrete block cels and eating rehydrated mashed potatoes every day.



So, when I heard of a co-housing option, with a room opening up for the "Earth House," I applied. I didn't have long hair or smoke pot, but was pretty mellow and they seemed to like me. So, they let me have the room in the basement. Most of the members were girls, and they wanted a guy living in the basement in case of intruders. Just fine with me to live with chicks.



In spring, they planted a garden, and went it got hot, they peeled off their clothes. At the time, I accepted it as just another part of the average college experience. Now, years later, I realize people are much more conservative about nudity. Maybe it's age, or the times, but nude gardening seems so natural. Didn't Adam and Eve, after all, live in a garden?

Wednesday, February 04, 2009

SHAVE AND A HAIR CUT, 2 CENTS

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.
BIG SMILE, BIG SKY

ME TIME



In her room, it was her space, her time. She locked the door, and let her fingers explore her body. She called it Me Time.
NIGHT IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD PARK

We live a few blocks from the park. In summer, when it is muggy, and too humid to stay inside, we take walks. One balmy evening, my girlfriend wore a blue skirt, a light jacket, and some summer clogs. When we came to the park, she climbed up on the play structure. It was dark and no one was around, the only sounds the chop of sprinklers and crickets. Above me, she lifted her skirt, showing me that she'd been walking without panties.



She then knelt by the slide and lifted her sweatshirt, revealing her bare chest.



The sight of her exposed, her small, firm breasts pinched in the evening air, her smoothly shaved pussy, gleaming with sweat, or excitement. There is something playful about playgrounds, even for adults. Perhaps the memory of slides and swings. Of carefree summer days, and games like tag.

When my girlfriend moved to the swings, she bent over and raised her dress. I looked around, nervous. Someone could come at anytime. It was dark, but not that late. The air smelled sweet, the grass of the baseball fields damp. The trees and flowers thick in the air. What the hell, I decided, moving up behind her, pulling my cock from my shorts.



HIPSTER GIRL GOES ON PICNIC

PRETTY IN PINK