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Simon says December 30, 2011

Posted by Leah in D/s, Fellatio, Repeated hookups.

I saw David before I left for the Xmas holiday, and I saw him again before heading out to the UK. He and I played Simon Says last night. The penalty for each transgression of the rules was one drop of candle wax on a sensitive place. From experimentation, we knew that it would hurt like hell but would not leave marks on the skin. I would be bound while he administered the penalty.

It started easily enough: “Simon says strip.” I did.

David stood and undressed and sat naked on the easy chair in his living room. “On your knees,” he instructed, and I properly ignored the command. He smiled and repeated it with the appropriate preface. I complied. His cock was hard. He stroked it. I began crawling to him.

“Simon didn’t say come here, bitch,” remarked David.

“I am sorry.”

“Simon didn’t say you could talk either.”

I froze and waited. David was a bastard sometimes. His students must hate that he was a stickler for rules.

“Come here.”

I didn’t so much as blink.

“Simon says wash my feet.”

I walked to the kitchen, soaped up the sponge in the sink, and went to him. On my knees, I scrubbed his feet clean and dried them with the dishtowel. Clearly, this wasn’t what he expected, but the rules had been followed. My aspect was smug in consequence.

David thrust the sole of his foot at my closed lips. “Lick,” he said. I turned my face to the side. The foot swatted at my cheek.

He pointed his penis upright. “Cunt,” he said. (It was wet.) “Simon says lick my balls.”

This I happily did. My lips applied suction to the hemispheres of the scrotum. I tongued the sac as I held each testicle between my lips. I spread my jaws and took both of the balls inside together. The tongue lapped at the coarsely textured skin. He kept me at it for long minutes. Thick saliva coated the balls. Because it pleased him, he fingered my nipples. He pinched them tight and dug his nails in. I winced at the abrupt jolt of pain, but I continued my oral ministrations on the scrotum without interruption.

“Suck my cock.”

I looked up at him. My lips steadfastly munched on his balls.

“Good girl. Simon says deepthroat.”

This was patently unfair. I yawned immensely and lowered my mouth on the shaft as far as I could manage in the absence of preparation. Suppressing the gag reflex, I filled my mouth with spit and made a concerted effort to reach his balls. I had three-quarters of his length inside.

“That isn’t deepthroat,” he said. His hand pressed on the back of my head and compelled me down. By instinct, I resisted, pulled away, and coughed.

“That counts as three and four.”

I took the crown into my lips again. I made my throat loose and forced myself to take the cock in to its root. By sheer effort, I accomplished the feat. My eyes were watering when I had the knob seated in my throat. My lips kissed the lip of his sac. The hand on top of my head held me down longer than was comfortable. Tears escaped the corners of my eyes when David let me surface for air.

“Now suck,” he said. I did. I realized that this was my fifth infraction a microsecond after I had commenced the act of fellatio. David noted it, too. He slapped the side of a tit.

He glanced at his watch. “Simon says make me come. Simon says you have exactly five minutes.”

David has stamina. I pulled out all the stops in the time allotted. I tried but failed. Even the index finger pushed up against the prostate didn’t do the trick.

“Six,” he intoned.

I nodded.

“Well, keep sucking.”

I didn’t.

“Simon says suck me slow.”

I kissed the crown, tongued around the glans, took the head inside, and glacially slid my lips down the shaft. I took the penis in by degrees. To begin, I had the top half of it contained in my mouth on the downstroke, then two-thirds, then three-quarters. He sighed expressively and let me suck him slowly, softly, and with intent. I rotated my face and collapsed my cheeks and lifted my tongue against the underside of the rigid cock. The spit leaked from my lips and trailed to his balls. I scratched the insides of his thighs. His eyes were shut in contentment. Though I kept mine downcast for the most part, once a minute or twice, I tilted my head up, which lifted his penis, and glanced upon his countenance with enormous eyes that blinked slowly closed. My face lowered and twisted on his shaft. The constitution of the cock flesh altered minutely between my lips. It went on. I don’t know how long I sucked him this way. I felt the solidity of the hardwood floor in my knees and the balls of my toes. The discomfort enhanced in me the sense and the quality of my submission.

Suddenly, David’s hands grabbed the sides of my head. He fucked my mouth as though it was my cunt. The pelvis flared out, and he lifted from his seat to penetrate deeper and harder. He was suspended in air when his musculature tensed. An iron grip obliged me to keep the glans inside my throat.

“Swallow,” he said when he had finished his spasms. The shape of the orgasm and the geography of our bodies left me no choice. It was done already. His semen barreled directly into my esophagus.

He cast me back and chuckled softly.

“Salmon says clean me off.”

I licked the sides of the shaft and curled my tongue at the pearl of come lodged within the aperture.

“I said Salmon says, not Simon says,” David observed, pointedly.

I hadn’t noted the first word. He may have slurred it. This was surely cheating. I laughed at his audacity. To avenge myself, I took the skin of the right half of the scrotum between my teeth, bit down, and tugged. I persisted in washing the cock.

“Game over. Simon says game over,” David announced, after I had finished. “Let’s call it nine.” His fingers swept over my slit and brushed against the clit.

Cocksucking had aroused me. I wondered how long it would be before David fucked my pussy. I wanted him to dominate me. I wanted to rut on hands and knees. I wanted to compress the walls of my cunt about his shaft. I wanted to come for him repeatedly, at his word, and be the agency of his pleasure. I nosed at the balls and kissed wetly where I had a moment ago nipped. The penis folded over the scrotum. It reminded me of an elephant’s trunk. The head hung below the testicles. I sunk low and mouthed the glans. Kisses led to his feet. I licked above the toes.

“Leah says ten.”

Home for Xmas December 29, 2011

Posted by Leah in Anilingus, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Fucking, Repeated hookups.

I spent a week at home during the winter break. I took the train from Boston to New York City. I met up with my sister, and we drove upstate to the parents. We see extended family during Thanksgiving while Xmas is cozy and comfortable. It’s usually only the parents and my siblings. Because my brother went to visit his girlfriend’s mother’s family in California this November, we had missed him last month. To make up for the lost time, we hung out lots.


The day after the day after Xmas, I met up with a former lover, who is seventeen years older than me. He taught my sister the piano, worked with my Mom, and is a family friend of long standing. I have known him almost my whole life. In May of 2010, we had a week long fling, which I initiated. At the time, he was in the final stages of a divorce. His wife had left him. We kept in touch afterwards. Last year, when I was home for the holidays, he was dating a woman, nearer to my age than his. This winter, he is single again and in the middle of a protracted dry spell.

I texted him over the kitchen table before lunch while my mother and sister were pottering around the oven. I slipped my right hand into my jeans and sent him a picture of the bulge it made in my pants. I sent a photo of my tongue flicking at the tip of a finger moistened by the secretions of cunt.

During the next half hour, I typed a series of SMS sexts.

Do you have a cock for me to play with, mister?

I want you inside me, lover. Your penis is a hot, thick presence that makes me flood.

I want to be under you.

Fuck my pussy hard. Please. Will you?

I could be persuaded to suck as well. Do you want my red lips wrapped about your shaft?

We agreed to meet at three o’clock in the afternoon.

I borrowed my Dad’s car and drove over to his place for our assignation. We sat in his living room and caught up over glasses of wine. He joined me on the small loveseat. We made out. The classical music station on the radio gave rhythm to our movements. He masturbated my pussy through the tight denim. I spread my legs wide. I touched knees and tightened my thighs around his hand. My chest thrust into a grasping palm.

Upstairs, in his bedroom, we continued. I sat on the edge of the bed, legs open, and he knelt on the floor and devoured my pussy. He stood and cupped my head at back where it joins the neck while I ingested his cock. My fingers grasped the balls and the last inch of the shaft, which I could not enclose within my mouth. The head nudged its way into my throat. Breathing carefully through the nose, I swallowed away the gag reflex and constricted the epiglottis. Lips pursed over the springy skin. My jaws were stretched enough that the sides of my face hurt. The tongue swiped across the underside of the shaft.

He took me doggy style to start. His hands pressed down at my back and buttocks while the cock drove deep into my cunt. The heavy balls slapped the backs of my thighs. I craned my head back to find his lips. The cock penetrated me slowly. I moaned as it tunneled into me. The walls felt full inside. Cream from my pussy trailed along the circumference of his cock. It deposited a ring of foam at the base of the shaft. When he warned me of his impending orgasm, by an exertion of will I freed myself of his erection, turned, and kissed his chest. I licked the sweat from his skin. The nipples were deliciously sensitive to the touch of lips and teeth.

I straddled his legs and pushed off his torso while I rode hard the hard penis. Hands clasped my leg at the knee and traversed the line of my thigh. He followed the curve of the flank up to my tits, which he squeezed. The up and down motion of my body had a metronomic precision. I slid down the stem and landed atop the root and tensed the muscles there as my knees folded out. The vagina compacted about the shaft, and I lifted while the walls were so tight inside. When my lips kissed the glans, I relaxed the muscles and lowered my body weight down again. He placed his fingers in my mouth, and I sucked them. He informed me that he was once again close, and I dismounted.

I was so close as well. He lashed his tongue around my clitoris. He growled into my gaping pussy. His nose flattened against my pubis. The dam inside me burst. My legs elongated. My feet curled. My toes clenched like a monkey’s paws. I shut my eyes to focus on the sensation, to revel in it. My ass bucked from the bed. My cunt seemed to invert. I laughed through my orgasm. When my eyes flashed open and focused downward, I noticed that my fingers gripped his so tightly that the knuckles had whitened. I laughed again at the exquisite and joyful pleasure of release. He crawled on top of my body and kissed me. I tasted my piquant juices on his lips and tongue.

My fingers combed his hair as the kisses deepened. The rigid cock prodded at my belly. Reaching between my legs, I placed him inside. “Fuck me. Fuck me till you come.”

He did exactly that. When his body slammed down, the momentum flowed from him to me in a wave that rippled through my trunk and radiated into my extremities. My spine did a sideways dance. My fingertips tingled. I felt the force of fucking in my eyelids. My arms wrapped his back, and I gripped his bony shoulder blades. My feet kicked off his calves. My legs interlaced with his and tangled them up in a knot. My face burrowed into his throat and collar. The shaft, which was so wondrously long and thick and hot, stretched my pussy out. I compressed muscles around his cock, making the entrance snug for him. I held on to the sides of the mattress as he took me harder.

My lover’s movements became erratic. He pulled the cock out of my pussy, peeled the condom off, and shucked his hand along the erection. The semen streamed out in bright, flashing ribbons. The come splattered me. It splashed the bottoms of my breasts and painted the cleavage between them. The viscous fluid rained onto my abdomen, collected in the hollow of my navel, and overflowed the belly button. The shaft jerked against my curling fingers as I pointed the penis. I giggled at how much come there was. Jellied puddles of his semen dotted my torso when he finished spasming. It was an alien landscape of opaque lakes. Over the sheen of perspiration, thick, viscid, sticky pools of come, pale and white, glistened on my skin like the first winter snow.

“Thank you,” I said, and rubbed his come over my body until it was a transparent gloss.

We fucked again, first in bed, then in the shower while we cleaned each other up. I drank his second orgasm, nearly as voluminous as the first. Semen overflowed my lips and dribbled down my chin and throat. He tasted of spice and salt. The third explosion, smaller than the previous two, arrived as I rimmed his asshole. My head ducked between his legs. The semen plastered wet hair to my face. A fog of steam surrounded us.


The family friend was not the only man I had on Tuesday.

The second is a friend from high school. Yoshio and I were in the class of 2003. I have known him since the fifth grade. Our first time was the summer after our freshman year of college. We have subsequently hooked up maybe a dozen times. I would date him in a second if he had an affinity for dominance and lived in the same city. Instead, he lives across the country, where he is working on a Ph.D. in aeronautical engineering.

We met for dinner and then went to a bar for drinks. We ended up at his house in the evening, where we played Scrabble with his little sister. I texted Dad near midnight, confessed that I was tipsy, and informed him that I would be home in the morning after crashing at Yoshio’s for the night. He texted me back: Ok. Be careful.

Ours are liberal families. My parents don’t know the details of my sex life, but they have no illusions about its existence. Yoshio’s parents retired early for the night. His sister’s bedroom is upstairs. We made up the couch in the living room with bedding but went to Yoshio’s room in the basement. When I left at nine, his parents were up and about and the sofa hadn’t been slept in.

I stripped to my panties and sat on his bed cross legged. Yoshio spread himself on the mattress. His fingers started at my shin and climbed to my knickers. The front panel of the thong underwear was a fine black mesh. He teased my cunt lips through the cloth. My moisture created bubbles in the filmy web of the fabric.

Fingers loosened his belt and the top button of his jeans. Taking the blue flap of denim in my teeth, a swift lateral movement of the head unbuttoned the fly. I nuzzled the swelling in his striped boxers. The erection left a dark shadow in the white cloth. I breathed upon the cock and pressed my lips over it until the cotton darkened with my moist breath. He smelled deliciously male. I tasted the musky skin. The heel of my palm flattened his balls. He brought the boxers down to his knees. The tumescent cock made a glorious contrast to the wiry black hair that covered his groin. I sniffed his length. Making my lips soft, I addressed his glans from below. Precome had already beaded at the slit. I kissed away the tears of the cyclops. Yoshio was content to have me suck him for a while. I sat up when his hand started to pull at my shirt.

He removed my blue sweater top and the light yellow tank top and the transparent black bra, which matched my sheer panties. I had his long sleeved shirt off and kissed his chest as I lifted the t-shirt away. We knelt and kissed on the bed. I chased his tongue from my mouth to his. Fingers traced the length of his spine, the pads pressing down where the back indented. Yoshio brought me over his lap and tugged on my ankles until the legs extended over him. His fingers feathered over the slit. Wetness seeped out. He sucked on his fingers. His head squeezing under me, he pulled the thong to the side and applied his tongue to the flow at the delta. I hunched my body over him, lowering my pussy across his open mouth, rubbing against his mandible, reaching for his cock in the process. Yoshio’s tongue threaded between my lips. I licked upward from the balls along the central vein on the bottom surface of the shaft.

He lapped my pussy for long minutes.

“Fuck me,” I said when he paused a moment to catch his breath. “I need your cock inside.” I peeled away the black thong panties in an instant.

He extracted a condom from his wallet and did what I asked. Supporting myself on forearms and knees, I arched over his torso. Left hand on my upper back, right hand on the rising curve of my rump, he steadied me while I pressed my cunt over the penis, which angled up from his pubis. On the initial foray, I tightened my pussy and balanced myself halfway. I hovered over the erection and resisted the downward compulsion of gravity and gratification. He laughed at the deliberate postponement of the fuck I had wanted and pulled me down by the waist. With the cock contained totally within, I spun my hips in a taut circle. My labia dragged against his groin.

He didn’t last long within me. His body tensed. The penis cocked and convulsed. He gripped me tight. I clutched the back of his neck and cooed to him while the condom filled with his spendings.

In the aftermath, we stretched out. Yoshio was on his back. I was on my side. My fingers wafted through the hair on his chest. We kissed. He stroked my breasts idly. As I fingered his cock, I admitted that I had been with another man a few hours before. I told him the two of them are so different, that I like them both very much. The penis stiffened against my palm.

He turned to his side and pushed me flat on the mattress. I hooked a leg across his flank. He paused to slip a condom on and used my thigh to lever his movement as the cock plunged in. He fucked me from below, thrusting with pelvis and hips while my fingers rubbed in circles over the clit. The flesh was fluid under my touch. I raised my leg to enhance the penetration. Slowly, my body turned around until I was on my belly and he was between my legs fucking me from behind. Our thighs were flush. Yoshio fucked my pussy with short jabs. We kissed.

I rose to hands and knees so that he could fuck me doggy style, but eventually, my body twisted around again. He fucked me from the side. His lips nuzzled along the line of my shoulder to my throat. When the cock slipped out of my cunt, he occupied the space between my legs and entered me from above. In the missionary position, we kissed endlessly with his cock inside me. As I had been stimulated so extensively, my pussy had a hair trigger. I came explosively. Yoshio kept his penis embedded and unmoving within. His palm cupped one of my breasts.

His eyes shut and his brow furrowed with the effort of concentration. He didn’t intend to come, but he couldn’t contain his eruption when my vagina wrung about his shaft. I gripped his forearm and kissed his throat.

I removed the condom and slurped the semen from his cock. The shaft hardened as I took him easily into my throat.

My fingers made my cunt yawn at him. “Do you mind that this little pussy hopped from another man’s bed to yours?” Experience has taught me that Yoshio liked to hear me speak about other lovers.

Yoshio gave a noncommittal grunt. He rotated so that he faced my cunt. His cock was stiffening before my eyes. His fingers reached for my pussy. He spread the wetness on the labia over my clit.

“Someone else bored into me this afternoon. He did me first. He made me cream. I used his semen for body lotion. I washed my face in it and swallowed his come.” Fingertips brushed along the furrow of his ass to his balls. They grazed across the back face of the scrotum. I plucked at the prickly hairs and batted the sac, which set the balls to a pendulous wobble. My tongue swirled around the head. I deepthroated him in a fluent and practiced motion. The points of painted nails dug into his buttocks. The cock ballooned, making my cheeks puff out.

“You’re spending the night with me, aren’t you?” The crown made a liquid plop as it evacuated my lips. Yoshio rolled another condom onto his shaft.

Back to Blighty December 19, 2011

Posted by Leah in Bondage, Buggery, Craigslust, Cunnilingus, D/s, Electra complex, Fellatio, Fucking, Gallimaufry, Masturbation, Public, Random hookups, Repeated hookups.

I am in the UK again from December 31st to January 17th. I will be crashing with my former roommate and her husband. They are renting a one bedroom flat near Hampstead Heath. I get the plush new sofa in the living room. I expect I won’t be at their place every night. After all, I have friends to see and be done by.

Amadeo has proven to be a generally poor correspondent. We Skype now and again. Frank writes a long e-mail every couple of weeks. These arrive unexpectedly. The letters are warm and funny and inevitably make me wish I had considered doing an undergraduate degree at Oxford or Cambridge. His missives and my replies are interspersed with frequent text messages. The salacious SMS exchanges happen when one of us endures an incomprehensible seminar. I like to think of Frank growing hard in his seat in public and hiding the erection in his pants with A4 paper. In the back of the auditorium, I squirm in my chair from arousal. My panties become moist. I miss these men.

For the past six weeks in Boston, I have been seeing someone. In his early thirties, David is a newly minted assistant professor. I like him very much so far. We are still in the process of discovering each other, sexually and otherwise. I have no expectations for how long the relationship will last. We aren’t exclusive. My colorful sexual life isn’t a secret to him either. He has seen the marks that other men have left on my body. He disapproves only on aesthetic grounds. He is especially proficient at applying pain without leaving bruises. David and I met through OkCupid. Like my own profile, his indicates an interest in casual sex. Naturally, in the bedroom, he gets off on his dominance and my submission. He is adept with rope. I am his bondage whore. He has made my body contort in positions I didn’t know were possible for me and taken me hard while I was tied. Sometimes he wants a brutally fast orgasm from a skull fucking. At other times he has me between his legs worshiping his phallus for most of a lazy Saturday afternoon. The Venn diagram of our kinks overlaps considerably, but there are also significant exclusions.

Because we have common friends, the ex-boyfriend and I run into each other socially. We haven’t fallen into bed. I have only been back to the old apartment once, to pick up my stuff. It’s over. I think of him less and less. But sometimes, when I am meandering through an art gallery, for example, I play the conversations we could have had in my mind. The abundance of memories I have makes me smile. He is happy. I am also, in my own way, content with the rhythms of my days and nights.

I hooked up with both of my regulars from before shortly after returning to the US. Though we do not play often, the most exciting sex I have had was a gang bang with five men organized by one of these fuck buddies. One by one, I sat on the men’s laps, naked. Wearing business suits, they kissed and touched me. The men toyed with my breasts and fingered my pussy. They affixed clothespins to my body. I brushed my ass over the erections that tented their trousers. We shared bottles of wine. Because I wanted to walk comfortably the next day, we decided that only three of them would fuck my ass. The men conducted a lottery for the privilege. I was doubled up, back and front. Once, briefly, I was tripled. My openings were made watertight. I held a penis in each hand and stroked the shafts. The men tied me to the sort of bench that is typically found in the locker room at a gym. The rope knotted my wrists beneath the plane of the thick wooden plank. It wrapped over my back to hold me in place. My tits were squashed flat. Knees on the floor, my legs were held apart by a spreader bar. My ass extended over the edge. They took my anus and pussy. My chest rode hard against the oak. Frequently, I fellated a man who straddled the bench and fed me his cock while another fucked me. The sex was continuous. It went on for two and a half hours. My friend had me first and last.

A few other encounters may be worth mentioning. I had bareback sex on a single occasion. At a bar, I picked up an eighteen year old, who looked like he was in his early twenties. I didn’t know he was a virgin until he confessed his virtue in my bedroom after we were already naked. Probably, I should have guessed his inexperience from the way he kissed. He departed my apartment having come in a woman. To start, I gave him a blowjob to take the edge off. He erupted almost at once, filling my mouth with the consummation of all of his adolescent daydreams and night tremors. Despite obvious inexpertness, I liked that I was his first taste of cunt. When we fucked, I squealed aloud in ecstasy before he expelled his seed. While I thought of introducing him to my toy box, I ultimately decided against it. I have long fantasized about training up the ideal dom starting from a tabula rasa. He isn’t the one. I haven’t seen him again.

At the other end of the age spectrum, I indulged my Electra complex over Thanksgiving. On Black Friday, I posted an ad on Craigslist and hooked up with a man in his mid-fifties. He is over twice my age and, in fact, said he had a son a year older than me. We met for coffee and then proceeded to a no tell motel at the outskirts of town. The clerk gave us a knowing look when he handed over the key. The man palmed my ass possessively. I never learned his name. I insisted that Daddy place his great, big cock in his little girl’s tight, wet cunt. Fucking and sustained cunnilingus drowned the bedsheets in my flood. I asked Daddy to sperm on me to close because I wanted to wear his semen. He straddled my chest and, punctuated by small licks over the glans, masturbated himself. He blasted over my tits to make them grow.

Lastly, I went to a conference in Pennsylvania at the beginning of October. I took a rental car and drove from Massachusetts. Around two thirty in the morning, I needed a pit stop, coffee, and a bite to eat. I stopped at a diner along the highway. A man seated alone invited me to join him at a small table. Rather than eating by myself, I accepted. He was a trucker and got to talking about life on the road. Intrigued, I asked for a tour of the truck. The living quarters of the eighteen wheeler were claustrophobic. A bunk bed occupied much of the space. Neatly stacked plastic storage containers lined the top bunk. The bed below was immaculately made. He didn’t wear a wedding band, I noticed. I took a chance and kissed him. His tongue dipped into my open mouth. He leaned his weight toward me; my back bowed backward. My fingers worked his belt buckle apart. I shed my jacket and divested myself of clothes. The cab was chilly. He turned the heat up for me. I sat on the edge of the mattress and sucked his penis to hardness. When I was satisfied with how it shined, I tossed the condom I unearthed from my purse at him. He nursed at my teats and lowered his weight atop my body. My arms wrapped his broad shoulders. I spread my legs in the air. The bedsprings gave a metallic creak. The floor seemed to shift slightly, but I may have imagined this. I sprawled in his arms after sex. We had breakfast in the same diner in the morning. I bought a fresh box of condoms from the convenience store at the gas station nearby, and we had a quickie for the road.

These episodes are exceptional. The majority of the sex during the past three months has been pedestrian. Craigslist is less effective than I remember. It has gotten me laid, yes, but the men I have met in Boston through the agency of the casual encounters board have exhibited little promise. Random hookups still happen, but the frequency has diminished since London. Ideally, I want more than another one night stand. The unrepeated fucks are temporary expedients and stopgap measures. Save for David, sex constitutes only a physical release. It lacks an intellectual or emotional connection. The dildo is sometimes more satisfying than a man. I haven’t been on the hunt as regularly as before. This is just as well. Research and grading papers have kept me busy this semester. Marking exams is a bitch. I expect to defend my thesis in May. The dissertation needs much work this spring.

I still play flute when I can with a chamber group. We don’t perform. We rehearse challenging music for fun. Nearly every morning, I spend an hour at the gym. On Friday nights, I go dancing — usually at gay clubs. Liz and Sophie, two close friends, like making out with girls. We have done a fair amount of kissing and fondling bodies through club wear. It hasn’t ended with tongue circling clit and my mouth imbibing cunt or thighs clamping a head in a viselike grip with fingers pulling the roots of hair and making indentations in the scalp as my pussy fountains against the touch of lips. We haven’t tribbed. Perhaps one day we shall.

I will most likely be in a new city next fall. Where? I don’t know. The job applications are out. I enjoy what I can of Boston while I am living here. I keep busy.