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[Meg, guest writer of “Meg and TD” is back with another juicy story and hot photos that can only be seen here.  Enjoy.  –SSF]

I ran across some pictures and was reminded I never told you the story that put my nipple clamp love into overdrive.  It just might change your mind about them.  I know I’ve told you about the boss. There are many stories of us fucking in the rolling bookshelves that would be great scripts for any boss/employee-type porn, but this isn’t a story about that.

However, this was more momentous than getting fucked back in the bookshelves where we could’ve been caught so very easily, with the noise I make I’m surprised we never were.  This happened after his wife found a string of texts that were very explicit and after she had decided she wanted to fuck me too. I can’t remember if we’d all fucked together yet or not at the point of this event.

Regardless, I was in the habit of carrying around my clamps in my purse at the time … and wearing short skirts to work. As a matter of fact, that particular day I had on the same skirt I’ve seen your face under. The boss knew I had the clamps with me. (I’m sure I told him, knowing the horny little slut I was being.) Both of our desks could be viewed by any passersby who cared to look in so he took me back to the bookshelves and he put the clamps on me. He told me I couldn’t take them off until he said so. Him telling me what to do turned me on even more.

They don’t really hurt so much when you first put them on so I bounced back to my desk pain free. Our desks were about 3 feet from each other. I’m sure he was asking me about them, if they hurt, etc., when a co-worker who was always especially fond of my outfits and antics came back to chit chat. (It was a Friday and we were all killing time till time to go.) He mentioned how he liked my get-up and I murmured a thank you of some sort because by this time those little fuckers on my nipples were all I could think of. Mostly because they were starting to hurt, but having someone else in there made them all the naughtier, I felt like he could see right through me. And the boss had this grin on his face that only I knew what from. He could see me squirming and knew I was going to explode. So, of course, he kept the co-worker back there longer than I would’ve liked. Watching me squirm was half the fun.

I’ve never had a hard time with pain and have found that I actually enjoy it. That’s been the source of my fascination with bdsm. I haven’t dipped too much into it besides in my head, with this couple, and with the porn I favor. It excites me and I think I’d love to have someone abuse me in all those ways but really only in my imagination is where all of that is usually played out. There was some point, in night two, you had my legs spread more than they should have been able to be spread and it was making my hamstrings burn and hurt and you were fucking me hard. That moment reminded me of the nipple clamps and that mix of pain and pleasure is something I keep chasing. I wanted you to spread them more, make it hurt more and fuck me harder. I felt like a ragdoll then. I loved it.

DSC07195So the boss was watching me squirm. I tried to hang out in the conversation, but I couldn’t. I turned back around to my machine and pretended to be working. I was trying to apply pressure to my throbbing nipples to relieve them some; I desperately wanted to wait and let the boss take the clamps off. I’d think there was no way I could wait longer, then I’d wait longer. All the while, they were sitting about about 5 feet behind me. My squirms had to be apparent. And I was horny which makes me not sit like a lady and not care. So I waited longer. I don’t even remember what they were yakking about–I’m sure some tv show or football or other boy shit.

My entire body was on fire at that point. I couldn’t stand it any longer. So I went back and took them off. Holy shit, the feelings that rushed through my body at that moment were amazing. And all of it was pulsating from my nipples through the rest of me. Needless to say, my tiny panties were soaked through. So I trotted back out with a look on my face that said to the boss, “Get him the fuck out of here and get back here.”

The co-worker was gone in minutes. The boss took me back to the bookshelves. I had my tits out before I could think and told him to suck them. If you can somehow come from your nipples with nothing touching your pussy then I did then. My entire body went limp. And he sucked and sucked then went to the other one and did the same. He had to hold me up. My nipples had not brought me that much pleasure in years. It was fantastic. My body was on fire and tingly from head to toe. All over. I wanted my tits sucked forever right then.

After he did that, I dropped to my knees and sucked him off–I wanted a dick in my mouth and I didn’t really care if that’s what he wanted or not. He, of course, didn’t mind. I sucked him until he shot his load in my mouth and then I sucked him dry, licking it all up. My body was still humming, my eyes half rolled in the back of my head but I was coherent enough by this point and it was close enough to quitting time that we just bolted.

(That night we were to all three go out. I was very naughty that night; I’m pretty sure strangers may have inadvertently seen my slutty little vagina that night. I had on a short skirt, platform wedges and had taken my panties off and put them in my purse early on in the night. Squatting down to look at something with my knees spread wide gave many quite the view. We were at some hipster art gallery with naked girls on suspended rings, so I fit the scene nicely I’m sure.)

But I’m not done with our Friday afternoon antics. So we walked out to our cars, which were in full view of our office on the 12th floor, if anyone was looking down our way. Once we were there we realized he never spanked me during all of this. He liked to spank me and I’m very fond of that, so it was surprising that it never happened.

However, we couldn’t much do it there, we were too much on display. We found an open stairwell. It was dirty and stinky and didn’t have doors or anything, just open. We went down a flight until we were in the middle of the floors and I put my hands against the cold dirty concrete, sightly bent over. He flipped my skirt up and spanked my ass hard. It echoed in the stairwell, my screams did too. We would’ve been heard easily if anyone was in earshot.

He continued to spank me. He slapped my ass harder than he ever had before and probably harder than I’d ever received. It fucking hurt and I loved it. I knew my skin had to be red as hell; it was on fire. It was wearing me out, all of the endorphins that were being released, mixed with pleasure and combined with the dirty sluttiness of being spanked in a dirty stairwell. And my nipples were still throbbing. I was loud as I wanted to be because I didn’t give a shit, so he hit me harder because he was getting off on the echo and my noises.

We finally calmed down and I took my hot, red, bare ass and rubbed it up against his hard dick through his jeans; they were scratching my worn-out ass and that felt fucking awesome too. We regained some composure and walked back to our cars and went our separate ways to get ready for the evening. I never came (vaginally) during the whole afternoon. But that night, in my living room, with my ass high in the air I was fucked in the ass by a rather large dildo being administered by his wife while he watched, and I came and came.

And now I’m horny as fuck and I want you to ream my ass.

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.

DJ and I were talking about how different I am.  So now she knows and told me to slow down and try to find out how I feel.  I don’t know how the hell I feel.  I know what my body likes.  When the kisses get deep enought I jsut have to have more.  I start breathing heavy and my heart gets going and I want it to get deeper, but it can’t.  I want it to feel even better.  But I also want it all for myself.  I’m so selfish–I haven’t learned to give and get pleasure from their pleasure.  So I get worekd up easily, no matter what sex the other person.  A kiss form a guy and a kiss from a girl are exactly the same.  You’re supposed to shut your eyes when you kiss anyway, right?  Every time I kiss someone I seem to melt and just let them do whatever they want.  Just one kiss from Erica and I felt it and even thoughtit.  Of having someone have control over me.  Of thinking that it can’t end because then I won’t feel it anymore.  And I was standing then.  With Amy I was sitting down and could lean back on the counter.  I like to be on the bottom yet grabbng and holding on to make sure they don’t leave me.  I want to talk to Amy right now but for some reason I don’t think her parents would appreciate a call at 2:24 am from me saying I’ve just got to talk to their daughter because I want to know what’s going to develop in our relationship.  Also what added to the excitementn was the buildup.  In econ we were giving each other looks, I gave her the “fuck me” picture, we went into the [school] darkroom, we both wanted to and we could tell.  I still find myself looking at guys in a sexual way, I think.  I don’t know.

_______________________________________________________

If you’re keeping track, within a couple of days I had kissed both Erica and Amy, two of the three girls I knew of who would even entertain the idea of kissing girls.  There are more to come.  Finding these 20-year-old diaries has provided me with a lot of (mildly, but wildly at the time) naughty material.

That chick whose holes you like pounding has feelings.  You’re not forced into those stupid, “What are you thinking?” conversations that girlfriends tend to like, but that doesn’t give you license to be a callous ass to that lovely slut you’re banging.

  • If her pussy is unappetizing, offer to take a shower with her.  Don’t tell her she’s got a stanky snatch; no one wants to hear that.  If, after said shower, things are still not appealing to you, and if you like her enough to want to continue having fun with her, suggest, very nicely that she may have a medical condition and that she should see a doctor.  As the owner of a pussy it is her job to keep it up.  It is possible that the smell and/or taste of her honey pot simply does not appeal to you, so make any doctor-visiting suggestions with her feelings, and individual chemistry, in mind.
  • Introduce any kind of power play slowly.  D/s play can bring out pent-up emotions in some so proceed with caution.  Love having a dirty slut on her knees while you fuck her throat?  (Just got the nicest tingle in my pussy typing that!)  Try placing your hand, gently at first, on her head while she sucks your cock and see how she reacts, and then go from there.  Grab her wrists and hold her down while pounding away at her pussy and see how she likes it.  Want her to grind her cunt into your face, you dirty little boy?  Lay back and ask to please service her slit–if she can’t figure out how to straddle your face then it’s probably not her thing.  This is where being able to talk to each other can only make your sex better.
  • Treat any embarrassing accidents as such.  Sometimes a laugh is proper.  Sometimes just pretending it didn’t happen is the right thing to do.  After appropriate action–showering is often due–it is polite to apologize if it was your body that didn’t cooperate, or to make clear that it’s not a big deal if you were the recipient of an unexpected “gift.”  No one intends to fart while fucking (ignore) or to shit on his/her partner during a particularly intense session (shower and apologize).  And realize that an unintentional queef (laugh) just means y’all are have a rigorous session of fun.

More to come ….

I swear.  True story.

I just keep coming … up with good tips.  Having casual sex means there is NO expectation of monogamy so you must take the proper precautions.  Or don’t, and see what happens–it doesn’t matter to me, I’m not fucking you.  Oh, I am fucking some of you?  Well, thank you, gentlemen for being such good lays, and keep the pointers in mind, please.

  • Bring condoms.  This is especially important for you gentlemen who fall on the far ranges of the cock size scale; whether you require “snug fit” or XXL, bring the condoms that will stay in place until the job is done.  A proper slut will have her own supply, but isn’t it better to be sure the condoms you use don’t have the potential of making you a daddy?  Use your supply for fucking her pussy; use hers for fucking her ass.
  • Don’t even attempt to stick your dick in her without donning a condom.  Assuming neither of you has an STI is just fucking stupid (pun intended).  The exception to this is oral sex, but if she insists on a condom for cock-sucking, respect her wishes, don’t attempt to wheedle her into submission.  Even blow jobs can transmit STIs, the risk is just lower than for other avenues of penetration.
  • You are a sexually active adult–know what to do if the condom breaks, or if it feels like the burning of 1,000 suns when you take a piss a couple weeks after an encounter.  Be aware of the risks of various STIs, and be nice enough to let her know your test results should you find you’ve contracted something.  If you’re too much of a chickenshit to do that, try inSpot.org where you can have an anonymous email sent on your behalf.  DO NOT assume you got it from her.  Perhaps you gave it to her.  If you did get it from her, it’s not her fault–she didn’t set out to give it to you, and being a slut does not spontaneously generate any infection, sexual or otherwise.  If she is considerate enough to contact you after she’s been diagnosed with an STI do not try to make her feel worse than she already does–she’s definitely very sorry.  Also, as a sexually active adult it is your job to know where to get tested and what you need to do for treatment; she should not have to help you find your local clinic.

Believe it or not, more to come ….

I swear.  True story.

The series endures.  These pointers should be kept in mind every time you go to your fuck’s place.  Don’t get too comfortable, buddy.  Y’all are having casual sex so you don’t have to go through the bullshit of a “real” relationship.  So when she tires of your rude behavior it’s likely she won’t bother telling you you’ve been cut off; and you won’t realize you have been until all your emails to her go unanswered.  One must diligently maintain one’s manners if one wants the good sex is to continue.

  • Her home is not a hotel.  That means you can’t leave used towels wadded on the floor or tangles of hair in the shower drain, or use her toiletries with impunity.  Put the toilet seat down for goodness’ sake.  You have been offered a generous gift of being a guest in her home–and in her pussy (and, if you’re lucky, her ass)–treat it like the the privilege it is.  She is not a maid, and even if she is a maid, she’s not your maid.  Leave a mess and she’ll punish you accordingly, i.e., no more pussy.
  • Don’t help yourself to anything unless you hear the words, “Help yourself.”  And remember that “help yourself” is not a blanket statement that gives you permission to help yourself to everything.  This includes eating any food; drinking any beverage; changing the channel on the television; playing music; using toiletries; opening anything such as cabinets, the refrigerator, closets, bedroom doors, and so on.  Don’t nose around her computer, her desk, or her snail mail.  Just because you’re in her home does not mean she doesn’t deserve privacy.  You’re there to fuck her, not to do her taxes–you don’t need to see her W-2s.
  • Use your phone–whether “smart” or otherwise–on your own time.  You have an actual person with a willing mouth and wet pussy in front of you–much better than your Internet “friends.”

More to come ….

I swear.  True story.

I want to go into Humphrey Slocombe and taste some ice cream.  They have these tiny metal tasting spoons and they’ll spend as much time with you as you want, and let you taste as many flavors as you’d like.  They’re so nice and friendly.  They must realize that a lot of people who go there are stoned out of their gourds.

I want to go there and taste a bunch of ice creams.  It won’t be busy at all so I won’t feel guilty about tasting every flavor and savoring each one for a LONG time.  Yum.  I’ll take a tiny spoonful into my mouth and slide it off the spoon.  Then I’ll push each tiny spoonful of ice cream to the roof of my mouth and let the bit of ice cream swim around my mouth, between my teeth, to all of my taste buds.  It’s all so fucking creamy.  I can smell it as I taste it, as if the smell is going to the backsides of my sinuses.  It’s so fucking good.

Then I’m on the counter.  I’m face down right at the register.  The register is going through me (this is a fantasy; anything can happen) but the employees can still work.  It’s almost as if I’m an enigma. But the customers can touch me because in order to get to the register they must walk between my legs.  My legs are wide open, my feet are bare.

In order to make any purchases people must walk between my legs.  I’m spread wide so each customer must snuggle up to my crotch in order to hand over cash to get his yummy, yummy ice cream.  Some slide their licked-clean tiny metal spoons into my ass.  In and out … in and out … in and out.  So slow, so nice.  And cold.  Some people bend down and lick as they’re sliding their tiny spoons into and out of my asshole.

Some people attend to my ass and slide fingers into my pussy as well.  Several people come into the shop and take it as normal that when making their purchases they play with my ass and my pussy.  My ass is always involved.  Eventually, I get wet enough that each customer is able to slowly and easily slip his entire hand into me.  The women fist me too.  Nice and rhythmic and easy.  In and out.  I’m so wet.  It feels especially good when someone’s fisting me and caressing my sphincter with her tongue simultaneously.

The shop starts to get busy.  No one can spend nearly enough time slowly sliding his fingers into my pussy and my ass; there’s a line forming.  The busier it gets in the shop the faster each person must thrust her hand into me.  Pretty soon, every time the register drawer opens there’s a fist punching my pussy.  Each time.  Faster and faster.  The shop is doing great business, as is my pussy.

Alternatively, I’m on my knees in front of the counter so I must suck and lick everything that’s put to my face.  Cocks are shoved down my throat.  Pussies are ground onto my face.  No matter what, all the store’s patrons can do whatever they want to me.  I’m a nasty, slutty tool for each person to use as s/he wants–my mouth, my cunt, my ass are all to be objectified, and heavily.

Harder and harder, faster and faster.  EVERYONE puts his hand in me.  They take turns thrusting into my wet, loose cunt.  Each time I grunt.  I can take it.  I can take more.  Until finally, I come.  I scream.  S-C-R-E-A-M out as I come.  Everyone looks up from eating their ice cream, but in a very nonchalant way.  “Yeah, that chick on the counter came because we were all treating her pussy like the sloppy cunt it is, but that’s so not a big deal.”

But then business slows down.  My pussy is spent, the store closes.  I sit on the floor naked and eat salt and pepper ice cream.  My legs are long and lean (it’s a fantasy, dammit) and stretched out before me.

I swear.  True story (of my fantasy).

One night I was horny.  Many nights I’m horny.  Most of the nights I am horny.

A night not unlike many other nights, I was horny and sought the company of a gentleman via Craig’s List.  On this particular night I settled on a young gentleman whose ad indicated he wanted to only go down on a woman, that he expected nothing in return, and that the reason for this was that he had a girlfriend who would not let him eat her box.

He came over to my house with wine in hand.  We drank some and then retired to the bedroom.  Where he went down on me … for about 30 seconds.  Suddenly, he felt guilty that he was cheating on his girlfriend.  Nothing had changed though.  When he placed the ad he had a girlfriend, when we exchanged emails he had a girlfriend, when he arrived at my house and chatted over wine he had a girlfriend.  He even had a girlfriend when he walked up the stairs into my bedroom.

He assured me that he wasn’t using the girlfriend as an excuse because he found my snatch unappetizing.  I knew that–my pussy tastes fucking good–but it was still nice to hear.  I then went from lay-back-and-enjoy-getting-a-nice-cunt-lapping mode to comfort-a-guilt-ridden-cheater mode.

I told him that it would be better not to tell his girlfriend anything, as nothing had happened anyway.  I gave him pointers on getting her to allow him to lick her pussy.  Finally, as there was no reason for him to be in my house–he was there to give me an orgasm, but talking in mom-tones to an a confused guy just doesn’t make me come–he left.

Only I was still horny.  Back to CL I went.  This time I wasn’t wasting any time with some guy who just wanted to go down on a woman–I wanted to get fucked.  I settled on an ad, and we exchanged a couple emails; we didn’t even bother to talk on the phone or exchange photos.  As time was getting away from us, I told the guy to come right over.

A cute guy showed up with motorcycle helmet in hand.  He was really cute.  I was amazed at my incredible luck.  He found me attractive too, something he probably found fortuitous as well.  Wasting no time, we immediately went up to my bedroom.  He was a good kisser–I remember thinking, “This is going to be fun” as he took off his jacket and then his sweater.

His phone kept ringing.  Very annoying.  Eventually, he said he had to take the call.  My apartment offers no privacy, and it was late enough that I was concerned that my neighbors would hear him talking if he did so out on my patio or in my building’s hallway, so he went out to the street to talk on the phone.

I pattered around my apartment and I waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Hmmm.  What the fuck?  I noticed that he had taken his motorcycle helmet and jacket with him.  Weird.

I waited some more.  I sent him some nasty emails (I didn’t have his phone number).  This could not possibly be.  No way.  The odds against two “horny” guys coming over without putting out on the same night were just too great, right?  And yet it happened to me.

Maybe I did smell.  Maybe I was too ugly.  Maybe I was too fat.  As a dumb girl these silly things are running through my head often.  But when I realized that not one, but two, guys who claimed to be interested in having some fun no-strings-attached sex would rather leave my apartment than get in my pussy, the dumb girl script went into overdrive.

I was beginning to think no one wanted to fuck me.  Yeah, I felt sorry for myself.

The weekend was not a complete loss, however; I did meet 26yo (more to come on him).

Recently, the would-be pussy eater contacted me, apparently finally willing to go down on me for longer than half a minute.  However, other than that he was wanted to make up for his embarrassing behavior from over a year prior, I really had no reason to give him another chance.  What was the point?  I had plenty of guys to actually go down on me.

The guy with the motorcycle helmet told me that he had been detained, but not arrested, by the police the night he was at my place.  Hmmm.  Definitely a creative story, and for that–and my attraction to him–I gave him points.  For many months we exchanged emails in an attempt to see each other again.  He was always busy with work, though, and now I can’t remember what he looked like.  But I know he was cute.

Really, I would like to know the odds ….

I swear.  True Story.

Army Guy wrote this little tidbit for me when he was in Iraq.  No fucking makes for some fine writing (for him, not me–I’m not testing the theory on myself).  And this was most definitely written for me (the sunscreen reference makes that clear), which I absolutely love.

Army Guy:

It’s a breezy summer day and I appreciate you flying down to meet me at the big air show at the Naval Air Station in San Diego.  We met up prior to the show at our static display, but shortly after the gates open, my co-pilot, Jake, and I were mobbed by attendees asking us stupid questions about our helicopter or random losers telling us the story about how their uncle was a P-51 (or was it P-47?) pilot in WWII.  You enjoy the show, manage to use sunscreen and get a little tipsy on draft beer.  By the time the sun goes down, you’re more or less air-showed out.  After we pack up the display board and recruiting brochures, Jake and I dismiss our crew chiefs who are eager to have a night on the town away from their officers.  As our second crew chief is leaving, you walk up to see what our plans are for tonight.  The sun is going down and the last of the attendees are trickling out.  As this show is put on by the Navy, our aircraft is at the end of the line to make room for all the F-18’s and A-6’s.  It’s a well-known secret among pilots that those guys are all unrepentant cock-gobblers, but that’s another story.

You’ve got a healthy buzz on, and are eager for us to lock up so we can all go out, but I ask if you want to see the helicopter before we leave in a couple of minutes.

You haven’t seen one before, so you put your beer down and climb in.  You sit up in the cockpit and I show you how the cyclic, collective and tail-rotor pedals control the aircraft and how all the radios and system instruments work.  There’s lots of gauges, etc, etc….  As I’m reaching over you to show you the GPS, my arm grazes across your thighs.  You don’t know if I did it intentionally or not, but it immediately sensitized you to what might be happening here.  When you climb out, I grab your hips to help guide you down.images

Jake is in the cabin and wants to show you the crew chief stations and cargo hook.  You step up into the cabin and I climb in behind you.  The cabin is ceiling is about 4’ high, so you either have to hunch over as you’re walking around in it or you have to walk on your knees.  You choose the latter as you’re standing between Jake and I.  Jake finishes up the little speech about each part of the helicopter.  He’s done it a million times before, but he’s clearly distracted by you standing so close to him, as he keeps staring at your tits.  I notice him doing it and am grinning at him as he tries to keep his composure.

While he’s talking, I lean in and kiss the back of your neck.  You weren’t expecting it and it causes shivers to go up the back of your scalp.  You momentarily lose your balance and lean a little too far forward.  The combination of the sun and the alcohol may have affected you a little more than you had estimated.  Jake catches you in his arms.  As you look up at him, he leans over to kiss you on the mouth.  You return his kiss.  It isn’t a romantic kiss, but more of a drunken probing of each other’s tongues.  The obscenity of it only sets in more as you feel my hands reach around and cup your breasts.  You experience a flash of guilt for letting these two relative strangers molest you like this, but that very thought excites you.

Jake stops kissing you to help you pull your blouse off.  As it goes over your head, you feel me unhooking your bra to free those luscious tits.  We both want you so fucking bad and are stripping out of our flight suits as you wiggle out of your jeans.  The soft amber glow of the evening sun warms the tarmac and it feels good on your naked skin.

You look at Jake and admire his thin sinewy frame and completely shaved body.  By contrast, my build is a little stockier and my chest his decidedly hairier.  (No, I’m not hairy, but I’m definitely not as metrosexual as Jake.)  We both trim our pubic hair, but what you notice more than that is we both have raging hard-ons.

Since you’re facing Jake, you lean over, grab his cock and feel its weight in your hand.  He pushes your head lower and you open up to take it in your hot, wet mouth.  He moans in approval and I admire the hourglass shape your ass and hips make, bent over in front of me like that.

While you’re sucking him, you feel me wrap one of my arms around your hips and start to massage your exposed pussy with the head of my dick.  You continue to stroke and suck on him rhythmically as I start to work myself inside you.  Once I’m half-way in, I begin to slide back and forth until you loosen up a little bit.  After a couple of minutes of this, I thrust into you as hard as I can, which causes your mouth to slide all the way onto Jake’s cock, making you gag a little.  We both start to laugh (because you have to admit, that was funny) and I can’t help but thrust into you one more time to elicit the same response.  “Hey, just because you’re taking a cock from behind doesn’t mean Jake’s going to let up on your mouth, you fucking slut!”

At this point, Jake pulls you off his cock and reclines on the pile of clothes, flight suits and jackets.  You don’t know what he’s doing at first, but as I guide your hips down towards his erect cock, you get the picture and get on your knees.  You’re already wet from me fucking you, so you glide down onto his pole with little resistance.  Jake comments on how wet you are and thanks me for lubing this whore up for him.  As I release my hands from your hips, Jake’s hands replace them and he begins rocking you back and forth.  Again, I can’t help but admire how shapely and feminine you look from behind.

You’re sitting upright as you’re riding him, so when I push your shoulders down, to make you lean over, you have to put both your hands on either side of him for balance.  I can see your pussy sliding up and down on Jake from this angle and see your glistening juices, dripping down his shaft.  My own cock is starting to dry out in this West Coast air.  As you rock forward, I push you all the way off of him.  As you rock back I slide my own cock into your now well-used slit.  The change is a little disconcerting, but it feels great and you continue to back yourself onto me.

Once I’m good and wet, I pull out of you.  Jake guides you back onto him, and pulls you forward.  Once you’re laying on his chest, you feel me spread your ass cheeks open.  At this point, you feel very exposed, and you know what’s about to happen to you, but the fear and the anticipation feels like an old friend, visiting after a long separation.  You must admit, you’ve become quite the hedonist (at least by this Southern boy’s standards) and your desire to experience something new has been growing with each lackluster encounter you’ve had.

As Jake continues to fuck you, you feel the head of my cock, bumping into your back door.  You relax a little and take a deep breath as I start to slide in.  Once I’m inside you, I pause and Jake stops moving in order to give you a moment to accommodate me.  I reach underneath you to rub some of your moisture on my shaft.  When you tell me you’re ready, I slide into you a little further.  Jake is still inside you, and I can feel him through the thin wall of your vagina.  Since we’re both inside you, that negates the “you’re gay because you just touched a cock” rule, so we’re both OK…

When I’m completely inside you, your perspective shifts for a second to contemplate what’s happening.  You’re getting used as a fuck-toy by two horny soldiers in the back of a helicopter.

As I slide my shaft deeper, I can’t help but notice how unbelievably tight you are.  You fit me like a lambskin glove.  I start to pump slowly in and out of you and Jake matches my rhythm with his own hips.  You feel full and violated inside.  Your desire to be penetrated has never been so thoroughly addressed as in this moment.  As you grow accustomed to what’s happening, you begin to tentatively rock back onto us.

It’s a little awkward at first: the three of us trying to synchronize to each other, but we all soon get the hang of it and are both thrusting into you at the same time as you rock back and forth.  I too, can’t help but laugh of the absurdity of it all.  “This feels so fucking obscene.  Jake and I love having our cocks buried in your tight holes.  Now keep rocking back onto us.  You need to be filled to the brim with our come.”

You abide and begin to increase your pace.  Jake and I both grab your hips and begin thrusting in earnest as you impale yourself on our engorged poles.  I start to quiver and grab a handful of your hair to pull your head back.  I’m about to explode inside you and I want you to arch your back.  The synergy of it all is overwhelming and Jake is on the verge as well.

Your desire to pleasure us is being granted and from the energy you feel between the two of us, you know we’re about to explode in both of your holes.  The imagery that goes through your mind isn’t of any particular past experience, as you have no benchmark to compare this to, but more of an abstract visualization of being impaled as deeply as possible by as large an object as you can bear.  You tense up and grab onto Jake’s shoulders as your body is wracked in orgasm.

I, too, enjoy giving pleasure and that was all that I needed to push me over the edge.  In that fleeting instance, I succumb to that white-hot oblivion that I want so badly.  I scream your name and dig my nails into your side as I make three final violent thrusts into you.  On the final thrust, you feel my balls slap into you as I pivot my hips forward to go as far as possible and inject my seed deep into your ass.  The orgasm is so intense that I feel as if all my essence and every last drop of energy in my body is being passed to you.  I want to collapse, but I’m still hard, so I remain inside of you for a few more seconds.

It’s Jake’s turn.  He tells you to hold still.  Shortly after, he grunts and spasms underneath you as you feel him shooting deep into your womb.  You want this moment to last as long as it can and even think for a second that you wish two more men were standing by to take our place in order to continue punishing your well-used pussy and ass.  Nevertheless, you feel like a pure sexual being and an object to be fucked, violated and used for gratification.  To that end, I can say that you’ve done a superb job today.

Exhausted, I can’t hold myself in this position any longer.  I slide out of you and roll over onto my back.  You sit back and lean against a crew chief’s seat on the opposite wall of the cabin.  You still feel wet between your legs.  Your skin is glistening in perspiration and your hair is a beautiful mess.

You first look to Jake; then to me.  I wink, which causes you to laugh.  Ever the gentleman, Jake grins, motions with his chin to the profusion of semen dripping out of you and proclaims with as much panache as he can muster in his diminished state:

“Ma’am, on behalf of a grateful nation, please accept this small token of gratitude for the invaluable service you’ve rendered today.”

**************

Text received from Army Guy after he read the post (he’d not read it since he wrote it):

Aww.  That was so sweet!  I remember writing and rewriting that over a period of a few days.  Took frequent delays to ponder the mechanics of doing a DP in the back of a helo and to stroke myself whilst pondering the sensations of fucking your nice, round ass.

That is the kind of text message a gal wants to receive!

Remember, pupils, that our goal is for ongoing semi-regular hot sex.  We need to treat the situation and the lady with the reverence they deserve.  Isn’t it cool that casual sex can be discussed openly?  Aren’t we living in a great time when we can have a good relationship and good sex with someone without having to have a relationship?  Isn’t it nice that you know this woman has no interest in you for money, jewelry, marriage, children, or anything else but your company and your cock?  My pointers should be taken to heart, dammit.

  • Be able to have a conversation with the woman.  You don’t have to have deep philosophical discussions, but it’s nice to gab between bangs.  If you can’t think of anything else, talking about other people you’re fucking or other sexy things you’ve done in the past may give you ideas for even more fun together.
  • Don’t overstay your welcome.  If the sex is over and she’s talking on the phone, sitting in front of her computer, watching tv, getting ready to leave, etc., that means she’s done with you.  Take the hint and take your leave.  Better to leave her with a pleasant memory of the good fuck than the bitter taste of your socially retarded ways.
  • Don’t run away before she’s come.  And don’t treat the joy that is helping a woman come as a chore.  That’s not sexy and a shit attitude just means it’ll take even longer for her to come.  If she doesn’t come with you, don’t treat her like she’s a freak of nature or take it as a challenge to do everything harder, faster, more.  Some women (and men) need the stars aligned just so in order for them to orgasm with someone else.  Trust her when she says she’s had a nice time, even if she doesn’t have an orgasm.

More to come …

I swear.  True story.