Arjun July 31, 2010
Posted by Leah in Fucking, Random hookups.8 comments
Yesterday evening, after a productive day, I went for drinks with Arjun, a graduate student in the department with whom I have been chatting. He is a serious guy, so there’s not much flirtation per se, but we are friendly, and he has helped me navigate my way through several logistical issues during my first month here. He is significantly more voluble once he has had a few beers, so it was a fun night out. We had dinner at a small Lebanese restaurant, then went for several more drinks, and finally wound up at his place, where we watched a superhero movie with a couple of his roommates.
Afterwards, predictably, we went to bed. It was around 3 am when our clothes came off. The sex isn’t anything to blog about. He warned me beforehand that he doesn’t have much experience. “Shhh,” I told him. “It’s ok. Kiss me.” His body was tense. I ran my hands over his chest and stroked his cock to relax him. We fucked twice, missionary each time. He came. I didn’t.
I come from being fucked vaginally and anally. I come from being eaten and fingered. I can come from enough breast play. I have come from being spanked. But I don’t always come. I didn’t here or here, for example. Usually, I can force myself to orgasm in less than ten minutes by fucking a dildo or playing a vibrator against my clit. Sometimes I do this when I Skype with the boyfriend. Sometimes I do it while I watch porn on the laptop. Sometimes I just diddle myself in the shower under the water stream. In the middle of my cycle, when the heat burns me, I climax in around ten minutes under a steady, deep penetration by a cock. At other times of the month, it may take slightly longer. Typically, I will need direct clitoral or vaginal stimulation to climb the peak. Often, cunnilingus is the quickest, surest way. Sometimes the first orgasm is huge. Sometimes it is small. It depends on my level of arousal and the circumstances, whether I hold it back or let myself go. After getting past the initial barrier, subsequent orgasms flow more smoothly from my cunt. Partners say I hit double digits easily. In a prolonged session, I will run out of fingers and toes. I have never counted how high I can go. I have fountained, but this happens infrequently, during periods of extreme day-to-day stress, when the sex is a much needed release, or when my gratification is deferred — with, say, orgasm denial during D/s play.
An orgasm isn’t necessary for me to have a good time, but, of course, it’s always nice to achieve. I enjoyed being with Arjun. I am glad I could give him his orgasms. I was happy when we spooned after sex. I fell asleep with my breasts pressed against his back and my arm draped over him. We are friends. Sex may or may not repeat, and I was honest with him about that in the morning. I do like him, so I hope this doesn’t become awkward.
Defiling the apartment July 29, 2010
Posted by Leah in Anilingus, Buggery, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Fucking, Repeated hookups.add a comment
Frank called in the evening just as I was contemplating dinner and asked if he could come over. I didn’t feel like cooking for two. I told him to bring takeaway.
We spread ourselves on the floor, eating Indian. When I stood up to retrieve another glass of water, his hand clasped my leg above the knee. “Stay where you are. I like the view,” he said.
Lying on the floor, he saw up my jean skirt, which was tight across the thighs. I opened my legs as far as the denim allowed and stood over him. “How’s that?”
“Very nice.”
Hands smoothed up and down the columns of my legs. I lowered so that the cave of the skirt opened directly above his head. Frank’s grip struggled to flip the skirt around. Instead, he lifted the fabric up to the waist and shifted the sparkly purple underwear to one side. He pulled me down, his tongue stretching to my slit. I straddled my knees on either side of his shoulders, hunkered my weight on top of his face, and let his mouth feast.
His hands were in constant movement, stroking the inner part of my thighs and buttocks. The tongue was everywhere at once, circling the clitoris, threading between the lips of my pussy, licking at the sides. He sucked on the labia, tugging and turning the lips. He bit. His finger took the wetness from my cunt and rubbed it over my asshole. Lips nipped at the clit. In a move that he likes, Frank forced his spit inside me. What he couldn’t do to the skirt, he did to me. My pussy turned inside out while I rode his face. My pubis rubbed against his chin. His jaws worked me hard. The orgasms rolled one after another.
He fucked my ass afterwards at my invitation. He took me rutting on the floor. I have rug burns on the knees to show for it.
The roommate was with her fiancé, so we had the place to ourselves for the night. We made use of the opportunity. I have now had sex with Frank in every room save the roommate’s bedroom. We fucked on the kitchen counter. He made me come sitting in the sink with the water flowing over my cunt. We played with hot and cold. The sheets on my bed were dirty — I didn’t find the time to switch them during the day and forgot after he called. We made them dirtier. He is good about changing positions whenever his orgasm nears, so the fucks kept on going (and I kept on coming). In the morning, I gave him a blowjob in the shower. As we soaped each other off, his hands lingered on my breasts. When I washed his backside, I also kissed his ass. We discovered just how much he enjoyed having my tongue between his cheeks.
The not quite freshman July 28, 2010
Posted by Leah in Fucking, Random hookups.2 comments
I picked him up, or he picked me up, I am not sure which. He is an American, Rich from San Diego, fresh out of high school, all of 18, looking forward to college, backpacking his way through Europe first. The two of us spent the evening talking about bad movies and drinking, which is legal for him in this country. As he made his bed in an upper bunk at a youth hostel, we stumbled to my apartment when the pub closed up.
He sprawled on my bed and brought me over him. Pushing the penis down flat so that the head pointed to his belly, I rubbed my pussy along the long and slender shaft. One pair of lips kissed his throat and shoulders while the other kissed his cock. I enjoyed the contact at both places. My slit leaked onto him. Sticky fluids escaped my cunt, wetting his underside, spilling onto his balls. He held my breasts, one in each hand. Sitting up partway, he nursed and tongued the nipples. My fingers combed his hair. I clasped his head to my chest and let him suck.
Biting the wrapper open, I extracted a condom and drew it over the cock, then reached between my legs and placed him inside. The penis filled me. My jaw dropped open. My head rolled back. I closed my eyes and groaned.
Straightening, I lowered my cunt to the lip of his scrotum, stretched my legs apart, and squeezed his cock, which was snug within me. And then we were moving. He thrust up, buttocks launching from the mattress, and I pumped him with my thighs, using gravity to spear myself on the way down. My pelvis did a grind when his whole length was implanted. We were most of the way drunk and not much in sync with each other: the cock kept slipping out and needing to be replaced. But it was good.
He came, hissing his pleasure. His arms wrapped my back and folded me over his torso as he released. I constricted my muscles about his twitching. My kisses left hickeys on his collar.
Stats July 27, 2010
Posted by Leah in Gallimaufry.add a comment
A reader asks: can you give stats?
No. Unless you’re a mathematician or an economist, numbers are uninteresting. I am sure a sketch of my proportions will appear in bits and pieces over time. Keep reading!
A date and a non-date July 25, 2010
Posted by Leah in Craigslust, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Public.7 comments
Saturday
He invited me to join him in the park. He knew a place where the grass was long and uncut (just like his cock, he said). First, we enjoyed a little picnic — he brought a blanket, sandwiches and fruit, salad, a bottle of wine, two glasses. We basked in the weather and spoke of the plays we had seen, museum exhibitions, the daily aggravations of the underground. Yards away, people kicked around a soccer ball, walked dogs and babies, and laid out on the grass, like us. We saw and heard them.
I had worn a loose fitting skirt that fell to the knees with no panties below. I loosened his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped, and tugged the shorts and briefs down his remarkably hairy thighs. The cock was hard, an average size, and uncut; his pubis could have used grooming, the nest of hair was so thick. I retracted the skin and licked at the head. Lips taut about the shaft, my mouth took him in. While I worked the penis with lips and tongue, he reached up the skirt and fingered my pussy. He ran over my slit, rubbing the moisture from the cunt over the bare pubis. The grass concealed us effectively, but the sounds of the blowjob were loud in my ears. With a penis in my mouth, my eyes scanned the surroundings for voyeurs. It didn’t appear that we were observed. I sucked him five minutes, ten at the most, before he came.
He jerked at the orgasm, and the penis slipped from my lips. The come landed on the ground and also on his shorts and legs. Though we wiped it with paper napkins, it left a wet spot on the fabric. Since it was there, once he had pulled his shorts up, I pressed my mouth over it and sucked, tasting his brine. The saliva made the wet spot bigger. The penis stirred below me.
When it was my turn, I laid on the blanket on my side, my head level with his waist, and hitched up the skirt. I showed him my pussy, pressed a grape inside, ate another. He extracted the grape, popped it in his mouth, and swallowed, then proceeded to eat my sex. His technique was to rub my pussy lips, sending his middle finger inside, tapping the walls with it, perhaps reaching for the G-spot, while he licked and sucked on the clitoris. It lacked variety, but it did the job. The summer air hit me from below as he lapped. I had the scent of dirt and grass. Looking down, I liked the contrast between his skin and mine. Aroused by the blowjob already, I quivered and had a small orgasm. Since I was busy being licked, I didn’t pay attention to what was happening around us. The noises of the park hit me after: the sounds of children playing, the babble of indistinct conversation, a foot striking the ball. There was no applause or laughter when we finished, no police, no amused or disapproving looks. We must have gotten away with it, in the tall grass, on a lazy afternoon, surrounded by hundreds, out in the open, right in the heart of London.
~
Sunday
My lunch date didn’t show. That’s shibari I won’t be having.
Into the night July 24, 2010
Posted by Leah in Fucking, Repeated hookups.3 comments
After a Proms concert and dinner, Frank and I retreated to his brother’s place, which is a very nice pad in Islington. Frank is housesitting for the week while the brother, who does something financial in the City, is on vacation. Four data points are enough to establish a trend. We had another outstanding hookup. The sex can only improve as familiarity establishes a greater adeptness at exciting each other’s bodies. We have the rest of the summer for play.
The best was when we fucked outside the window. It is a sixth floor apartment. The window in the guest bedroom opens onto a three foot ledge that is ringed by a wall that rises to my breasts.
Around two-thirty in the morning, after we had been messing around for several hours already, we hoisted ourselves into the open for a breath of air. We stood there talking, naked and swigging bottles of beer. When I opened his, I took the neck and rubbed it against my pussy lips before handing it to him to improve the taste. I pressed the glass of my own bottle, wet with condensation, into my cleavage. I toyed with the nipples in the cool air, pulling and pinching, making them hard as pebbles. Frank watched me touch myself. He pushed me against the wall at intervals, and we kissed. He stuck his finger in my pussy and sucked my juices from it. My clit yearned for contact — she wanted to be petted, too. I snaked a hand between my thighs and rubbed vigorously outside. Frank squatted in front and watched me play with myself up close. His hands spidered up my smooth skin, and he added kisses of his own to the insides of my thighs. Inevitably, the desire to fuck hit us both. Frank went back inside and retrieved a condom. Bending at the waist, I sucked him to hardness and slipped the rubber over his shaft. Face to face, we traded deep kisses. Frank rolled my breasts with his hand while I stroked his cock. I liked the taste of lager on the lips and tongue.
I clutched his forearm and brought his grip up from the tits to my throat. Frank kissed the side of my face, the cheeks and below the ear, while I twisted my head in the clutch of his hand, hoping that the strong fingers would tighten their hold. “Turn around. I want to fuck you,” he whispered, nipping my earlobe. His tongue jostled the earring. Though I wished for more, I liked that he was asserting himself with me.
Legs opened in a wide stance, I used my arms to push my weight off the wall, hunched my back, and thrust my ass out to him. Frank placed his hands on my buttocks and sunk his cock into my cunt. The lips parted and the muscles stretched to accommodate his entry. I moaned at the friction at the walls of my vagina as the cock rasped its way inside. The deliberately slow act of penetration caused me to whimper. After all, it must have been a full forty minutes since I last had Frank’s cock in me.
Resisting the temptation to bring my body back, I resolved to let my lover control the cadence of this fuck. I merely straightened my legs and groaned each time the cock slid deliciously into me and whined whenever he withdrew his gift, however momentarily. Glancing over the wall, I looked at the parade of buildings across the street and noticed how sparse the lights in the windows were at this late hour. In this neighborhood, few cars populated the roads. From the distance, there was the sound of voices, a siren song, laughter. The coolness of the air made me shudder while he fucked me with calculated care and slowness.
He couldn’t go slowly forever. Frank’s movements ramped up in their velocity. Instead of dragging the cock past the pussy lips, he pounded himself into me. Lifting a thigh up and flat against the wall to improve the angle of his entry, I held on to the bricks at the top of the parapet. He tugged on my hair and hauled my body backward onto him. My feet shuffled on the landing. I gasped loudly into the night and clenched my muscles. “Oh, shit!” I said. “Oh, fuck.” My fingers blurred on my clit. My breasts bounced as his penis slammed me. I was conscious of the necklace swinging and slapping below my collar. He made me sweat, and the perspiration cooled my skin and set the muscles in my shoulders to shivering. It was all heat and wetness inside though. When he hit a particularly sensitive spot, it brought me to swearing again. “Fuck me,” I implored, drawing the last syllable out.
Frank came first. His erection didn’t subside, so he continued after his orgasm. I panted heavily and closed my eyes and diddled my clit as the shaft sawed steadily in and out. More than the cock, the fingers made me come. I exploded shrieking my ecstasy to the clouds above. Frank insisted on tonguing my pussy clean.
Bad nights out July 23, 2010
Posted by Leah in Craigslust, D/s.add a comment
A reader asks: do you ever have a bad night out?
Yeah. I do. Last night’s date is an example. The guy looked about five years older than his picture and thirty pounds heavier. I should have left then, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. The conversation turned, without preface, to sex. In place of charm, he asserted his dominance and proceeded to tell me how he wanted to tie me up and use all my holes. He insisted that I call him Master Dave, which sounds pretty damn absurd to these ears. I have never liked calling anyone Sir or Master. I find it ridiculous. I make no oaths of fealty. I am no one’s slave. I submit because I want to. The lovers who make my legs go weak don’t need these trappings. When we play, their authority is organic and therefore authentic.
This guy was way cooler in e-mail than in person. Needless to say, nothing happened. I went home, hung out with the roommate, read a book.
More so than in the US, I have had a bunch of meet-ups here that haven’t led to the casual encounter. (For the statistically minded, of nine dates off of CL, stuff happened in five of them.) This is frustrating because I go on a date expecting to have sex at the end of it. Even when we do get into bed, not everyone is so hot in the sack. But there’s usually something positive to tell about the experience.
So far, I have been with eight guys in London, sleeping with seven and being masturbated in public by the eighth. I am pleased with six of these encounters, which isn’t a bad ratio at all. Like pussies, these things come in waves. I have had a run of luck. And at some point it’s bound to end.
I am seeing Frank tonight and have meetings set up for Saturday and Sunday afternoons.
About sex July 21, 2010
Posted by Leah in Autobiography, D/s.3 comments
A reader asks whether sex is purely physical for me.
Sex: Procreation is not (today) one of my reasons for wanting to fuck. Sex is a physical act. Though not strictly necessary like oxygen or water or food, the fact of fucking is a humanizing influence, as essential to my soul as exercise or conversation or curling up with a good book. Bodies are playgrounds for creativity. Sex is the collaborative dance.
The pleasure is undeniable, of course. One of the few epiphanies in my life is that first great, searing orgasm I received from a lover. Every masturbatory climax, all the previous incipient fumblings and stumblings with a partner — anything and everything that came before — was as a faded photograph compared to its reality.
I like having a cock inside me. I like slobbering over it. I like squeezing it with the muscles in my pussy. I like how it penetrates my ass. The male penis fills and completes me. I thrill at fucking and being fucked. I also adore when a man devours my cunt. The acts of mating, from the first kisses to getting it on rough, make me feel alive as nothing else does. Sex is my one drug. I have lots of partners. The multidudes allow me to explore the varieties and the vagaries of the sexual experience. I don’t fall into patterns this way. The sex is different each time. This diversity is important to me. I have plenty of fantasies still to live.
Submissiveness: In my day-to-day existence, I am an alpha woman in nearly every respect. But when I am with a man in the sexual context, I prefer to be dominated. I want to be overwhelmed by his presence, his power, his penis. I want to surrender myself to him. I want to be, at last, a woman out of control. Inasmuch as I am capable of the undertaking, I aim to service my partner with my body. I worship his cock. I submit to his desires. I rejoice in being an obedient fuck-toy, a compliant plaything, his willing slut. I want to be the girl he thinks about when he masturbates years later. I say I will do anything, but there are limits. I have used a safeword twice in my life. Few acts I have been asked to perform are too dirty for me, however. I push the old boundaries away and strive to be my lover’s pleasure.
It doesn’t always work like this. Occasionally, I will take a lover for the satisfaction of having excellent sex — Frank looks to be one of these — or I will have a sequence of meaningless one night stands, uncomplicated by power games. With a woman, the dynamic is altogether altered — I prefer to switch.
Giving up control is a trust. Yielding myself to authority is an act of volition. I vet the men to see whether I think they are responsive and responsible, whether we are compatible together even for the space of a single night. I can’t submit to an idiot. I won’t. I need to respect a man’s intelligence to play with him this way. Even so, just because I have given him power and he is an a position of dominance over me and I do as he instructs, it doesn’t mean I submit to him mentally. The psychological and emotional submission is the best part. It rarely happens. He needs to be worthy of it, in my opinion. He needs to draw it out of me. I need to be compelled to give him my all.
Subspace: Getting there is a high. Staying these is a dream. It leaves me weak and emotionally vulnerable. Often I cry — sometimes inconsolably. It is a much needed release.
Most recently, after the man I called Daddy fucked me, I turned into an emotional wreck. The loneliness of being here in London without the boyfriend hit me at that precise moment. It fell on me like a thousand of bricks. Of all the men I have ever known, carnally or otherwise, the boyfriend is the one I most want to submit to. But he lives an ocean away. I felt guilty at having my pleasure here, without him. I felt irredeemably sad. My lover responded by holding me, by stroking my shoulders and back while I sobbed. It may have been minutes. It may have been an hour. I went to sleep, curling myself at his feet on the king sized bed in that hotel room. This is something my boyfriend has me do at home sometimes after sex, as an extension of it. I look up at his body from below. I lap at his toes. I feel like a faithful dog. I am safe and reassured.
Intimacy: I like sharing a bed. I want a man to warm me under the covers with his body heat. I want to snuggle myself next to him, avoiding the great wet spot we have left in the center of the sheets. I want post-coital conversation while I run my fingers through his chest hair, nails raking lightly over his naked skin. I want to lie in his embrace, in the crook of his arm, with my head propped upon his shoulder. I want soft kisses at bedtime. I want the odor of sex lingering in the air, blanketing us as slumber falls.
Alternatives to Craigslist? July 21, 2010
Posted by Leah in Craigslust.4 comments
I posted the following ad thrice this week.
NSA fun – w4m
You are an interesting guy. You live an interesting life. You have interesting friends. You crave interesting sex.
I am an interesting girl. I live an interesting life. I have interesting friends. I crave interesting sex.
We should totally get together!
I am looking for a one night stand only. You and I are both drug and disease free. We use condoms. Kink is negotiable. I am not a prostitute.
Race, age, nationality are not factors in my decision. Good looks are important to me — so send a pic. A good brain is even more important — show me that you have one. Make an intriguing proposition. I might say yes. Do not send me a picture of your cock. I don’t need to see it before we’re naked together. I prefer if you can host in Zones 1 or 2.
Admittedly, it is not the greatest ad in the world, but still serviceable. It has led to a couple of conversations, but didn’t garner nearly as many responses as I would like. The w4m ads on the casual encounters board in London are flagged almost instantly. Do any readers know alternatives to Craigslist in the UK? If so, please send word.
Thanks!
Fellating Frank July 19, 2010
Posted by Leah in Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Fucking, Repeated hookups.4 comments
I should give him a name since he is becoming a regular. Kafka dude — a.k.a. Frank — and I hung out last night. We had dinner with the roommate and her fiancé. They went to a party after the restaurant; Frank and I returned to the apartment.
We snuggled on the sofa and talked for hours about nothing in particular. We drank beers and made out. His hands shifted up my sides and back, the fingers eventually settling inside my shorts, splayed open and palming my ass, over and under the graph paper patterned panties I had worn. Eyes closed and in the darkness blind, we maneuvered by feel and touch, our heads twisting to stretch those kisses out. I sucked on his tongue and tasted the spicy flavors of the meal we had eaten and the earthy beer.
Eventually, I suggested we migrate to my bedroom. When he undressed me, he noticed the bruises on the right side of my ass. They were small, but required an explanation. I told him about my play date on Saturday afternoon and suggested that he could spank me sometime, too.
“Hmmm,” he said, pulling off his jeans. He seemed undisturbed by the admission that I had other lovers. As he commenced nursing at my breasts, suckling on one nipple, then moving to the other, I wondered if there were other women for him as well and what his parents thought of his nights away. He pushed me flat onto the bed. I figured it wasn’t my business to know and shrugged the thoughts aside. Reaching for his erection, my fingers made a ring around the shaft and descended. I licked my palm to wet the hand and stroked him till he was hard and ready.
He straddled my upper body, his ass hovering above my tits, and fed me his cock. It sunk past my lips and descended to the edge of my throat. Lifting my head from the pillow, I sucked him. Taking three-quarters of his length within, my fingers squeezed the remainder at the bottom. I feathered my touch over his balls and hummed tunelessly around the shaft. The consistency and quality of the erection changed in my mouth.
After a time, we reversed position. He laid down while I hunched over him from the side. I nibbled at the foreskin and peeled it from the head. Rolling my tongue around the curves, I gave his exposed and sensitive crown wet kisses. It was our third night together, and I still hadn’t tasted his semen. The translucent precome was sharp and tangy.
I took the penis within. My jaws stretched to admit it. The crown cascaded against the roof of my mouth. Swallowing back the gag reflex, I submerged it in my throat and swam down deeper until my lips pressed into his groin. I held him there. The scent of him filled my nose and lungs. I let go of the cock when I surfaced for air, and then, with hands on his belly and thigh for balance, moved easily over him again. His fingers gathered my hair, tucking stray bits behind an ear, and held it out of the way so that he could look down on me and watch. I made my lips taut and rotated my face and lifted back until only the crown remained between my lips. Closing my eyes, I gave long, slow, luxurious sucks, taking his shaft the whole way down. As my head was constantly in movement and he was never inside me completely for more than a second or two, it wasn’t difficult to deepthroat. The sounds of gratification he emitted, the soft sighs, the steady, deep breaths, the way his hands wrapped my hair, how his cock seemed to elongate in my lips, and, of course, the words he spoke, a verbal confirmation that this was good: it encouraged me to perform. I scratched his thigh as I took him in. I made my tongue soft and rasped it along the underside. I played with the springy skin of the sac.
His words brought me short.
“If you keep that up, I am going to jizz,” he said, breaking my blowjob reverie.
“You don’t say?” I replied. I slapped the wet shaft against my cheek and rubbed my face into his balls.
“You mean it hasn’t occurred to me that if I suck your cock, you’ll come?” I spoke into his legs, biting the skin playfully.
“I thought you Oxford boys were supposed to be bright.” My tongue stretched into the space behind his scrotum, which I had raised up against the base of his penis.
“I want you to come.” I brought my lips over one of his balls, tugging it down.
“I want to drink your semen, ok.” I gently lipped the other testicle and washed it with my tongue.
“That’s the whole point of a blowjob.” The bottom of my tongue swiped around the crown.
“You.” I deposited a wet kiss on top of the head.
“Coming.” I left another, softer kiss on the front face.
“In my mouth.” The tongue flicked against the aperture.
I looked up at him with a grin that flashed teeth.
He smiled back at me in acquiescence and spread his arms apart.
“Can I please go back to sucking you now?” I asked.
His legs budged open. “Please do,” he said.
So I did.
He wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t long before I sensed the changes that told me his eruption was imminent. The signals were apparent. His breathing became ragged. He clutched my hair tighter, tugging at the roots. The muscles in his thighs corded up. His face tensed into an intense grimace. I could have kept the tease going — I can generally take a man to the brink, leave him there, and bring him back by varying stimulation and pace. But I wanted to taste, so I picked the tempo up, making the rhythm harder and tighter. He thrust his hips at me and drove the penis into my face and grunted. Then he collapsed on the bed and moaned as the levees burst. The orgasm exploded into my mouth, his semen spraying in thick jets. I clamped my lips halfway down and steadied the erection at the bottom. The skin was hot to the touch, and the shaft jumped in my fingers. I milked the cock and worked to swallow, but couldn’t drink his come fast enough. Some of it spilled past my lips and coated my fingers and dribbled down his shaft and groin.
It was a heady concoction, a strong and salty taste with undercurrents of sweetness beneath. I lapped up the spunk that covered my hand and cleaned it from the sides of the shaft. I kissed what had fallen over the pubis from his skin. Making my tongue pointy, I swept through the hairs, to ensure that none of his come went to waste drying over him.
I sprawled myself on his chest. Lying side by side, we traded protracted kisses. Frank’s hands found their way between my legs. He stroked the pussy lips and decided that it was my turn to come orally. His cock took the opportunity to recover. Having shot once, he fucked me afterwards for the longest time. As before, we kept going, though this time, the roommate had company to warm her bed also.
Frank invited me to a concert on Friday. We will do it again.
Leah Lays London 