Tag Archives: fuck

Who can it be now?! – Final part

“Get undressed,” I order.

The Saffa complies without any hesitation. All that she is wearing now is the mask. I’m still sitting back in my chair and the camera is capturing everything, including the sound of Darth Vader finally cumming in the Princess’s mouth.

“Sit down,” I say, pointing to the footstool.

She sits down on the edge, facing me. Her nipples are hard. She smiles at me from under the mask.

“Lie back,” I say.

The Saffa lies back and drops her head down over the edge of the footstool.

“Spread your legs as wide as you can,” I command.

She obeys, moving her feet far apart and revealing a freshly shaven pussy. Hmm, she came here wanting to be fucked.

I get up and go over to her, getting down on my knees between her beckoning thighs. I’m not sure she can hear my movements because of the sounds of satisfaction emanating from the screen near her head. It turns out Princess Leia loves to swallow; who knew?

The Saffa lets off a loud moan of pleasure as my tongue slides up her slit and makes contact with her nubby clit. Unsurprisingly her pussy is dripping wet. For someone who claims to have a dryness problem hence the KY jelly, I seem to have no problem getting and keeping her wet.

A copious amount of T.L.C. leads me to developing a mild case of lockjaw, so I pull away. The Saffa’s motor is running full speed now. With her head still dangling over the end of the footstool and surely a mild headache brewing from the rush of blood to her head, she nevertheless reaches towards her pussy with one hand and starts rubbing her clit.

I hold her legs open so that the camera can see this furious finger action, but it also has the effect of heightening what she’s feeling because restricted movement feeds her need for being dominated. Suddenly she stops playing with herself. I take the opportunity to slide a finger into her vagina, play with her g-spot for a few seconds, then slide another finger in. She’s moaning constantly, so I slide a third finger in.

Hang on, I’ve never been able to get three fingers in before. Has she been recently fucked by another cock?

Now is not the time for my trust issues.

I stand up and back away. This big-breasted blonde with her legs wide open makes for a magnificent sight. I should make the most of this; we’re perhaps not going to be together like this again. I want a memento.

My hands slide under her calves as I lift her toward me, then swivel her forty-five degrees so that she is almost vertical toward the camera, getting her head on an even surface on the sofa for her own well-being. I part her legs as wide as they can go.

“Play with yourself,” I instruct as I back away out of shot.

Instantly she reaches for her crotch and starts rubbing herself in a sideways motion which causes her to close her legs. That’s a shame, I was hoping for footage of her doing that, but now I’m busy getting undressed.

The Saffa keeps rubbing her clit and she brazenly open her legs as wide as she can. She knows the camera is filming her; she’s enjoying this now. Like all the other women I’ve filmed, she too starts off reluctantly but then gets into it, playing up to the camera, enjoying being an exhibitionist.

For half a minute I let her play with herself then I step over to the sofa, straddle her face and let my penis fill her vision. She sees it bobbing and pulls it down towards her mouth, commencing sucking on it. With one hand playing with her clit and the other gripping my cock The Saffa pleasures us both like that for several minutes.

I don’t want to cum too soon and I want different footage of her in action; I want to capture as many of her skills as possible. Without a word I get up and stand where I think it’s best for what I have in mind.

The Saffa stops playing with herself and she’s looking at me with uncertainty, her eyes begging for direction. I reckon she wants my cock in her now, but she’s just going to have to wait.

“Come over her and get on your knees,” I say.

She quickly wriggles up and off the sofa, throws the mask onto the floor, lands on her knees before me, my erect penis inches from her face.

“Suck,” is all I say and she eagerly complies.

After a second I take step back so that she has to lean forward, causing her breasts to dangle perfectly and sway as she gobbles my cock. After a minute of this it’s time to mix it up a little, so I grab the camera and hold it above her head, pointing it down towards her face. She has her eyes closed and doesn’t notice this. After another minute of expert cock-sucking she opens her eyes, notices the camera watching her, smiles a little then closes her eyes and resumes doing what she does best.

“Suck it like its Darth Vader’s cock,” I say, to which she laughs, keeping my cock in her mouth. Having a sound reverberate around the chambers of my cock is wonderful. I love it when women do that.

“Show me how you’d suck Darth Vader’s cock,” I say, just for the hell of it. Again she guffaws.

The Saffa now grips my shaft with both her hands and speeds up her head motion, keeping her lips locked around the head of my penis and the rest of the shaft that her hands can’t cover. No doubt her mouth tiring she opens her eyes, looks squarely into the camera and, just like Busty Czech did, she starts slapping her face on either side with my cock, smiling as she does so.

Now she starts flicking her tongue at and around my bell-end and shaft. She certainly knows what she’s doing. How many cocks has she sucked on, I wonder? Stop the negativity, just enjoy it!

She swallows as much of my cock as her mouth can handle and, impressively, she doesn’t choke. Most women who’ve done that invoked a gag-reflex. Now she’s looking up at me with pleading eyes. I think I know what she wants now.

“Do you want that cock in your arse?” I tease, knowing it will shock her.

“No, I want it in my pussy,” she answers.

“Do you want me to stretch your pussy?” I ask.

“Mmm…” is her reply.

“Get over there,” I bark, pointing to the footstool.

Instantly she jumps up and assumes doggy-style position on this over-used piece of furniture.

My cock slides into her pussy like it’s on rails. The Saffa lets off sounds of approval and I realize that she’s quite close to cumming. The foreplay has been hours for her.

I suck on a thumb and it glides into her arse. She let’s off sounds of pleasure as she feels the full force of being on The Hook. Less than twenty seconds later she’s squealing like a piglet as she cums, her body shuddering, her back arching and her pussy clamping tight onto my cock.

After ten seconds of this she relaxes, managing to stay in position. I’m close to cumming too but there’s an important order of business that needs addressing.

“Where do you want my cum?” I ask, checking for naughtiness and safety at the same time. I’m not entirely sure where she is in her cycle, so it’s best to ask. She’s not the type to trap a man, but accidents do happen. That’s why I’m here, as my mother often told me.

“My period starts next week. Just cum on my back,” she answers, huffing and puffing as she does so.

My left thumb is still deep in her bum as my cock stiffens totally and my balls spring to attention, propelling a blast of baby-batter up the chamber. Just in time I pull out and watch as a salvo of creamy sperm flies out the tip of my penis and arcs through the air and lands on her back.

With the other hand that was on her hips I tug on my shaft a few times and lazier dollops of cum jump out and plop onto her back. She’s still on The Hook and doesn’t seem to mind, but makes “aah” sounds as she feels the warmth of my ejaculate sliding across her back as gravity does its thing, pulling smelly trickles down towards her ribs.

I let go of her once I get my breath back. Without looking at me she gets up and goes to the bathroom while I switch the camera off.

Once cleaned up she returns and we try to cuddle on the sofa, but my heart isn’t in it. I want her to leave, I need to process everything that has happened today. After all, hours ago I wanted to break up with her but good sex got in the way.

At the end of the encounter, as we are getting ready to return to the train station, she says, “It feels like all the romance is gone between us.”

In my heart I couldn’t agree more. I feign surprise and disappointment at her words, but I know she is right. Is she now starting to make noises indicating that she wants to end it? I too feel like the best days are already behind us; the bloom is off the blossom. We simply clash too much, it’s not a harmonious relationship, there’s far too much drama in it.

I’m not going to dump her just yet. I don’t know where things might be headed with The Cockaholic, matters with The Saffa might improve and if they don’t I’ll just use her for sex. I suspect she’s doing the same with me.

Later in the evening I phone The Cockaholic. She seems pleased to hear from me and we have a pleasant, laughter-filled chat. She doesn’t ask too many questions about my day, but those that she did got little lies in reply. She doesn’t press for more; it looks like I got away with it.

It is so much more pleasant dealing with her than with the Saffa who, by comparison, is such hard work and slightly negative. The Cockaholic’s attitude reminds me of Busty Blonde in that nothing is too much and is very eager to please me.

I like that.

Again I’m having it both ways with two women; I like that too.

Who Can It Be Now? – Men At Work

Screamer – Final part

Maybe if we change position she’ll quieten down? I coax her to flip over into doggy-style position. She obediently complies like all women do. My cock slides easily into her pussy, I speed up and she starts screaming loudly again. Okay, a new position doesn’t work. Maybe if I get rougher she’ll shut up?

I gather her hair into a bunch and pull gently towards me, lifting her chin; she didn’t make a sound then. Ah, progress. I ram my cock as deep into her slippery pussy as it can go. I speed up again. A slow moan starts and gradually increases in crescendo. She is totally turned on, so it’s time to find out if she has experience of or even enjoys ‘The Hook’.

I suck on my thumb, place it squarely on her butt-hole and gently push into the soft fleshiness of her arse. Her body freezes as my thumb moves deeper into what is a very smooth and warm cavity. She seems okay with this, neither moving nor making another sound. A wonderful silence erupts. Tugging her hair back, I push my cock and thumb deeper into her holes and it feels good to me. Seeing her enormous tits flopping about as I fuck her makes my cock harden even more. I have her where I want her. This is as close to heaven as I’m ever likely to get.

Suddenly she rears up like a frightened stallion and lurches forward, violently pulling her hair free of my grasp, then burying her head in a pillow, moving her forehead from side to side in it. I battle to stay attached to her. Her hair has flown forward and is exposing that ever sensual nape of her neck.

She starts making that murderous screaming noise again, but I’m balls deep in her pussy and my thumb is buried in her arse. Neither are coming out no matter how much noise she makes.

I feel my balls tightening when she lets off the loudest stifled scream into the pillow that I have ever heard. Her body shudders and shakes and again I struggle to stay attached to her. That must be how she climaxes. Wow, that’s violent and loud.

Busty Czech relaxes her body and quietens down to a low moan that is in time to my thrusts. Now it’s my turn. Oh yes, must remember to not cum in her. I feel my moment of ultimate pleasure approaching fast.

“Where do you want my cum?” I ask.

“On my breasts,” she answers, mumbling into the pillow before starting to wriggle free from me.

Busty Czech flops over onto her back and pushes her tits together. Fuck, they are majestic. As I shimmy forward the sight of them sends me over the edge. With a few rapid tugs of my cock my baby-batter spurts out, some of it landing on her chin which causes her to close her eyes. Most of it lands perfectly in her cleavage.

My subsiding gasps makes her open her eyes and she looks between her breasts which she’s still cupping. She starts massaging her tits together, rubbing my semen into them. Looking up at me as she lets go her eyes are filled with satisfaction.

I’m surprised how much man-milk I have produced since this morning. As first times go this was pretty intense, but I know that she hasn’t had it in a while and the foreplay for her was prolonged. I know to say nothing in a moment like this and to simply wait for the woman to speak.

“Wow, that was good. I’ve never done anything like that before,” she says.

I’m inclined to believe her and I assume she’s referring to ‘The Hook’. I feel the need to check.

“What haven’t you done before?”

“I’ve never had anything in my bum before,” she answers.

We both just smile before she gets up and goes to the bathroom. When she returns we curl up, entwining our limbs and hearts, making sweet pillow-talk before falling asleep.

The next morning I’m awoken by the sensation of Busty Czech sucking on my morning glory. I could get used to having my days start like this. She notices my waking up.

“Come down towards the edge of the bed,” she says.

I do as she says, letting my legs dangle down over the end of the bed. I assume she just wants to suck on me. Instead Busty Czech sucks on two of her fingers and then puts them between her breasts to rub the moisture in. I know what she is about to do. She slips my cock between her beasts, cups the sides of her breasts and easily covers my cock with them. She starts moving her breasts up and down, my cock slithering around in her cleavage, which is a novel feeling. No women has done this on her own initiative before. She smiles at me.

“What cup size are you?” I ask.

“I’m an f-cup. 38F,” she says with one of her cute smiles, continuing the titty-fuck.

The saliva between her breasts dries up and she motions for me to go back high on the bed, which I’m happy to do. I like watching a woman enjoying herself, perhaps even living out a fantasy.

She climbs onto me and rides me cowgirl, all the while making unnervingly loud noises. It’s barely dawn, the neighbours must be able to hear her and this unsettles me.

My hands have always been able to grasp all of a woman’s breast in a hand, but not this woman. A wonderfully novel sensation, I assure you. How they feel is a different story too. They don’t have the denseness that other breasts have. Most breasts feel like a water-filled balloon, instead her’s feel fluffy and have a light feel about them, like a big bag of cotton-wool. She should be grateful otherwise back pain would be a constant companion for her.

Mercifully I feel her pussy clamp tight on my shaft, seconds later she comes with a violent shudder of her body and a painful stifled scream. I was fearing hearing her cum in full voice; the neighbours would have fallen out of their beds if she let rip. Thankfully she didn’t and I’m grateful for that. Being with a screamer was going to take far more getting used to than I ever imagined.

Busty Czech slides off me and resumes sucking my cock. Some women won’t suck a cock if it has just come out of their pussy, but she has no compunction in doing so. That’s a good thing; it’s quite erotic to see.

For a few moments I enjoy watching her fellate me; she is quite enthusiastic. Most women would have taken a breather after their orgasm just to relax for a moment, but not Busty Czech. When her sexual motor’s running it keeps on going. I like that. Hmm, I guess her health condition is all forgotten for the moment?

I wonder if she swallows? I hope she does. There are few things in life as disappointing as ‘suckus-interruptus‘, that moment when a man cums but the sucker stops sucking and reverts to a handy. Good suction until the penis becomes too sensitive is one of life’s pleasures for any man.

“I want you to suck me dry and swallow my cum,” I say, just like I had to the Saffa twenty four hours earlier.

“I’m not into that,” she says with a serious look in her eye. I know to never try to force her to. She gives excellent head, but is never going to swallow, no matter how much pineapple juice I drank in advance.

“Where do you want my cum?” I ask, suspecting I know the answer.

“I always like it on my boobs,” she says.

So what promised to be a good start to the day declined into a hand-shandy over her breasts. Now I know that almost all men would love to have what I have before me, but the sad reality is that after one night and two orgasms it’s clear to me that this is how it will always be. Boredom, routine and predictability has already set in and we haven’t even made it out of bed.

Not long after we sit cheerily eating breakfast and my mind starts to wander, as it is prone to doing.

Busty Czech is submissive in bed and eager to please me, which is wonderful. I sense that she is a totally unselfish lover, happy to receive whatever I choose to give to her. I want to give her as much pleasure as I can too, but she doesn’t know that yet. I’m not gong to tell her either, I’m just going to show her.

She has a sweetness, a naivety and a silliness that I find reassuring. She’s not clever enough to outsmart me, to deceive me, to betray me, thus I feel safe with her.

Breakfast ends and she says she needs to go home to do some things. She doesn’t offer to do any of the mountain of washing up, which disappoints me. Tech Titan, Krazy Girl and Busty Blonde were the only other women who did washing up for me when they came to stay, that was until the previous night when The South African did so, which gives a woman major points in my Book of Suitability.

The major negative that overshadows everything else is her screaming during sex. Good grief she is noisy. I have heard of a ‘screamer’ before, but I didn’t know that it could be this bad, that it would throw me off my stride so much. I hope that those hotel room walls in France are really thick or that we have no neighbours, otherwise this could get embarrassing.

As we chat aimlessly my mind latches onto the screaming issue. I don’t think that I could ever get used to her screaming during sex. It feels and sounds like I’m fucking a child’s squeaky toy. It’s so off-putting; it’s a problem.

So my train of thought steams around on a circular track until I walk Busty Czech to her car. We make predictable pleasant noises about our day together, we kiss goodbye as can be expected, perhaps her more passionately than me.

“I’ll see you next weekend,” she says with a customary sweet smile.

I smile in return and think to myself “Maybe” as she drives off. Then I remember that I’ve agreed and paid to go away on holiday with her. As I return to my home filled with the sweet smell of sex a text message arrives from The Saffa.

I’m free on Wednesday. Can I come visit?

This situation is spiralling out of control.

Eric Carmen – Make Me Lose Control

Shit, scheisse and merde

It was the wink after her offer of dessert that got me thinking. Since we had met in April we’ve swapped friendly messages once a month. Now The Saffa wants to visit and there’s a hint of sex? Am I reading this situation correctly? Women are subtle when they signal their desire to a man who is usually unobservant to her advances. I am wising up to feminine subtlety, courtesy of my dating adventures.

The Saffa arrived at my train station on Friday morning with a bottle of wine, boxes of expensive desserts and a stonking cold. I’m struck by how pretty she is, much prettier than Busty Czech. After the customary pleasantries, necessary after not having seen each other for three months, she says, “Here’s the desserts and if those aren’t enough, there’s always me for dessert.”

I’m speechless and just give her a wry smile. She looks quite pleased with herself.

I knew then that my assessment since last night was correct: she wanted to get laid. I have mixed feelings about this because of Busty Czech being on the scene. Well, on the scene when she is able to. I haven’t promised her anything…other than to go away on holiday with her in a matter of weeks time.

Do I want to fuck The Saffa? Yes. Do I want to have a relationship with her? Not sure. What do I do?


We go back to my place briefly to offload The Saffa’s gifts before going for a walk around my town. Conversation flows easily and naturally; it feels like I’m catching up with an old friend. In the back of my head, burning like a stinging nettle, is the knowledge that I now fully intend to fuck her. It’s on offer, I’m frustrated with Busty Czech, so why not?

Why not is because I feel that I’m being dishonest with both of them. I’ve not thought of The Saffa as a prospective partner since I decided that she was too damaged to open her heart to me. However, the vibe I’m getting off her today is that she wants me, one way or another. Despite my developing doubts about Busty Czech now fucking someone else before matters have played out between us feels dishonourable.

Returning to my shag-pad I offer The Saffa coffee, which she accepts, leaning on the back of my sofa, facing me as I do the honours in the kitchen. I turn to talk to her and in that moment she’s beaming a smile at me. I’m starting to think that when a woman watches a man at work in the kitchen the sight of this is something of a turn-on for her.

In that moment The Saffa seems angelic, her dreamy blue eyes remind me of the Mediterranean Sea that laps the Greek islands. Her fine blonde hair is asking for my touch. Her cheek yearns to be caressed. Her lips invite me to kiss them.

I slowly stride over to her, she keeps her chin level but her eyes look upward towards mine. Her lips part. I lower my head, moistening my lips as I do so. I cup one side of her face with a warm hand that momentarily makes her eyes close and tilt her head into my palm. I hear her take a breath as my lips stop just short of hers. Like a magnet her lips meet mine.

We share a slow, soft, sweet kiss that makes her body rise. I slowly pull away intent on making her want more. She still has her eyes closed and makes an approving ‘hmm’ sound just before she opens her eyes.

“Where did that come from?” she asks with a tone of satisfaction and surprise in her voice.

“It looked like you needed it,” I say.

As bullshit goes that is good stuff.

We settle down on my sofa and I introduce her to Californication, which she absolutely loves, just like all the other women I’ve seduced by the end of episode two. As that episodes ends I can see that she is turned on as all hell. It’s time. Today, for reasons that still escape me, I feel the need to check the situation.

“Would you like to spend the night?” I ask.

“I was counting on it,” she replies with a smug smile, “but first I need to use the little girl’s room,” she says.

I sit wondering what I’m getting myself into when The Saffa returns to the lounge.

“Umm, I don’t suppose you happen to have any spare tampons?” she asks.

What the fuck?! Why would I have spare tampons? Just how many women does she think has been through my door? Actually, to be fair, at this point I don’t really know myself. I need to consult my spreadsheet to find out.

“No. Why, what’s happened?” I ask, equally stupidly.

“My period’s just started,” she answers.


There I was thinking that a night of crazy, hot sex might be happening and now the painters have arrived.

We go back into town to buy tampons. Not what I was expecting from this day. The evening is spent watching more Californication but it feels like torture to me. I keep telling myself that Busty Czech won’t be coming over tomorrow, she’ll bail and then I’ll feel better about today.

I feel like I’m cheating on Busty Czech although I actually haven’t physically done so. Does a kiss count as cheating? To me it does a little. Then there’s the matter of my intent; I wanted to fuck The Saffa. I sit there feeling guilty while The Saffa laughs her head off at a character whose life I feel I’m starting to live.

We curl up in bed together. She’s stripped off to her underwear as have I. By now I’ve accepted that nothing is going to happen between us. We spoon and I feel her fall asleep in my arms; a most satisfying sensation.

I wake up at 5.15am and she isn’t in my bed. I find her in the lounge, huddled on my sofa, covered only with a flimsy throw. I wake her and she comes back to bed with me, mumbling something about not wanting to disturb me. I envelope her with my arms and legs; she is chilly. We doze with me keeping her warm, but our shared body-heat only results in me getting a full erection.

With her eyes closed she starts running a hand over my body, stopping to grip muscles before even gripping my balls then my cock. She rolls over onto her back. I watch her pretty face in the gloom of the pending morn, she gives off a little smile as she grips my cock in the middle of the shaft.

“I would absolutely love it if you were to kiss me all over,” I say, hoping for the best. I may as well get something for all the guilt I’ve been feeling.

Her smile broadens as she lifts herself off the bed and clambers onto me. Still keeping her eyes half closed she commences kissing my forehead, then slowly kissing my face, dragging her breasts down my chest. Despite being in a bra it’s still a sensation that drives me wild with desire.

She moves down my body, avoiding my genital area, eventually stopping at my feet before sliding off the bed, positioning herself on her knees at the foot of my bed. She kisses the top of one foot before kissing along its side, pausing momentarily before sucking onto my big toe. Nobody has ever done that to me before and it’s a sensation that sends a bolt of pleasure up my body, possibly causing a little dribble of pre-cum to jump out of the tip of my rock hard cock, which in itself is quivering in excitement. The prospect of feeling her mouth wrapped around it and sucking several day’s worth of cum out of it is becoming a reality.

Eventually she makes her way up to my genitals, having taken her time to kiss, lick and suck my feet and toes. My balls are aching in anticipation. She certainly knows what she’s doing. With utmost ease she pulls my underwear off and drops it into the darkness. She lets off a little sound of approval and excitement as she licks my balls, before taking one in her mouth and gently sucking on it.

She certainly took her time in whatever she was doing with her mouth, a technique I appreciate, because I like to think that she was savouring what she was doing, enjoying it too. I’m not a selfish lover and if my partner is enjoying herself that heightens my sense of pleasure.

The Saffa holds my erection in her hand, her touch is cold compared the rampant heat in my shaft. She slowly licks up, down and around it. Suddenly she lifts her head.

“You’re the most muscular guy I’ve been with and you have the biggest cock too,” she says in a blazing moment of her characteristic outspokenness that had previously put me off her. This time I like it though. The only thing a man likes having stroked more than his cock is his ego. We are simple creatures.

“I want you to suck me dry and then swallow my cum,” I instruct.

Will she do it? Or is this where our little party ends?

The Saffa sets about giving me the best blowjob I have ever experienced. It’s slow, it’s tender, it’s controlled and it’s perfect.

After a few minutes my anguished testicles eagerly propel a mouthful of cum into The Saffas mouth. She barely makes a sound or new motion as it floods her mouth. It doesn’t alter the rhythmic movement of her head and she must have swallowed all my cum but I’m guessing when this was because I’m pre-occupied.

She carefully licks around the head before pulling the foreskin back, licking under my helmet, making sure that she hasn’t missed a drop.

Nuzzling up against my chest she goes back to sleep. I think every man likes to be woken with a blowjob. I fall asleep too, just as Nature has designed a man to do after his orgasm.

Hours later I make The Saffa breakfast which we eat on my balcony. Being with her feels like the most natural thing in the world. It feels good.

Later in the morning I see her off at the train station. We make vague promises to be in touch again.

Could she make space in her heart for me? Or was she too scared of getting hurt? Fear is the strongest human emotion – it’s what has kept the species thriving – so I have my doubts.

As I walk back from the train station my phone comes to life with a text message from Busty Czech which reads, “I’m feeling fine today. I’ll be leaving soon. Be with you in about 2 hours. XX


Blondie – One Way or Another

Sweaty third date

It’s Saturday afternoon as I meet The Brazilian at my town’s station. I’m uncertain about how today will turn out. We kiss politely, I shoulder her bag and then we walk to my local supermarket to get ingredients for our dinner. She barely looks at my town; she just has eyes for me and is very talkative. It feels good to be with her again and everyone else seemed to disappear from my sight, so I guess I only have eyes for her too. I’m filled with a sense of relief by her positivity.

Back at my place I get to work making us a Thai massaman curry. That dish takes almost two hours to simmer so I introduce her to Californication which she absolutely loves and can’t get enough of. An episode ends and we start kissing. It was like we had never kissed before and it felt like I had my own private little fireworks display going off above my head.

It isn’t long before we are both naked on my sofa and in missionary position. She grabs the back of my neck, looks deep into my eyes and with clenched teeth says, “I want you to fuck me!”

I duly oblige.

It’s spontaneous sex on my sofa, the best kind of sex, the type that gets sweat, cum and pussy juices all over the covers. It is glorious.

“Hey, the balcony door is still open! The neighbours can hear us,” I say, uncomfortable with what I had just noticed.

“So what. Let them listen. Now fuck me,” she says.

It’s a hot July day and I’m starting to sweat as I heave into her slippery little pussy. The Brazilian is holding on tight, her fingernails are starting to sink into my skin. I feel a bead of sweat trickle down my neck, down my throat, stopping momentarily, then it falls onto her forehead. She feels it land and closes her eyes, opening her mouth in appreciation and letting out a breath of air through her nostrils. She liked that drop. She likes everything we’re doing right now. More droplets of sweat periodically gather and fall onto her face, each time landing somewhere new. Some women like that, some don’t.

Suddenly she starts wriggling under me and I sense that she wants to change position. Maybe she didn’t like my sweat hitting her in the face after all. Without a word I withdraw from her and she scrambles up. Almost instinctively we assume cowgirl position. The Brazilian is lithe and she expertly balances herself on me, straddling me, with just her vagina the only part of her touching me. She bounces rhythmically on my cock, her hands on her knees, a self-satisfied look on her face.

It’s quite a sight seeing a woman doing this. Very few have the physical ability to do this position. Only my Exgf ever did this to me. Krazy Girl tried it but had one foot on the ground which, by comparison, is a bit of cheating. I didn’t complain then and I certainly have no reason to now either.

I watch as The Brazilian closes her eyes and enjoys herself on me. My eyes can’t help but wander to her breasts. She’s at least a D-cup, which is unusual for such a petite frame and thus they look bigger than they actually feel in my hands.

“Aai, paapie,” is let off a few times as she enjoys herself on me. Some women indulge in a shift of power during sex, either giving it by submitting or seizing it. Right now The Brazilian is experiencing the latter. She certainly is quite fit and I think she makes herself cum; it’s the change in tempo, the anguished face and staccato breathing at one point that makes me think so. I guess she doesn’t want my neighbours to hear her cumming. Despite this she keeps going.

It isn’t long before I cum too. I can count on one hand how many times a woman has made me orgasm like this. I stifle my roar and The Brazilian looks down at me, a smug look on her face. She settles down on my groin and grinds herself on me. My sperm must be everywhere in her pussy now. Shit, I hope I don’t get her pregnant. She might not be telling the truth about being on the pill. Ah, there’s my suspicious mind again.

I suggest that we go for a walk because it’s too hot inside, so still in the afterglow we quickly find ourselves in a nearby park. Conversation is driven by the Brazilian who is still chatty. I had decided not to broach the issue of her whereabouts on Wednesday night, but she says something that piques my interest and I have to ask about it. Again it involves her being honest or dishonest.

“So you were born in 1977, weren’t you?” I tapped into what I suspected was unfinished business. I was right.

“Erm…uhm…no. I was born in 76. I lied about my age on my Facebook profile because it’s nobody’s business how old I am,” she says with a touch of defiance mixed with concern.

I look at her and just smile. I heard almost those exact words from the Irish Cougar. It didn’t matter to me how old she was. She could have been much older than me and it wouldn’t have changed how I felt about her. Before I get a chance to say anything, which I didn’t really see the need to, she says, “I suppose you want to leave me now?”

Where the hell does that come from? Is there some insecurity that I’ve touched on? Does she have a suspicious mind?

I stop walking and she does too. I face her, take her hands in mine and say, “No, your age is not an issue. I’m only interested in what you have in there,” gently putting an index finger on her heart. Then moving the finger to her head I say, “What’s in there has been taught and can be changed, but what’s in your heart will always stay the same.”

Her eyes widen and I take that as a sign that she likes what I just said.

Before she feels the need to say anything I turn and continue our walk, leading her. Without looking at her I reach out and hold her hand. She squeezes mine.

An older couple approach us, they are coming down the incline, but they didn’t seem to notice us because they are engrossed in their own conversation which involves some light laughter. After they pass us the Brazilian speaks.

“That couple have such as easy-going relationship,” she says, not realizing that she had just given me the keys to her queendom.

“You know all those other men you’ve been involved with? I’m not them,” I say with a serious look in my eye and smile on my face.

The Brazilian smiles back at me.

Silence breaks out for a few moments before I feel the need to share something with her.

“I didn’t think I’d be seeing you this weekend,” I say.

“You nearly didn’t,” she replies with a steely look in her eyes. I notice her shoulders stiffen.

“Why?” I have to ask. Here’s a chance to see what’s going on in her head.

“Thursday and Friday I was scared,” she replies.

“And now you see that there was nothing to be scared of,” I say with a smile. Her shoulders relax.

Got you. You know I caught you out lying, that’s why you were scared. Just having her know that I know she’s lied to me is good enough for now. I won’t say any more of it because that might come across as an attack, to which she’ll literally run away from me. No, discretion is part of my valour still, so I’ll leave it be. This knight has learned to stay his sword and only unsheathe it for the battles that matter. She can take this as a warning that I’m not stupid and she shouldn’t try it again.

We go back to my place where we enjoy my Thai curry and spend the night watching Californication. The Brazilian is addicted to that show, which pleases me. As a raunchy episode ends we look at each other in that knowing way. Words aren’t necessary.

I pick her up and carried her to my bedroom. She doesn’t weigh much so it’s easy for me and she’s petite so I don’t bang her elbows or feet on doors or walls. She wraps an arm around my neck and doesn’t seemed concerned that I could drop her, so I guess she has faith in my strength. I notice as I carry her that she is giving me a peculiar look with a wry smile; I would say it is one of admiration and definitely approval.

I lower her gently onto my bed and undress her before reaching for a bottle of massage oil. Her body and skin feel good under my hands and she seems to like my touch.

“He cooks and he massages. What more could a girl want?” I ask jokingly.

“Yes, I know,” she murmurs as I push my hands up her back, alongside her spine, forcing the stress and negative energy out of her body. I give her the best massage I know how.

With the massage over she is totally relaxed and I say, “There’s something I’ve been looking forward to,” as I gently turned her over onto her back. She looks at me with puppy-dog eyes and I can see that I can do whatever I want with her in that moment.

I stand up, get undressed and half lie down on the foot of the bed. I carefully prise her legs open and begin kissing the inside of one thigh and delicately work my way up to her groin before stopping and then starting all over again at her other knee. This time when I get to her pussy I just run my tongue up the centre of her pussy, feeling her lips parting either side of the rough side of my tongue and I feel her clit which is quite fleshy.

Frenetic intense, passionate sex ensues. It felt like we hadn’t fucked for weeks although it was less than eight hours ago. She came twice again, silently as usual but I’m getting to recognize the judders and shudders that her body gives off when she climaxes. This time I was more careful and hosed her down, pouring my more watery sperm onto her chest which she proceeded to rub into herself. It’s quite a sight seeing a woman doing that.

We lay awake until 2 in the morning, just talking to each other. It felt great to look at someone I desired and to hang on her every word. This is what I want, this is what was missing with Busty Blonde.

I awake sporting my usual massive morning glory and I just have to have her one more time. She was dozing in a half-awake state. I rolled her onto her back, being careful to balance most of my weight on my arms, and started to rub my cock between her legs, which as luck or nature would have it, fitted perfectly between her legs and rubbed between her lips and over her clit. She never said a word nor resisted and it didn’t take long before she was turned on and thrusting her hips up towards me, inviting me to put my cock in her. I rolled her over and slid my cock into her slightly moist pussy and started fucking her doggy style which, as I knew from our first night together the previous week, was her favourite position. Most women can’t handle doggy style with me because they find it uncomfortable, but The Brazilian loves it.

She became fully awake and pushed herself up to assume the full position and I just loved watching her hands grip the bedsheets as I forced myself deeper into her and increased my tempo. I gripped her buttcheeks with my hands and forced them apart to take a good look at her cute, pink little arsehole. Did she really want to take my cock in that little hole? My cock is more than four times the thickness of my thumb and my thumb barely squeezes into her arse. The thought of that acts as naughty inspiration. I suck on a thumb and slide it up her bum.

“Aai, paapie, yes, do it,” she exclaims, wriggling her arse as my thumb slides in.

The Brazilian keeps jiggling her butt, seemingly enjoying having something in it. Maybe it’s time to give her what she wants?

I take a moment in mid-fuck to look down and take in the sight before me. Here was a sexy little woman, natural blonde hair, milky white skin with few blemishes, her back to me, her head down, her breasts flopping about, giving off sounds of pleasure as my cock rammed deep into her pussy. THIS is what I wanted. THIS was perfection. In that moment I felt happier than I had in a very long time.

The power of those powerful thoughts and feelings leads to me having my orgasm, somewhat prematurely in my opinion. The brain is indeed the most powerful sexual organ. I can’t pull out in time and end up squirting my load into her pussy. She stops wriggling as she feels me cumming.

“Aai, yes,” is all she says as my warm, sticky cum floods her tight little pussy.

While she showered I did the washing up from the previous day. When she came out of the shower and was ready for the day she came into the kitchen intent on doing the dishes. I cannot describe to you how that simple, everyday act of washing dishes and having a woman offer to do so in my home makes my stomach turn to mush. I take it to not just be an act of respect and appreciation, but a small act of love. Perhaps I’m reading too much into it, but a woman offering to do that floors me every time. Of all the women who have been in my home, only three have actually done the dishes: Tech Titan, Krazy Girl and Busty Blonde.

We went for an alfresco breakfast at a breakfast bar on my town’s high street. The Brazilian wasn’t quite her normal chatty self and she preferred to bury her nose in a Sunday newspaper that someone had left at our table. I tried to make small-talk but she wasn’t interested. It felt as if a wall had gone up between us; a strong, silent, impenetrable wall. It’s as if she had made up her mind about something or was trying to. This felt horribly familiar to me. I’ve felt it before on the last date with The Model, Country Girl and Musician Gal.

I hate this feeling, this atmosphere. I hope that this doesn’t turn out the same way. I really like this one. Got to hope for the best, keep calm, play it cool.

We eat our full English breakfasts in near silence. I give her space and time, but our normally lively banter doesn’t return. I sit racking my brain about what could have happened to cause this change in attitude. I find the silence almost unbearable. Was it something I said or did? Or was it something I didn’t say or do? Why do some women do this to men?

Mercifully breakfast ends which The Brazilian insists on paying for. Then she announces that she has to go home. At the station we share a polite kiss that is an anti-climax to how the last day has been. Her train departs at midday and I’m left standing on the platform, feeling somewhat confused.

I had resolved to make no mention of The Brazilian’s lie I had found out about. This decision was vital because it set me free to enjoy the weekend and it was the right decision. If I had allowed myself to dwell on that issue I would have come across as pre-occupied and unfriendly even, constantly casting a suspicious eye on her words. She would have picked up on this and she would naturally have turned defensive in her thoughts and deeds. It would have been a dead-end weekend and would have strangled our relationship in its infancy. Instead we had a wonderful weekend and I’m better for it in many ways. It’s just a pity that it ended on the flat note like it did.

Later The Brazilian texts me that the train broke down and it ended up taking her 3 hours to get home.

I’m not going to try to get inside her heart. That won’t work. Instead I’ll patiently wait for her heart to wrap itself around mine.

Elvis Presley – Suspicious Minds

Another guy and paranoia

I’ve never been inside Krazy Girl’s parent’s home; I’ve always been made to hide in my car around the corner. Today I get to go inside and fuck her there. I wonder where her parents are or is she now so horny that in teenager-style she wants me to fuck her while they’re in the home? The more daring the sex, the more she likes it. As I knock on the door I’m filled with feelings of shame because I know that Pretty Teacher might be trying to call me as she has promised but I’ve now switched my phone off.

Krazy Girl comes to the door and greets me like I’m a friend returning a bowl of sugar. She leads me to the kitchen and I’m shocked at how shabby this home is. All the furnishings are from the 1970s and it smells musty, like an old-age home. It’s an end-of-terrace, double-storeyed dwelling with the bedrooms upstairs. No wonder she didn’t pull up her nose the first time she saw my place.

“So where are your folks?” I ask, concerned about the obvious.

“They’re at a funeral, then they’re going to the wake afterwards, but I don’t really know when they’ll be back, so we’ll have to be quick,” she says with a pained expression on her face.

Be quick? That suits me just fine. I want to splash and dash too.

“I’m going to have a quick shower. Why don’t you go upstairs to my room? It’s the only one on the left as you get to the top,” she gestures while heading off to what I surmise is the bathroom.

I get to the landing and notice three doorways, but none of them have doors, they only have curtains that are about four inches above the floor. Did her parents really bring up three kids in this house like this? Then I remember that Krazy Girl’s brother had hung himself in one of these rooms and that she was the one to find him first. I can’t imagine how she feels about having to move back here after losing her job earlier this year. I feel sorry for her. Her tortured, twisted heart and emotionally befuddled state has some extenuating circumstances.

Walking into her room I almost stumble over cardboard boxes that look strangely familiar. Ah, I had last seen them in her place, but now they’re all stacked up here. There’s no sign of a wardrobe for her clothes, just a series of suitcases strategically placed on top of boxes. Her prize cat is sitting imperiously on top of pillows on her bed; it blinks at me. The only free floor-space leads from the bed to the doorway; it’s so cramped in here.

Krazy Girl joins me, a towel wrapped around her. She pulls that off and starts rubbing her hair dry. I stand and watch as her breasts wobble. My eyes wonder up and down her body, as if it was the first time I’ve seen it. Ridiculous considering that we got carnal less than 48 hours ago.

She tosses the towel aside and starts undressing me. When she does know what she wants it’s a very impressive sight. I like the assertive her; I find it quite sexy. She lets my clothes fall to the floor, somewhat to my annoyance because I need to put those back on later and make my way over to Pretty Teacher’s, so they need to look fresh.

As she gets me naked, I notice a couple of bruises on her thighs, not ones which indicate an accident but several deliberate acts by someone. They weren’t there on Monday. Has she been seeing another guy? We saw each other on Monday and today is Wednesday, so what did she get up to yesterday?

“Where do those bruises come from?” I ask, expecting to hear a lie.

“Oh, that’s from my gym. I tried a bit of kick-boxing,” she says after a split second of thinking.

It was the “oh” that confirms her lie to me. Whenever I knew that she was telling a lie in the past, it also began with that nonchalant “oh”. Has she been fucking some other guy and he didn’t satisfy her, that’s why she put out a booty call to me? She knew I’d satisfy her, give her what she wanted, always have, possibly might always be able to.

My mind goes into overdrive, thoughts of deceit and incessant lies fill the vacuum between my ears. I start to doubt myself. Has all the experiences of late twisted my perception of things to such an extent that I’m becoming paranoid? Perhaps, but I need to know more to make certain.

“I thought you said you had given up your gym membership because you couldn’t afford it?” I probe. The thing about lies is that one begets another.

“Oh, I got a day pass,” she answers after another second of contemplation. Day passes at gyms don’t come with sessions to kick-boxing. The little liar, I’m going to fuck her so hard. I become angry, but try my damnedest to not let it show. I decide to transmute my feelings into actions.

I don’t say another word and don’t even bother kissing her to kick things off. I just put a hand through her hair, cup the back of her head and gently pull her face down to my cock which she instantly takes in her mouth, like a good little cock-sucking slut should.

Krazy Girl sucks away on my cock while my brain continues to ricochet around inside my skull, convulsing with negative ideas at the speed of thought. What if I’m wrong and she’s telling the truth? Am I becoming paranoid about every interaction with a woman? Am I going crazy? Is Krazy Girl making me crazy?

All that women seem to do to me is fuck me around!

Pretty Teacher is fucking me around. Krazy Girl might be fucking around. Now I’m fucking around too.

I become filled with a sense of rage that makes my blood boil. All that that serves to do is to make my cock bigger and harder. I look down to see Krazy Girl is now seated on the edge of her bed and is happily sucking away on my now fully erect cock. Her eyes are closed and she has a serene look on her face. It seems she’s in a cocknotic state.

Suddenly she stops, stands up, spins around and climbs onto her bed. She assumes doggy-style position and reaches back with one hand, pulling a buttock askance, inviting me to penetrate her. Does she want both holes drilled? My rage is such that ramming my cock into her pussy is an instinctual thing to do.

Her pussy is slippery, which surprises me considering the lack of foreplay. Ah, she’s horny, probably woke up wet this morning. Maybe the sense of urgency, the danger, is a turn-on for her? She wants it hard, fast and rough, I guess. Okay, let’s find out.

I suck on one of my thumbs and slide it gently up her arse. Krazy Girl doesn’t make a sound, nor move or offer any kind of reaction to what I just did. Yep, she’s totally turned on and anything goes now.

I wriggle my thumb around in her arse, my cock plunging into her wet pussy as she pulls the window-blind back with one hand and peers out at the street, looking for signs of her parents returning early. She is so wet that the squelching sound as I force my cock in her probably has some of her juices squirting out as my cock goes in. I don’t look down to check as I take this spectacle in. I love having my way with a woman like this, especially one as big-breasted as Krazy Girl. Her tits are swaying all over the place and I’m mesmerised by them like a puppy watching a kitten.

Her focus is entirely on the street outside, oblivious to my thumb flailing around in her arse and the tip of my cock hitting her cervix. I couldn’t be any deeper in her holes and she doesn’t mind at all. I think it’s what she wanted, to feel used, to feel degraded; it’s all in keeping with her own self-image issues.

She is just a piece of fuckmeat to meet, no longer someone to be loved or cherished. She was beyond redemption and only good for being my sex toy. She is treating me in the same way; her primary interest is my cock, plain and simple. We’re using each other and neither one cares.

The clarity of this insight makes the whole thing uncomplicated for me. It sets me free to enjoy myself, to feed my carnal needs, unencumbered by unnecessary, complicating emotions. It is pure fucking, nothing more, nothing less…and it feels good.

God, her holes feel amazing, her skin is flawless and her tits perfect. She has the face of an angel. I’m in heaven. I know that below her surface dark demons pervade, but that doesn’t matter right now.

Krazy Girl starts making sounds, so I look down and realize that she’s getting closer to cumming. With my free hand I bunch as much of her lustrous golden-blonde hair up as I can and I pull back initially gently, then forcefully. My hips go as fast as they can for as long as they can while I hold her like this, on the hook. Her shoulders start making strange movements as she cums. She lets of an unnatural sound, like an angry spirit being exorcised from her body might sound.

Her arms collapse and I have to let go of her hair. I keep fucking her pussy with my thumb up her bum while she lies slumped and panting. Shall I put my cock in her arse? I reckon she’ll let me. However, I don’t want to take too many chances with her. Again I’m in danger because I’m not wearing a condom. Anal would be going too far. Before my internal debate resolves itself I feel that I’m about to cum.

“Where do you want my cum?” I ask.

“Wherever you want. I don’t care,” she answers.

“Roll onto your back,” I instruct, pulling my appendages out of her holes.

Krazy Girl slumps over onto her side, then flattens herself out, her eyes closed and breathing heavily through her nose. I’m in an aggressive frame of mind, so I direct my cock at her face. It takes just two tugs before my cum explodes out of my cock and goes flying, most of it landing on her face. She barely flinches nor makes any kind of sound and just keeps her eyes closed. Obviously she’s used to this.

A few more tugs and I’m empty. Krazy Girl still has her eyes closed, but opens her mouth and her little tongue makes an appearance. It roams around the perimeter of her mouth, collecting whatever semen it can find before she withdraws it to swallow whatever it has found.

Only then do I notice that her cat has been sitting there watching us the whole time. I don’t think I’ll ever like or even get used to that, being watched by a pet while having sex.

“I’ll go shower again,” she says, getting up and walking off without making eye contact with me.

That was damn intense and I feel electrified. Still, this all feels so unnatural to me. Thoughts of Pretty Teacher spring up in my mind. I get dressed as quickly as I can before switching my phone on. It’s now almost four o’clock. I see that she has called, but only five minutes ago and has left a message. In a thief-like fashion while Krazy Girl showers I listen to her message in which she simply asks for me to call her back. I need to get out of here, pronto. I switch my phone off and hide it in my pocket.

“I’m sorry, but we can’t have my parents catching you here,” Krazy Girl says as she comes up the stairs.

“I understand. I’ll leave now,” I say, trying to sound as neutral as possible. This sneaking around thing doesn’t come naturally to me.

We kiss politely before I slip out the front door. As I walk to my car my inner dialogue resumes.

If she is seeing another man, then I’m ‘the bit on the side’, I’m now somebody else’s ‘other guy’. I don’t like how that makes me feel. This whole situation is all so wrong for me. If I never see Krazy Girl again it won’t bother me.

Once in my car where it is quiet I call Pretty Teacher and she apologizes for calling so much later than she had promised. I make nothing of it, largely because I’m starting to feel guilty again. We agree for me to be at hers in the next hour so that we can have an early-ish meal. I’m not too sure what to make of that. What does she have planned?

I realise that I should have showered at Krazy Girl’s to get her scent and the smell of sex off me. As a precaution, before leaving home, I had put a small can of deodorant and face wipes in my glove compartment. I get to work using them, hoping to hide my sins. I nearly gas myself in my car, such is my level of concern. Ever practical, I’ve also brought along a little purple helper, just in case I need to satisfy Pretty Teacher too. I’m not counting on that happening because everything is so uncertain with her.

One thing is for certain, I need to calm down, get my head straight and go visit Pretty Teacher. My emotions are running quite high, am I going to be able to not let anything slip about this afternoon? Will she smell it on me?

Rupert Holmes – Him


“I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I’m horny as hell,” my Exgf says to me on the phone. Was it because I had put her “on the hook”? I know that this call is about a booty call and that is exactly how it turns out. The following night, a Friday, she’s at my front door. We go to a local pub for a quick drink and a light snack…which she pays for. I can count on my one hand the times that she paid for something during our five years together. Now that she wants me back she’s going out of her way to do anything and everything she can for me.

As I sit listening to her moaning about her work situation it occurs to me that she is just as selfish as a some of the women that I have lately had the dis-pleasure of dealing with: Country Girl, Musician Gal and The Irish Cougar. It seems that we all have a type that we are attracted to and often they are the type that is wrong for us. If I came across my Exgf’s dating profile today I wouldn’t even click on it, but if we were to meet for a date, I probably wouldn’t think much of her. I’m thinking that a stronger selection criteria will keep me away from someone like her who took me for granted and didn’t appreciate what I did for her. Funny how things change; there was a time I’d have caught a grenade for her.

I have two regrets in my life. The first is that my father and I quarrelled the night before he died. I stormed off in a huff (I was a week away from turning fourteen) and the next time I saw him I had to hold the drip-bags as the paramedics tried to revive him from his heart attack, but they couldn’t. I had to watch my father die at my feet. I can still hear his death rattle. Because of that I don’t go to bed angry with anyone who matters to me. What was our big argument about? He was trying to get me to believe that the more you do for people, the less they appreciate it. My naivety caused me to dismiss his assertion as bitter and cynical. If I could have just one minute with him again, just one minute, the first thing I would tell him is that he was right.

Should I tell her about The Irish Cougar? No. She’d freak out and our play-dates would be over. I was lucky to get away with telling her about the Wanderer, better not push my luck. Besides, the scene with the cougar is history now anyway. Even though we had promised to tell each other if we were shagging someone else, I’m going to explore unfamiliar territory and just keep quiet. My Exgf’s all about deceit, so she can have a dose of it.

“I need to have a shower first,” my Exgf says as we get back to my place. She heads off to the bathroom as if she lives here.

I’ve realized something about her: she likes to be the centre of attention. So often in a social setting she embarrassed herself and me because she wanted the spotlight on her. So often she would do things in other settings that made no sense to me, but I know now that she was doing it to get attention. A spin-off from that need is that she likes to be watched. She’s a bit of an exhibitionist on top of that. I know that in the Summer she liked to go somewhere semi-public, like our back garden, then strip off and masturbate under the sun. She didn’t really care too much if someone could be watching; I suspect the danger of that made it the more naughty and exciting for her. It’s what allowed her to make those sex tapes with me. It’s what made her go off to a dogging site with me. My education of late has helped me to understand that side of her.

My Exgf is behind the shower curtain and she’s nearing the end of her shower. In a scene out of ‘Psycho’ I yank the curtain aside.

“For fuck’s sake! You’ve scared me!” she chides, her breasts wobbling from her little jump.

Good, I think to myself, that’ll get your adrenaline flowing. That’s all part of sex. This is just a different way to get you turned on.

“I want you to put on a little show for me. I want you to show me how you play with yourself in the shower,” I instruct, keeping a dead-pan facial expression.

She looks at me for a couple of seconds, smiles and then starts fiddling with the shower-fitting removing the head. Water is spurting out of the end of the lead which is essentially a hosepipe. My Exgf lowers the torrent of water down between her legs and directs it upwards onto her clit. She takes a deep breath that makes her breasts swell as the water-pressure finds the spot. I’m standing a couple of paces away, watching her. Her eyes are trained on mine, but I’m taking in this scene. It’s quite a turn-on for me, but it’s not just the spectacle before me, but it’s also being able to get a woman to do this and especially this one who has always been so deceitful to me.

There’s something about a woman being dripping wet with water that is quite alluring. I think it’s subliminal in that it hints at hot, sweaty sex. I watch as drops of water slide down her smooth, hairless body. The pressure of the water on her clit is having its expected effect and I can hear that she’s getting closer to cumming. I know her well enough to know when she’s faking; if it’s real her eyebrows meet and she has an anguished frown. Those things happen as she cums now, her body shakes and droplets of water fly in all directions; her tits wobble beautifully.

We don’t say a word as she climbs out the shower and dries herself off. There’s an electricity in the air and words will destroy it. She never was one for cumming six times in a night, despite my best efforts. Once she’s cum, that’s her done for the day usually. It’s now implicit between us that it’s my turn to cum and it’s up to me to make the move to let that happen.

She walks naked into the lounge with me following her like a good little puppy. This time the puppy has ideas of his own. She’s walking next to the back of the sofa. I slap a hand on her shoulder which brings her to a stop; she keeps her back toward me. I walk up behind her, bumping my chest between her shoulder blades, then turn her to her right. Sliding my other hand around her stomach, I pull in with that hand and push down with the hand on her shoulder. She folds over and rests her hands on the back of the sofa in front of her.

“Stay like that,” I command.

I unzip my jeans fly and pull my cock out of my underwear. She can’t see this, but I know she knows what’s going to happen; she’s done this enough times with other guys. I wonder if she finds this boring or exciting? Is it possible to have had too many sexual partners before sex becomes boring? I hope that I never find out.

I take her from behind, sliding my cock up her pussy and it feels a curious mixture of warm wetness from her pussy juices and cold water from the shower. I put both my hands on her shoulders and her skin feels clammy. For a minute I fuck her like that. She doesn’t say a word and the only sounds she makes are the involuntary ones a woman makes when she’s getting fucked.

“Get on that stool,” I instruct, pointing over her shoulder towards the stool in front of the sofa.

I pull out of her and we walk over to what I know will be our final position for the night. She obediently positions herself on the stool, kneeling for doggy-style, carefully spreading her weight out. She’s naked and I’m fully clothed; I like this. I don’t think that a paid-for whore would be this compliant. I’m enjoying having all the power in this relationship. I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts because I know it isn’t going to last much longer; she’ll eventually run out of patience and wise up.

My cock slides easily into her wet pussy. She lets off her customary “ugh” sounds as I slam into her. Hardly ever did I touch her hair during sex because I know how fussy she is about it, but tonight I just don’t care. Did the random strangers she let fuck her care about her hair during her countless one-night stands? I think not. I bunch her hair up into a tight little knot and gently pull back on it, expecting some verbal resistance but none is forthcoming.

I suck on the thumb of my free hand and drop it down between her butt-cheeks. I find her butt-hole and push onto but not into it. She doesn’t flinch or say a word. The whole time my hips are in motion and my cock is repetitively ramming into her pussy. Can she feel what my hands are doing? If so, is she enjoying it? I don’t care, I’m going to do what I want with her.

Slowly I push my thumb up her bum and she doesn’t make a sound. In the final hours of our relationship I found out that she had secretly been having colonic irrigation sessions several times a year. Having something in her arse is nothing new to her, despite her saying otherwise.

The naughtiness of all this is too much for my brain and it seduces my cock into cumming sooner than I would like. As I feel my man-milk starting to make its move for the exit, I say to my Exgf, “Quick, lie on your back” and she rolls over surprisingly quickly. I rush forward like a fireman with a hose and try to direct my cock at her face, but baby-batter is starting to shoot out already.

Giving a woman a facial is not something I’ve felt the need to do or even thought of doing because I’ve always been more interested in making love, not just having sex. The first time I saw it done in a porn movie I thought it disgusting and it is obviously demeaning and degrading. However, given how I feel about my Exgf, how she demeaned and degraded me emotionally during our relationship, I feel that she deserves the same in return.

To be continued…

Fucking Irish Cougar – Final Part

There’s a mirror watching us, so I turn us slightly so that we can both watch what we’re doing, but The Irish Cougar is keeping her eyes closed. I start kissing her neck and she lets off approving noises. I don’t know where I’m going with this in a bathroom, but what the hell, lets see where it leads.

She puts a hand behind her back and starts running her hand up and down my body while she’s still got her back to me. Her hand finds my crotch and she starts rubbing my growing cock. The mirror tells me that she’s enjoying herself because she’s smiling.

I start unbuttoning her blouse which reveals her white a-cup bra and a flawless, milky-white skin. Her jeans drop to the cold marble floor effortlessly and she does that cute feminine traipse out of them that makes any woman seem girlish. I’m learning that smaller-breasted women’s bras come off easily with a one-handed trick I’ve learned; bigger girls still need both hands.

The Irish Cougar is now just in her panties, leaning back against me, facing the mirror. Her breasts are pert and as firm as a teenage girl’s. I’m stunned; she’s a freak of Nature. I notice that one of her nipples is different to the other, so I cup that breast and start playing with that nipple.

“Ah, you’ve found my inverted nipple,” she says with a little giggle.

I say nothing; my mind is thinking where to take us because fucking in this bathroom is impractical. I don’t mind the occasional carpet-burn, but marble-knee isn’t for me. I scoop her up in my arms and she instinctively throws her arms around me neck. She weighs nothing, this tall, slender cougar.

The sofa in the dark lounge is the perfect place for me to have my way with her, to exact my revenge. Through the big windows the moon watches as I gently lower The Irish Cougar onto the sofa and she looks up at me in glee. I can’t help but wonder just how much she’s been looking forward to this. I take my shirt off and nonchalantly throw it away. It hits a piece of Japanese artwork that apparently costs more than my apartment, but I don’t care right now. The Irish Cougar makes a ‘hmm’ sound as I start fiddling with the belt on my jeans.

“No, let me do that!” she exhorts, springing into life and sitting upright on the sofa.

The Irish Cougar un-belts then unzips me, pulls my jeans halfway down my thighs, stops to look up at me to give me a smile, then pulls my underpants down. She looks at my semi-erect cock for a moment, then takes it in one hand, expertly pulls the foreskin back with her other hand, slowly brings her head toward it and then takes most of my cock in her mouth, letting off another ‘hmm’ sound.

After about a minute of very good cock-sucking on her part, I pull away and get undressed. The plush rug feels good underfoot and I know it’s good enough for a woman on her knees.

“Come down here on your knees,” I instruct and she complies instantly, wordlessly.

Like most women she’s happy being told what to do during sex. She slips off her panties as I make myself comfortable on the sofa.

We’re now both naked, I’m slouched back on the sofa, my legs wide apart. She’s on her knees before me, her hands on the floor, her elbows pressing her pert little breasts together and my cock is in her mouth. She’s rocking herself backwards and forwards; it feels fantastic.

She’s looking me in the eye the whole time, with a strangely submissive look in her eyes. I’ve never seen a woman do this before. She seems very content to keep doing this to me. Most women would break eye-contact after a few seconds, but not The Irish Cougar. I get the impression she’s revelling in this.

This sex slave pleasing her master move is amazing to me. Not only does it feel good but the sight of it is a turn-on, as well as the whole submissive gaze being a mental turn-on for me. There are praises to be sung about the sexual prowess of older women.

I’m amazed at how firm and young her body is. She has obviously taken great care of herself or is truly a freak of Nature. It was going to be a pleasure fucking her. I know that after a while I would be fucking her doggy style…with my thumb up her arse…and she would be loving it. The thought of that drives me to move matters along.

“Get on the sofa on your knees, put your hands on the top,” I instruct and again she quickly complies.

I get up, spin around and slowly push my cock into her vagina which is surprisingly tight and very moist. She lets out little gasps as I push deeper into her. My cock skids past areas of resistance; she hasn’t been fucked in a while. I have my hands on the side of her hips, then slowly run them up her sides. She truly has an amazing body for her age; everything is still so tight and smooth. Slowly but deliberately I slide my cock in and out of her; her breathing is in time to my thrusts. I tilt my head a little to one side to see if I can make out her facial expression. She seems to have her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted. She’s enjoying this. Hell, most 50 year-old women would love to have a man eight years younger and well-endowed doing this to them.

I look down past her head and see the streets of London below us, white and yellow lights make it almost daytime down at street level. I can see cars and their passengers milling about impatiently, double decker red buses crawl through the traffic and I can see passengers sitting on the upper level thumbing their phones. Pedestrians go about their business in this silent frenzy of activity.

They’re all oblivious to the fact that a younger man is fucking an older women above their heads. She’s got one hand on the back of the sofa and another against the side of the window. Anybody looking could probably see her little tits wobbling as I ram my cock deep into her, faster and faster, harder and harder.

Her breathing is picking up pace, she’s enthralled. I can do whatever I want now. I give her backside a playful little slap with one hand and she instantly lets out an involuntary breath in response, but no other sound. She likes this, she wants this…and she’s loving this. The reflection of her face in the window tells me so.

I smack her other cheek and she makes a sound of satisfaction; she’s totally turned on. I reach forward and collect her hair into a little bundle, hold it with one hand and gently pull back. She offers no resistance and her chin lifts, her eyes still closed. Rhythmically I move my hips backwards and forwards, keeping a tight grip on her hair. I think she likes being dominated like this. How far can I go?

I suck on my thumb, wondering how she’s going to react to what I’m going to do next. Lowering my thumb I find her butthole and rest my thumb squarely over it. She doesn’t wince or make a sound. I start to apply a little pressure with my thumb, waiting for a reaction…that doesn’t come. My thumb slides as easily up her arse as my cock had up her pussy.

So here I am, just turned 42 and I have my cock in the pussy and my thumb up the bum of an almost fifty year-old woman; I’m in a multi-millionaire’s pad overlooking Hyde Park, a piece of the Marble Arch visible and the indifferent crowds of London below me…and somebody could be watching us.

It feels like I’m living somebody else’s life. Not for a moment since I set out on my quest for love did I think that a moment like this would arise. Internet dating isn’t all bad. It’s starting to feel like I’m living the life of a playboy though. What’s next for me, a life as a male escort to wealthy, lonely women?

On and on my cock and hips go, like the wheels on a steam train, now slamming forcefully into her pussy. This is what she wants, she’s used to this. I wonder if she’ll take my cock up her arse? It’ll be a tight fit but she’s probably used to that too. At her age she’s probably had a few cocks in her arse. I wonder if she’s ever had a cock bigger than mine in any of her holes? I won’t ask; okay, maybe in the morning. Until then I’ll ask other things because something I’ve learned is that when a woman is having sex, she’s highly likely to speak the truth about her sexual preferences.

“Do you like sucking cock?” I ask.

“I love it,” she answers.

“Do you like having a thumb up your arse?”

“As long as it’s lubricated,” she replies. Her answer stiffens my cock; she doesn’t mind have a thumb in her arse.

“Is it safe for me to cum in your pussy?” I ask, driven more by a sense of habit than anything else.

“Yes,” she giggles and then I realize that she’s probably well past falling pregnant.

I’ve never cum in a woman so old before. This feels so naughty. How does she feel about having a man almost eight years her junior doing this to her? It must do her ego a world of good, but how will her body feel in the morning, I can’t help but wonder. It dawns on me that a great benefit of having unprotected sex with a woman who has been through menopause is that you can’t get her pregnant.

Just then she cums, without any physical signs of warning or spoken hint of it. Her body shudders and shakes as she lets off a girlish squeal. Lost in my thoughts my body just kept doing as Nature demands and The Irish Cougar happened to climax. Having it happen naturally is a pleasant surprise as it hasn’t been a common occurrence for me; I’ve always had to put effort into making a woman cum first.

The next surprise is that I start cumming too. I feel her pussy clenching tight around my cock; her p.c. muscles are strong. She’s deliberately clenching tight and it feels good. The Irish Cougar certainly has skills and experience.

I’ve pumped my load into her and although a little exhausted by the intensity of what just happened, I take a moment to take this scene in and commit it to my memory bank. So here I am, balls deep into a much older woman, my one hand has her hair bunched up in it and I’m pulling hard, my other hand has its thumb buried in her arse. Her arms are splayed sideways; her hands are resting on the top of the sofa. Her breasts are exposed to the world and her eyes are still closed while her mouth is hanging open.

It seems sex is best when I care less. Sometimes trying too hard to please my partner leads to me pleasing nobody, myself included.

I let go of The Irish Cougar and she recoils back into a heap on the sofa before falling over onto her back, resting a wrist on her forehead.

“Bejeezus, that was good,” she wheezes in her most Irish accent.

That was the first of three sessions we had that night. Each was good in it’s own right as we discovered each other’s sexual proclivities. The Irish Cougar liked me watching her while she played with herself; that was her ‘thing’. It worked for me because I have voyeuristic tendencies; a good match for her exhibitionism. I made her cum with my cock once more while it seemed that she could cum once an hour. She liked to look me in the eye the whole time she had my cock in her mouth and I liked the gutsy edginess of it. Her little tongue licking my perineum felt like a puppy licking my hand; I loved it. She loved me fingering her g-spot and licking her clit at the same time, but it was my watching her touch herself that led to the biggest orgasms for her.

Everything we did to and for each other that night didn’t equate to how much she enjoyed having me watch her while she rubbed her clit raw. It must have been a Catholic rejectionist rebel thing that worked for her mind first and then her body slavishly obeyed.

We eventually fell asleep in the main bedroom, exhausted and satisfied, but I wasn’t finished her just yet.

Divinyls – I Touch Myself