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Georgia boy April 8, 2011

Posted by Leah in Fucking, Masturbation, Random hookups.

London basks in the unexpected warmth of the sun in April. The bruises on my rump made me decide Thursday on a loose fitting dress that reached to my ankles. I spent most of the day on my feet. As I didn’t wear panties, I was aware of the air circulating between my legs when I walked. I ate lunch outside in the company of colleagues, graduate students and faculty, and was conscious also of the weight on my buttocks when I sat cross legged on the grass. Because I squirmed so much, I eventually stretched out on my side.

At night, a pulse of sustained horniness throbbed through my cunt.

I called Frank. He was in Oxford and would return to the city on the weekend following this one. We arranged a dinner date.

I cycled through the names and e-mails of previous lovers and wondered which of them would understand an ad hoc booty call with another man’s markings from the night before still visible over my body. I thought of the clarinetist, who I have been meaning to hook up with a second time. I thought of Daniel, the flautist, who I have been with thrice. I rejected both of them as being uncertain prospects. After our meetings, Dr. Williams sends me e-mails urging a new assignation. He writes nearly every week. A dom who pleads and begs attracts me not at all. I liked the dog man quite a bit, but none of the recent hookups from Craigslist appealed enough to inspire an instant sequel.

The roommate was with her fiancé, so I knew I had the apartment to myself for the evening. I went to a pub half a mile away, conveniently located next to a youth hostel. I picked up a boy from Atlanta, who was in London on spring break, and brought him back to my flat. We sat on the sofa, half emptied bottles of beer on the coffee table, and made out. He reached a hand up my dress, where he discovered my naked wet pussy. I told him to take off his clothes and dispatched my own.

“I keep busy,” I said, when he noticed the discoloration on my tits and the bite mark on the lower surface of my right breast.

He nodded.

“We will fuck once, and then you will go.” I didn’t want post-coital company.

His fingers touched over my chest. “Do you have any lingerie?” he asked.

It was an unexpected suggestion, but one to which I acceded. I returned from my bedroom in a black slip that was transparent over my breasts and ended three inches below my cunt in pleated tulle.

I nestled beside him on the sofa and hooked the leg nearer to him between his two. He fucked my pussy with two fingers and rubbed my clit in great circles while I swallowed his tongue and his saliva. My hand stroked the length of the erection, which had a tendency to lift vertically against his groin.

I took a condom from my bag and rolled it over the penis. Bringing my legs to either side of his, I pointed the glans to the opening of my cunt and stretched myself over him.

“Fuck me,” I directed.

While he held me by the waist and raised and lowered his hips, I ran my fingers through the fuzz of hair on his chest. Sinking my head down, I latched my lips to one of his nipples and sucked. The boy clenched his hands over the faces of my thighs, and he shoved off them with his arms and performed a pelvic thrust that rocked his penis inside me. I clamped down. Reaching behind my body, I gripped his balls and massaged them.

The boy’s arms wrapped my back and pulled me against him. He tugged the strap of the slip down one shoulder and lipped across to my neck. His fingers brushed through my hair. I pressed my mouth over his.

The boy laid me horizontal on the sofa. I rotated so that my body slumped into the cushions, and I lifted my legs so they rested against his arms and invited him to occupy the space in between them. The cock bulldozed into my pussy. I braced my feet against his shoulders for a moment, but most of the time, they hung in the air and kicked at the ceiling.

He didn’t last long, that Georgia boy in my cunt. After he had finished spurting into the condom, I laid back against the throw pillow and masturbated myself to an orgasm.

Once we finished our beers, he dressed and left me.

End of the drought April 2, 2011

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

My friend Rachael’s birthday was on Thursday. We celebrated last night with dinner in Chinatown followed by clubbing in Soho. The weather in London had warmed this week, so I dared a summery top that showed cleavage and bared midriff and a tight skirt whose uneven and ragged hem dropped to the midpoint of my thighs.

Pelvis grinding to the electronic beat, I rutted on the floor against men unknown to me. The music was so loud that I could not think: I could only move. Straddling a man’s thigh, I lowered my body onto his legs and, on the rise, brushed my breasts along his sloping chest. When he responded by gripping my waist and pulling me to him, I turned and bumped my ass up against the groin. My buttocks spun in circles and awakened his loins.

Another man: this one’s fingers ascended the ladders of my ribs. Hands cupped my tits. I left them there and leaned backward on my heels and let him buttress my weight from the rear. The unsightly scruff on the side of his neck meant that I did not linger.

Fingers reaching to the back, looping into his belt, I snagged the man dancing at my aft and gyrated my ass at him. This man’s touch strayed to the waistband of the skirt and scaled upward. I liked the hands on my bare belly, fingers splayed wide over my tummy, spanning the expanse of skin.

While we danced, a man spanked my ass in the shifting, colorful light. When I elevated from a squat, another man’s hand followed the line of the thigh up into the skirt. The men who kissed did so raunchily and with hunger.

Bedroom moves simulated upright rendered my panties moist. I had my choice, so at 1 am, I chose.

The man I left with was an inch shorter than me in my boots, but I had experienced the stiffness in his pants and appraised approvingly his stocky and muscular build. Despite how burly he was, he expressed himself nimbly and confidently on his feet. We had a drink at the bar. Learning that he had an apartment to himself, I said farewells to my friends and met him outside.

After the electronic beat in the nightclub, the silence on the street set my ears to ringing. I asked him to repeat his words as we made conversation about Libya. His brother is in the Air Force; he hasn’t talked to him in a month. While we waited in the queue for our turn at a taxi, he took off his black leather jacket and draped it over my shoulders when he noticed me shivering in the nighttime air. The chivalry led me to believe that I had chosen well.

The cab took us south of the river, below Elephant & Castle. I huddled against him, a hand running at the denim on the inner surface of his thigh. One arm slung behind me, he clutched my shoulder and turned my body toward him. Thumb rolling over the nipples, the unencumbered hand smoothed over my tits. Starting at the top of his collar, I snailed my tongue to his ear. Through the mirror, the cabbie watched us kiss.

In the bedroom, I laid on my side. He turned my skirt inside out so that it flipped over my ass. Fingers padded lightly and traced the curves of my rump. The flat of my hand followed the musculature in his broad chest and shoulders. We flicked our tongues at each other.

The man tugged my top down to expose a bra cup and shifted the black fabric aside. The nipple peaked for his tongue, which made a circuit around the areola and mounted the east face of the summit.

Pressing my leg between his, I lifted his shirt up and scampered my fingers across the bare chest. After more kisses, he pushed me flat on the bed and brought my thighs open. His fingers touched over the yellow panties. He verbalized his liking of the indentation that the lips of the pussy made in the filmy fabric. He rubbed the cunt lips in tight circles through the veil of soft lace. The fingers must have noticed the wetness they encountered at the apex of my legs.

When he lifted his shirt off, I raised my arm to run a hand over the hard plates of the abdominal muscles. My nails sketched the patterns of the tattoo on the side opposite. The erection had tented his jeans.

I sat on the edge of the bed, naked above, while he shed his clothes. The penis was a mirror of the man: though not especially long, it was thick and formidable. Taking the glans between my lips, I threaded the tip of my tongue into the foreskin. Fingers tugged firmly downward to expose the helmet. The man gathered my hair in a bundle and held it out of the way while I sucked him. Webbing my fingers over his balls, my lips stretched to accommodate his girth. I took him down the whole way, but mostly I lingered at the head, applying suction and tongue, because his response rose in pitch and crescendoed there.

The skirt came off and the panties followed. I had waxed mid-week, so the pubis was particularly smooth for the exploration of his fingers. He splashed the wetness on the lips over the surrounding folds and crooked his index finger inside me. The pads pressed against the roof of the clitoris. After so much masturbation, I enjoyed the touch of another human being and moaned my pleasure through the seal I had made on the penis in my mouth.

He disappointed me by licking my cunt only briefly. The tongue slashed between the lips and lapped at the clit above. It felt amazingly, toe-curlingly good, however concise in duration it was. Once he had rolled a condom on, I backed up to the edge of the bed and, holding my thighs in the air, spread myself open. He stood on the floor and eased his way into my cunt.

I had pressed dildos and vibrators inside during the past weeks. But there’s nothing like a cock.

The muscles inside stretched to oblige the circumference of his erection, then collapsed themselves against it. It was a snug fit, and I compressed the vagina to make myself even tighter inside. Fingers spidered over his pectorals. The tops of my boots flush with his flank, I held him by the hip. He pushed the cock in until the balls slapped below my cunt and withdrew until just the glans was seated between the lips. The motion was slow and deliberate. I felt the inch by inch slide. I felt the lubrication spilling over from the walls to facilitate the movements within. He fondled my tits while he fucked me. I concentrated on the ticking of the clock in the room, the noises of the birds outside, the exquisite reach of the penis, how thick it was, the fullness within. A cock completed my pussy. He didn’t last long, that first time, in the narrowness of my cunt. A horizontal dance marked the end of the dry season. The semen fell like rain.

Subsequent to this orgasm, I returned from the toilet and finally undressed fully, removing my boots and socks. Hands twisting on the shaft revived his erection. He reclined on the bed, and I mounted the penis. Steadied by the hands on my buttocks, I did a grind and impaled myself over the thick spear. After that, he took me from behind and made me come, a small shudder, but a satisfying one.

We slept together, with limbs vining, his hand positioned possessively over my breasts, and my head pillowed in the shadow of his arm. In the morning he woke me with breakfast in bed. I sandwiched his cock between two pieces of toast and lapped jam and honey from its sides. He tipped the orange juice into my pussy, and licked it up as it escaped. He did eat me then, all the way to a cunt inverting orgasm. As I squirmed on the bed and clawed at the bedsheets, the garbage trucks clattered outside on the street and exhaled hydraulic sighs. We had one last, messy fuck, the anonymous man and I, with him on top, smothering my body with his.

Unspectacular sex February 8, 2011

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

Friday night, my roommate persuaded me to a party. Tipsy with drink, I left with a guy around one in the morning. In his early thirties, he wasn’t particularly cute, but he told entertaining stories about Kenya, where he works for an NGO. At his place, I sucked, he licked, and we fucked. I no longer remember the sequence of events. I no longer remember whether I came that night. The cock was functional. The sex was serviceable. The hours we spent naked together were insignificant. It was like a meal that filled the belly, but failed to excite the palate and wasn’t memorable for the company. Going through the motions yielded only a diffuse pleasure. We sweated. We grunted. We slept. Details of the assignation were forgotten by morning.

After the concert on Saturday, several of us went for drinks at a pub. Following a couple of rounds, I went home with Daniel. I had brought condoms this time, and so had he. Foreplay was brief: kisses, his hand in my pants, lips mouthing his erection through the dressy black trousers, a hasty undressing. In the bedroom, he was on top of me the first time. For the second fuck, I rode Daniel from above. In the morning: an interlude of doggy and then cocksucking. My hand twisted on the main part of the stem as he came. Semen dripped on my lips and tongue. Again, sex existed as a utilitarian exercise that satisfied a body’s needs.

Amadeo is in Bonn this week. The usual mid-week date on a Wednesday night is deferred. I must amuse myself otherwise.

The week so far (1/3) January 27, 2011

Posted by Leah in Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Random hookups.


I went to Daniel’s to pick up some music. He is a molecular biologist. He also plays the flute. We have had flirtatious conversations at a couple of parties.

When I arrived, he gave me the sheet music and mentioned some points the orchestra had gone over in the rehearsal that I had missed. We chatted afterwards, and he offered a beer. While we sat drinking, he made the typical guy move of stretching his arm along the back of the sofa. We spoke of our days. Before long the bottle in my hand was empty. I went to the kitchen to retrieve another pair of beers, and on my return, I positioned myself closer to him so that our thighs were flush. The arm draped behind me again.

A few drinks later, after learning that he had recently broken up with his girlfriend, I initiated contact. Pulling the sleeve of his t-shirt up, I planted a soft kiss atop his right bicep. He knew what to do after that: his arm lowered slightly and the hand pressed against my shoulder. I twisted into his body, and we kissed. I tasted the hops on his lips.

Daniel brought his weight forward, which sent me toppling. My legs separated automatically, and he occupied the space they had left. We made out from a horizontal position. Hands ran along his back and extracted the t-shirt from the waistband of his shorts. Daniel has hair longer than my own. As I combed my fingers through the locks, the incipient hardness in his pants poked at me. My pelvis elevated to encourage the erection along. I liked slipping my tongue between his lips.

When my eyes flashed open in a gap between kisses, I noticed my backpack lying on the floor. My purse wasn’t inside. I had left it in the handbag at home. I only carried my wallet.

“Do you have condoms?” I asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Too bad. We will have to save the fucking for another time.” I kissed him again.

My fingers plucked at his belt. I had the shorts off, and his briefs followed. As Daniel pulled the t-shirt up over his head, I kicked off my shoes and undressed from the waist down, tossing the clothes onto the chair opposite. His living room could have used considerably more heat. I told him I was cold. Once I removed the bra, I put the sweater top back on.

We sat on the couch and sipped our drinks. He pulled the top down far enough to expose my nipples, to which he latched on. He left them peaked and wet. His lips traveled from my mouth to the side: across the cheek, down the neck to the collar and up again to the ear. He nibbled on the lobe and on the flexible cartilage at top. His tongue snailed over the ridges and licked behind. As he teased the tongue over my teeth, I reached for his penis, which was slender and long. A hand spanned the shaft: from below the head to most of the way down. I straddled his lap. Two hands tugged, as though I was pulling on rope. My pussy was moist. I touched the glans to my belly and edged his foreskin down.

Bringing the cock upright, I knelt on the sofa cushion and took him inside my mouth. Daniel began gasping at once. His hand covered the nape of my neck and steadied my head as I sucked him. Lips applied consistent pressure as I bobbed over him. Releasing the shaft momentarily, I flickered my tongue over the balls. When I touched my tongue to the bead of precome at the tip and pulled back, it extended as a silken strand, then bowed under its weight and broke. He had a slight tang. I held the sac while I fellated, batting the balls around with my fingers.

Daniel pointed his penis vertical, and I accepted the cock deeper into my throat. Holding tightly to the base, I sucked faster. Saliva full of bubbles descended along the sides of the shaft. It made my fingers sticky and saturated the mat of pubis. He verbalized his pleasure.

Daniel liked touching me. Using the fingernails like forceps, he tweaked my nipples through the sweater. His hand caressed the top of my thigh and stroked the rump where it protruded. He manipulated my pussy. The fingertips slid along the slit. They didn’t sink inside. The fingers merely padded up and down, from below the clitoris to where the cunt lips pinch off at bottom and to the perineum slightly underneath. Reaching between my legs, he cupped me from behind. While he stroked the labia, I was conscious of the moistness of my pussy, how it oozed with arousal and the need that the conscious part of my brain would not permit me to sate. I wanted to be fucked by the cock in my mouth. I wanted to ride Daniel to an exquisite orgasm.

Instead, I kept sucking. My grip twisting along the base of the shaft, I rolled my fingers and pulled the skin taut. Lips running along the bottom surface of the erection, I mouthed the underside of the penis. I applied the lightest touch of teeth across the crown, holding the head that way for an instant before enveloping him again with the warmth and the wetness of my mouth. Sensing the approach of orgasm, I shifted to the floor. My fingers ringed around the beam. I sucked only the glans. Face pointed at the ceiling, I angled my head up and ensured eye contact. “Come in my mouth,” I told him.

I continued masturbating Daniel with my fingers with the knob balanced on my bottom lip. The first splash of semen landed on my chin. The rest of it fell on my tongue. It didn’t shoot out with any force. He was a dribbler. I jerked him until the ejaculation completed and my tongue was coated. Looking up at him, I thrust the whiteness of the semen between my lips so that it nearly spilled over, so that he could see. And then I gulped all of it down. I made sure to collect the come on my jaw and lick that from my fingers as well. He smelled of bleach and had a sharp and slightly unpleasant aftertaste. I didn’t care. I felt sexy on my knees.

It was my turn next. Daniel ate pussy like one who was ravenous. I intend to fuck him after the next concert.

What Jean heard December 19, 2010

Posted by Leah in Cunnilingus, Masturbation, Random hookups, Sapphic.

I went out Friday night wearing a little black dress. I felt like enjoying another woman, so I visited a gay bar that a friend in the orchestra had recommended. I picked up Imogen there. She was two or three years younger and looked cute in a frilly red top and tight blue jeans. She was short, 5’1″ or 5’2″ in her flats, with a tiny chest. Tresses of blonde hair fell to the middle of her back in plaits. She worked in the technical side of theater. We couldn’t go back to her place, so despite the company sleeping on my sofa, we returned to mine.

Jean noticed us when we arrived. Through the closed door of the bedroom and the flimsy walls, this is what he heard.

Kissing: I couldn’t get enough of Imogen’s lips. They were soft to touch and delicious to taste. I traced the line of her shoulders and combed my fingers through the shiny, silky hair. Her tongue flicked at mine just inside my mouth. I caught it with my teeth and gently nipped. Pushing her flat on her back, I straddled her hips. Hands slipping under my dress, she squeezed my buttocks during the infinity of kisses which followed. I splayed my fingers on the sides of her face. I cupped her head and drank deep, thirsty draughts from those red, red lips.

Mouth covering her throat, tongue licking stripes over the blood vessels etched in relief under skin and muscle, I squeezed her small tits. Imogen had unzipped the back of my dress during the evolution of our kisses. Breaking contact just long enough to lift the dress from my shoulders, I threw it to the ground and fell on top of her clad only in a black bra and thong panties.

Undressing: Imogen sat up. At once my fingers shucked the shirt up over the tits. She hadn’t worn a bra. She didn’t need to. The nipples were tiny pebbles. I kissed each of them, sucked hard against the nubs, thick and swollen with the rush of blood. With my tongue spinning around the areolae and teeth scraping over the sensitive nerve endings, she held my head to her chest. The grip demanded a stronger touch, and I complied.

She nursed at my breasts as well. Wetting the nipples through the fabric of the bra, her lips tightened and released over one breast while her hand did the same over the other. She made deft work of the clasp in back. Deceptively powerful hands compressed and kneaded the flesh. She was a woman. She knew how rough she could be with a pair of tits. I loved that she mauled them, pinching and twisting the nipples. She bit down on me while she made eye contact. I adored the depths of those brilliant blue eyes.

When I had her top off, she leaned her back against my shoulder. I pulled the scrunchie from her head and loosened the plaits so that her hair fell free, the color of the gold the miller’s daughter had spun. The scent of flowers hit me and the softness of the memory of long summer afternoons running barefoot in the dewy grass.

Pulling away from me, Imogen broke this reverie. She stood on the mattress and peeled off her jeans. Her panties were next and mine followed.

“Stay just where you are,” I said. “Don’t move.”

I sprinted the two meters to the dresser and withdrew a slender vibrator from the toy drawer.

Fucking: Kneeling on the bed between her legs, I proceeded to feast. My hands smoothed over her thighs.

I sucked on the plastic vibrator to lubricate it and set it to purring against the pussy lips, which were also tiny. From her standing position, Imogen bent her right leg at the knee and kicked her foot off the wall. I squeezed the vibrator inside and fucked it in and out. Imogen was an uninhibited screamer. She made noises of ecstasy. I pounded her pussy with the toy and attacked the clitoris with my lips.

Her cunt had flavor. It tasted like sushi, like sangria, like fruit one day past the point of maximal ripeness. It had the salt scent of the ocean, sand castles on the beach, a sunset over water.

Squatting on my knees, I faced the far wall just as she did, and I tilted my head up. We clasped hands. Holding the rounded base of the vibrator in my mouth, I fucked her this way, using my face to stab the false cock into her cunt. Then I abandoned the toy altogether and pressed my mouth directly to her pussy.

She lifted her leg by the ankle to wing herself open for me and sloped her body against the wall. I stretched my arms up to cup and caress her tits.

My tongue slipped between the folds and became wedged there. I brought it up hard against her clit and repeated the movement. She moaned, grunted, and shrieked and pushed her weight down, smothering my face with her wet pussy. I kept licking, becoming frustrated when she wouldn’t come.

“How do you orgasm?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never had one,” Imogen stated.

I pulled her down to the bed and kissed her to forget my sorrow.

Foreplay (continued): Imogen laid on top of me. She mouthed my breasts. Her lips pecked at the curves. She kissed my belly. The way her tongue licked at my navel presaged what followed. The tip spiraled around the edge and stretched gingerly into the depression. Taking me by surprise, she sucked hard as she grasped the tits above. I gathered her hair in my hands while her lips covered my nipples. She looked at me while she sucked. I took her into my embrace to kiss her some more. My tongue followed the patterns of her tattoos.

Rolling on the bed, we felt each other’s pussies out. I liked the sensation of being inside a new cunt. I enjoyed the warmth within, how fluid her membranes were. I delighted in how the muscles gripped me, and the squishy wet noises I made as I drove the fingers in and out.

Whereas I explored her interior, Imogen played with my cunt without penetrating. First, she used her pointy fingernails to separate the pussy lips. The heel of her hand then rubbed against my pubis. She tugged and pulled and torqued the lips beneath. The pad of a finger brushed repeatedly over the slit. The sticky wetness poured from me in a thick syrup. It covered her hand, and she brought it to her lips to smell and taste. I slipped my tongue past the bars of the fingers and had the flavor of myself from the side of her mouth.

Eventually, my legs separated. The press of hands sent her down.

Being eaten: She tongued over my newly waxed pubis. Positioning my legs vertically in the air, she stooped to conquer. Her tongue flicked at the folds. She spit over the meaty and thick labia. Using her fingers for paintbrushes, she smeared her saliva over me, mixing new colors with the wetness that had seeped from the pores and spilled from my cunt.

Imogen blew over my clit and used her nails to tease the hood down. The tip of the digit slathered the wetness over the rigid bundle of nerves. Her index finger blurred as she licked. It was exquisite, how she lapped and touched. I panted expressively. Moaning, groaning, whispering obscenities to the girl, beseeching her for more, I pushed myself in the direction of orgasm.

My hand twisted through her long hair. I wound it around my palm and seized the reins to pull her to me. She licked diligently. Five minutes passed, or possibly ten. The nerves she activated rejoiced in the contact of lips and fingers. I constricted about the two digits that probed me and squirmed at how she took the clitoris between her teeth and tapped on its roof with a dexterous tongue. I clutched the purple sheets on my bed. She forced the orgasm from my folds.

Fingering: Once I had come, I felt a profound sense of debt. I buried the sensation of pity at her inability to orgasm with the impetus to pay her back with what pleasure I could. This was the only currency I possessed, the only exchange of any value.

I positioned her on all fours and rubbed my hand over labia, perineum, and asshole. The heels of my fingers dragged over the folds. I used the wetness from my own cunt to layer moisture over her pussy. My touch rolled over her in circles. The middle finger cleaved past her lips. I dipped it inside, curling up against the G-spot, pressing at the nerves there. I spun the tip as though I wanted to leave my prints over her walls. My mouth lapped at the sensitive expanse of skin between her two openings. I nosed at the anus, biting the flesh of the buttocks to either side. I needed to excite her in every way I knew.

Two fingers squeezed into the cunt. I fucked them in and out, twisting at the wrist. With my free hand, I rubbed the outside of my pussy, just as she had done before. With a finger on either side of my clitoris, I used the friction and pressure to excite myself. Both of us were moaning, she more so than me.

Imogen peered at me from between her legs and blew me a kiss. Bringing herself upright, she rocked on her hands and knees and pushed back at me while I fucked her. She groaned and hissed. Her pussy made wet suction noises.

My hand moved harder. I kept a constant tempo but penetrated deeper inside her cunt. I spanked her buttocks and kissed the red imprint my palm had left on her skin. Teeth sunk into the flesh of the ass. I caught the foot Imogen curled at me and bent to swipe my tongue over the sole. Working my way up the back of her leg, I determined to eat her again.

Eating: I started from behind, insinuating my face into the gap of her thighs. Lips covered the slit and kissed. I also lapped Imogen’s asshole — over, around, and through the taut ring of muscle — while my thumb worked the gate of the vagina.

Imogen fell over on her side and lifted one leg up in the air. A trimmed thatch of dark hair covered the pubis. The patch provided a soft cushion for my nose. It had as well absorbed her smells. I took deep sniffs of her musky scent.

She held the sides of my head while I tongued and smooched at the opening. With lips clamped upon her labia, I twisted my face. My tongue fluttered against the entrance. I rolled it into a cylinder and poked it within. I fastened my mouth to Imogen’s pussy and jawed at her with the lower mandible. My head turned to keep the points of contact in movement as I sucked the juices from her cunt. Lifting a hand to reach for a tit, I flattened her chest.

The sounds of her gasps filled the room. Her hand brushed through my hair. She gripped the scalp to keep my face permanently affixed to her cunt. She needn’t have bothered. I was not going anywhere. It simply wasn’t an option. I loved her taste. I loved having my face buried at the joining of her legs. The fifteen minutes I spent devouring her this way, even if the cunt stubbornly refused to come, was the climax of my evening.

69: Imogen had me sit on her face. Her arms wrapped my thighs. The hands held the buttocks. I rubbed my pussy over the bony chin and shifted it backward to her mouth. I smothered her in my heat.

Tipping myself over, I lowered between her legs. My head hung down. I used my fingers to pull at the two sides of her cunt and make the skin taut. My tongue licked at the folds. Little globules of spit trailed down the sides of her slit. It was a mental struggle to concentrate on licking pussy because the pleasure she provided to me was so overwhelming. The tension in my loins left me without speech. The musculature corded up in my back and in my thighs. I shook my feet to keep them from cramping and drifted forward and backward on elbows and knees like a rocking horse. I fucked her face.

The vise-like grip she had on my thighs tightened. Somehow, Imogen managed not to suffocate under the weight on top of her head. Her tonguetip dashed against my clit. Lifting my chest up from her belly, I spun my hips over her head. I used three fingers to fuck her pussy while her tongue threaded the lips of my cunt. I liked how sticky she was inside. The thickness of the waters that layered the walls of the vagina lubricated the rapid movements.

Both of us gasped incoherently. Imogen’s moans were muffled by pussy.

Whisky: After my multiple orgasms, which I felt guilty about because she had none of her own, we sat on the bed and kissed. Our fingers worked each other’s pussies, and we brought them to our lover’s lips to taste. Departing the bed just long enough to grab the nearly empty bottle of Dalwhinnie from the shelf, I took a swig and passed it over to her. The touch of whisky contrasted on the palate with the richer flavors of cunt.

I tipped the bottle to the side and poured whisky on her breasts. The alcohol was cool on the skin; it made her giggle. The flow of liquid left a path along her sternum and down the abdomen. I splashed drops over her nipples and also her pussy. My tongue followed the stream from source to delta. The admixture of whisky and sweat and pussy juice tasted like the ambrosial nectar of the gods.

Imogen tilted the dregs of the bottle over my mouth. She licked the Dalwhinnie where it had fallen, around my lips and down my throat. I had it from her tongue, the breath of a dragon.

We rubbed each other’s cunts and kissed endlessly.

Tribbing: The kisses ended with Imogen flat on the bed, except for her legs, which peaked as mountains. I sat between them, as though on a saddle, and scissored one of my legs to either side of one of hers. Lips kissing, the pussies pressed together. I rolled my hips and danced my cunt above while my fingers seized her nipples and pulled. Imogen raised her lower body from the mattress to drive her pubis against mine. We continued like this until I came. The juices flooded from my vagina into hers.

Afterwards, we laid on the bed, one of our heads at either end. I had a foot on top of her left breast and hugged her right calf to my cleavage. Each of us extended the free leg fully, stretching along the flank of the other’s body. With this geometry, we rubbed pussies, rutting at each other through the moans, desperate to touch everywhere, to improve the contact, the drag, the thrust, the movement, and the pressure, to feel it just a bit differently, from a slightly better angle.

After one more orgasm, I laid kisses on her shin while I recovered.

We sat up and kissed and toppled over again and kissed some more. The last I remember of the night is huddling my body next to hers under the quilt. Her arms reached around me and grasped my breasts.

I was woken in the morning by languorous kisses. She nursed at my nipples and reached a hand between my legs. We rutted, one on top of the other for a final time.

I have Imogen’s number. I gave her mine. I hope to look her up when I return to London in January.

The Xmas party December 13, 2010

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

Sara and I met at my place for dinner and pre-drinks drinks before heading out for the clubs on Friday night. On the way to the tube station, we passed by a hotel two blocks from my apartment building. Inside, unusually, the lobby was swarming with people. I had worn a dressy casual outfit — a dark green sweater top over a tank top, which was a still darker shade of green, a black knee length skirt, stockings that reached to mid-thigh, heeled shoes. Sara looked sharp as well. As we appeared to fit in, we decided to crash.

It was the holiday party of a big multinational.

We knew no one, but we nodded and smiled and pretended and lost ourselves in the throng and made conversation about nothing in particular, trading gossip about our imaginary colleagues. Sara hooked up before eleven with a man in a stylish suit. She said goodbye to me before departing the party to continue her evening in a hotel room several floors above. I boozed up on martinis at the bar, trading drinks off charm.

My phone said it was eleven thirty when I resolved to make a move. I had been there almost two hours, and I knew that Sara must have gotten laid in the time she had been gone. I wanted sex as well — after all, that was the point of our going out.

Returning from the toilet, I meandered through the large room — less crowded than before, but still busy — looking for possible assignations. A man who I had conversed with earlier had said he was a programmer on the web design team. I remembered him for his caustic wit and his superior knowledge of American sports. We chatted some more, and I suggested that we wander a bit.

In a bathroom downstairs, a room with a lock, the two of us half-stripped. Skirt and panties puddled by the sink, my high heels sat on the countertop, and I padded around in black stockings. He lost the jacket of his blue suit and his trousers. I pulled him to me by his unknotted tie; the kisses saved us from drowning.

My back and arms were braced against the wall with my thighs tight against his chest and the calves dangling from his biceps and shoulders. He threw me backward, his body slamming me into the unyielding brick. The force of impact when the cock bottomed out and dragged me up jolted the muscles in my back each time. As he fucked me, gradually, my weight shifted down: my arms wrapped his neck and his head while my legs hooked around his waist and crossed at the ankles. He came with my body pinned by his cock, the cunt compressing about him and milking the orgasm out. I didn’t come, but that was ok: he had made me sweat.

We dressed and parted, and I think he left the party soon after that.

My night also ended in a hotel room, with a balding, slightly overweight, and bespectacled middle manager. I accepted his invitation because I liked the baritone voice and the booming laugh and the wry sense of observation. Naked, he stretched out on the bed, and I fellated him from my knees from between his feet, which were rooted to the floor. Afterwards, he positioned me on the mattress on all fours and licked my pussy, squeezing his tongue and fingers into the tight spaces. While he fucked me doggy style, he pressed his fingers to my lips for me to lick and suck. As well, he fucked me from behind, lifting one leg in the air, the grip of his hand tight below my knees, as I laid on my side and twisted my arm off the bed to thrust back at him. I came from how his cock pounded me, and he exploded into the condom just after the aftershocks of my last spasm.

On the second round, he had me straddling him, my hands pushing off the woolly thighs behind me while he held me by the waist and bounced me up and down over his erection. He had me in missionary position, with my nails clawing his back and my cunt constricting about the shaft in orgasm. Then he had me on top again, facing his feet this time, and the backs of my thighs ricocheted hard off the fronts of his, and the flesh of my ass shook at the collision with his groin. He pulled off the condom and fucked my tits, his rigid shaft sliding against the sternum while I pressed the breasts together and narrowed the cleavage to squinch up the passage. The semen exploded over my face, leaving streaks of white in my hair. After I had cleaned up in the bathroom, I said my farewells and went home to slumber under the blankets of my own bed.

Exercise makes me horny December 7, 2010

Posted by Leah in Anilingus, Fellatio, Random hookups.

I had on a sports bra and spandex gym shorts. The swoosh over my chest told me to just do it.

I followed the man across the room when he left, stopped him in the hallway, and asked whether he would let me suck his cock.

In the handicapped toilet, I went to my knees. Once we had tugged his shorts down, I rubbed my palms over the erection in his briefs, two hands spanning the bulge, stroking the length, one after another. I cupped his balls, clutched and released, and mouthed the penis through the cloth covering. The fabric blackened under the press of lips. Teeth nipped cock and cotton before the underwear fell to his feet.

My tongue swiped through the sweaty tangle of pubis. I kissed the groin, suction vacuuming up the moistness beaded there. The scent of his unwashed maleness made my nostrils flare. Tasting salt upon my lips and tongue, I licked perspiration from his balls. The porcupine hair of his scrotum glistened with saliva. Only after I had washed him this way did I address the cock from below. My tongue followed the vein along the underside of the erection. Making the lips plush and soft, I kissed the glans.

He leaned his weight against the sink while I worked down the shaft. At top, I beat the tongue against the head like a wing. My grip tight on the thick columns of his thighs, the tonguetip scooped along the lip of the sac when I bottomed out. My nose traced lazy figure-eights in his pubic hair with the crown ensconced.

A dampness under the neckline darkened the red of his muscle shirt.

I had him turn around. Arms extended on the countertop, he spread his legs apart and thrust his ass to me. Prising the cheeks apart, I licked a stripe through the cleft, which was hairy and dank. First my fingernails, then my tongue followed the lines of the muscles behind. My jaws clamped on his asshole. I took enormous gulps.

The man hissed pleasure. Sweat sluiced along his skin. I had it from the small of his back onto my forehead.

He bent his cock backward and tucked it between his legs like a tail. Lips sinking from the anus, I sucked him again.

He propped a foot on the toilet. I stooped beneath him. Face pointed at the ceiling, I spread my mouth wide and let the knob cascade into my throat. His eyes lidded to a sliver.

The hand secreted in my shorts rubbed my wet pussy. The tiled floor bit into my knees while I raised and lowered myself over the midpoint of his groin.

He gave a moment’s warning, then grunted.

Palm tightening under his balls, five fingers made a backward “C” below where my lips had clamped down. The head hopped in my mouth with each burst of semen. I couldn’t contain it all, couldn’t swallow fast enough to keep pace with the explosion. Come, white and viscid, overran the corners of my lips and coated my fingers. More of it escaped into the dense crop of pubis when I lifted my mouth from him.

I lapped the come from my hand. I kissed it from the matted groin. He brushed my hair behind an ear while I cleaned his softening penis.

Tube ride November 14, 2010

Posted by Leah in Buggery, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Fucking, Random hookups.

The cutoff shirt is gauzy beachwear. The sleeves are short, and it leaves my belly bare. There’s no binding bra underneath, but, as a concession to the weather, I have a leather jacket draped over the back of the chair. The pink G-string leaves the outline of my pussy lips visible. Squeezing into black leather pants that conform to every curve, I tighten the laces over the crotch and tie a loopy knot. I look for my socks and follow with the low heeled ankle boots.

I consider myself in the mirror once I have dressed. My hair is in disarray. Twirling it into a bun and sloping the headband over top, I make the best of it as quickly as I can. So that I look less like a panda, I clean the makeup ringing my eyes in the bathroom sink. I rinse my mouth with Listerine.

On the tube in the morning, people look at me and know. The scent of sex oozes from my pores. My nipples are stiff. I cross my legs, right knee over left, and also my arms.

The man is already faceless and anonymous. He plied me with cocktails and persuaded me with laughter. He had taken my measure over drinks well enough to name me properly.

“Do you like that, slut?” he inquired. Without waiting for a reply, he spun the tip of his tongue around my clitoris again.

He took the penis from my mouth and pointed it vertical, lifting his scrotum up. “Lick them like a dog,” he said, once I spread my jaws and took both balls past my lips. When he brought his cock down, I squinted along the shaft and saw the streak of saliva, dazzling for its whiteness in the dark pubic hair.

“Oh, you dirty slag,” he exclaimed, when I sucked the spit from his cock and poured it into his open mouth. He held the back of my head to steady me while we kissed, and he jacked his shaft as our two tongues tasted each other.

“Pussy,” he exhaled, as his cock dragged into me. My lower legs gripped his sides. An arm wrapped his shoulder. I held on and moaned wordlessly.

“Yes, yes, yes,” I gasped, as the cock muscled into the tight space behind. “Anal bitch,” he dubbed me after sliding the erection the whole way in. I squeaked and grunted nasally and cupped my fingers over my clit. My elbows buckled at the force of the pounding I received.

“Come bucket,” he said, when I rubbed his semen into my tits. He made a movie of it on his cell phone.

Boy at the gym November 5, 2010

Posted by Leah in Fellatio, Fucking, Random hookups.

We sat next to each other on the bus ride to his place, me at the window, him on the aisle. The pads of the fingers of Stephen’s right hand dragged lightly over my leg, from just above the knee to the midpoint of the thigh. The tickling sensation made me smile. I was happy that I hadn’t replaced the stockings after my shower: I enjoyed his touch on the bare skin. I stretched my knees apart as far as the narrow seat and the denim skirt would allow and was pleased when his pinky extended into the shadow.

I had seen him around campus. We are often at the gym at the same time. We have made eyes and flirted before. I watched him work out on Wednesday and noticed him noticing me staring. I liked how his gray shirt dampened with perspiration on the treadmill and how the muscles in his arms and back rippled on the rowing machine. I admired the solidity of his thighs. I caught him outside and asked him for a coffee. After that, I inquired whether he wanted to go somewhere to hang out, maybe mess around a little. Sweating from a workout makes me all wet inside.

The two of us displaced the cat from its place of repose and huddled on the loveseat in his living room. His arm draped over the cushion behind me. Pillowing my neck against the forearm, I stretched my legs over his lap. Angled up as my thighs were, he could have easily glanced into the skirt, but I appreciated that his eyes remained fixed on mine.

We kissed. My fingers gripped his collar. The touch of his lips at first was light. As our noses rubbed and the faces spun and realigned, tongues stole past lips. He held my ass and pulled my body close. I slanted my breasts into his chest. My fingernails combed the short fuzz of hair on his head. Never breaking our lip lock, never opening my eyes, I unbuttoned his shirt.

He brought my legs up, one at a time, and pulled the sensible flat shoes from my feet. While he did this, I brought the black sweatshirt over my head. There was only a pink bra underneath.

Setting my bare feet on the carpet, I elevated the ragged hem of the skirt up to the tops of my thighs. This enabled me to spread my legs for him and show him the matching bikini panties.

Stephen kissed below my ear as his hand became friendly with my pubis. I pressed my weight into the cushions while the fingers shuffled the front of the panties aside to improve his contact with my pussy. One of the fingers pressed between the lips and rubbed from side to side. It lifted from the petaling of the labia up to the clitoris. The kisses continued, on my throat and neck, on my shoulder above the bra strap, on my cheek. He lipped at the earlobe. The tongue swiped over the shell of the ear, a gesture that somehow opened a secret passage to the tips of my toes. My grip tightened on the arm reaching between my legs. The hand covering my cunt and the tickling kisses made me squirm.

A firm pressure between my shoulder blades encouraged me forward. Fingers made deft work of the clasp in back. The cups slid off my breasts. I shrugged off the brassiere and threw it on top of my hoodie. My skirt and panties were next, and then, except for a slender silver necklace, two rings, and the small metal loops in my ears, I was naked.

Because I didn’t have clothes on, and he did, I lifted the unbuttoned shirt from his shoulders. His arms wriggled free. Straddling his lap, I extricated the t-shirt from where it had been tucked into his jeans and slid my hand beneath the thin cotton to trace the muscular plates of his chest. The skin was smooth and hairless. We kissed again, mouth to mouth, our lips making soft sucking noises. I liked the way his tongue darted past my teeth, rabbit quick. I liked the curl of his bottom lip and tugged it with mine. I liked his breath rising and receding in time with my own and the taste of his warm spit mixing with my saliva.

He lifted his arms above his head for me, and I pulled off the shirt. The kisses deepened as my hands smoothed over the now exposed chest. He was built like an athlete or a god. The nerves in my fingers rejoiced at the construction of the muscles. His teeth scraped over my tongue.

Breaking contact with his mouth, I pressed my lips to his pectorals. I tasted the soft skin above the hard muscle, a touch of salt on the palate, the masculine undertow of strength and sinew beneath. My mouth settled over a nipple. I nipped the sensitive ring and swirled my tongue around the peak. My hands trailed over his flank. The lips found their way to the hollow in the middle of his chest. I kissed and licked. My tongue lapped at the projections of the muscles in his abdomen. His hands gathered my hair behind me. I felt the glancing touch of his powerful fingers at my neck. I stuck my tongue in his navel and kissed wetly, the way he had kissed my ear.

I wanted to go to my knees for his cock, but Stephen brought me back to the sofa, sitting me by his side. The leg nearer to him hooked automatically over his. Knee pointing up, the calf kicking against his denim clad thigh, I opened my legs wide and stretched my body across his. As we kissed audibly and wetly, his fingers worked the outside of my cunt, rubbing the lips and the clit. My hand anchored itself to the back of his neck, and I used that hold as a fulcrum with which I undulated my hips. Slanted diagonally on the couch and over him, my body undulated as I sought to feel his fingers move against me differently, with a harder touch, a broader stroke, a better angle.

His free arm wrapped me, the fingertips extending to press at the side of my breast. His thumb squeezed past the labia. Twisting in the loveseat, I straddled his lap once more to face him and clasped the back of his head while our lips renewed their acquaintance. The short buzz of hair was like sand against my skin.

When his fingers pulled at my ass cheeks, the lips of my pussy dragged over the coarse denim of his jeans. I deposited kisses on the side of his neck and over his throat. I fed him my breasts and let him feast on the nipples. His erection prodded me from below.

My arms wrapped around his back and I gripped his neck with my upper arms. One of his hands pushed between my shoulder blades. The fingers trailed up and down my spine. My tongue spilled into his open mouth. When Stephen stood, he lifted me with him. The immense arms cradled my back and buttocks and carried my weight easily. I vined my legs around him and pressed my chest against his. Still the kisses continued.

Eventually, he set me down, and the jeans came off. We abandoned the clothes and went to the bedroom.

I tightened and loosened my hand over his scrotum as we kissed some more in bed. When I started lipping the head of his penis, the shaft still had a plastic quality. I loved how the penis stiffened between my lips. As I sucked him to his full hardness, he cupped the back of my head. I fingered the base and the balls and flickered my tongue against the knob. I brought my face over him vigorously, taking the shaft deep inside, sinking almost to the lip of the scrotum. I was in a half-sitting position with my legs spread. Stephen fingered my pussy.

When I beat the helmet against my tongue, he took his cock from me. He stroked the shaft while I nursed again at its tip. His hand applied pressure at the back of my neck to keep me down over him. While he moaned, I caressed the balls and dribbled my spit down the sides. My fingers jerked the stem while I bobbed over the front part of the erection.

We did the bit with the condom, and then Stephen positioned me on hands and knees. I licked my fingers and pressed them to my cunt to prepare his entry. He coaxed my knees apart and pushed into me from behind. The shaft eased past the lips, and then he swiveled his hips and fell in the whole way. I began moaning immediately as he held my hips and thrust the shaft in and out. My head and shoulders lowered to the mattress. I luxuriated in the fullness in my cunt, celebrating the presence of this new cock. The wetness lubricated the motion inside. Stephen clutched my buttocks and slapped the flesh experimentally. When he did this, I bit my lip and groaned. My ass thrust back at him as I tried to allow the cock to push down deeper.

He leaned over my shoulder, and he kissed me. I liked how he maintained the contact of lips while he fucked me. My muscles squeezed him.

In the course of the kisses, he pulled me against his body. He leaned backward on his arms, and I brought myself to a partly upright position. Calves flanking his, I propped my weight on my arms and bounced myself over the penis. Keeping the shaft embedded halfway, I was able to rub the head against the G-spot. Reaching between my legs, I scissored two fingers around my clitoris. The friction inside and out made my cunt wetter and looser.

He told me how he enjoyed seeing my ass shake, so I spun my hips to exaggerate the movements in back. He slapped my buttocks, alternating between the cheeks.

I wanted the spanking to be heavier. I entreated him for more. I asked him to pull my hair. He thrust with his pelvis and fucked me forcefully.

We shifted positions. I rolled onto my back and held my legs spread in the air. While my hand rubbed energetically over the clit, Stephen entered me again. He was on his knees. Hands on either side of me braced his body above mine. He kissed me. His tongue licked my chin. His hips initiated the propulsive movement of the cock. I begged him to go faster and harder. His cock made me come. My consciousness shifted to my cunt. The sudden, powerful release, the seizure of the muscles inside, the responsiveness of the nerve endings — all these sensations drugged me up. I was floating in an orgasmic haze.

After my climax, he sat on the bed on his knees, legs spread open, and pounded the cock into me. My head dangled from the bed. I clutched his knees and held on to the bright white sheets on the mattress. The walls of my pussy collapsed around him. The muscles tightened and compressed. I came a second time, harder than the first. Somehow, he rode the cataclysm out without sperming by a visible exertion of will.

The cock had stiffened within me, and he brought his body over mine, blanketing me with his weight at last. I felt small under his powerful frame. He held me by the shoulders. His touch smoothed over my arms. He kissed me tenderly while I recovered my breath. The cock rocked inside my pussy softly as our tonguetips flickered together.

I wanted him to come. I needed to pay my orgasms back. I told him to fuck me until he spilled, to be as rough with me as he liked.

He positioned me on the edge of the bed and brought my legs vertical. He gripped each foot below the ankle. One knee on the mattress, the other leg mooring him to the floor, he fucked my pussy hard. He embedded himself fully and withdrew only the last inches of the cock before he pistoned in again. I made my pussy tight as he brought my legs together high above my chest. I encouraged him with dirty words. I beseeched him to use my cunt for his pleasure.

My thighs pressed against my breasts, folded up as I was. My arms stretched to either side of my body. I clutched the sheets while he fucked me. I screwed my eyes shut and restrained the compulsion to come so that he would have his climax first.

Compressing the muscles about his shaft, I moaned so very loudly. Stephen responded by baring his teeth. The pace of the fucking altered perceptibly. The movements became more frantic, more desperate, more fierce.

“Come in my pussy. Come in my pussy,” I chanted.

He came with a booming bellow. The bed shook. I felt the shaft quivering against my walls. The head twitched deep inside me. I let go and followed with my own convulsions.

I was meeting my roommate and her fiancé for dinner, so I couldn’t stay. He retrieved our clothes where they had been shed in the other room. When he returned the condom was drooping from his cock. I peeled it off. After that, I couldn’t help but suck his penis one more time.

The blowjob started out with me lying on my belly on the bed. But once I had him hard as obsidian, I flipped over onto my back. His thighs straddled my head, which was at the very edge of the mattress. While I shucked my fingers over the bottom part of the shaft, he lowered the front part into me. I liked seeing his hairy legs rising on either side of my head, the thicket of hair at his groin, the bristly ass beneath my hand. I sucked in a rhythm as he brought the crown past my lips.

“Don’t hold back,” I cautioned. “I don’t have much time.”

As I requested, Stephen didn’t restrain himself. He fucked my face violently after that. The movement began in his thighs. The cock encroached into my throat. A few minutes of this, and he grunted and came explosively. My mouth couldn’t contain his semen. It flowed down my cheek and trailed behind an ear. It made my throat sticky. I had it in my hair.

I cleaned up and got dressed. I gave him my digits before I left. I am sure I will run into him again at the gym, but considering it has been two days, and he hasn’t called, I may not be inclined to repeat the experience.

Hallowe’en 2 November 2, 2010

Posted by Leah in Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Fucking, Masturbation, Public, Random hookups.

I dress as a Greek goddess for the night. The costume is a white dress with a short pleated skirt whose fabric flows and bounces with each step. The top is form fitting, with its neckline dipping low to display considerable cleavage. (I went braless, as Greek goddesses do.) Braided gold rope encircled my waist. The material of the skirt is flimsy and translucent to light. The hem leaves two-thirds of my thigh exposed and covers my ass — just! — and only when I stand motionless. I affix gold ribbon to the sandals and vine it around my calves. A wreath of laurel leaves on my head completes the outfit.

This costume is indecent without hot pants underneath. Otherwise, I can’t help but exhibit my ass when I move. Only tiny see through panties cover my girl parts though. It is Hallowe’en. The purpose of this night is to get debauched.


A violinist in the orchestra is one of the show runners. She has convinced much of the band to come to the masquerade, and there are other groups present as well. The organizers of the festivities have rented a warehouse in the north of London. The cover for entry is steep, but the booze inside is cheap. I resolve to drink less than on Friday.

When I arrive, I don’t feel like dancing at once. I get drinks at the bar and find friends at one of the tables that ring the walls of the room. We nurse cocktails and talk about our days. I get ribbing for my choice of costume.

Musicians — even the amateurs like us — are incorrigible gossips. I am asked about my tryst with the clarinetist following the concert two weeks ago. I offer my imprimatur to my friend, and despite entreaties decline to produce any details of the encounter. We all giggle when he walks past and waves.


I am surprised to see Mike. He is a cellist. When I first moved to London, he introduced me to the theaters and the museums. Though he is perhaps thirty years older, he might be my closest male friend in the city. Marriage never suited him, though he has attempted the enterprise twice. He has no children and enjoys the bachelor life. I have told him about my promiscuity. This amuses him.

Mike invites me to dinner once or twice a month for no reason at all, or knowing that I can’t afford good seats, asks me to the opera and the theater. He flatters me by saying that he enjoys the company of clever and beautiful women. Though Mike knows that I am unlikely to refuse any proposition he makes, he has never tried. He informed me kindly that he prefers women closer to his age. The kisses at the end of a date land chastely on my cheek.

He dresses extravagantly as Frans Banning Cocq.


A fireman comes on to me. The conversation is banal. I am not attracted.

I am grateful to Eliza, who rescues me. Displacing the arm from my shoulder, I make my excuses and visit the toilet.


When I dance, it is with the Grim Reaper. I do not know who is behind this mask. But, goddamn!, does he ever know how to move.

The music delivers a driving, persistent beat. The rhythm pulses. I feel the bass notes resounding in my bones.

I grind my hips. The sway of the swinging skirt shows my cheeks.


I lean myself into him, embracing Death.

Fingers trace the line of the spine. He applies a gentle pressure at the depression at my back just above the tailbone. When I place my arms upon his shoulders to encourage his further explorations, he shifts his attention to the front. His hands grip my sides, and he rolls his index fingers below my breasts. I twist toward him, letting the hands cover my tits. He knows that I’m not wearing a bra. He stares down into the gap between my breasts. I pull the fabric aside to quickly flash him a tit, then cover myself again. He cups my breasts. He kneads them through the skeletal gloves he wears.

My hands stroke the front of his pants. I raise his erection.


We go outside, the Grim Reaper and I. It has rained earlier in the day. The pavement is wet. I arch my toes and lower my knees to the ground anyway. We are positioned between two cars and out of sight.

I tell him to leave his mask on. I don’t know who he is. I don’t want to know. He holds his black robe bunched above his waist. His jeans are zipped open and lowered to the knees along with red, white, and blue striped boxers. His cock is lean, but it has length. I place wet kisses on the glans and let my lips cover the tip. The penis stiffens in my palm.

To begin, I slide my fingers along the bottom half of the shaft and suck only the head. My tongue slides under the helmet, poking at the frenulum, while I splash saliva over the top. Death leans against the car. I look up at him and scratch his thigh. My tongue curls around the knob. I give the underside a series of quick licks, then bounce the glans softly off my lower lip. Concentrating on the front of the penis only, I make a ring with my fingers and drag them up and down rapidly over the remainder of the shaft.

The woolen gloves are gone. I like that he works his hand over a breast and tweaks the nipple while I suck. The blowjob becomes wetter.

Death responds with heavy moans when I lip the crown above the circumcision ring. I repeat the movement for half a minute, then give his balls the same attention. Turning my head sideways, I lick at the seam at the center of the scrotum. When, I suck the cock again, I take him in deeper.

He pulls the laurel ring from my head. Holding the robe up over his stomach with one hand, he brushes the other through my hair.

I hear the voices of people having a smoke. The parking lot is dark. But his head is visible at least as a shadow. The risk of being discovered giving head excites me.

My knees scratch over the asphalt as I suck him harder. I drive my face at him, sinking lower and lower, breathing carefully through my nose, swallowing with my mouth to suppress the gag reflex when the glans presses up against my throat. Except for the hold of two fingers making the skin at the base of the cock taut, I have him fully embedded. The glans never leaves my mouth as my head bobs over him.

I look up and wonder at what he sees. A woman dressed up as the huntress Artemis is sucking the Grim Reaper’s cock. The mythologies are confused. The hood is drawn down. He throws his head back. Even in the near darkness outside, the veins in his neck stand visibly in relief. The grip in my hair tightens. The mask still covers his face, and I wonder if this is a man I know in a different context.

The pressure of the hand on the back of my head makes me look down again. I bob my head faster now. Lubricated with saliva, the cock sinks easily into my throat. The fingers now have a hold on his balls. I tug them. The tip of my nose smashes into his groin. The hair is matted down. I smell the maleness there. His movements acquire a charge. The robe is wedged against the car. He cups the sides of my head, and he holds me down when I have him in my throat.

Because I don’t want him to come just yet, I pull the cock from my lips and lay kisses on his thigh. I bring the sac forward with the press of fingers in back and drag my tongue over each hemisphere. I push the testes against the skin and suck on them. The tip of my tongue combs through his pubis. I use the point to lick over his groin. I poke at the eye. The precome has a viscous texture. Death tastes of salt and brine.

I make my tongue flat and drag it along the underside of the shaft. I mouth the sides. I hold the cock in my two hands and drop kisses over the top. I coo to the erection. Death looks down at me, and he moans.

Gripping my hand around the shaft, clenching the fingers tightly, I fellate him again. My thumb rubs along the bottom of the shaft. My tongue depresses in the middle, the front raising against the heavy knob. I bring my bottom lip up and tighten the seal. Filling my mouth full of saliva, I wash it against the mushroom knob. My head moves from side to side. I rotate my mouth slightly. I go up, and I go down. It goes on.

My hand tightens on his thigh. I suck him with no hands, starting with my lips on the glans, sinking down nearly to the bottom. My head twists as I take him down my throat. I descend until the lips rest against his balls and flick my tonguetip at the lip of the scrotum. I do this several times just to satisfy myself that I can swallow all of his length. Mostly, I work the upper two-thirds of the shaft. With the penis implanted in my throat, my lips nibble on the skin before reversing direction.

I go faster. He drives his pelvis at me while I suck him with obvious intention. One hand pushes off his hip. The other is splayed against his belly to balance myself. My cheeks hollow with the suction they deliver. Glancing up, I observe that his eyes are shut. His fingers shove at the back of my head. When he tells me he is going to come, I fight his grip and pull back from his cock. Tilting my face up, spreading my jaws, I extend my tongue to cushion the glans and jerk his shaft to completion.

Death dies the little death. He grunts and spews. The shaft trembles in my fingers. His come doesn’t shoot out with any velocity: it merely dribbles from the aperture. I push the thick glans against the roof of my mouth to collect the spendings. My tongue swirls round and round. The erection diminishes in my fingers.

I swish the semen in my mouth and swallow. I clean up the mess of saliva I have left on his cock. My knees are painted with dirt when I lift to my feet.


The man with whom I depart is not the man I blew. I hope the Grim Reaper remains a stranger to me.


Inside, I dance mostly with my female friends. We laugh and we drink and then dance some more. When I take a break around half past one, I sit with the clown. He is our pianist. I find his long fingers enchanting.

The conversation is flirtatious. He likes my costume. I have been horny ever since the blowjob outside sometime before midnight. We are having drinks in a dark corner. I take his hand and place it over my skirt. I spread my legs and push the hand against my pussy. I belatedly notice the ring on his finger when I do.

“You don’t have to,” I assure him. “I will apologize, and this won’t happen.”

He wants to.


He retrieves a change of clothes from his car and washes off the clown makeup in the bathroom. I clean up as well and say my goodbyes. Mike gives me an enormous hug and a knowing wink and admonishes me to have fun. The pianist — his name is Vikram, and he is a physician — takes us to a hotel.

Vikram is in his late thirties and looks as he should: fifteen years older than me and naturally tanned. I am bundled up in a trenchcoat that reaches to the knees and look perfectly decent. But the desk attendant knows why we want a room sometime after two in the morning. She develops an attitude. I wrap my arms around Vikram and lace my fingers over his waist. I place a kiss over his jacket where it falls at the shoulder. “I wish she’d hurry up. I can’t wait to get you into bed,” I stage whisper.

Let the bitch stew.


In the hotel room, we undress with alacrity.

He has no condoms in his pants or in his wallet. I look inside my clutch. “We can fuck twice,” I count.


He has me lie on the bed. His kisses start at my belly and descend to my cunt. His mouth covers the opening of my pussy. The tongue slides over the slit. The breath from his nose strikes my bare pubis. My hand presses lightly on top of his head. I twist the graying hair while his face slides from side to side. He extends the tongue over me and licks the labia. The nub of the nose rubs across my skin. I run my hands over his forearms. I comb his hair. My knees are upright on the bed. My feet arch from the mattress. My pelvis raises as I seek to improve the angle. Vikram sucks my cunt. He holds my hip and squeezes my breasts. The point of contact acquires a torque as he rotates his face. The tongue focuses on my slit. It pokes in and out. The touch on the clitoris remains incidental for the moment.

I have been wet for hours. My panties were moist when I removed them. The dexterity of his tongue amazes me. It presses the right spots, between the lips, just inside the opening. He attacks the clit at last with his lips. My head rolls on the pillow. I clutch at the sheets. His hand presses over my belly while I squeak with pleasure. I wriggle my shoulders and bring my hips up. My back arches like a rainbow. The grip of fingers tightens in his hair. My thighs squeeze the sides of his head. The orgasm bursts over his tongue.

I take heavy breaths as I recover. I giggle.


I want to suck him, but he tells me that his cock is hard already, that he can’t wait. He slips the condom on.

Vikram is on his knees when he enters me. His hands grab the backs of my thighs. I bend the knees and tilt my buttocks off the mattress, raising my pussy to him.

The moment of penetration is exquisite. I am wet from the cunnilingus. The nerves inside vibrate with potentiality. The latency is made real when the cock muscles through. The flesh parts and collapses back against the shaft. The cunt is tight inside. The muscles are slick. I feel the friction on the walls of my vagina acutely. I compress him. We moan in counterpoint. It is a fugal harmony.

When the cock slips out, he slaps the head over my cunt and slips it back inside momentarily. Bringing it out again, he pokes my clitoris with the knob. The head slides across the tender nerve endings. The contact makes me come a second time. This orgasm is small, but no less satisfying for that.

When I place the cock inside me again, Vikram pulls me backward by the thighs. The length of the penis sinks into me. As he bounces himself on the mattress from his kneeling position, I flail my hips at him. Feet anchored to the bed, I grind the pelvis down. My head swivels with the pleasure of the sex. I hold his thigh and squeal.

The sex is etched in memory. The surrounding details are vivid. I notice the nearly inaudible buzz of the heater, the clean smell of the sheets, the soft lights, and the plush mattress. Clothed in sweat, I find the air bracing on my skin. He smells like lust.

We switch positions. He lays down horizontally, and I straddle the cock. The fullness inside feels different now. I control the angle of penetration and clench about the shaft. He holds me by the hips. In time, he takes over. I spread my hands and prop my weight on his chest as his thighs pump up at me. I hear the distinctive slap of skin striking skin. My pelvis gyrates as I bounce over his groin. My pussy impales herself over his cock. Vikram moans an occasional bass note. The sounds I make are higher pitched and feverish.

An especially vigorous movement means that his cock slips out of my cunt. I tease my pussy lips over the side of the shaft. Vikram sits up. We exchange gentle kisses. I hold his chin while my lips revel in his taste. The breath we share is sweet.

Vikram fucks me doggy style. His hands hold my hips as he rocks his body into me. I list back and forth on hands and knees. I like the steady deep penetration from behind. Hand between my legs, I touch my clit. I rub his balls.

Vikram moans eloquently. And then his cock convulses. He laughs when he completes, and I join in the chuckling.


We sleep, saving the last condom for morning. I rest in the cradle of his arms when slumber claims me.


Around eight, he wakes me with his kisses. I raise one leg over his side, and he threads his between mine. His fingers touch my pussy from below. The penis is warm against my thigh. Reaching between our bodies, I stroke his cock to hardness.

I lie on top of him while he fucks me. His hands hold me below the breasts. He kneads my buttocks. The kisses are unending.

I want to feel his weight on top, so we roll over in the bed. I press my thighs against his hips. My feet wave in the air. He fucks me hard. The cream from my pussy turns the condom white. I claw at his buttocks, the nails leaving my mark on his skin. My tongue stabs into his mouth when he comes inside me.


When he drives me home, I have my dress in a plastic bag. I am naked under the trenchcoat. I haven’t sucked Vikram’s cock, so I ask him to park the car and let me. His third orgasm offers little semen. He fingers my cunt during the blowjob. The thumb flicks at the clit.

The night finishes at nine-thirty in the morning.