Then  we did some more making out and she started saying stuff like, “I want to see you naked, you would look so good naked,” and then she said something that implied she wanted to eat me out.  And I’m sure I would have let her but I was still bleeding.  And all this time we weren’t just screwing around, we were also talking about how we felt about each other and what the hell Erica was going to do about Juree–still loving her and all.  Christmas we went to Chris’s sister’s house.  Just being in a room with Erica makse me hot an I can’t stand having to hide it from everyone.  The day after Christmas were were at Chris’s and stayed in bed until 4pm.  We did it again but I told her to be gentle and that I might bleed.  She said she didn’t care.  The night before we had gone into the kitchen to get something to eat and were screwing around for a while w/one of us sitting on the counter.  Then the lights went out (we did it, not nature) and were were on the kitchen floor.  Erica is so proud of herself that she can completely control her mind and body and can stop in the middle of sex at any time.  So she was biting my neck and that sort of hurts but also feels good at he same time so I was moaning/squeaking/breathing heavy which gets Erica off to know that she can get  me that excited.  Then she stopped and told me I was lucky she stopped herself because she was close to being out of control.  And then she started again, only lower so marks couldn’t be seen by anyone who didn’t see me with my shirt off.  And she was sucking so hard for so long I had to finally stop her.  She freaked out because she had gotten out of control and hurt me.  But I told her it was alright.  An that’s when she wanted to know how I felt about her.  But I honestly have no idea except for physical need-want-lust.  What bothered me the most though was no matter what she couldn’t stop thinking about Juree.  After we had sex, right after, she talked about Jeree and how far she got her hand up her.  I was trying to be understanding but by Monday I told her I wanted her talking about me.  But still, I’m just too nice, I give so much.  I told her I wanted to take care of her.  She told me she could feel herself falling in love with me.  So I asked her what would she do if I loved her.  Who knows, I might.  I asked if there was anything I could do to make her come to me rather than beg Juree to have her back.  She said no.  At that moment I would have done anything.  But now the time is lost.  She left Tuesday night saying she’d miss me.  And perhaps she has.  But she still has Amy and could get Juree and I have no one but myself, once again, to rely upon.  Things will never be like they were here, Christmas Vacation 1989 in Los Angeles, California.  The time, feeling, freedom, is all lost.  If Juree rejects her, Erica will come to me and I know I should say no, for her to be by herself for a while, but I’ll probably give in.  Because I’m weak, subservient.  Juree either was or is down here and she was supposed to call me but she didn’t.  Erica said I would do the same to Juree that I did to her.  I most likely would have.  But she didn’t call, maybe all for the better.  Things happen the way they do to reach a certain good place.  Erica called Juree when she was down here and Juree said that she and Amy had ha sex.  Erica was pissed but I think she had no right to be.  Erica was buying presents for Juree an not for anyone else basically.  I can understand, Juree being her first love an all, me being a useless fling.  My position in life.  But she did make me feel good about myself.  Telling me I’m beautiful, not fat, a good person, and she liked the way I walked.  She made me feel lovable.  Who knows how things will be when I get back.  I still want to have an honest talk amongst the four of us.  But the four of us have never been alone together and I would have to set up the meeting w/o the others knowing about it because they wouldn’t agree to it.  The bruise from Erica’s incessant sucking is still apparent 5 days later.  Pain is pleasure–scratching, biting, pounding.  No handcuffs–shit.   More sexual exploration later.  She knows where the ol’ clitoris is (she should, she has one) and made my legs twitch.  I said I only had sex w/a guy once but I wonder if she thought I meant all sex.  I just meant coitus.  Not finger and mouth–let’s count–4 different people finger an one mouth.  I’m quite the experienced little ho-bag (5 now), maybe I am a tease.  No, ’cause I’ve only said no to coitus twice and that’s all I’ve refused.  Not twice, three times–Jason Bornstein, Robbie, and Mike.  No one else has wanted to with me.  Except suddenly I’m popular with the girls.  What about guys, don’t they have eyes?  Erica said everyone at [our high school] save four people thinks I’m sexy.  Curtis, Eric Fodge, Justin Fisher, and someone else.  Boy, I wish these people who think I’m so sexy would act upon it.  She said that I’m very sexy.  If I remember correctly, she said this right after she had made me writhe all over the bed in ecstasy.  Maybe I am sexy, yay!  I told her I don’t fake things and I never act.  She asked if I would fake an orgasm for her and I said nope.  But mostly because I wouldn’t know how.  I don’t even know if I had one or not.  Is the leg twitching orgasm?  Who knows.  I wish I knew how things were going to be when I get back.  I guess I can wait though.  We’re going back to Melrose tomorrow for me to spend the rest of my money.  Tomorrow night I’m leaving again for home.  My mother suggested I move down here and live with DJ.  We would be great roommates.  I have no idea at all what I’m doing New Year’s Eve.  I’m getting home and then what?  Call Amy’s house to talk to either or both Amy and/or Erica.  Try to get the four of us together but Juree’s 21 and will want to go to some drinking party.  I just don’t know what to do.  What if everyone hates me?  What if Juree hates me for sleeping with Erica and Amy hates me for sleeping with Erica and Erica hates me for sleeping with Erica?  Oh God what to do?  Just wait be patient

some nights

some nights we regress

feel a snarl grow deep in our gut

prowl dark alleys for easy prey

clench teeth and bite lips to blood

we regress

to primeval roots

to a driving lust

to a frothing anger

even the animals around us

fear us

some nights

By Real Faucher

from:  Notebook/Cuaderno:  A Literary Journal, Volume 5, Number 2, 1989.

Oh god, oh gee.  Well, Erica came down.  DJ and I picked her up that afternoon.  Then we were just hanging out ’til the next day when my mom went to work.  I guess I was sort of “putting the moves on” her and we ended up kissing  in the bedroom.  Then I think it was going to end when she came from behind and began licking my neck, which made me melt.  So then we went over to Chris’s to do laundry and Erica and I were in the den watching tv under a blanket and I did stuff like rub my foot on the inside of her thigh, etc.  (I don’t exactly remember very well nine days later.)  She told me I was frustrating and a tease and all that shit that’s fun.  So I said, (yes, I remember exactly) “You could do something about it.”  And she said, “So could you.”  That sort of caught me off guard so I had to plan my next maneuver.  After a few moments of thought I leaned across the couch and kissed her like there was no tomorrow.  I can’t remember if it was that time or the next time that she asked me if I always get so excited.  Who knows what I said but I think I lied and said no.  Or maybe I told her yes.  I can’t remember.  So we just sat there watching tv with the blanket over us and our hands were making love.  They were sweaty and slick and rubbing all over each other and just by doing that I became hot and began to breathe heavily.  Then we looked at each other and pulled together in sheer passion.  Beautiful it was.  Then we had to go eat dinner in front of Chris and my mother and set up the train around the Christmas tree.  And though I knew I should have felt guilty, I didn’t.  So that night watching tv on the bed we “made out” (that sounds so juvenile).  She said stuff like, “Why did Robbie ever break up with you?” And she told me that I do get excited quite easily but that she liked it.  She finally, after much begging, bodily conniving, etc., entered me with her storng, long fingers.  I always feel, in the few moments beforehand that without something inside me I’d die.  But then at the right time, my life is saved.  So then there it was.  The next night over at my mother’s house Erica was giving me so much pleasure that I wanted to return the favor.  She declined, but asked for a back rub.  I gave her one with Kama Sutra oil.  That turns her on (w/scratching) as much as any clitoral rub could me.  And then we did it again (once before the back rub) and for some reason I wanted it harder and deeper so she kept ramming harder and trying to get deeper.  And oh god, it sure felt good.  So good that she had to motion for me to be quiet, and so good that I was actually saying, “Oh my god” with each expulsion of breath.  But when she finished she said something with “Jesus” in it along with a few naughty words.  I was hoping it was sometihng like I was so good she just couldn’t believe it but unfortunately she informed me that I was bleeding.  She had torn me up.  Friday night DJ spent the night because Mom and Chris went to a Patti La Belle concert.  Why two people who are quite capable of taking care of themselves need a chaperon is beyond me but I guess we did.  I was still bleeding but Erica didn’t know.  Earlier that day we had gone shopping at the Eagle Rock Plaza and I was in a bad mood because every time I sat down I was reminded of the great evening by pain.  And the blood.  We slept after some kissing but she was very tired.  Saturday to Melrose Ave. to check out sights, buy Christmas presents.  We were sitting, Erica reading, I was people watching.

Before we met I asked if English wasn’t his first language.  There were idioms he just wasn’t getting, so I thought maybe he hadn’t been speaking English his whole life.  But English was his first and only language.  Yet he seemed to have trouble communicating, in English.

We had been exchanging emails for a while and he had wanted to meet me almost from the very beginning.  I was loathe to meet, but not for any particular reason, just a feeling I had.  Once again, it’s been confirmed that I have excellent instincts.

I finally agreed to meet him because it was pouring rain and I had to go to the post office.  The news was that the storm was going to last through the weekend, but I really needed to get my post office business done. (I was sending a package to Army Guy in Iraq.)

So I was a whore for a ride to the post office.  The guy came to my place, picked me up outside, gave me a ride to the post office, and waited outside while I filled out the customs forms and waited in line.  Then we drove back to my place where he parked in my parking space and came inside.

He was empty-handed when he got out of his car.  We had had a whole chat exchange about him having a bunch of alcohol left over from a party at his house and about me being very interested in drinking, yet he showed up at my house with nothing.

We had a frank discussion about sex.  He complained that the last two women he dated hadn’t given him head.  I told him he shouldn’t have dated them.

The night before I’d had a date (with J. Lee, I believe).  We had had a quickie before dinner because I could tell he wasn’t going to make through the meal otherwise.  Then after dinner we went to my bedroom for some leisurely sex.  However, intercourse never occurred because a cock-sucking mood struck me hard.  When I’m in that mood both the suckee and sucker both have a very good time.  I thanked him for coming in my mouth.

After my glorious cock-sucking of the previous night I was actually in the mood to do it some more, or, at the very least give advice on how to “get” a woman to be just as generous with her time and mouth; I wanted to spread the blow job love.

I asked him how he broached the subject of blow jobs.  He said during sexual relations he said something along the lines of, “How about sucking my dick?”  So suave.  Why weren’t the women lining up for that?

I felt it necessary to try to give practical advice to the clueless 27-year-old(!).  Really, how does someone make it almost to 30 without figuring out how to get his dick sucked?  He had told me previously that he didn’t like going down on women unless they were completely bare and he was in the right mood.  I actually didn’t tie the general lack of oral sex in this guy’s life together at the time, but I certainly should have.  If he told the women he was with he thought female genitalia was gross in general it’s understandable that they did not feel like worshiping (which a good blow job absolutely does) what he had to offer.

This guy told me women “his age” don’t give head.  What the fuck?!  Women in their 20s stopped sucking cock?!  Why isn’t this information in the fucking news?  This is a goddamn crisis!  He thought I’d feel sorry for him, get on my knees, and show him how well a woman in her 30s can suck cock.  Uh, no.

Ends up women “his age” are not his age, but in their early 20s with little to no oral sex experience.  I was convinced that these girls were pretty and dumb and had been treated as if they were special their whole lives because of it.  Those of us for whom getting our first boyfriend (and girlfriend, but they don’t have cocks) was a bit of a struggle know how to suck cock.  In my early 20s I was trying so hard to please guys that I was sucking them dry.  (Now I do it not because I have low self-esteem, but because I want to suck cock.)  I guessed the girls he was dating never felt like that.  And he wasn’t all that good looking so the girls probably didn’t feel like they “had to” give him head in order to keep him interested.

I didn’t even bother trying to explain that to him.  I just tried to make him realize that those blanket statements about women “his age” weren’t doing him or his dick any good because he had a defeatist attitude.  I suggested he bring up the blow job subject when he was not fooling around so as to not put pressure on the ladies right then.

In the mean time he kept hinting in a really annoying and crass way that he wanted his dick sucked.

The guy was one of the stupidest people I’ve ever encountered.

I swear.  True story.

My face smelled like balls.

The other night Pedro, one of the guys from “International Day, and Night,” called to invite me to a party.  He kept saying that it was a private party.  I assumed he meant I wasn’t to bring a bunch of my rowdy friends since the party was taking place at a friend’s apartment, but I asked to make sure.

He told me there would only be six to eight people at the “party” but that he really wanted me to be there.  I’m no dummy so I told him that if his idea of a party was to have me fuck everyone there that I wasn’t going to go unless he was willing to name a price.  That was a joke?

OF COURSE he assured me that that was not the case.  It was just that the neighbors were very sensitive to noise so they didn’t want anything too loud or too late.  Pedro told me that we’d more likely than not start out there with a few drinks and then go out dancing.

It was a Friday night, I had nothing else to do, and I figured it was good for me to get out of my Mission comfort zone every once in a while, so I showered and got dolled up a bit.

I took a cab to the designated party pad.  The “party” consisted of Pedro, me, and one other guy, our host.  A much less cool chick would have been at least a tad perturbed.  As I’m extra cool, I was not.

The three of us sat in the living room, where there was a bottle of Jose Cuervo, a salt shaker, and a small platter of lime wedges.  We each had a shot.  I pointed out to our host that the limes should have been cut much thinner for our purposes of taking shots of cheap tequila.

Our host, Alberto, pointed out that he didn’t know to what size he was supposed to cut the limes since he wasn’t Mexican–tequila being a Mexican beverage.  Alberto told me he was from Lima.  That’s in Peru, folks.

We each had another tequila shot, and then I got a phone call from a friend with whom I had to talk.  I walked down the hall of the Edwardian [After doing some research I may or may not be naming this style of architecture correctly.] apartment, past at least one bedroom and to the kitchen.  It was a nice apartment that was clean and didn’t look like a stereotypical bachelor pad at all.  After ending my phone call I rejoined Pedro and Alberto in the living room.

The tequila, another shot of which I probably had, was definitely doing it’s job, because I really don’t know how the three of us ended up in the bedroom which was adjacent to the living room.  The bedroom was large–there was a queen bed, a love seat, at least a couple of pieces of dresser-like furniture, and plenty of room to walk around.

Only I didn’t notice such things at the time because the the three of us were quite busy.  Of course I had fucked Pedro before (on two separate occasions), so I knew I liked him.  And Alberto had soft, hairless skin, a tight body, and a hard cock–yum!  We were having a whole lot of fun.

It seemed as though the next time I looked up there was a third guy there.  Huh?  I was having so much fun that I was happy there was someone else to join us.  I don’t recall ever seeing this third guy, Esteban (whose name I didn’t learn until much later, of course), with his clothes on–I swear the first time I actually noticed him he was already naked with a hard cock (this is NOT a complaint).

We happily welcomed Esteban, who was Alberto’s roommate.  At the time I remember thinking, and possibly saying, that it was only fair that he join us considering it was his place in which we were having our “party.”

There was a lot of cock sucking–per usual, I wanted ALL  of them in my mouth.  We didn’t try putting more than one at a time in my mouth, I think only because none of us thought of it.

A cock went in my ass.  It felt really good, only I hadn’t properly prepared for such an eventuality and I had to use the facilities soon thereafter.  As this was an Edwardian (I think) abode, finding the bathroom wasn’t the easiest of activities for me in my intoxicated state.

This type of place is long and skinny.  All of the major rooms, including the living room, any bedrooms, and the kitchen, were to the right of the hallway that ran the length of the place.  The bathroom was to the left.

Only bathroom, singular, isn’t quite correct.  This kind of place, which is very common in San Francisco, had split bathrooms.  Well, a split bathroom.  The bathtub and sink were in one room off the hall, and the toilet was in another room off the hall.  At the time I was drunk and had just been pounded in my ass and my mouth (at least) so my sense of direction wasn’t at its optimum.

I recall looking in the bath/sink room at least a couple of times because I was sure I just hadn’t looked hard enough for the toilet.  And it seemed as though the other doors off the left side of the hall were so far away from that room as to not be plumbingly associated.  Finally, I found the toilet and took care of business.

Afterward, I went back to the bedroom where the four of us continued our various permutations of fun.  I recall being on my back on the bed with one cock in my pussy and one in my mouth when I requested that all of them come on me at once.  I made it clear that I wanted to lie there whilst they all shot their wads on my face and tits.

But that wasn’t to be.  Eventually Pedro left.  At the time, though, I didn’t notice until he’d been absent for some time.

Alberto and I really seemed to like fucking each other.  Whenever we were alone on the bed we once again launched into making out, and his cock going into my mouth, which eventually lead to him fucking my pussy, again.  While we fucked I gazed upon his pretty, sweet face.

Alberto was on his back while I mounted him.  I slid my pussy over his cock.  Without preamble I felt Esteban’s cock pushing into my ass.  I remember holding still so Esteban’s cock could work its way into my ass.  And then I had a cock in my pussy and another cock in my ass at the same time and it was fucking glorious.  It felt so good.

I’m not sure how long the three of us were able to keep it up, but I do know it felt FANTASTIC and I will do it again, hopefully soon.

The three of us fucked some more, in various ways, and eventually one of us came. It was Esteban–he came all over my face after I insisted I wanted it.  Alberto and I really seemed to not want to stop fucking, or I was just drunkenly and hornily assumptive.  He and I fucked some more.  That sweet face; that smooth skin.

Then I realized I needed to get back home to my animals.  While I dressed we chatted.  I learned that Esteban was 25, Alberto was 23, and that though they were both from Lima they had met in San Francisco at a private English-language school.  I got Esteban’s phone number and then they called a cab for me.

Esteban has since made it clear he wants to fuck me again.  I want to fuck him too, but also Alberto.

I swear.  True story.

She was straddling his lap and had her hand on the back of his neck. She loved that part of him; neither was quite sure why. He was sucking on her lower lip as she stroked his head. He unsnapped her bra and released her full breasts. He pulled her shirt up and kissed her nipples, holding her tits up with his hands as he sucked and bit lightly.

She lead him by the hand upstairs to her bed. They were fumbling with each others’ pants like freshman and kissing each other at the same time. Her perverted cat sat at the foot of the bed and watched.

She pulled his cock out of his pants, stroked it and stared up at him. He closed his eyes and put his head back on the pillow while running his hand through her hair. She smiled, and then suddenly went down on him, holding the base of his cock in her hand while she bobbed up and down. He moaned quietly and his hips began to move involuntarily.

He stopped her just in time; he wanted to come, but not yet. He pulled her up to him and kissed her hungrily. She sucked on his lower lip and rested her hand on his chest.

He looked at her through narrowed eyes and smiled. He moved out from under her and softly but firmly pressed her face-down into the bed. Starting at her neck, he slowly worked his way down her back, kissing her shoulder blades, the small of her back, her supple ass. She had her hands on the pillow, on either side of her head, which was turned to one side. Her eyes were closed.

Quickly, before she could even tell what he was doing, he had spread her ass apart and his tongue found its way deep into her asshole. He licked and flicked his tongue against her. Two fingers probed deeply into her cunt and she grew wetter and wetter with each stroke.

She moaned and writhed beneath his tongue and hands, and her legs opening wider and wider as he moved deeper and deeper into her ass and cunt, both loosening and loosening as he stroked her. She moved back into him and held him by the head, forcing him even deeper inside her. His breathing became shallow as his erection became harder and harder.

He suddenly moved upwards, kissing and licking her mouth as she strained her neck sideways to bite his tongue and kiss his lips. They were beyond words, communicating simply by thrusting and lust.

Then he was inside her. He held her hips in his hands as he pumped into her pussy. He had one foot on the bed beside her knee and pulled her against his throbbing cock over and over again. He forced himself to slow down, to regulate his breathing, forced himself into deliberate control… he wanted to cum, needed to, but not yet. He had other things in mind.

While he fucked her, he continued to work on her asshole, first with his fingers, and then with his thumb. He could feel his cock throbbing against his thumb as both pumped deeper and deeper into her, and he could feel her body respond more and more completely as he moved in her. He slowed his hips gradually, and then pulled out completely. She was still moving, unable to catch her breath completely.

to be continued…

__________________________________________________________

I’ve not gotten the rest of this story, so don’t hold your collective breath, folks.

We agreed to meet at Dolores Park.  I’d learned my lesson long before that people who post ads on Craig’s List are often flakes so I always prepare for no one to show up.  I often take Isis to Dolores Park anyway, so if she didn’t show the day wouldn’t be wasted.

I had responded to her ad in the Casual Encounters w4w section.  Her ad wasn’t long, but it was more interesting than the usual, “I have a boyfriend and want to explore my naughty bi side.”  She had a bottle of absinthe and wanted to share it, and possibly herself, with an interesting woman.

We met in the park and sat and chit-chatted while Isis ran around a bit.  We discovered we had attended two different schools at the same time, but had no clue the other existed until the meeting in the park.

She was hot.  Very much my type of woman: a bit dykey, thin but curvy, and with small, perky breasts.  She was obviously not wearing a bra that day in the park, and I loved seeing her nipples push up against the fabric of her halter top.

I lost my cell phone in the park that day.  I suspected some people who were sitting near us stole it so I confronted them.  They denied it, but not until after telling me, in Spanish, to suck their collective dick.  I was so proud that I knew that one phrase and told them so.  Despite my lame behavior she seemed to want to spend more time with me.

I walked back to my house with Isis while Ms. Absinthe drove to her place, conveniently located in Noe Valley, to get the bottle of absinthe she had advertised having.  Once at my house she poured us drinks.  Not only did we taste the delicious absinthe, but she gave me a lesson on why it’s drunk diluted with water, and what the clouding is called.  She was preparing to be the bartender at a prohibition-themed party and wanted to be able to do more than just pour so she was practicing on me.  She did an excellent job.

We got along quite well.  She kissed me.  I’m always surprised when a woman whom I find attractive is attracted to me.  It doesn’t come from a self-loathing place; I am simply not my type.

She had great breasts.  They were nice and little and soft with nipples that got hard in the most delicious way when I bit down on them.  I hadn’t done more than kiss a woman in over ten years and was worried about my performance.  She later assured me by email, “Actually, I’d say I had a rather nice fucking.  Thank you very much.”  So fucking cool.

We quickly began to spend all of our free time together.  As neither of us was employed, we had a lot of free time.  Also because neither of us was employed, we didn’t have any damn money to do anything much more than hang out at my house.

We watched “the L Word” together.  Cliché I know, but I watched the show anyway, not just because I was seeing a woman.

We cooked at my place several times a week.  She made me corned beef and cabbage, which I’d only had once before.  Together we made and froze what seemed like a gross of won tons.  We made a yummy gnocchi with meat sauce, all from scratch.  I made my beef short ribs and mashed potatoes for her brother when he was in town.  She took me to restaurants I’d never been before and was impressed when I liked chicken feet and all the pig parts.

Things became intense very quickly.  We had great sex.

Just a few weeks after we met, we took a trip to Orr Hot Springs.  Ms. Absinthe had a Mini Cooper and loved to drive.  She liked that I had no problem with her taking the windy roads of Mendocino County at a nice clip.  I thought it was sexy that she was a good driver.  Orr was really nice.  We stayed overnight in the yurt just outside the front gate.  There were private rooms with huge claw-foot tubs big enough for two.  The water was hot and mineral-rich.  From the main pool of the “resort” we could see daffodils in bloom all over the surrounding hillsides.

Before too long our relationship went from fun and light to Ms. Absinthe asking  “where we stand.”  I made it clear that I didn’t want a “real” relationship, and that there was NO way I was going to be monogamous, but that I really did dig her scene.

We continued to have hot, hot sex.  We took a couple of trips to Good Vibrations on Valencia to get supplies, including lube and gloves.  It had never occurred to me to have sex with gloves before Ms. Absinthe introduced the idea.  I now buy boxes of medical-grade nitrile gloves for use during sexy times.  They’re a whole lot of fun all lubed up.  Great for fisting.

Ms. Absinthe was the first person who fisted me.  And I was the first person she fisted.  They were intensely intimate experiences for both of us.  She wrote me a poem on the subject:

On your couch

I kiss your mouth
and slowly breathe you in.
Your teeth, lightly gnash against my skin.
You begin to tweak and twist my nipples until I gasp,
I find my way between your legs
grinding my hand onto your wet pussy
back and forth, up and down,
finally pressing in.
You bite harder, I push deeper.
My clenched fist
inside your cunt;
I can barely move.
You’re so fucking tight, and so fucking hot.
Your walls clamp down around my hand
I just want to punch right through.
Thrusting your pelvis higher; you’re telling me to fuck you harder, to fuck you faster,
to fuck you forever.
Your body undulating to your own rhythm,
I’m entranced by the sway of your hips, lulling me closer.
I can’t keep my eyes off your twisting shape.
Now I’m on top of you.
But I can’t get any deeper,
I can only fuck you desperately, fuck you faster.

Our sex life was not a problem. One of our trips to Good Vibrations resulted in the purchase of Tristan Taormino‘s  The Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women 2nd Edition.  We read it together and utilized some of its many tips when we incorporated anal play into our sex.

As our sex life together was developing we discussed strap-ons.  Neither of us had any experience using a harness, but we were willing to try.  Further discussions resulted in us agreeing that she would pick out the harness that she felt most comfortable using, and I would pick out the big, thick cock with which I wanted her to fuck me.

We went to Good Vibrations … and chickened out.  The Good Vibrations on Valencia had roughly 15 feet of wall space devoted to various harnesses and the implements that can be put in them.  Here we were, two well-educated, adult, sex-positive women who really wanted to expand their sex lives, but even we were intimidated.

Because while Good Vibrations has an open, non-judgmental environment it does not have any privacy.  Ms. Absinthe would have had to try on any harnesses out there on the store floor; and I would have had to pick out a number of dildos for her to try on with each harness out there in the open.  We were not ashamed in any way of what we wanted to do, but not being ashamed does not equal wanting everyone in a store knowing what we’re planning on doing in private.

Nonetheless, our sex continued to evolve, and continued to be good.  Our relationship, however, wasn’t so good.

Ms. Absinthe kept wanting to talk about our feelings and what we wanted from each other.  I just wanted to hang out and have fun.  I was still trying to figure out what it meant to be a divorced woman in her mid-30s.  I was getting used to being single, but I wasn’t yet divorced.  Neither I nor the Ex had even bothered to file for divorce yet, though it was clear we would not be trying to reconcile.

Only Ms. Absinthe didn’t believe that the Ex and I weren’t trying to reunite.  Ms. Absinthe and the Ex met, and got along pretty well.  I think because she saw that he and I were civil (we had animals to co-parent after all) that that meant we should get back together.  She didn’t seem to believe me when I assured her there was no way he and I would ever get back together even if we were friendly with each other.

The words I said to Ms. Absinthe didn’t seem to get through to her.  She appeared to think I was being dishonest, or just wasn’t admitting everything to her.  However, I was nothing if not brutally honest.  Despite my assertions that I don’t make pronouncements lightly, she just didn’t seem to believe me when I said the Ex and I would never get together again and that I had no interest in being in a monogamous relationship.

To that end, I continued to fuck men when I could, and it was during this time I had the threesome with Mr. Zip and the 21-year-old booze hound.  I told Ms. Absinthe exactly what I was planning on doing that night and suggested she stay at her own place.  She opted to stay at my place, and was still up at 5am when I got home.  That was definitely troublesome.

Things were going bad, and fast.  She was at my place all the time, and I value my alone time, more than the average person, I think.  I began doing what I did when the Ex and I were living together and I needed to be alone in a loft apartment–I used ear buds and listened to podcasts whether home alone or not.  Pretty rude behavior when one has a house guest, but being at my house constantly was also rather rude of Ms. Absinthe.

She became needy, and our sex went from hot to me turning her down as often as I could get away with without generating a discussion.  I was a fucking bitch to her most of the time.  I really am shitty at breaking up when I know the relationship should end.  So I do the chickenshit move of cheating (on the Ex) or in some other way making the prospect of being with me miserable.  No, I am not proud of myself.

The last time we saw each other Ms. Absinthe picked up toothpaste she had left at my place after a trip to Costco.  She texted me a birthday wish soon thereafter.  My emails requesting friendship went unanswered.

I swear.  True story.

Y’all are welcome to submit tidbits for posting here on Random Rim Jobs.  Just email me:  shazamsf@sbcglobal.net.

Way back when J. Lee wrote this for me.  Fun.  I’m so lucky.

_________________________________________________________

He sat down at his desk, staring at the blank computer screen once again. Every time he had done this familiar routine in the past week, he’d enacted that other familiar routine: procrastination. Surfed the Web, checked email a few dozen times, got up from his chair to make a bite to eat, or take a piss… anything to avoid that well-known feeling.

It wasn’t writer’s block exactly. He had been coursing with ideas throughout the week, but for some reason the words stopped flowing as soon as he sat down to write. He knew he just needed an access point; he decided to just start writing, document the doubts and the evasions and the…

Only now his cat was bothering him. “Jesus Christ, what else?” he’d asked as the feline yowled and bumped against his legs. Then he chuckled. She had told him that her cat was a little pervert; “so her pussy’s perverted… what a surprise…” He threw some food in the cat’s dish and sat back down to continue.

Still nothing. He looked out the window and bit his lower lip. Maybe he should start there, with the lip… she was a mouth person after all… he shook his head. It was getting dusky outside, so he decided it was his last chance to go for a jog in the park up the hill without breaking his ankle.

He got back just as it was getting truly dark. He had walked past a family of deer in the middle of the street, which he took as a good omen. There was magic in the air; all he had to do was find to a way to unleash it.

The phone rang. “Fuck, it’s probably my mom,” he thought to himself. But it wasn’t; it was an ex-girlfriend. “Huh,” he though. “Maybe I can use this…” He knew that she would like his ex, she was tall and slim and beautiful, with a bright smile and full lips… and he knew they both liked girls, too, which wasn’t necessarily important in fantasyland but still would make it easier to play with… but no. He didn’t want to use up all his ammunition on this story; he had to save something for later, something to build up to. This one could be simple, a single scene even. He just had to write it.

“Start with what you know about her,” he thought. Okay. He knew she had an office with a door, and a big plate glass window that faced the support staff. He pictured his own office, back in Seattle, with a big window in the door, and the times he’d brought girls there at night or on weekends to fuck. There had been no reason to use the office in those situations, of course, but they still almost invariably had. Something about being in that familiar space, bending a girl over the desk he sat at every day… he could use this…

He started writing. “We’re at your office on a Saturday evening.” He started fondling his cock through his running shorts as he envisioned the scene. His head was already beginning to cloud a little, which always happened when he became aroused. He shook his head and continued.

You’re sitting in your chair, and I’m kneeling in front of you. You have one leg thrown over the arm of the chair and the other is pressing into the ground. Your skirt is bunched up at the waist and your panties are around your ankle. I had initially just moved them to the side, holding them with one hand as I licked your pussy, flicked the tip of your clit with my tongue until it was huge and red, stuck two fingers in your quim and stroked the inside of your wet cunt.

I moved forward quickly, pressing my salty mouth against yours and sucking greedily on your tongue. You fumbled with your panties, trying to pull them off but your fingers kept slipping off the waist as I fingered your clit. The crotch of your panties was soaked, and the back of your skirt was becoming wet, as well. You stood up quickly and put your hands on my shoulders, pushing me away. My eyes were unfocused and my breath came in gulps. You rested your head on my chest and inhaled deeply. You stepped lightly out of your skirt and underwear, looked up at my face, and smiled.

You were still wearing your blouse, but it was only half buttoned; as you’d fumbled in your purse for the keycard to unlock the office, I’d stood behind you, my throbbing cock pressed into your ass and my hands under your shirt. My left hand reached through the gap where I’d unbuttoned your blouse, and I had your right breast cupped in my palm. I rolled your nipple between my thumb and forefinger.

Now you started to take off your shirt, but I stopped you; I liked the idea of fucking a clothed woman, it gave it a sense of urgency and suspense, as if we might get caught at any minute. You smiled again, and put the fingers of your left hand in my mouth. I ran my tongue along the edge of your forefinger and bit lightly on its tip.

With your right hand you had been steadily removing my pants. First the belt; then the button; finally the zipper. My pants fell around my ankles and you lowered yourself to your knees. You kept your fingers in my mouth, and I held your hand lightly as I sucked on your fingers. With my other hand I ran my fingers through your hair and brushed it back so I could see your face.

My erection strained against my boxers and you worked it out of the fly with your mouth. You held it at the base firmly and put your mouth over the fat head. You ran your tongue around the tip, licking the spot underneath where the vein rolled up the shaft. I groaned slowly and fought the urge to move my hips.

You had taken your fingers from my mouth and now held my ass with your hand. You pulled me into you as you pumped onto my cock, and your eyes lifted to watch my reaction. My head had lolled to one side, and my breath came in shallow gasps. Your hand moved from my ass to your pussy and you rubbed your clit quickly between two fingers. You moaned as I pulled your hair back in a ponytail and began to gyrate my hips.

“Stop… you have to stop…” I mumbled, and then I stepped back quickly and my penis flipped upwards. You ran your middle finger along the corner of your mouth and laughed.

“What’s the matter, baby? Can’t keep up with me?”

My eyes suddenly cleared, widened and flashed green. I shook my head and smiled. The look made you nervous… but only slightly. I stuck my thumb in your mouth and caressed your lower lip.

“You are a bad, bad girl, aren’t you? I think you need a spanking.”

I pulled you to your feet and kicked the office chair out of the way; it spun as it rolled backwards. I turned you around and rested my hand, lightly but firmly, on the back of your neck. You bent over your desk.

* * * * * * *
He took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. There it was. Nothing too extreme, of course, but that was the point. A first chapter. It was a solid foundation, on which many things could be built. Many possible directions to explore. He cupped the tip of his penis in his palm and pulled lightly on his balls as he reread the story.

Pasting it into a blank email message, he hit send and went to call his ex-girlfriend back.