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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.

Connect the dots September 15, 2011

Posted by Leah in Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Repeated hookups.





I wrote the letters vertically in green marker down the underside of his shaft. Snapping up the swinging sac with my lips, I sucked each of his testicles. The tonguetip poked at them. My lips made a seal and tugged. I compacted the grip of my fingers on the scrotum, brought the balls together, swiped my tongue across, and sketched a smiley face underneath. Saliva smeared the ink.

I handed the pen to Frank. “You do me,” I said.

A scattering of small brown birthmarks populate my right shoulder. Frank played connect the dots with the magic marker. He kissed the blemishes and layered star shaped ornaments over the skin. He sketched a ladder between the hollows of my ribs. The stubby felt tip of the pen set me to giggling. Ink smudged. He drew a long line from my nipple, down the bottom of the breast, down the torso and the abdomen, down still farther over the pubis, finally terminating at the clit. He repeated on the opposite side, straighter on his second effort. Lips and tongue followed the lines to their convergence. He pinched the hood down and licked.

Juices dripped from my pussy in viscous, silver strands. His tongue collected my wetness. Palm facing up, he snuck two fingers into me, and spun his wrist while he nursed at each of my nipples. Frank alternated between them so that the one wouldn’t feel left out by the other.

When it was my turn to play, I flicked my thumb across Frank’s spongy glans. The mouth made faces at me as the heel brushed over it. Precome beaded in the eye. I spread it over the head. I stroked his shaft with my left hand and allowed the right to feather along the furrow of his ass. The minute hairs tickled the pads of my fingers. I verbalized a promise to rim his asshole later. I loved how he groaned when I said this.

He tilted his face and looked up at me. I covered his mouth with mine. A purple dildo clattered to the floor.

I compressed my tits together, and Frank wedged his cock between them. The shaft slid through the cleavage. Penis flat against the breastbone, the glans looked like a locomotive powering through a tunnel. Craning my head from the pillow, I extended my tongue to lick the choo-choo at the apex of its ascent.

I had him sit on top of me and petaled the labia open. The shaft pressed against the inner lips of cunt. It dragged, forward and backward, along the slick folds and became damp in the seepage from my pussy. The contact the stem made against the clitoris felt glorious. The nerves below ached in their want. I painted his balls with cunt wet fingers.

We sat on the bed. His thumb rubbed lightly across my slit.

“When were you last tested?” I nuzzled against his shoulder.

His lips pursed together as he considered. “February,” Frank said.

With superior strength, he flipped me horizontal and pinned my arms to the bed. I brought my legs around his and spun them over his calves. He pecked my lips. I clamped down on Frank’s tongue and held it between my teeth. It skated over the points as he extracted it from me. After a moment, his tongue darted back into my open mouth, as I knew it would. My hands lowered on either side of his spine. I gripped his buttocks and shook the cheeks. My tongue briefly slipped into his mouth. Frank dropped a series of soft little kisses over my upper lip. I licked the line of his smile, which persuaded his tongue back out to dance.

I broke the kiss and released a heartfelt sigh. “April,” I said, reaching behind me. My hand stumbled blindly over the nightstand for a condom.

Farewell, lover September 12, 2011

Posted by Leah in Bondage, Buggery, Cunnilingus, D/s, Fellatio, Fisting, Fucking, Repeated hookups, Spanking.

I am back in the United States. I have two more stories to tell about London. I had my final Wednesday date with Amadeo. Frank came to visit on Friday and saw me off to Heathrow on Saturday. Both these goodbyes were tinged with sadness. I am friendly with Marshall, the man I have seen several times during the last weeks. Though we have out of this world sex, we aren’t especially tight. I am not broken up about leaving him. With Amadeo and Frank, the situation is different. I miss them terribly.

On the seventh day of the month of September in the year two thousand and eleven, Amadeo brought me to subspace one last time.

He took me in every orifice. Using my ears as handles, he throat fucked me. The saliva spilled from my mouth, falling in thick ropes that left a puddle on the floor. The tug of wrists wrenching both of my arms from their sockets, he impaled my anus onto his cock and battered my ass from behind. He pinned my wrists high above my head with one of his enormous paws, and while his cock pounded my cunt, I sucked and bit on the fingers in my mouth. After I came, he licked my puffy and swollen pussy with an abundance of gentleness. I brought his hands to my breasts while he ate me out. He deposited kisses over the water smooth pubis and swirled his tongue round and round the orgasm engorged clit. The pussy licking was the prelude to a fisting. It took him twenty minutes to squeeze inside. I couldn’t see it happen — not fully — flat as I was on my back, breathing hard, and clenching the sheets. I concentrated on his speech, and he talked me through the process of fitting his hand into my cunt until the muscles at the entrance stretched like a rubber band about his wrist. I was a mitten. I was a glove. My hair was swimming in sweat. I resided in a hazy and contented place with his fist inside.

Amadeo’s aftercare was exquisite. He held me protectively.

He took me over his lap and spanked me. The barehand blows landed over my buttocks in fortissimo thunderclaps that set my ass to rippling. The heat seared into the flesh. The skin turned an angry red. The muscles ached. Wriggling his hand between my thighs, Amadeo discovered a sopping cunt. In the intervals, he fingered my pussy lips and clitoris. He left no bruises but nevertheless walloped me until I was beyond screaming. Tears bespoke pain. But I was also aware that this could be the end. I will miss our nights together. Orgasm came to me in an adrenaline and endorphin fueled rush.

I brought a blubbering face to his penis and sucked him softly, savoring his scents and flavors, the heft of his cock between my lips, and the taste of precome on my tongue. When he was perfectly rigid and yearning, I placed a condom over the erection. Amadeo took me slowly from above. The cock imposed itself to the balls, then retreated completely. My hands tightened on his arms and shoulders, and I kissed him. He kept removing the penis from my cunt and slapping the shaft over my pubis. He painted the moisture from inside over the skin.

I went to sleep with the meter long chain that attached to my collar looped around the headboard of the bed. Amadeo’s recumbent body radiated its heat next to me. He had begun on his side, spooning me, with an arm folded over my breasts. We were both horizontal now, stretched out and supine. He took in deep breaths of air in his sleep. I fingered the cold metal links of the chain and shut my eyes. My pussy was sore from fucking.

In the shower in the morning, I took pleasure in washing his body. I rinsed soap from his underarms and followed with kisses. I used foam to pattern white arcs over his backside. I tasted the skin that I had cleaned. I sponged his cock and sucked him under the water stream. After the orgasm, which produced only the smallest spoonful of ejaculate, I extended Amadeo’s left leg and kissed my way down to his ankle. Taking his foot in hand, I licked along the arch. Fingernails scratched the sole and tickled. I sucked his big toe just as I had minutes before sucked his glans. My tongue flickered into the crevice between the big toe and the longer one next to it. I lapped at the top of the foot and along its sides. My lips left kisses over the pads of his toes. I pressed the sole against my cheek, and I nosed at the heel.

Once we had reversed positions, Amadeo held the showerhead and pointed it over my body. I closed my eyes and stood on my toes, wrapped my arms around his neck, and enjoyed the unhurried kisses while he soaped my tits and back. Bringing my arms in the air, he washed my armpits and flank. He rubbed in circles over my belly, skirted the pussy, and continued on to my legs. I propped a foot on his knee as soapy hands slid along the leg. He scrubbed between the toes. After he had rinsed my cunt lips, he pressed his face down hard and licked me. Turning me against the wall, he gnawed the flesh of my buttocks and the hollow of the neck where it meets the shoulder. He shampooed my hair with exceptional care. I went to my knees again and let the back of my head brush against his penis.

On the drive to the university, whenever he could spare it from the stick shift, he placed his hand on the inner part of my thigh. Rising to tiptoes, I wrapped his shoulder and back and hugged him next to the car when we arrived. We kissed, once, twice, and held each other. I waited for him to dissolve the hug. I clasped his right hand in my left and his left in my right. We drifted apart.

“Farewell, lover,” I whispered. Then louder: “See you around.” The smile reached his eyes.

I don’t know what I can say about Frank. The fucking was likely the purest sex I have had in London. It wasn’t the all night orgy some of our previous encounters were. We did it once in the evening and again in the morning. We did it in my flat, on my bed, over sheets I abandoned, with my packed luggage by the side of the door. It was funny. It was comfortable. We had intensely personal conversations and companionable silences. It wasn’t the least bit romantic. The sex affirmed a friendship, one that, I hope, will endure through the distance and the decades.

It will be ages — well, months — before my next rendezvous with either of these men. It will happen though. And possibly we will renew our acquaintance in bed. I would like that very much.

I will write another post soon.

Marshall one more time September 7, 2011

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

I sat on my shins, straddling his thighs, and during the kisses, I sucked his bottom lip softly and also his tongue. Between us, the only article of clothing we had on was Marshall’s necktie, which I wore in a loose knot; the end reached past the delta and dangled between my legs. His hands smoothed over my back and shoulders, and mine spidered over his chest. Occasionally, I gripped his cock, but most of the time I was content to touch only above the waist. We may have remained nearly naked on the sofa making out for close to half an hour — I was in no hurry to stop.

In bed, he laid on his back, and legs stretching in the bay between his, I laid prone over his chest. While my labia dragged over his abdomen and my hand on his cheek angled his head to one side and his hand on my leg opened up my thighs and fingered my pussy, the kisses continued without pause. Before I took his cock into my mouth, the flat of my tongue swabbed the underside and his balls; the point followed the lines of his groin to where they met his thighs.

I lowered onto the penis, on hands and knees, and he fucked me from below. From above, my body must have looked so small on top of his, a tiny girl clinging to a big man, clenching his shoulders with her hands, his cock with her cunt, constantly moaning. I pushed off the bed with both hands and thrust my pussy up and down the length of his shaft. His arms wrapped my back, and he held me down with his penis embedded deep inside. The tip of his index finger found its way into my asshole and wiggled in to the knuckle; I liked being full front and back.

Later, he took me with my feet in the air. His body slammed onto mine from a height, and he used the sinews in his arms to lift his weight off me as he withdrew.

Still later, he fucked me in doggy fashion. My calves extended beneath the arch of his thighs. He gripped my hips and powered the penis into my vagina, the glans prodding muscles and membranes far in the interior as the balls connected with my body with a loud clap.

I laid on my side in a bend, and Marshall fucked me from behind, so slowly, so softly. The penetration was less deep than before, but my cunt felt more stretched out as the shaft slid against the walls in a molto adagio tempo.

Facing away, facing his feet, I watched us in the mirror on the wall. Like Norman Foster’s gherkin on the city skyline, his penis had a long silhouette and a rounded edge. I balanced myself on top, and as I made an unhurried descent, the muscles of my vagina compressed about the shaft. Marshall had me by the hips, and he raised and lowered my body over his.

The first time I came, I stood on the floor, bowing at the waist. My hand gripped the side of the bed. Marshall had one hand in my hair, and he hauled me backward by the thigh against his pelvis, which drove the other way, improbably fast, impossibly hard.

Somewhere in between — I no longer remember precisely when — Marshall folded my legs open and sucked my pussy. The cream from my cunt had left his condom white. Holding a hand and a breast, he lapped the same wetness from my folds.

The next fucks had a similar shape: we constantly changed position, each seeking to experience our partner in every conceivable manner, desperate to enjoy the totality of the experience, to make it last. I met Marshall so late: this was all we had.

Last Thursday’s date September 6, 2011

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

We were in front of his bed, kissing. Our hands roamed over each other’s bodies. Mine traversed his broad shoulders and his muscular back and torso. His were in my hair. He tilted my face to improve the angle of lip lock. He also gripped my ass and hooked his hand under my leg to lift my thigh against his hip. I stood on tiptoes to bring my pubis into contact with his groin. As he kissed the side of my face and my throat, both of my hands worked under his short sleeved white shirt and smoothed over the hot skin. Once I had unbuttoned, my lips progressed intimately down his bare chest. Fingers stroked the tent in his trousers.

I went to my knees, unzipped the fly, and pulled the briefs down to his knees. I commenced fellatio. Marshall bundled my hair in one hand and held it out of my way while I gave suck. Rotating my face, I swallowed two-thirds of the shaft. My hand applied pressure to the balls. Fingers clutched the base of the penis and spun. Tightening on his ass and hip, I made an effort to inhale more of the cock. To my disappointment, I was able to ingest only three-quarters of his length. The glans stretched my throat. I appreciated the weight and the heaviness of the shaft over my tongue. My lips strained on the girth. Because I discovered that Marshall was especially sensitive even to the lightest touch of teeth, I made an effort to avoid any contact. My hands reached far above my head to cup his male tits. Pulling the cock from my mouth, I held it in front of me and addressed it from the side. My lips and tongue floated on a cushion of silky saliva down and back up the rounded edge. I kissed his hairy groin.

Marshall placed both of his hands on the back of my head. His pelvis thrust out, just as it had while we were dancing earlier, and he fucked his cock through my lips.

I held the penis vertical and sunk my head to his hanging balls. I sucked them individually and dragged my tongue back up the underside of the shaft and took the head into my lips again. With fingers in my hair or a hand on each shoulder, Marshall was content to let me suck him for long minutes. I took as much as I could, and whenever I needed air, I mouthed the penis from the side. The tongue concentrated especially on the parts at the bottom that I could not fit into my mouth. Stroking his erection, I covered his lower abdomen with a carpet of soft kisses.

He sat on the edge of the bed and let me undress him fully. On my knees hunched over a thigh, I held his balls and concentrated my attention to sucking just the head of the cock.

Marshall lifted my top off and unhooked the bra. Bringing me to my feet, he also stood and sucked each of my breasts. His mouth covered the areolae. His tongue flicked rapidly over my nipples. As he nursed, his hand tightened on the lower part of the breasts. I held on to his cock.

I wore a pleated black skirt — short — with a silver thong underneath and black leather boots that reached to the knees. Marshall unfastened the buttons at the side and hauled the skirt down my legs. I sat on the bed and shimmied out of my panties. I aimed the thong at him like a slingshot. When I let go, it tumbled in the air, struck his chest, and bounced to the floor. He pushed me flat over the mattress and unzipped the boots. Latching on to the darker cap of my thick gray socks, he tugged them free of my feet. Save for earrings and a necklace, I was naked.

He lowered his weight onto me. I wrapped my arms about his shoulders and gripped his body tight as we kissed audibly. His hand grasped one of my breasts. I held his thigh and scratched lightly with my nails. The cock prodded me from below. Marshall tongued each tit thoroughly. His lips descended slowly to where my legs met. The tongue lapped the navel in promise of what would follow. He teased me. His lips and tongue traced designs upon my thighs and over my smooth pubis. He cupped my breasts. He didn’t touch the pussy for long minutes.

Marshall lapped my cunt until I came. He licked the slit. Tongue squeezing past the labia, he dashed it wetly just inside the opening. His lips sucked hard over the clitoris. His teeth nipped gently at the swollen pussy lips. His nose mined into my pubis.

I spread my legs wide to encourage his explorations. My hands gripped the sheets tightly. I squeaked moans of pleasure into the night.

The pressure of his hand behind my knee lifted one of my legs. His mouth lowered to lap at the perineum. I felt the spit flow down to my anus. Grabbing hold of the lips again, his head shook from side to side. He was a dog chewing. And then he was a jungle cat patiently licking. My thighs compressed about the sides of his head. I gripped his hair to hold him to me. My orgasm exploded on his face. Blanketing my body with his, Marshall kissed me softly. I tasted my cream on his chin and his lips.

It was his turn. I urged Marshall onto his back and draped myself over his body. As I kissed him, my fingers renewed their acquaintance with his cock, which had remained hard. Just as he had done, my lips smooched his chest as I lowered. I noted the reflective sheen of sweat over the beautifully delineated pectoral and abdominal muscles. The skin had a touch of salt to it. Marshall’s hand stroked my back.

I kissed his glans. The tip of my tongue traced the veins on the bottom surface of the penis. I sucked on each hemisphere of the scrotum and felt the testicles moving under the skin, moving under my tongue, moving under the suction. My hand shucked over the shaft.

I asked Marshall to lift his legs into the air. My fingers prised the ass cheeks open. I lapped at his perineum and anus. Alternating between mouthing the balls, during which time my fingers layered spit over his asshole, and rimming those sensitive surrounding folds extravagantly, I listened to the sound of his groans. His sphincter embraced the tip of my tongue. The muscles had a velvet grip. I fell into the hole. My face buried itself in his ass.

When I took Marshall’s cock past my lips again, I saw tension in his musculature. I hollowed my cheeks and sucked hard on the shaft. My fingers rubbed his anus. My tongue rasped on the underside of the cock. My lips tightened their seal. My hand squeezed and released over his balls.

His body bucked from the bed when he came. The penis cocked and discharged. The recoil caused my lips to slip upward, but I clamped down below the glans. As he spewed, my index finger wriggled past the sphincter and applied pressure to the prostate. His muscles contracted around the finger. Semen flooded my mouth. This was a heavy orgasm. I tried to swallow it all, but some of his come escaped the corners of my lips. He tasted clean. The scent of the ocean filled my nostrils.

Since he had just come, it would be several minutes before he could fuck. But I knew he would last in my pussy once he was inside. I had him turn onto his belly and overlaid my body atop his and kissed the nape of his neck and the joining of his shoulder and throat. My hands massaged the muscles of his back. My tongue followed the ridges of the shoulder blades. I lifted his arms up and kissed his flanks. My mouth made a transit over the middle region. I dragged my cunt lips along the valley of his spine. They left a trail of moisture and settled at the small of his back.

Marshall edged me off his body. I knelt to his side and stooped to kiss him once more. At once, his hand stole between my legs. He fingered my pussy from below. The junction remained sticky from before. Droplets of arousal coated the labia. It was time for us to fuck. I extracted a condom from the box on the floor next to the bed, placed it over the top of the glans with my lips and rolled it down his erection.

He took me doggy style to begin. He commented that his thick cock had compelled my opening to stretch wide. I was tight inside. I was so wet for him. He held me by the buttocks as he stood on the floor, knees bent, and muscled his way into me. I moaned and told him how much I loved having him fuck me this way. Looking backward, I smiled and laughed with the pleasure of having him within.

We turned around. I was on the bed with arms up in the air, thighs splitting on either side of his hip, calves folded over his legs. His hands reached below my body and lifted me up toward him while his pelvis made a spin and a thrust. His cock was in me nearly completely. He withdrew only a small part of the shaft. I rolled my head on the pillow and raised my buttocks each time he fully lowered. The movement of his hips was a pulse that propelled through my skin. It made my breasts wobble. He sucked on my tits. I closed my eyes. Letting my weight sink into the mattress, I verbalized my approval of the things he was doing to me. He perspired heavily. I experienced the slide of Marshall’s body, slick with sweat, on top of me.

To make my pussy even tighter for his cock, he pressed my legs together. Holding them at the knees, he brought the legs up so that they were vertical and fucked me with metronomic precision. He groaned each time he thrust. I answered with a softer moan.

As he fucked me, I heard the ticking of the clock in the bedroom, his heartbeat, and my own. I placed my small hand atop his larger one. Marshall’s cock left me replete.

I came when he fucked me again in doggy fashion. This time he knelt behind me on the bed. The balls slapped against my pussy. The impact of his thighs upon mine set my ass to rippling. I knew because he told me. The muscles of my cunt wrung his cock. I bit my lower lip to forestall screaming. He kept driving the penis into me, which extended the orgasm.

Afterwards, he turned me around and fingered my post-orgasmic sodden pussy while kissing first my breasts and then my lips. Bracing his body mass with his arms, he sat on the edge of the bed. I mounted the penis. My forearms pushed off his shoulders, and I rocked myself over his cock. The muscles of my thighs directed the fuck. The sound of cock in pussy was liquid.

We ended with him on his back and me on top. I hunched myself over him. He held me by the ass and launched his cock deep into me at a frantic pace. Marshall had me coming constantly. He groaned throughout while I shrieked at the feeling of fullness in my pussy and the glorious sensation of getting fucked so very hard. He made an unintelligible utterance. It had the sound of speech at volume and a rising pitch. It was not English or Dutch or any other language. It was the raw expression of joy, an ancient pronouncement, ageless, ingenuous, candid, potent, sincere. He came in my cunt. The cock popped out during his intense convulsions. He shoved it back in where it belonged, and I tightened about it. After orgasm, he continued to thrust, softly now. He lifted me off his body after a while. I rubbed my slick pussy over the latex on his penis, then rolled my weight off him. With a pair of fingers inside me, his lips latched on to mine. He gave me his tongue.

The first hour September 2, 2011

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

Unfortunately, I don’t have time to compose a full report. These are highlights of the first hour or so on Wednesday night. I will write up Thursday later.

• Amadeo’s apartment has a large bathroom. He made me go to the floor there and strip. I took off my top and my bra and wriggled out of the curve hugging, little black skirt I had worn. The polka dotted cotton panties followed. Amadeo had been holding his bladder in check for quite a while. He told me he needed to go when we entered the tube and already shifted his weight on each foot. He did the same now, except this time his fly was open. He held his cock in his hand. When I was naked aside from thigh high black stockings, he kicked my legs apart and pissed onto my cunt.

• He straddled my body with knees bent. The arm I had behind me supported my weight. My right hand stroked his thigh. I sucked cock. To start, my tongue circled the foreskin, which had the sharp and pungent taste of urine. Within a few minutes, I had the crown embedded. I squeezed with the muscles of my throat just how he liked. The floor was now slippery, so I slid as I fellated. The still warm liquid wet my thighs and buttocks.

• Amadeo sat on the edge of the bathtub. I stood, turned away from him, and, bending at the waist, grasped my shins and asked him to fuck me with his foot. He manipulated the labial folds. The pads of his toes skated along the slit. He squeezed his big toe past the entrance of my pussy. I gripped my ankles, which lowered my center of gravity. He fucked me harder. Eventually, I laid recumbent on the floor, with my hair in his cold piss. His toes masturbated me to orgasm.

• He fucked my cunt in four positions: (1) up against the door, my foot on the floor, his arm hooking under the other knee and holding me against the wood by the throat with his cock buried to the hilt; (2) on top facing away while he laid in the puddle of his own urine and fingered my clit; (3) on hands and knees as he plugged me from behind until my elbows buckled, after which he took me on shoulders and knees; (4) on my back, on the cold and clammy floor, my thigh up against his chest as he slammed me while lying on his side below my body.

• He stood straddling my chest and jerked himself off. From my perspective, the columns of his legs lifted like skyscrapers. I smoothed my hands over the shins and calves. Some part of the semen landed on my face as he had intended. Some of it also fell to the floor. The last drops, which he shook free of the cock, rained on my tits. He held my neck to ground while I dragged my tongue over the floor and sucked the ejaculate from the tiles. He tilted my head to the ceiling with a violent tug on the hair and kissed me after I had swallowed.

Closing up August 31, 2011

Posted by Leah in Fellatio, Fucking, Public, Repeated hookups.

Work has been extraordinarily busy as I finish up in London. Back in Boston, the winter semester starts this week. I return a few days late. I am in Paris from Friday to Monday. I desperately want to finish a project before I go, so I work long hours. As my stay winds down, there are logistical annoyances to confront. Though I packed lightly, bringing only two suitcases of clothes and a duffel bag full of shoes with me, in the past months I have accumulated stuff that I want to take back to the US. Packing up, hanging out with friends and saying goodbye, having sex (and writing about it) also occupy my ever diminishing time.

Last week, I spent many hours at the café where Marshall works. I happily typed away amid the noise and the bustle. During his breaks, he would bring me an iced coffee and sit with me. He asked me out on another date last weekend, but sadly I had to turn him down because of prior social commitments. I agreed to see him on Thursday, however.

Yesterday, a friend wasn’t feeling well and bailed on a dinner engagement. I had already accomplished more during the day than I had any right to expect, and I knew that Marshall had the last shift, so I stopped by the café, where I worked some more and answered e-mails. An hour before the place closed, I sent Marshall a pair of texts. He caught my eye. I smiled.

Only one other employee worked there in the evening, and I am reasonably certain Marshall convinced his colleague to leave early. He did the final cleaning and locked up for the night.

With the door shut and the room darkened, he and I had sex in the empty café. I loosened the tie on his apron to show the front of his jeans and descended to my knees. The chairs in the café are wooden, painted white, with vertical slats in the back. He turned one in reverse and sat straddling the back of the seat. His cock squeezed between two of the slats. I gripped the top of the chair, met his eyes, and sucked his penis wetly and without hands.

Marshall’s cock is long and thick. I have only been able to deepthroat him with my head dangling from the edge of the mattress. When I do so, his balls press up against my nose. I revel in the heady, male musk.

In the café, I easily quaffed the quantity of the cock that extended through the chair. I gripped the bars at the far sides. I loved the moans, which originated deep within his chest when I rotated my face. Going down, my nose poked through the gap in the wood. The butt of my hand had shuffled to the top of his thigh. Arms wrapping the chair, he stroked my hair and sloped my head so that I had to look up at him. Marshall groaned when I made my lips soft, flooded my mouth with spit, and washed my tongue over the knob. My hands nudged into the rectangular spaces on either side of the hole into which he had inserted his cock. I locked fingers over the shaft and angled the penis into my mouth. The groin receded and advanced while I sucked. The vision of his sac on the other side of the wooden bars made me salivate. The balls sat on the chair, tantalizingly beyond my reach. When he pulled the cock free from my lips, it made a delicious pop.

He didn’t want to come from oral sex. We fucked on a wooden table in the middle of the café. The lights were off, but we should have been visible through plate glass windows as silhouettes moving in the dark with unmistakable purpose. I was on my back with my denim skirt inverted. He dragged me to the edge of the table and butterflied my thighs open and crammed himself into my pussy. He fucked me hard. I came after we changed positions. I was on my side, a foot planted on the floor, a knee on the table. He gripped my ass and prodded my cunt from the rear, passing through my orgasm into his own.

He wiped the table and disappeared into the kitchen to finish in there. We left after half an hour. Marshall spent the night at my flat. We intend to meet up on Thursday as well. Today, I have Amadeo at night and much to do before then.

La feuille de rose August 29, 2011

Posted by Leah in Anilingus, Fellatio, Repeated hookups.

After my pussy had been devoured, Frank and I fucked. We dressed, went out for takeaway, came home, ate, drank, undressed, and, in bed naked, watched a DVD. The laptop was positioned on the edge of the table next to the bed. I snuggled myself into the crook of his shoulder. His arm draped over my chest. Frank played with my breasts on occasion, lifting them and lightly pinching the nipples. Sometimes, he reached down to brush over the pubis and finger the lips of my cunt. Most of the time, he simply held me. I scratched his arms and his thighs. We each had bottles of beer that we drank.

His penis stood at half mast, standing at attention on occasion and softening partway again. I touched his penis, but was in no hurry to fuck. I like the films the Coen brothers make.

Frank had other ideas, however. He jogged my elbow and pointed to his erection.

I giggled.

My lips clamped over the glans. The point of tongue slipped into the tortoise shell and flicked across the aperture at top. A steady tug on his shaft eased his foreskin down. I closed my eyes. The lips applied pressure and gave suck.

Frank gathered the hair that fell down the sides of my face and lifted it away. He exerted no force at all to the back of my head.

Filling my mouth full of saliva, I sucked him softly. My head lowered halfway down the scepter, then ascended again to kiss the crown wetly. Each up and down movement took long seconds. Rotating my head, I kept changing the angle of fellatio. I stuck my bottom lip out and dragged it over the glans. I made a tight seal around the shaft and took him deeper by degrees. I felt the gentle tug upon my hair while I inhaled.

Frank groaned his approval.

Speeding up a little, I swallowed the shaft deeper. The head imposed itself at the entrance of my throat. Pushing my hands off the mattress, I continued at this faster pace. Three-quarters of the shaft fit easily inside. Breathing through my nose, I kept the suction constant and lifted to the bulbous knob each time. For a moment, I took him inside all the way. My bottom lip pressed against the lip of his scrotum. The hair on his groin tickled my upper lip. Fingers pushing on the sac from below, Frank held the erection upright for me.

I replaced his fingers with mine and zig-zagged my tongue down the underside of the shaft. Kisses followed the movement of the tongue. I returned to sucking him. The blowjob continued this way for close to ten minutes. He had come once, so I knew he wouldn’t explode immediately. Frank kept the hair out of my way and sipped his beer while I obliged his cock with my mouth. Minor variations in the rhythm of the suction coupled with small deviations in the mechanics of fellatio ensured the longevity of this erection. Holding on to the base of the shaft with my hand, I mostly played my mouth over the top half of the shaft. For long stretches, I did nothing more than mouth and tongue the head.

I loved how he laughed at the pleasure of the things I was doing. It made me grin and redouble my efforts to please him further.

He had distinctive scents. My wetness from before had been absorbed into his pores. I had the smells of sex in my nose. Mostly, I tasted my own spit on his cock. But at the top, the foreskin had Frank’s own flavors. The eye wept tears of salty precome.

I deepthroated awhile, and when my jaws tired, I pointed the cock to the ceiling and stroked my fingers on either side of the shaft. The hands took their turns at making passes from the base to the tip, one on top, the other at the bottom, the cock sandwiched in between.

When Frank flattened the penis against the groin and the belly, I took my cue and commenced on his balls. Forearms on either side of his thighs braced my body. I lowered my head and lapped the wrinkled skin of the sac. The tongue rasped over the flabby folds. The testicles moved underneath. Capturing one in my lips, I pressed my tongue against the rounded bulge and felt it displace under the skin. My lips tugged the testicle softly as they administered suction. I nipped and nibbled and dragged my tongue over its twin. Nose and tonguetip followed the seam of the scrotum. Spit layered on his perineum. I smeared the wetness over that sensitive patch of skin. Fingers descended deliberately to the asshole and feathered over the corrugated muscle. Fine hairs fringed the crease like tassels.

As my tongue swept from the ring of muscle up to the balls and down again, Frank moaned expressively. The note of pleasure in his voice sounded like pain.

I lapped at the anus. These weren’t ginger and delicate touches. The tongue licked vigorously. My jaws controlled the movements.

I licked outside only. Instead of spiraling around in circles as I sometimes do, I wiped over the opening from bottom to top. Frank spread his thighs wide for me, folded his legs back at the knees, and obligingly lifted his feet into the air. The ass tilted up to my face. One of his hands fisted my hair, but again, he didn’t apply downward force.

With heels of hands pressed at the joining of the thighs and buttocks, I feasted on ass flesh. I nosed the perineum. He tasted of sweat.

Pushing my lips against the taut muscle, I kissed his anus. My tongue licked the sphincter. Prising the buttocks open, I dipped the tonguetip inside. Mostly, I focused on stimulating the halo of nerves surrounding the aperture. My tongue mopped over the responsive band of flesh. When I pressed my face down hard, the heat of his buttocks surrounded me. The tongue was relentless. Without pause it swiped for long minutes.

Licking the tip of a finger, I ran it over the anus. When I was convinced that it had loosened the opening, I kissed my tongue deep into the maw.

I grasped the erection as I pushed off his thigh. I had a steely rod in one hand and a wall of muscle beneath the other. The cheeks of his ass warmed the cheeks of my face as I vibrated my lips over his bung. I felt the ridges and the notches of the exiguous skin surrounding the orifice.

I remember the first time that a lover placed his mouth over my anus. It was preparatory to an ass fucking, so the purpose was different. At the same time, the slippery wet slide of that flexible, spry, infinitely knowing, infinitely nimble tongue drove me mad with sensation and desire. And it remains ever thus. Though Frank is clean, I know what comes out of any asshole. I get off on how dirty this is. It is a pleasure for me and for him. My fingers lowered to my pussy, pressed down, and wriggled the distended flesh from side to side.

My nose advanced into the the hard knot below the balls and flattened. The tongue curled and compressed to fit, then extended past the sphincter. The spit lowered into his ass. I made slurping noises as I sucked the saliva out again and washed it over the squinting eye.

For his part, Frank kept his thighs apart. He held the cock upright. The fingers of his hand closed a third of the way down the shaft, smoothed up to the glans, and pinched off the tip. His head craned up from the pillow, and he tried to watch me. Eventually, he brought his legs against his chest and rocked on his back. This tilted his ass in the air for me. My jaws worked hard over the aperture.

To pause a moment and take in air, I crooked my head sideways and smooched the rising curve of the rump. My fingers replaced his on the shaft, and I gave him a brief suck. I licked vertical stripes along the stem, down to the base, down over the compact balls, down along the perineum, down to where I had been before. My teeth bit gently on the skin, then my lips went soft and made a seal on the pucker, and my tongue resumed its placement in his anus. I made an effort for this man with whom I have shared so much. I strained to please him. I made love to Frank without restraint or modesty or shame.

I lost track of time. I enjoyed doing this for Frank. I liked how his body bucked from the bed while I licked and kissed. I liked that he spoke incoherently while I rocked my head from side to side and vibrated my lips. I liked that I was the first woman to have shown him this pleasure. Whatever happens, wheresoever he and I may go, whoever we end up with, I will always have this distinction.

When I surfaced, Frank’s hand jerked hard over the erection. I took over. Making my throat loose, I swallowed the length of the cock in a single movement and hummed when I hit bottom. The ending credits of the movie came and went before Frank ever did.

The Marshall plan August 26, 2011

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

Marshall and I went out on Thursday night and got thoroughly wasted. The pub we were at closed at midnight. The two of us decided to walk to his place since it was nearby. He also had a stash of booze.

We fucked, drank, then fucked again. Around 2 am, when he could no longer raise an erection despite the ministrations of my lips and tongue, Marshall contented himself with rubbing his half hard penis over my sensitive areas. We kissed and cuddled until slumber enfolded us.

I awoke in the morning with his face between my thighs. Orgasm countervailed the modest hangover. After the initial gush of my pussy, he kept right on going. I came a second time and then a third.

I coaxed the erection from his penis and lowered a condom over it. He fucked me in the missionary position. The cock stretched me open. The tension in the shaft established vibrations in the walls of my vagina. Legs spread wide, they made a W over his thighs. His arms cradled my body and wrapped my shoulders and back. I screamed my fullness in his ear. His Dutch accented obscenities turned me on. The perspiration that coated our bodies added a glide to the movements. At times his lips crushed mine. At times the contact was barely there. Every kiss was an instant of perfection.

I died and revived in the jolt of the climax.

Between my legs, my cream had turned the condom white. Loosened up by orgasm, I clawed at his biceps and spread my legs ever wider for him. I begged Marshall to come in my pussy. He fucked me harder. Only his hips moved. He knifed the cock into me with the propulsive strength of his thighs. Balls full of sperm slapped below my pussy. One wave of orgasms rolled into the next.

Marshall’s endurance had limits. His cock twitched and jerked against my vaginal walls. The orgasm set me off again. I imploded around his explosion.

I took the tube to the university, wearing a dress shirt that I had stolen from his wardrobe knotted about my midriff along with a t-shirt many sizes too large and the ratty jeans from the day before. The train was crowded. We squeezed into one corner of a car. My hands clasped about his waist for balance, I perched on the ledge by the door. As the train accelerated and decelerated below the city streets, my legs bounced against the backs of his. His delectable tight ass rode against my pubis. I kissed the nape of his neck and the center of his back.

We plan on another date next week.

Not cricket August 23, 2011

Posted by Leah in Craigslust, Cunnilingus, D/s, Fellatio, Fucking, Random hookups.

Over a month has elapsed since I enjoyed a new cock. This weekend, I had three.



I went clubbing with various friends from the orchestra. My halter dress dipped into cleavage and ended mid-thigh. I danced dirty with the guys, some of whom I knew and some of whom I met during the night in Soho. Around two, I left with a cute English boy, who invited me to watch him play cricket the next day. A tiny hovel of a basement apartment in Canary Wharf served as our destination. We had sex: half a blowjob, a bit of pussy eating, then his cock inside me. Inebriated as I was, I have little recollection of the particulars. I doubt that I came.

Spending a full day on a game whose logic I don’t comprehend while cheering for a guy I met while most of the way sloshed didn’t appeal to me. I tiptoed out of his room and, dressed wholly inappropriately for the bus and tube, made it back to my place early in the morning to sleep off the hangover in my own bed.



Deciding to blow off work and other vexations this weekend, I replied to an m4w casual encounters ad from a dom looking for a sub. After a few e-mail exchanges plus the usual picture swap, we met at a wine bar in Covent Garden close to his hotel. As he didn’t look or act like a troll, I made a safety call and followed him to his room. Once he hung up the “Do Not Disturb” sign and closed the door, the first thing he had me do was strip naked. I placed my neatly folded clothes on top of the dresser. Then he had me crawl to the bathroom behind him.

The incipient erection made his trousers bulge. After I had unfastened the belt and loosened the top button, I tugged the zipper down with my teeth. The boxers and the pants descended to below his knees. He lifted up his polo shirt to show his penis, which sprung to wakefulness. I looked up at him, and without comment began to suck. I deepthroated easily. Though the girth of the erection didn’t increase, its rigidity and extension did. With fingers wrapping about the shaft at the bottom, the base of my hand pushed up against his groin and scrotum. The lips made a seal, and I bobbed over two-thirds of the penis. My head pitched to the right on the way down and straightened as I retreated. Tongue rasping along the underside of the cock, I filled my mouth up with spit.

His hand cupped the side of my head, above one ear. As I swallowed back the gag reflex and opened my throat to his knobby glans, the grip of fingers in my hair toughened. Saliva escaped my mouth and fell to the floor in a rope. He took his shirt off. The tiles of the bathroom floor bit my knees. This new lover groaned his satisfaction as I pushed one hand off each of his thighs and fucked my face over his penis.

“Look at me,” he directed.

The view from the floor was this.

From my vantage point below, his body was foreshortened. A wooly fleece covered his torso, the sparse white hairs contrasting with darker whorls, and thickened over his belly. He had a slight paunch. He looked down at me. Spectacles at the tip of his prominent nose distorted the features of his eyes. Both hands had an iron grip on the back of my head. They compelled me down to his root, then held me there. I struggled backward, spit the cock out, and took draughts of air.

He steadied my head, his perspiring palm against my left cheek, and slapped the right. He waved his cock at me, and I sucked him again. My jaws spread wide open while his pelvis did a twist. The cock rooted around halfway down my throat. My spit ran onto his balls. I made gulping sounds.

After this, he hauled me from the floor and propped me on the sink. Pausing for the condom on which I insisted, he entered my pussy. One foot dangling from his shoulder, he wrapped both of his arms around the thigh and used the leverage to pump himself into me hard. It felt good, but the orgasm came too swiftly.

What followed was tame. His idea of kinky was to blindfold me in bed. I did not orgasm there either. Neither did I spend the night.



Since mid-May, I have been flirting with this buff, athletic guy who works at a café near campus. He gives me the occasional free drink and has lent me some of his music. Last week, when I mentioned that I was leaving London soon, he asked me on a date. We had uncommonly gorgeous weather and spent the afternoon at the Southbank. We found a tapas restaurant in Vauxhall for dinner. Rioja lubricated the conversation. It was light; it was convivial; my legs brushed his under the table. I thought his quick wit negated the myth about the Dutch humor gene, but it turns out that, while he did spend most of his life in Holland, he emigrated there from Suriname. By the end of the meal, the two of us sat on the same side of the small booth with his arm extending behind my back and shoulder. His head dipped to kiss me. I invited him back to the flat to mess around.

I had worn tight fitting denim shorts, a white tank top, and the usual sundries underneath. He had worn khaki trousers and a blue and white checked dress shirt whose cuffs he had rolled up to the elbows. Kind of Blue played on the stereo. A bottle of Lagavulin and two tumblers sat on the small coffee table. I hooked my leg about him and straddled his thighs. His hand caressed over my ass and stroked my leg from the shorts down to my knee. We kissed unceasingly.

He knew just how to do it. Our heads were in constant slow motion. Lips applied a perfectly judged amount of pressure. His tongue followed the line of my smile and, with its curling tip, teased out anticipation. My deep breaths took in but a little air. When I touched my tonguetip to his, we circled in a slow dance. A loud smack, and we moved apart a millimeter, then made contact again. He sucked on my pouty lower lip. Suddenly his tongue darted between the rows of my teeth. My forearms framed his head. Compressing the sides of his face, jaws nibbling, I sucked on his tongue and offered him more of my mouth to explore. As the kisses deepened, his fingers trailed along my spine.

With my eyes closed, I unbuttoned his shirt during the kisses that followed and sat on his lap frog like, thighs on the outside of his and flush with them, two hands at his waist, untucking the fabric from his pants. Then, fingers spanning the broad muscles of his chest, lips descended his throat. Down the line of the sternum they went, shifting laterally to his masculine tits. This excursion was fleeting. I could not long resist the allure of his eyes and mouth or the taste of whisky on his tongue. My lips fastened to his. His hand slid under the small of my back, snuck into my panties, and palmed my buttocks. The kisses continued unabated.

I crossed my arms and lifted the shirt from my shoulders. The bra was next. His hands touched softly over my bare breasts. I lowered my body onto him, and then I turned and sat on his lap. My back slanted against his solid chest. He kissed the hollow of my throat while his fingers traversed the expanse of my torso and reconnoitered my cambers and bends. The pads of his fingers skimmed the breasts where they rounded and slalomed through the valley between them. Their lightest touch sketched designs over the abdomen, where it indented. He skated along the depression of the navel, circling the border, hooked two fingers into the empty belt loops, and tugged my shorts up. When I sucked in a deep breath to collapse my stomach, his hand slipped under the waistband and wriggled between the denim and the satin panties. The other hand was a presence everywhere. He weighed the breasts. He tickled my flank, the side of his finger floating downward from the underarm to the waist and proceeding to the meeting of my thighs on the outside of the shorts. He fingered the slit through blue jeans. My cunt dripped.

My hands held the sofa back and the back of his head. I gyrated my ass over his pants, lap dancing to Miles Davis’s improvisations on trumpet. His hand stroked my neck as we kissed. My body undulated as I did my grind. His erection prodded me from behind like a tree branch.

He snapped open the buttons of my shorts one by one. His hand sunk into the gap and made an arch under the denim. He worked into the panties this time. The tip of a finger stroked the furrow. His tongue traced the shell of my ear. I spread my legs. My touch strayed to the midpoint of his trousers. While I clenched and unclenched my hand over his slacks, his fingers flicked over my labia as though leafing through paper. A lone finger reached inside me, extracted wetness, then pressed vertically over my lips, shushing my mouth. He silenced the unconscious moans this way. When I crossed my eyes to stare at his index finger, he crooked the digit past my lips. I tasted piquant and zesty.

I got off his lap and alerted him that he was overdressed. He did not take care of this problem at once. Instead he kissed me. He cupped my cheeks in his palms and pointed my face to his. The angle shifted constantly while we osculated. My nose hopped over his, and the kisses oscillated back the other way, slowly. His tonguetip sliced from side to side against mine, did a sudden twist below, then somersaulted back to the top, vaulting my tongue in the maneuver. I puckered my mouth and sucked.

I shoved his chest lightly to push him backward, stood, and squeezed my ass out of the shorts. Once I had kicked the panties from my feet, I bent at the knees, splayed my pussy lips open, and displayed my cunt. The clit stood at attention. My fingernails pinched the flesh and teased the hood down. I asked if he wanted to be inside me.

He regarded me rapt and groaned assent. Once he had wriggled free of his shirt, I snailed my tongue from the armpit to the nipple, then back up again, grinning as the low baritone moans informed me that this provided a direct linkup to his loins. Going to my knees, I undid the belt. He lifted his ass from the sofa and pulled his pants down. My fingers spidered down his abdomen. Taking the cock in hand, I placed a wet kiss over the glans. There was a slight tang of precome. I made a pathetic joke about the Netherlands. Deciding that the bed would be more comfortable than the sofa, we proceeded there. We sixty-nined. Because I wanted to fuck, I didn’t care to prolong this phase. But I was delighted to learn that his skills at kissing translated to amazingly proficient cunnilingus.

His cock pinned me to the bed as though I was an insect in a museum display. My legs started in the air, feet waving like tiny wings, but I lowered them around his buttocks and kicked my heels over his thighs. His arms on either side of me supported his weight. My arms wrapped his shoulders and compelled his body onto me. His mass flattened my chest. I barked each time that his cock bottomed out. This fuck sent me careening from one orgasm to another. On our second effort, I swayed on hands and knees while he pounded my pussy from behind. The pendant on my necklace swung pendulously and ricocheted from my chin. With his cock in me, I could not stop coming.

When we weren’t rutting, we were kissing, or I was slobbering over his penis to make it hard for my cunt. We punctuated the few hours of sleep with fucking. He said he had never been with anyone who orgasmed so much. I asked him to make me come some more.

I ran out of condoms. In the morning, we went out for breakfast, replenished my supply of prophylactics at Boots, and adjourned to the flat for one last round. He didn’t leave until noon, making me late for work. Though I am short on weeks in London, I want to hang out with Marshall again before I go.