Aug 212014

Interstices. Lacunae. And trajectories.

These are what are hot for me.

For the same reason getting is more fun than having, for the same reason a striptease is hotter than an all-nude revue, for the same reason black and white is more erotic than color – because sexual arousal depends on mystery – what’s beneath those panties? what’s under that skirt? what’s behind that finger? And on the resolution of uncertainty – will she do as I ask?

Sex outside of these concepts can be hot, for sure. But I don’t particularly enjoy writing about it.

I’ve written about the lead-up. The story picks up in our room, a large suite with a balcony and a sitting area, in addition to a king-size bed.

Rose and I kiss, briefly. She tastes, deliciously, of cigarettes. I throw her back on the bed. Do I fuck her face first? Lick her clit? I don’t remember. But I did tear her dress off. Unintentionally, but it seems I did some actual tearing.

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Aug 192014

What are you thinking?

Are you thinking, I want to make him feel good? I want to make him come?

If so, you’re not sucking it the way I want you to.

If there are any thoughts going through your head – and if there aren’t, if you’re fully present in the sensual experience, if thoughts are far from your head, then nothing I have to say here will, or could, improve a thing – but if you are thinking, I hope your thoughts include some or  all of the following:

  • I love this cock
  • I need this cock
  • This cock is so interesting
  • I hope you never come
  • I’m the luckiest girl in the world

In short, my ideal fellatrix is sucking my cock not as an act of generosity, but of selfishness. You’re not giving me a blowjob, you’re taking a blowjob from me.

Aug 192014

Recently, Rose and I had a delicious evening together. We spent two hours licking, sucking, and fucking one another (more about which anon) before we were joined by the lovely Penelope, a woman neither of us had met before.

You’ve already heard parts of this story – first, part 5. Then, part 4. Then, part 1. It’s sort of like Star Wars. This is part 3. Part 2 is still in the works. Sort of like Star Wars. But, you know, different.

This was in some ways a first for me. While I’ve had sex with women I’ve only just met, before this day, I never had committed to having sex with someone prior to meeting them. And in this case, I pretty much did. As did Rose, who not only had never met Penelope, she had never had an online interaction with her. (They had both seen one another’s Tinder photos from screenshots I took on my phone, but that was all.) As did, I believe, Penelope. And this was a first for each of us.

So each of us was in uncharted waters.

I’ll pick up the action in the middle.

Rose and I, reeking of her cunt, dressed ourselves. Rose, in a dress other than the one I had literally torn off of her earlier (she had, at my request, brought two). But not her panties. I, in the jeans, t-shirt, and button-down I had started the evening wearing. But not my boxers. We sat opposite one another, and I told Rose to “give me a Sharon Stone moment.” I asked her to touch herself for me while we waited. When Penelope texted that she had finished her drink and was headed upstairs, Rose and I switched places – I took the chair, and placed Rose on the love seat she would share with Penelope.

“The door’s open,” I replied. “Rose, I’m going to start by asking you to kiss one another. Are you ok with that?”

She nodded.

“Good girl. And, I wonder how you would feel if we used your wand on her. She’s never used one before,” I said. “We would, of course, use a towel between her and the wand.”

Rose had looked a little iffy when I started that request. By the time I finished, she looked relieved. “Yes,” she said. “That’s fine – as long as we use a towel. I’m a little… picky… about my toys.”

In the event, it wouldn’t have mattered, as at the end of the evening, the wand was one of the various items we left behind at the hotel. But at that particular moment, it did matter.

I looked at Rose. “You look like you’ve just been fucked,” I said. She did. She had been. She was beautiful, glowing, a little… dazed.

“Y’think?” she asked, a smile on her face.

“Hellooooo?” a voice called as the door opened.

Penelope walked in. Where Rose and I are white white white, Penelope is more mixed. She’s white, but she’s ethnic – a mix of ethnicities. She is 27 or so, with dark hair, rich full lips, and a soft, curvy body. She’s not fat, but she’s soft. Not, I should say, my type. I knew this going into the evening. (Several of the women I’ve written positively about here have not been my type – Maxie, the Rockette both come to mind.) Her body is voluptuous, sensual. I was immediately looking forward to it, and my cock, which had been hard for two hours, stiffened.

I stood up, walked toward her, and kissed her hard, on the lips, my hand pulling her head toward me as I tasted the vodka she had just finished. I choked her a little too. (In retrospect, it wasn’t, actually, at this moment that I choked her, but I can’t locate precisely where in the early moments it was. So I’m putting it here.)

“Have a seat,” I said, gesturing toward the loveseat on which Rose was sitting.

There was a minute or two of small talk – not more than that – when I said, “Rose, I’d like you to be playing with yourself right now, o.k.?” Rose nodded, and silently spread her legs, lifting one up on the couch, and lifted her dress. Her pussy is pretty, and it was already red from overuse. She started slowly stroking her clit. She positioned herself so both Penelope and I had perfect views.

As she began stroking herself, I said, “Penelope, I’d like you to uncross your legs please, too. And you can begin touching yourself, too.”

She did. She uncrossed her legs, lifted her dress a little, and began to rub her pussy. This angle was less perfect. I couldn’t see her pussy, couldn’t see clearly what she was doing. Neither could Rose. In retrospect, I should have fixed this.

“I’d like to talk a little about what’s going to happen tonight,” I said. “Penelope, the last time we were together, Rose chose the word ‘blue’ to indicate if and when she wanted something to stop. She used it quite a bit, as I recall. Though she hasn’t, yet, used it tonight. Is there a word you’d like….”

She interrupted me: “Apple.”

“O.k.,” I said. “Now, a couple of other things. I know you, Penelope, are hoping to leave this evening with some video. It’s important to both Rose and me that neither our faces nor anything else identifiable appear anywhere in any video taken. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” she said.

“O.k. A few more things. None of us is particularly interested in anal, so that’s off the table.”

“Right,” she said. “And I don’t really want a finger up there either,” she said. “I mean, maybe around there, just not in….”

“O.k.” I said. “Now I should tell you, earlier tonight, I hit Rose quite a bit. On her ass, on her breasts, and on her face. And I choked her. Rose likes that. Because she’s a filthy slut, and that’s the kind of thing that makes her wet. Right Rose?”

Rose nodded, a trace of subspace visible in her eyes.

“How do you feel about that?” I asked Penelope.

“I like that,” she said. “But not too hard. Like how you choked me before, that was a little too hard,” she said.

“O.k.,” I said. “That’s helpful. Thank you. For the rest of the evening, of course, ‘apple’ is how you’ll communicate to me if I do something you don’t want. Is there anything else we should talk about now before we get started?”

“No,” she said. “But thank you – thank you for making this feel very – safe.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. “Now. I’d like the two of you to kiss for a moment.”

These two very pretty ladies began to kiss. Their tongues were swimming, and I was stroking my cock. “I’m going to get the wand,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

I returned a moment later with the wand. “Penelope, come sit on this chair,” I said, motioning to the chair in which I had watched Rose stroke her clit, in which I had watched the two women kissing, and which sat close to the only available outlet in the room.

I plugged the wand in and handed it to Rose, along with a small hand towel. Rose wrapped the hand towel around the wand, secured it with something (a hairband?) and switched it on. “OH!” Penelope said, as it made first contact with her cunt. “OH!”

“I’m going to lie on the bed,” I said. “In a few minutes, I’ll ask you two to come and suck my cock. But for now, please enjoy the wand.”

They did seem, very much, to enjoy the wand. At least from my vantage point, lying on a bed around a corner. I couldn’t see much more than Rose’s back in her black dress, but I could hear Penelope.

“Ok,” I said. “Please come here, and bring the wand.”

The two women, still dressed, came to me. “Penelope,” I said, “Please take Rose’s dress off.” Penelope did as I asked. Rose’s body – beautiful, a perfect hourglass – stood exposed before us. “Now, Rose, please undress Penelope.” She did, lifting the striped cotton dress over Penelope’s head. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her breasts – big, soft, round D cups – spilled out. She had some tattoos, including one I mistranslated from a language I don’t speak into English. She corrected me. I admired both bodies, so different, but so beautiful, and said, “Now, please undress me. Rose, please take off my shirt – Penelope, please take off my jeans.”

A moment later, I scooched up the bed, lay down, and said, “Please – suck my cock.”

They lowered their mouths onto my cock. Penelope’s mouth – and her tongue – immediately impressed me. Every good blowjob I’ve received has been the best I’ve ever received, as I’ve written before, and in that moment, this was the best blowjob I ever had received.

So began the second portion of the evening, a portion that included, not necessarily in this order:

  • My coming, twice, in Rose’s mouth
  • Penelope squatting to suck my cock expertly on the hotel’s balcony, in full view of hundreds of people, while Rose, her back against the wall, touched her pussy for me
  • Rose sitting on my face while Penelope sucked my cock. And while I used Penelope’s camera to film her.
  • Penelope sitting on my face while Rose sucked my cock
  • Penelope licking Rose’s pussy while I filmed her
  • Penelope licking Rose’s pussy while I kissed her
  • Rose kissing me while Penelope sucked my cock
  • Rose sucking my cock while I licked Penelope’s clit
  • Penelope kissing Rose while I licked Penelope’s clit

We tried to enumerate the orgasms Rose had had. We failed. Penelope’s orgasms were easier to count: there had been two. She seemed quite pleased with this number.

There was a belt that was around both women’s necks for various parts of the evening. Penelope tried to use the belt to lash Rose’s ass. She was incompetent. I gave her some lessons. She improved.

There were spankings. There was caressing. There was laughing.

We admired how Rose, in particular, seemed to grow prettier with each orgasm she had (an impressive feat, given whence she starts).

The whole thing was a shit-ton of fun.

The one thing there wasn’t was fucking.

“The first time I met Rose, I didn’t fuck her,” I said to Penelope at the end of the evening. Rose affirmed this. Somewhat bitterly, it seemed to me (though she denies any such bitterness).

“But I fucked her this time,” I said. Rose validated this. Not at all bitterly, it seemed. In fact, somewhat gratefully, I think. (“Definitely grateful,” she says.)

We said good night to one another.

“I’ll fuck you next time,” I promised Penelope.

Aug 192014

You did, in this post, briefly. I haven’t met her in person yet, but I will.

She’s young. Not too young – she’s a grown-up. But she’s in her late 20s. She’s blonde. She’s sexy as hell. She was one of the last two or three people I met through Tinder, before it disappeared. I spent an hour or so the other day making her pussy wet with my keyboard, and she made my cock hard with hers.

I expect you’ll hear more about her as time goes on, but here, you can hear what her orgasm sounds like. She usually uses her finger, but, because she was nervous, she used a vibrator to produce this. And, it took her longer than usual, she says.

I’m glad it took her longer than usual. It gives me/us more time to listen to the crescendo of her breathing. The actual orgasm itself is almost an anti-climax – it’s just… the end of the breathing. But the whole thing is, to me, really fucking hot. I hope you enjoy it.

There will be more of Rye. I promise.

Listen here.

Aug 182014

Rose is game for anything.

She sees her role, thankfully, as being my fuck-toy. She will do as I wish, with whom I wish. She will do as I say, dress as I say. It’s lovely to have that in a companion.

I had mentioned the possibility of a threesome or foursome to Rose, and she was, to put it mildly, enthusiastic. This is good for me, because, as you may recall, my greatest single fantasy is to be with lots of women at once, the only guy in the room. And, in my fantasy, I’d like the women to be delivered to me, not sought/identified/wooed by me.

So in the lead-up to this particular evening, I was hell-bent on making this, at a minimum, a threesome. But ideally, I wanted four or five women present. And for a moment, it seemed like I had likely candidates. There was Raquel, a very young woman on Tinder who was game. Rye, though still young, is a bona fide grown-up, and is thus more mature. She was hesitant. And, in the hours before we met, a tall, multinational woman surfaced – she might be interested. And there was Penelope. Penelope, it seemed, was in. So if I were to find another woman, she would be a fourth in our crowd, not a third.

Raquel demurred at the last minute – some combination of her period and her not wanting to fuck people she’d just met. Though, to interact with her, you’d think this was a kind of regular thing for her – at one point the other day (after the date this post recounts), she texted me – we’ve still not met – “I’m in xxx. Want to fuck me? Now?”

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Aug 182014

Luna’s been quiet lately. It’s unclear whether she’ll suck my cock again. She wants to, but she’s conflicted. Which, honestly, makes two of us.

But she did send me this:

Thank you, Luna.

Aug 182014

This is the last part, part 4 (I think) of the evening I’ve been hinting at that I recently spent with Rose and Penelope. The other parts will follow shortly. In some order.

My cab carried me homeward. I was in a reverie. I began recording a little memo to Sofia. Since I’ve never fucked Sofia, since it seems likely I may never, one thing we do is share information with one another about the sex we each have. This is helpful for me, both in terms of processing the sex that I have, and in terms of connecting with Sofia. It can be complicated to share such stuff, but it’s good practice to do it with someone so far away, and Sofia and I have done it increasingly well.

So here I was, telling her about my evening, about fucking Rose, about Penelope’s sucking my cock while Rose sat on my face, about holding Penelope’s camera, trying to keep it pointed at her face while not being able to see anything other than Rose’s delicious, soaking pussy, trying not to come while Penelope’s tongue swirled around, pressed against, every bit of flesh on my cock.

In the middle of my recording, I heard a woman screaming. I looked around – I was a bit dazed. It was late, I had just had two orgasms with two beautiful women. I was tired. The cab was moving fairly quickly.

To my left, I saw… something awful. I won’t go into the details, but suffice it to say, my adrenaline kicked in, I rolled down the window, and yelled, “STOP!” I asked the cabbie to stop, too. Maybe I told him to stop. Maybe I ordered him to stop. I don’t know. I was out of the cab, taking pictures with my phone instantly. What needed to stop, stopped. But the police needed to come. A man needed to be arrested. He threatened me. The cabbie came to my defense. I had pictures – of the guy, his car, his license plate. His threats were empty. The police were there.

The man was arrested. The woman thanked me.

The police took statements. From me, from the cabbie, from another guy who had joined the fray.

We were on our way.

My reverie was interrupted. I was tachycardic. I was hyperventilating.

I went back to recording for Sofia, but my heart wasn’t in it. I was sad, now.

Tired, frenzied, and sad.

An awful end to an otherwise truly excellent evening.

Aug 172014

“I just want to thank you,” Penelope said, as Rose, she, and I were saying good night.

“Seriously. I was really nervous coming in, and you made me feel really… comfortable. You know, you could have been super intimidating, but you weren’t. You were… I don’t know, I can’t think of the word. But I wasn’t worried, I wasn’t uncomfortable. Given how you write, given how dominant you are, I don’t know – I sort of expected, feared, I don’t know…. But you were…. I don’t know. It was really good, though. Thank you.”

We talked about my recent posts on whether I’m intimidating or not. She said, “Not at all.”

I offered some possible words for the one she was lacking. “Kind? Approachable? Friendly? Open?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t know….”

A day later, she e-mailed me.

“Harmless. That’s the word.”

“Next time, I’ll harm you,” I replied.

Harmless. Harmless?

I’m not sure that’s quite the vibe I was going for, but I’ll take it. Winking smile