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Fit to be Tied

I suddenly realized these poignant vignettes have taken a kinky turn to the left but, honestly, it seems my clients prefer to experience unconventional thrills they can’t get in their own bedrooms (if they’re married or in a relationship) or from that fresh-faced, perky girl they took home last night from the neighborhood watering hole just before closing time.  So don’t blame me for my clients’ off the wall requests.

Having said all that, I was caught off guard by a phone call I received a few weeks back from an older fellow named Freddie who told me he normally plays boudoir games with a pair a bit younger than he is but he thought he’d like to try something new for a change.   Not strictly an unusual request for me.  I routinely cater to the less conservative impulses of my guests.  What took me by surprise was the kinky character of his regular companions.   The couple Freddie romped with on a regular basis was a middle-aged woman and her partner, a pre-op transvestite who was well on his way to becoming a girl. Freddie said he usually enjoyed sucking the tranny’s cock but for tonight he thought he’d like to try something different.   In my heart of hearts I thought that sounded like a real challenge, even for me.  So anyway I drove over to Freddie’s house and rang the bell.  It turned out he wanted me to tie him up and have my way with him. 

Freddie seemed pleased with the way I looked and my outgoing personality. He was quite the character. He’d left a joint burning in the ashtray and he offered me a toke as soon as we came into his bedroom. While we were getting naked and better acquainted he amused me with stories about himself and his wild escapades. Freddie kept me in stitches for the better part of half an hour.  It was a refreshing change for me, getting paid to be entertained by a nice looking old guy who wanted me to truss him up like a fat hog.

When it came time to “get busy” Freddie pointed to a dresser top covered with toys, tubes of lubricants and an amazing variety of colored rope.  I went to the dresser and selected a black rope along with an enormous dildo he called his Black Mamba.  I strapped the Black Mamba around my waist and secured it in back.  Then I tied Freddie’s hands and feet to the four-poster bed.  This was a trip for me!  I had total control over Freddie and I found that I loved it. I started with the lube, putting it on my fingers and tickling his glory hole, getting it ready for the Black Mamba. I tortured him with pleasure, sucking his dick while the dildo hung down from my crotch and fucking his ass with my fist. He was hollering so loud I thought the neighbors would call the cops. 

When I thought he’d had enough teasing, I untied him from the bed posts, flipped him on his stomach and tied him up again, ass up face down. I took my big black cock and pressed it firmly against his starfish until it glided its way in. I grabbed his waist and drove myself into him, again, again and again. The harness around me was rubbing my clit.  The more I rammed the better it felt. I went faster and harder and then BOOM goes the dynamite in my pussy. I was surprised at the intensity of my orgasm.  It was like a switch flipped inside my head.  Sweet, unassuming Angie was suddenly in charge, running the whole show.  I loved reversing roles. It was an empowering feeling, fucking the dog shit out of Freddie.

As far as Freddie goes, he was very satisfied to say the least, based on the smile on his face and the size of the tip he pressed into my sweaty hand as I stumbled out the door.  You can bet your sweet ass I’ll be seeing Freddie again!  Ciao!

Sally and Me and a Boy Makes Three

I promised earlier I’d tell you another story about Sally and me.  If you recall, Sally and I loved to visit the local family amusement park almost every weekend. I fondly remember one particular night we took a boy on that Pirate Ship ride everybody talks about.  Sally and I had been trading sips out of a pint bottle of some really harsh bourbon this older dude bought us in exchange for a peek at the promised land and we were getting real touchy-feely with each other.  It wasn’t the booze alone that loosened us up, although that helped.  The truth is we’d begun to flirt openly since our first shy, sexual fumble on her mother’s couch. We got a lot of hot looks from boys who wanted to get in on the action but for the most part we kept them at arm’s length.  Looking back I guess I was a slut-in-training even back then.  I can still pull off a prick tease with the best of them but now I charge a premium for the pleasure.

Getting back to the event at the theme park.  We’d met this particular boy once or twice before so we all knew a little bit about each other and Sally and I could tell he definitely wanted to get to know us better. So we got in line for the ride and after about twenty minutes, many of which were spent in playfully jostling each other back and forth and sharing furtive nips from the brown-paper bag that held the bottle of hooch, we three got onboard … him not knowing exactly what we had in mind. I’m not sure Sally and I knew exactly what we had in mind either.  Sally and I never spent much time putting together a comprehensive game plan.  Sometimes when we were out together, shit happened. We were young and horny and you know the old saying: “Girls just want to have fun.” 

The Pirate Ship pulled away from the pier, water sloshing against the sides of the ship.  It was getting late, maybe around 11:00pm, so there weren’t many people on the ride. The three of us were seated on a flat plank way down at the stern of the boat with him in the middle. By this time the bourbon bottle was empty so I stashed it beneath the bench seat.  A tired-looking, middle-aged woman with three children in tow sat on the other side of the boat, all the way up at the bow.  Her kids were squirming around like they had worms or something and it was all she could do to keep them in check.  I didn’t pay her much attention.  I knew if she looked back in our direction she’d soon be paying a lot of attention to us.  Well fuck her.  Those young kids shouldn’t have been out so late anyhow.  Christ!

Sally and I always enjoyed the shock-and-awe expression on someone’s face when we’d start making out in front of them and that’s what we did.  We leaned over in front of the boy’s face and began kissing each other and sucking on each other’s tongues as if we were sucking his dick. Then we turned to him and began nibbling his ears, our hands groping his dick and balls. Sally and I had a way to talk to one another with our eyes. We pretty much knew our next moves.  I looked at her and glanced down.  Then Sally and I began undoing his pants.  Wow!  My hand brushed up against something real hard.  Who knew you could get that much cock in one tight pair of jeans!

I don’t know if you have any personal experience with the Pirate Ship ride, so I’ll explain how it works.  The ride is very slow but it has these abrupt drops in it, like suddenly the boat plunges over a waterfall or something and is on the verge of going under.  Then the boat rights itself and straightens out and all the time there’s this annoying song going in the background. You know the one, something about the life of a pirate…

We got his pants undone right before our second drop. When the boat went down so did I, giving whole new meaning to the phrase “going down with the ship!”   When the ship hit bottom the sudden halt in its descent nearly drove the boy’s popsicle through the back of my skull, but as the ship righted itself I did as well.  Shortly thereafter Sally joined me.  While the ship was wallowing in the trenches Sally got in a couple of hot licks herself.  Up at the bow, the middle-aged lady had her hands full with her kids while back at the stern Sally and I had our hands full of boy.  He leaned back into the cushions and I swear I could hear him singing, “Fuck the pirates, I’m gonna blow!”  He popped pretty quick after that, his fists balled up and his eyes squeezed tightly shut.  We tidied him up as the boat pulled back up to the dock.  Then we scampered off the ride and skipped away to enjoy more fantasies before the park shut down for the night.  God I miss the energies of my happily misspent youth!  Ciao!

More Kinks than a Garden Hose

Back in the 19th century, a German doctor named Richard Freiherr von Kraft-Ebbing wrote the book on kinks.  He called it Psychopathia Sexualis and it was a pisser.  Back then pretty much any position besides missionary was viewed with alarm by the local pillars of the community.  Sexually deviant behavior included bland practices like oral and anal.  He classified homosexuality as a perversion and so forth.  Thank God we’ve come a long way since Kraft-Ebbing!  Still not everyone has made that moral leap all the way into the 21st century.  And I thank God for them as well, because they might be the main reason I have such a devoted following.

Kraft-Ebbing didn’t condemn the practices he referred to as sexually deviant.  His goal was to bring them out of the closet and into the light even though he aimed his treatise toward members of his own profession (common folk weren’t prepared to be enlightened, apparently) so the description of the sex acts were in Latin.  Ergo sum fuckem.

In my profession I don’t think in terms of fetishes, foibles and fantasies.  I think more in terms of hundreds and fifties.  So when a long time client phoned me the other day to request a special session I was somewhat surprised.

Walter and I have always had rather a vanilla relationship.  Walter is a middle-aged, divorced gentleman who works out of his home.  There’s nothing remotely remarkable about Walter.  I drive over to his house once or twice a month, we get undressed, he climbs on top, we get it on, he huffs and puffs and does his stuff and then I depart with cash in hand.  Don’t get me wrong.  I like Walter.  I just never expected Walter to harbor a few kinks.  This time he wanted me to pee on his face.

We discussed his fantasy at length over the phone.  I don’t want to say I encouraged Walter’s enthusiasm but I didn’t slap him down either.  For one thing it’s bad for business.  For another I pride myself on being absolutely non-judgmental and it’s not an act.  Walter got really excited.  He couldn’t wait to do this!  My garden variety, vanilla ice-cream buddy Walter came across like a little boy at Christmas. To be honest his excitement was contagious.  I couldn’t wait to get down to business either!

What does a girl wear on her way to a golden shower, especially when she’s gonna be the one who does the showering?  I got all dressed up in a black leather skirt and a frilly white blouse with a fringed vest.  I thought a riding crop might be overdoing the bit.

I arrived at his house ready to go thanks to the couple of beers I downed before I left home. Happily he gave me enough notice so I could prepare myself for the occasion.  I wanted to make sure I had plenty of fluids to spray all over his face plus a little more beer to help me cope with the thought of what I was about to do. We’re trained from birth to control the release of bodily fluids.  Some people have a hard time peeing in a cup if someone else is present.  I’ve never before been asked to unleash a torrent of piss on another person’s kisser.  I figured I needed to be really relaxed.

As it turned out I needn’t have worried.  I felt that old, familiar bladder-clench as I stepped up on his porch and rang the bell.  As soon as he answered the door I told him I had to pee real bad.  He beamed at me, tugged off his pants and shirt and led me by the hand down the hall to the bathroom off the master bedroom.  I hurriedly dropped my skirt and panties on the carpet outside the bathroom, Walter sprawled on the shower floor and I straddled his head and let it go all over his face. He absolutely loved it. He even opened his mouth so I could fill it up.   When I finished (and believe me it took some time to squeeze out the last drop!) Walter looked up at me with a broad grin on his face and gurgled contentedly, “What an excellent way to start.” 

I don’t always piss on my clients but when I’m asked nicely it’s the least I can do.  Ciao!

Rub a Dub Dub, Let’s Get Nude in the Tub

I’m constantly amazed by the appalling lack of imagination shown by wives when it comes to sex with their husbands.  At least that’s the message I get from my boys when they come see me. Even the shy ones like to pretend we’re engaging in something more than raw animal sex.  I suppose I shouldn’t complain.  Their loss is my gain.  In more ways than one.

Take Henry, for example.  Hank called me one afternoon around 4:30 to tell me he’d had a bitch of a day at the office and he really needed to unwind.  Would I mind if he came over and unloaded his burden of bullshit on me?  He insisted he only needed a sympathetic shoulder to lean on but I knew if a perky pair of tits came with the package he wouldn’t mind at all.  Henry and I have been best buddies for several months, every other Wednesday, so I felt pretty comfortable giving him my room number.  I said I was pretty tensed up myself and thought I’d jump in the tub for a long soak but I’d leave the door open a crack.  Just to make sure he closed it tight when he came in.

I never wear perfume when I entertain.  Some guys are ferociously allergic to the stuff and every wife I’ve ever known will go ballistic if her man comes home wearing it secondhand.  But on this occasion I didn’t think it would hurt to use a little scented bubble bath.  After all I was setting a scene and I wanted it to have the ring of authenticity about it.

I dumped some bath salt in the tub and let the hot water run while I stepped out of my street clothes.  The bubbles frothed and whirled around the rim of the tub as I stepped gingerly into the water and turned off the faucet.  God I love my job.  I leaned back and waited for Hank to come in.  I knew he’d love the sight of me lying back in the tub as soon as he entered the bathroom, the nipples on my firm breasts poking up out of the water like that.  I even got a little excited myself and took a few laps around the labia track with my happy fingers.  A girl’s got to get in the mood, you know.

I heard the door to the room open and shut, then Hank came into the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the tub, and started talking to me about his day. I listened to his rant for the first few minutes but then I found my attention beginning to wander. I decided to have a little fun. I pushed my breasts out of the top of the water my pink nipples hardening. He paused mid-sentence and wet his lips but he continued doggedly onward with his tale of woe. So, I pushed my pelvis upward, spreading my legs and exposing my pussy to him all wet, warm.  Then I submerged it again and slipped my fingers in between my slit rubbing up and down my crease.

“Why don’t you join me, Hank,” I whispered urgently, clearing away the bubbles and ramming a finger inside my tight hole.  “The water’s fine.”

That was all it took.  Hank forgot about his miserable day.  He quickly shrugged out of his work uniform, dropped his boxers and went for a swim with his baby.  His mouth closed quickly on my stiff nipples and he shoved his middle finger deep into my pussy.  I quivered with delight.

“Is that what you had in mind, you fucking little tease?” he asked with a wicked grin and I had to admit he had me there.  Come to think of it, it’s pretty easy to get your mind off work. It all depends on your partner’s imagination.  Ciao!

Hung Like a Happy Jury

In-calls are where the client comes to you: out-calls are where you go to the client.  Some girls won’t do in-calls because they feel they are at risk by someone knowing where they live.  Other girls won’t do out-calls because of the added expense of a driver, gas and a car. I like to offer my gentlemen callers both options.  The flexibility doubles the chances of getting a date.  Besides, you can always factor the additional cost into the hourly donation.

One advantage of in-call is that you control the turf to some extent. I usually book a room at an upscale hotel where I’m known to be a trusted patron.  I don’t insist on volume discounts or frequent flier miles, although those perquisites are certainly available.  I do insist on privacy and a room looking out onto rear parking lot, preferably on an upper floor.  I like a smoking room if one is available.  Oh, and extra towels.

Several years ago, when I was first breaking into the business and hadn’t yet firmed up my no-no list I hooked up with a very special gentleman. He was tall with dark hair and light blue angel eyes. His skin was tanned and he had a masculine chest with a happy trail from his navel to his package.  Sexy, let me tell you!  He was shy so I had to coax him into letting loose.

He said his name was Jeremy and that he was sweaty from traveling an hour and a half to see me.  I was flattered!   In LA traffic, an hour and a half can be Hell.  He asked if he could take a shower, apologizing that he was hot and sweaty and wanted to be fresh and clean for our session.  Little did he know I like ‘em sweaty and hot.

No problem.  I gladly helped Jeremy into the shower and waited on the couch smoking a cigarette, thinking of how badly I wanted to fuck him.  I stripped down to the buff so I’d be ready when he emerged from the shower, fresh and clean as promised.

Jeremy came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, looking mighty tasty.  He sat down beside me.  I immediately undid the towel from around his trim, 36 inch waist and started sucking his cock. I wanted to take my time and enjoy every inch of his hard luscious dick. I first played with him, licking it up and down slowly, tasting all of him.  Then I sucked his big balls popping them in and out of my hungry mouth.  I gobbled his cock all the way down until my chin rested on his balls, looking him in the eyes and telling him I wanted more.

I realized I had to slow down before he blew his load. It was obvious from his body language that he couldn’t handle any more of my exceptional cock sucking skills so I climbed on top because I wanted to cum on his dick. I squeezed his cock into my tight hole and damn it felt good. I started rocking back and forth getting wetter with each stroke. Meanwhile he was sucking on my firm breasts, squeezing my nipples and by the look of divine rapture on his face thoroughly enjoying my body.

I raised up to stroke his cock and have him watch it go in and out. I saw that his tip was getting red and he was about to cum. He started thrusting it hard and fast like a jack rabbit.  My juices were flowing down his cock and I knew I was going to cum so I clamped down hard and rode his shaft till the cows came home!  I grabbed the back of his neck grinding hard on his cock.  I felt sweat trickle down my spine; then a rush of complete bliss overtook my body and I couldn’t control myself, fucking him like I was having a seizure!  Jeremy and I came at the same time. We collapsed in each other’s arms, out of breath with huge smiles on our faces.

He dressed quickly without another word and hurried out the door for his hour and a half return trip to the real world.  Perhaps it was the lengthy commute or his shy demeanor but I never laid eyes on Jeremy again.  And yet the image of his stalwart cock still pops up from time to time in many of my finer dreams.  Even girls in my line of work are allowed their special fantasies.  Ciao!

Switch Hitting with Sally

I was sitting alone in my hotel suite in my bra and panties, waiting for my next client, watching a porn movie I’d downloaded to my laptop when I was suddenly reminded of my old friend Sally.  Only Sally and I weren’t so old back then.  This was during our last days in high school.  Sally was my best friend in the whole wide world.  She and I had come in late one weekend night from our usual foray to the family-themed park down the street. We’d go every weekend and drive the boys wild. We loved to tease them with our flirting and taunt them with our bodies.

It was all in the spirit of good, clean, teenage fun, although I suspect we were responsible for more than a couple of cases of blue-balls around the park.  We’d get back to her house, all riled up and horny as hell, and we’d kick back in her living room to calm down before I went home.  Sally’s mom, bless her heart, was usually zonked out on weed by eight-thirty at night so even though she slept in a room around the corner from the living room she didn’t much give a shit what we were up to.

On this particular evening I was lying on the couch talking on the phone with my boyfriend, listening to Nine Inch Nails and giggling with Sally when she decided to go for my undivided attention. She crept her way up my body kissing me on my stomach. I didn’t know what to do or say, so I let her continue. This was awesome! I had always wanted to do this.

Oh shit!  I still had my boyfriend on the line and I had to get rid of him before I could get it on with her.  I told him abruptly, “Uhh I have to go!” “Why?” he asked. I didn’t want to interrupt Sally’s insistent distractions to explain it to him although I’m sure he would’ve loved to eavesdrop so I just hung up.

Then Sally dove into my lips. We were going at it on her couch in her living room and her mom was right around the corner in her room asleep. This was going through my mind as we tumbled to the floor hastily trying to undo each other’s pants and get our panties off.  Her mom was notorious for getting up in the middle of the night for a midnight snack.  Pot does that to a person.  Or so I’ve heard.

I got Sally on her back, lifted her shirt and took her bra off.  She had the most beautiful breasts and nipples; size 36C with big, dark brown areolas. I gobbled every bit of them in my mouth. Of course Sally returned the favor. Then her hand slipped between my legs and she fingered my tight wet teenage pussy. I did the same to her.  Sally had a full bush and mine was shaved.  I asked her if we could shower together and her pretty face lit up with a happy grin. We ran naked down the hall and jumped in the shower, playing with our wet bodies, pressing them against one another, taking turns rubbing our pussies on each other’s legs, kissing and grabbing, and of course licking. Sally even let me shave her pussy.  I shaved it bald and then went to town on it with my tongue.

We got out of the shower smelling good enough to eat. We went to her bedroom where she put on a porno. We watched this raunchy video while going down on each other. Her pussy tasted so sweet when she came. I didn’t know what to expect at the beginning of the experience, but I found out I really liked the flavor of that forbidden fruit, and I’m sure Sally did too.

After that Sally and I continued to fuck each other silly whenever we’d spend the night at her house. One time we even included a couple of boyfriends in our frolic. But I have to save that for another story. I hear a rap upon the door and I sense my bra and panties will soon be on the floor.  Ciao!

Geezers Need Love Too

I need to warn you upfront, if you’re the type of reader who’s only looking for a lot of fast and furious sex in these gentle memoirs, you’d best skip right on past this one.  If, on the other hand, you’d like to meet my favorite trio of geriatric gents, please read on.

Bud, Roy and Charlie come to visit once a month, the day their Social Security checks hit the bank.  Thank God they don’t all get paid the same day of the month.  Otherwise I’d never get anything done.  Now I’ve never imagined myself doing pro bono cases, or even caring for shut-ins.  Don’t get me wrong.  This isn’t charity work - even though I offer all three the courtesy of an AARP discount.  But frankly, had you suggested to me at the outset of my dubious career that I’d end up servicing the prurient predilections of a nefarious network of senior citizens, I’d say you were off your rocker.

Perhaps part of my quandary is that my own Dad departed this vale of tears when I was sixteen.  The rumor was he might have ended up in Boise or Reno but those tales were largely unconfirmed.  All I know for sure is he skipped town for greener pastures.  So maybe my caring for Bud, Roy and Charlie stems from some sort of an Electra complex but I don’t think it’s all that cut and dried.  Aside from their physical infirmities (and I do mean as in Not Very Firm!), they are three of my least demanding clients.

Last month on the eleventh, right on schedule, Bud called me up and reserved his regular hour for 4:00 in the afternoon.  All three of my boys like to book a mid-afternoon session so they don’t miss the Early Bird prices at the buffet downtown.  Bud spent his working years as a middle manager for a defense contractor in Orange County.  He has a Master’s degree in Public Administration and has done some work on his doctorate.  He isn’t dumb by any stretch of the imagination.  How do I know so much about his personal history?  Bud has entertained me with his life story at least a dozen times.

Bud likes me to undress him slowly.  Then I make googly-eyes at his limp dick and say, “Ooh, I’ve never seen one that big before, I bet you made the girls real happy back in the day!”  I push him down on the bed and do my level best to get a rise out of him but it seldom works.  He is, however, happy with my effort to arouse him.  Once we’ve determined he isn’t gonna pop (again!) we lie there together on the bed and he tells me detailed stories of his reckless youth and respectable middle age, how his wife of thirty years passed away from the cancer the same week Bud retired.  He isn’t bitter or pessimistic about any of these events.  But, Oh My God, does he love to rattle on.

One of the delicate problems I face with Bud, Roy and Charlie is that they use up the whole fucking hour.  When it comes to my young Studs, they get off, get up and get out.  With these three I have to keep an eye on the clock because if I don’t interrupt them in mid-reminiscence, dress them back up and get them out the door, they’d easily run on for hours and probably miss the Early Bird special in the bargain.  Still, by God, I love my over-the-hill boys to death.

I’m gonna climb up on my soapbox and rant a little.  Some folks believe sex work is a crime against society; that the money I earn from my labors should be used to feed the hungry mouths of the children legitimately sired by my clients.  Yet, who among you suffers when I make life a bit more pleasant for Bud, Roy and Charlie?  And is it a sin for them to indulge in an hour of harmless play just because sex is involved?  It doesn’t hurt a single soul.  Besides, it makes me feel really special!

Role Play and Pole Position

I suppose you might call me a frustrated thespian, because I love to role play. That’s Thespian, not Lesbian, although I freely admit there have been times I’ve indulged my Sapphic nature as well. In fact I believe the concept of Role Play fits the androgynous model like a hand in a glove but today’s topic of discussion is role play with a member of the opposite gender so try to focus.

Scheduled role play sessions are extra fun for me. After all, in most of my regular sessions I pretend to be the client’s girlfriend anyhow. Most times a client wants me to play the part of a young coed while he plays the part of an older Sugar Daddy. This interaction doesn’t necessarily require a costume. Oh sure, sometimes the guy wants me to put my hair up in pigtails and wear a white, cotton blouse and a plaid skirt, maybe a pink ribbon in my hair and bobby socks, but he really doesn’t have to dress up at all. The stock costume for a pretend Sugar Daddy is the same as street clothes for a normal guy. The main difference is, when a dude pretends to be my Sugar Daddy, he doesn’t have to pony up the rent every month.

Tony’s request was different. He called and asked if it would be okay for me to play the role of a mistress who had been caught cheating on him. He gave me a laundry list of clothes to wear. He also asked me to have some pictures in my purse showing me and another guy banging away on a ratty bed in a sleazy hotel room with the shades down. What the fuck! I can say it wasn’t much of a stretch for me to get into the role and God knows I had plenty of raunchy pictures but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what Tony’s game was. He was a favorite client of mine and he’d always been pretty meat and potatoes when it came to doing the bad nasty. In fact I can’t recall any position with Tony besides missionary, even though I’d hinted broadly that other options were on the table.

I dressed up in the light blue, cashmere sweater and tight jeans (no panties!) Tony asked me to wear and sat on the edge of the bed to await my deceived lover. As an aside Tony is an attorney in a prestigious law firm downtown and it wouldn’t do his reputation much good to have his secrets spread around. Listen, his secrets are safe with me. My lips are sealed.

Right on time, Tony knocked on the door and stormed into the room, demanding to see inside my purse. I reluctantly took out the pictures and showed them to Tony. He was livid. He grabbed me by the ass, unbuckled my belt and tugged off my tight jeans. Then he ripped off my sweater and bra. I cowered naked at the edge of the bed while Tony threw off his own clothes. I was amazed to see how stiff his cock was! He turned me over the bed and began to spank my ass. The torn clothes were part of our deal but the ass-spanking was starting to hurt. Still, there was a subtle thrill that went with the pain and I was starting to get into the submissive role pretty good.

Tony ran his fingers between my ass checks and over my tight little butt hole. My exposed pussy was clinching hard and I could feel my wetness growing. He stroked it with his finger, circling, rubbing it, and spanking me hard with his other hand. I turned my face up to Tony and suddenly his cock was in my mouth. He rammed a finger up my ass and I heard the angels sing. Holy fuck! I was coming and gagging and he was coming and roaring and then we both collapsed in a heap of laughter and tears.

Tony still drops by from time to time but we’ve never tried to repeat that particular scenario. Sometimes a play works best when you don’t know how it’s gonna end. Ciao!

The Ear is an Organ Too

For some strange reason I woke up this morning mulling over the relationship between words and deeds. Specifically, how dirty talk enhances the sex act and how virtually every man I’ve ever been to bed with loves to hear me tell him in vulgar detail what I want him to do to me and how I want it done. The syntax of the modest speech isn’t particularly important and the physical activities involved needn’t even be plausible. Here’s a sterling example of what I mean.

Let’s say I’m sprawled naked on the bed with a similarly clad gentleman and I roll over and whisper urgently in his ear, “I want you to fuck me deep in my pussy with your fucking cock!”

Now let’s parse that sentence. At first glance it seems woefully redundant. Yet it never fails to inflame the ardor of the cock-owner to whom it is directed in a delightfully visible way. Now let’s examine another sentence which conveys the same intent but with more precision.

“I want you to insert your penis into my vagina for the purpose of intercourse.”

This sentence is grammatically superior in every way, and yet is dramatically less effective even given the nude/nude context of the delivery or the urgency of the whisper. Unless, of course, you’re trolling for belly laughs.

Talking dirty had the same effect on my first boss, Rapid Roger the CPA. As a prelude to our Wednesday evening oral adventures I would crawl across the floor of Roger’s office to where Roger sat in his dark brown leather chair, his pants tugged down to his ankles, and I would growl, “I want you to cum in my fucking mouth.” I swear there were times I almost didn’t get there before Roger was cocked and ready to fire. Of course that was precisely the point. Roger’s flabby magnetism to the contrary, I wanted the ordeal over with as quickly as possible, despite the time and a half he was paying me for working late.

By the way, Roger, if you’re reading these words, I don’t really mean it. After all…we might chance to meet someday in a dimly-lighted hotel room, arranged by my booking agent, Sally, and I wouldn’t want you to cut and run before leaving a generous tip. In my book you were the very picture of manly studliness. I don’t know why in the world the other girls in the office called you “Rapid” Roger. To my way of thinking you never came quickly enough.

Now I need some coffee. After all this cock talk I think I’ll take it with extra cream. More later.

Time Off for Bad Behavior

This line of work suits me well and I am well suited to this line of work but honestly, there are times when I would just as soon take the day off.  It isn’t that I tire of the million and one quirks that go along with the game.  It’s not that I grow weary of my horizontal profession.  God knows the job pays better than average but still I sometimes need a day away from the slaps and tickles that make my boys happy in the bedroom.

A few weeks back I attended a family function.  It wasn’t a formal holiday gathering such as one would find at Thanksgiving.  My mother had hired four contractors to lay a patio behind the farmhouse she and Dad lived in, before he mysteriously disappeared for parts unknown, and she invited me and my sister and her brood to come by and watch.  This was on a weekend in mid-July and we all showed up around noon for a late breakfast.  The contractors were already hard at work when we arrived.

My sister, Gail, and her two boys traipsed into the house while her husband, Freddy, fixed a world-weary eye on my matchless ass and muttered a few well-chosen words of off-color hilarity which I pointedly ignored.  I’ve never trusted Freddy as far as I could toss him and he tips the scale around two-twenty, most of which is lard.  Besides, I had my eye fixed on the youngest of the male quartet of workers who was at the moment in the process of getting all sweaty and dirty, the way I prefer my men.  His shirt was off and his sculpted pectorals glistened in the noonday sun.  God, he was a hunk!

I shooed Freddy into the house and approached the crew.  The young man I so admired noticed me watching and he gave me a welcoming grin.

“God, lady, it’s hot,” he said mischievously.  “Do you think I could prevail upon your good nature to fetch me a glass of cold water?”

“There’s a faucet in that tool shed out back,” I replied, nodding my head at a shack to the rear of the property.  “It draws from a well that has the coldest, freshest water you could imagine.  You’d have to bring your own cup, though.”

He got permission from the boss and the two of us ambled off to the shed.  Of course he was flirting with me, saying the regular lines and eye fucking me so I knew I had this one in the bag.  I led him inside and pointed to the mouth of a faucet that had a drip of water about to fall on the dirt floor.  He leaned down to turn on the faucet and I sidled over to a wooden stool next to a welding bench and bent over so my ass cheeks were playing peek a boo.

“Damn, girl, don’t do that,” he said hoarsely and I replied, “Why not, don’t you want some?”

He unzipped his fly and walked over as I slipped out of my shorts.  His dick was already rock hard so he thrust it deep into my pussy. I bent over and let him have his way with me. I love it when a man takes over. He flipped me around and propped me up on the welding bench and fucked me hard and good.  I took every inch.   He didn’t last long.  He blew his load all over my chest. We were both totally spent. We got our clothes together and trucked back up to the yard laughing and trying to get our composure right so no one would know that he had me for lunch.

Making others happy in ones chosen profession is all good but honestly, sometimes a girl just wants to be fucked.  Ciao!